‘I can assure you, I’m well up to the task,’ I choke out. ‘I don’t need a little golden statuette to tell me that either. I’m good at what I do.’
‘The boys trust me. They look to me for guidance. I’m UBL.’
I’m just irritated now. And cold, too, in this frigid water, because someone is stopping me from making a few laps of the pool.
‘Which means?’ I ask.
‘Unofficial Band Leader.’
I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
‘So. You and I are going to take a walk to the Meiji Shrine. It’s not far from here. Us boys usually start the day in the gym for a couple of hours, with all the dancers. Then rehearsal. I’m skipping today’s session. We can discuss your vision for the project.’
I move a fraction closer, keeping my grip on the side of the pool. I don’t appreciate being bossed about. ‘I’ve only just been given this job and I haven’t even met all of you yet. What if I haven’t decided on my vision?’
‘Then you might want to come up with something in the next twenty minutes. Or I’ll be on the phone to Silverpix asking for another replacement.’
The look he gives me makes my nipples harden in the frigid water. It’s grumpy as anything, but I get a flash of sex appeal.
This trip hasn’t started out as expected. I haven’t had time to consider what my relationship with the members of the band will be, but, as per any other project I’ve been involved in, it definitely isn’t meant to be personal, only impartial. I am to view the band members as my subjects. Yet if Aidan McArthur doesn’t think I’m up to this job, between them, he and Vaughn Herrera could derail my career.
‘So will you go with me?’ Aidan asks, as though softening his demand.
Under the water I’ve started to shiver. I need to move. ‘What time?’ I ask.
‘When you’ve finished your swim. It opened at sunrise. I’ll meet you in the lobby.’
‘What if I say no?’
He gives a nonchalant shrug. ‘Then I’d say you can kiss goodbye to any cooperation from Rebel Heart.’
With that, Aidan places two hands on the side of the pool, lowering himself into the water until he’s fully submerged. When he resurfaces, he shakes the hair from his luminous eyes, wiping his face. I’m flustered, because it’s been a while since I’ve been up close and personal with a man as beautiful as he is.
It takes me a moment to realise it, but that’s really not a good sign.
An hour later, still before seven a.m., I wait in the lobby with my camera bag, sending a WhatsApp message to Duncan and Meredith, letting them know I’m going to a shrine, telling them that the band meet has been arranged for eleven a.m. I don’t tell them that I’ve been summoned by Rebel Heart’s Antagonist-in-Chief.
Aidan McArthur emerges into the lobby wearing jeans, with what looks like a brand new pair of white trainers, a white hoodie and a black leather jacket.
‘Bodhi’s insisting that I take security,’ he grumbles. ‘The hotel’s providing someone at short notice.’
‘I was expecting to see a crowd of screaming girls on arrival.’
‘When we landed, we put out a rumour that we’d be staying at the Shangri-La. Within minutes it was all over the fan sites and on Reddit. I heard they were making quite a racket until someone told them they’d got the wrong hotel.’
‘And what happens when they find out where you really are?’
He gives a sigh, tinged with exasperation. ‘Then I sleep with my ear plugs and put the chain on the door.’
‘Do you check in under weird names?’
I’m yet to raise a smile out of him. ‘Deceased musicians. Cal always goes with Luciano Pavarotti, don’t ask me why. J.B. is Hendrix. Rav is Marvin Gaye. Miller changes all the time. He’s been everyone from Elvis to Kurt Cobain.’
‘And you are?’
‘Freddie Mercury. He’s a personal hero of mine.’
‘Nice. And do you ever get to go anywhere without security?’