Page 5 of Diva Pop

Chapter Two

Silas signaled to the server at Musso & Frank for another shot of Jameson while he waited for Gerry to show up. The president of Charisma Records was anxious to hear how everything had gone that day. Silas doubted all the whiskey in the world could prepare him for that conversation, but what the hell. It was worth a try.

After placing his order, he spotted his longtime buddy entering through the back door that opened from the parking lot. Silas had made sure they were seated in one of the half-moon shaped burgundy booths, the restaurant’s interior an homage to Hollywood’s bygone era. Silas loved the hell out of the place, the locale that dated back to nineteen nineteen teeming with Tinseltown ambience. But, the table would also afford them a measure of privacy.

“How far behind am I?” Gerry grinned as he took a seat. “Should I order a bottle to catch up?”

Silas chuckled. “Funny. But maybe you should.” He arched his eyebrows at his friend. “You might need it.”

Gerry groaned as he fell back against the booth. “I had a feeling when you said we should do this in person that it all went to shit today.”

Silas patted Jerry’s hand. “Now, hold on. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Yeah, it was a rough start, but we both knew it would be.”

Gerry scrubbed his face with one palm. “I know Tory won’t quit, but which of the other two did? Or was it both?”

The server approached with Silas’ drink and Gerry ordered a double for himself. As the man walked away, Silas took a quick sip before answering his friend’s question.

“It’s not as terrible as all that.” He sighed. “At least not yet.”

Gerry’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh? Then enlighten me, give me hope.”

Silas held up his glass. “I’ll do my best.”

By the time Silas had given him the condensed version of the day’s drama, Gerry had polished off his second drink.

“Jesus.” Gerry rubbed his forehead. “Well, you’re right. At least two of the members haven’t quit and Jett is an unknown quantity.” He leaned forward, pushing aside the basket of bread that had arrived after they’d put in their dinner order. “What does your gut tell you? Is Jett going to walk? Even though we initially positioned Paul to be the frontperson, Jett is clearly the star of the show.”

“Jett walk? No. Sashay? Maybe.” The stress of the day was beginning to give him a headache and he probably shouldn’t have downed so much booze before he ate. “But seriously, I didn’t witness today what everyone warned me about. What I saw in Jett was a hurt little boy. Not a bitch diva.”

“You’re shittin’ me?” Gerry snorted. “I’ve only ever heard him described as a bitch, a diva, or a bitch diva. Are you sure you’re not confusing him with Tory?”

A grin tugged at one corner of Silas’ mouth. Not even close. There was no confusion as to who Jett was. No, that delicious little morsel was a force unto himself. Just the type of boy Silas loved taking in hand. Sadly, that wasn’t the role he’d been hired to fill, and was one part of his private world Gerry knew nothing about. He intended it to stay that way.

“No, I’m speaking of Jett. I think perhaps you’re viewing him through the lens of Bob and the stories he’s told you.”

“Sure. Bob’s lens, the choreographer’s lens, the stylist’s lens, the medias’ lens… Should I continue?”

Somehow, his friend’s barely veiled disdain of Jett was beginning to get under Silas’ skin. Gerry didn’t understand Jett, didn’t recognize what was essentially a cry for help. Not that it was any of Silas’ business, of course. But he could at least approach Jett within the context of their business relationship with that knowledge.

“How about we celebrate the fact that Jett’s antics aren’t making me walk?” He winked in an effort to soften the remark in case his tone had been too salty. “Accentuate the positive.”

Gerry chuckled. “True. I need to let you do your job.”

Their dinner arrived and the conversation drifted to less stressful topics. They’d known each other for years, had many friends and associates in common in the music industry, so there was plenty to talk about. But as Gerry rambled on, Silas found his thoughts drifting to Jett. He wondered how he was doing, if he was alone, fearful over his future and perhaps assuming that Silas intended to contribute to his downfall.

Silas frowned. Jett’s angry exit that day was more about pain than a superiority complex, he was sure of it. Battling his own protective nature and Daddy instincts around Jett was going to require iron willpower. But he was up for the challenge in the interest of helping Jett however he could.

Silas pinched the bridge of his nose. Once again, he needed to remind himself that he hadn’t been hired for his Daddy attributes.

“Silas? You okay?”

“Huh?” Silas jerked up his head. “Oh, man. Sorry. I guess I’m distracted by everything that went on earlier.”

“No, that’s all right. I understand.” Gerry checked his watch. “Actually, I should probably take off anyway. I’ve got an early meeting.”

After a brief battle over who would pick up the check, with Gerry declaring victory, they said their goodbyes. As Silas waited at the valet stand, he found himself becoming worried about Jett again. He shoved his hands into his suit pants pockets, shifting on his feet as he batted away his concerns.

Was he merely responding to the fact that he followed Three Trick Pony’s career, was a Jett Fine fan prior to being asked to step in? Or was he primarily focused on Jett’s welfare? He gave the valet a tight smile and a ten-dollar bill before climbing into his BMW. If he were being brutally honest, both reasons held true.

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