Chapter 9 #2
“You’re absolutely right,” Albion said with a tight smile.
He faced Nikky again. “So what do you want, Nikky? Do you want to continue recording and producing an album under my guidance that will solidify your musical ambitions and make you an even bigger star, or do you want to walk away from it all so you can get cozy with this has-been?”
Nikky wanted to walk away and hide in his friendship with Harry. He wanted to wake up in Harry’s bed not because he’d had too much to drink at a club and had to be dragged home, but because the two of them were together, committed to each other.
Neither of those things was particularly practical or realistic. Life didn’t work out that way anyhow. The only thing Nikky could do was hold onto the gifts he’d been given while trying to jettison the parts of his life he didn’t like.
“I just want to make music,” he said. “Preferably my own music,” he added, since he had to grow a backbone and stand up for himself eventually. It was easier with Harry standing right there, looking like he would go to war to get Nikky what he wanted.
“Then let’s record,” Albion said, his voice softening a hair. Nikky let out a breath of relief. At least, until Albion added, “This is now a closed recording session. You don’t want me to call security to have you thrown out, do you, Harry?”
Nikky’s mouth dropped open, but he was too stunned to get actual words out.
“I’ll go,” Harry said, eyes narrowing. They softened when he looked at Nikky. “Give me a call when you’re done later.”
“I will,” Nikky choked out with a nod.
Harry sent one more scathing glare Albion’s way, acknowledged Nikky one last time, then left.
“Now that that’s over,” Albion said, crossing the booth to shut the door behind Harry, “why don’t you do some vocal warm-ups so we can dive right into working on that love song?”
The love song in question was technically good, but miles away from what Nikky wanted to record. But his instincts told him he’d pressed his luck a little too far that morning already, so he mumbled, “Sure,” and headed over to the old keyboard in the corner of the room to start warming up.
“And take my advice,” Albion said, walking back to the mixing board. “Stay away from Harry Bayonne. I don’t know who introduced the two of you, but they definitely aren’t your friend. That man will do nothing but bring you down with him.”
He wanted to defend Harry and tell Albion off.
He wanted to sing Harry’s praises and say that the man made him feel alive and in charge of his own destiny in a way almost nothing else but acting and singing ever had.
He wanted to tell Albion to fuck himself, he wasn’t some child who needed Daddy to tell him what to do, even though he would have gladly done whatever Harry asked of him.
All he felt capable of in the moment was to mutter, “Okay,” and to tap middle C on the keyboard so he could sing scales to warm up his voice.
The day passed in a disappointing blur. Despite his best efforts, Albion only entertained Nikky’s original music for an hour out of the entire day spent on take after take of stupid, poppy love songs that would probably hit all the wrong charts and leave him trapped in an endless cycle of being America’s golden boy.
It was depressing, but there wasn’t anything Nikky could do about it.
At least not without rubbing against the grain of every “go along to get along” survival instinct that made up the fiber of who he was.
Although that wasn’t really true. There was something he could do. Something he was already doing, as the night at the club attested, and that he knew how to take further, thanks to Maggie and Laura.
All day, as he sang stupid songs over and over until every note made his skin crawl, his mind was completely preoccupied by the idea of a sex tape.
They had to do it. It was the only way to break free of the chains Hollywood was trying to throw around him. It was the only way to make himself so unappealing that people like Holberg and the legion of rabid fans would leave him alone.
“We have to do it. We have to make a sex tape,” he mumbled to himself as he left the studio that evening, practicing the words he needed to say to Harry to get what he wanted. “Maggie and Laura are right. It’s the only thing shocking enough to make this all stop.”
But would it stop? There was as much a chance as any that, like the club, it would backfire and leave people even more interested in his life and his personal business.
He’d had to turn his phone off entirely that morning because it had constantly pinged with messages and requests for a statement or interviews.
To distract himself from everything he didn’t want to think about, he reached into his pocket for his phone so he could turn it on. Sure enough, a whole new crop of texts and messages stared him in the face.
Ironically, within a minute of turning his phone back on, a call came through and Drew’s name flashed on the screen.
Relieved to a degree that made him dizzy, Nikky answered. “Hey.”
“Answering your phone at last, are you?” Drew asked right away.
Nikky smiled and veered off to sit on a bench in a small park instead of heading to the spot where he could already see the driver who had come to pick him up and take him to Harry’s house was waiting. He waved to the driver, then focused on the conversation.
“I was recording today,” he said. “I didn’t want to deal with the rest of it.”
“You should take a look at the things people are saying,” Drew said, a smile in his voice. “You’re being hailed as super cool. Everybody is buzzing about your kinky streak.”
“I don’t have a kinky streak,” Nikky said hunching in on himself. He wasn’t sure if that was exactly true. In fact, it was probably a lie.
“Social media is eating the whole thing up,” Drew went on, laughing. “Everyone is shipping you and Harry Bayonne.”
Nikky flushed hot. Did he love that or hate it? What he had with Harry was theirs and theirs alone.
“The whole thing was supposed to make people stop putting me on a pedestal instead of raising me up even higher,” he said.
“That didn’t happen,” Drew said, voice thick with irony.
“I wish it had,” Nikky sighed.
Drew paused before saying, “Hey, look. Lee and I are on our way back to London tomorrow, so you’ll have backup to deal with all this.”
The news came as such a relief that Nikky flopped back against his bench. That was when he noticed a pair of young women watching him and whispering behind their hands.
His relief and its matching smile vanished. He stood and marched straight for the waiting car. “I have to go,” he said, “but I’m glad you guys are going to be back in town. We need to get together.”
“Yeah, we do,” Drew said. “But until then, hang in there. I know you don’t like all this fame and notoriety, but it will die down eventually.”
“When?” Nikky asked sullenly as he reached the car. The driver held the door for him, which made it easier to jump inside just as the two women seemed to decide they had to approach him.
“I have no idea,” Drew laughed. “Probably when the next flavor of the month comes along.”
“Can they get a move on and replace us soon?” Nikky asked.
“Hopefully,” Drew answered.
They said their goodbyes, and Nikky gave the driver Harry’s address. Moments later, they were on their way…just as the two women rushed toward the car, like they could prevent Nikky’s getaway. He hated that they looked disappointed as he zoomed off.
He couldn’t keep doing this, being in the public eye where people tried to approach him all the time.
London was almost worse than LA. The laws were different, which meant it was easier for muck journalists to get close to him.
God forbid Holberg showed up along with Charlotte, whenever she got there.
It was too much. It’d been too much from the beginning, and it was too much more with every passing day. But there was one surefire way to make it all stop.
As soon as the driver dropped him in Notting Hill, Nikky raced up through Harry’s building to knock on his door. He realized a moment too late that he’d forgotten to call Harry in advance to tell him he was on his way, so when Harry opened the door, he already wore a look of surprise.
“Hey,” he said, bursting into a smile. “I was waiting for your call.”
Nikky would worry about not calling first later. For the time being, he had only one aim in mind. He stepped into Harry’s apartment, and before Harry could even close the door behind him, he blurted, “We need to make a sex tape, and we need to make it right now.”