Page 5 of A World Apart
“In a nutshell, booking buggered it up.” It was her time to amuse me with her phrasing; one she’d picked up from the year she’d spent studying in London. British curse words coming out of her all-American mouth was endlessly funny to me.
“They need to be letting us know weeks in advance for a booking for an SCC,” she groused, referring to a ‘special category client’ − someone crazy famous.
“Two fucking days is not enough time!” Becka threw her hands up.
“Bugger.” I sympathised. “Is there anything I can do?” I offered. She gave me a side-eye that had me holding up my hands. "Hey, I mean it,” I pressed. “Can I help?”
She sighed. “Thanks babes, but no. There’s no chance Celine will want an intern anywhere near him.”
Disappointment gnawed at me, but I pushed it down.
“Who’s working with him?” I asked, trying for casual.
Becka curled her lips, which would have been answer enough, but she said, “Trevor.”
Ah. Trevor. I thinned my lips and nodded.
Trevor Kyle was the top producer at Pisces and had worked with basically every big name that walked through the door. He was also a total douchebag.
Bossy, arrogant, and kind of grabby − from what I’d heard. I’d never actually worked with him myself, of course. I’d only ever seen him in passing and he’d never deigned to glance in my direction, but I’d heard enough about him to have firmed up my opinion of the guy.
“Isn’t this something Booking should be handling?” I asked. Becka sighed again.
“I mean, yeah, to a point. They’re handling transpo and the hotel. He’s got his own management and security so we’re hands-off with that, but everything he does or needs within this building falls on client relations, which is...” She pointed both thumbs at herself.
“I mean, to be fair,” she began, glancing over to the wall of windows that overlooked the street, “his team hasn’t laid out many demands. Mostly needs and wants, y’know? No wishes. So far anyway.” She laughed.
“No cordoned-off toilets or bowls of rose-quartz crystals, then?” I laughed with her.
“Not yet! There’s still time to be surprised.”
Chapter 3
No one mentioned anything, but I had a feeling that I’d been pretty useless the whole rest of Tuesday. That night, back at Becka’s apartment, I’d connected my laptop to the TV in the living room and forced her to watch GVibes’ music videos.
We were mid-way through their newest song, ‘Fall in Love’, the collaboration with American singer Haley, when Becka finally shouted, “Alright!” Throwing her arms up in the air, she exclaimed, “I get it! They’re God’s gift to the modern music scene.”
I laughed and disconnected my laptop. “So, you get why I’m hyped, then?”
“Sure, yeah,” she’d conceded, “so, like, I knew you liked their songs, but are you in their fan group? Oh, what’s it called?” She huffed, flopping back against the sofa cushions. “Celine told me about them to look into on social media, but I can’t remember what they’re called. Y’know how Gaga has her ‘Little Monsters’?”
I smiled to myself before I answered. “Vibers.”
“That’s the one!” Becka snapped her fingers.
“And no, not really.” I said hesitantly. “Apparently, I wouldn’t qualify as a Viber because I’ve never seen them live, don’t own any of their CD albums, don’t own any merch…” I ticked off these gross offenses on my fingers.
Becka frowned at me. “Who says you don’t qualify?” she asked, immediately outraged on my behalf, which made me chuckle.
“Other Vibers.”
Becka made a ‘pfft’ sound and waved her hand dismissively. “Sounds like political bullshit to me.”
She stood up and moved towards the kitchen. “I’m showing my age here, but I remember the Savage Garden fandom in the 90s had exactly the same elitist nonsense.” She opened the fridge and rummaged around before saying, “If you identified as a ‘light sider’, you were a traitor. Bollocks and nonsense.” She trailed off, muttering too quietly for me to hear.
Suddenly, she spun back around and, waving a slightly-wilted stick of celery in my direction, proclaimed, “You can be a vibe if you bloody well want!”
I laughed, loving her to my soul, not having the heart to correct her.
