Who's that?

How old are you?

A/N Again the disclaimer. I do not know personally anyone mentioned. This is purely a fiction exercise. Also because English is not my native language you may have to excuse some mistakes I may write. That being said I hope you enjoy it. :)

Grant has just blurted out like a lunatic that his girlfriend cheated on him and he's still laughing bitterly. You look at without knowing what to say or do. This is totally unexpected.

When the laughter stops you can see he has tears in his eyes. "Who cares if I loved someone and gave them everything I had and they thanked me by cheating on me? It's old news, it happens every day to people, not really a breakthrough story. And see? One less thing for you to worry about: no more overexposure and boasting of my relationship. Cause there isn't one. Happy?"

"Oh shit." You mumble. 'The last thing I needed, a brokenhearted guy...' You think to yourself as Grant tries to dry off his tears quickly. "I'm sorry, I had no idea." You try to soothe him.

"It's ok. And I'm the one sorry. For being an asshole. Again. I swear this isn't the usual me. Sorry, can we erase this embarrassing moment and rewind? I promised Michael I'd behave and cooperate."

"We can do this some other day... If you prefer."

"No, I can't let that ruin anything else in my life, and certainly not my job."

You keep silence for a minute looking at him. The look on his face is heartbreaking. You almost feel like hug him but that would certainly break a dozen rules of professional conduct so you just channel your feelings to the cheating girlfriend, 'bitch, why have a relationship if you're gonna cheat on your partner? I don't really know the details of their relationship but... oh well.'

Grant sighs. "You don't have to feel pity for me. Like I said, it's life. Shit like this happens. And like I said, it's something less you need to worry about. I'm not gonna be distracted by a girlfriend anymore. Or any other girls. I don't wanna even think about that stuff. And sorry I bothered you with this. I'm truly embarrassed. I'm going to focus strictly on my job and career now, so... Shall we continue?"

You nod. "Ok... So..." You quickly turn your mind back to your work again. "About future interviews and events you're attending... I read your file from the previous PR agency. I think we should turn down some of these because they don't fit the direction you wanna go," you show him which ones by handing him a sheet, "... and keep the others. Plus, I think you should do a decent cover article. And I don't mean a cover of some teenager magazine. I mean something like GQ or Esquire." You notice Grant opens his eyes and looks doubtful at you. "You don't agree?" You ask him.

He chuckles. "I'd love to but I don't think any of those magazines would want me, a nobody, in their cover..." He giggles.

You smile. "Now that would be their decision to make, right? And my job to do, right? I contacted a few of them yesterday already. The editor of GQ himself replied me this morning. He said he was actually looking for a fresh new face for a cover, a star-to-be not already an A-list celebrity. And if you really get that role with Scorsese he said we could probably do a cover by the time Affluenza premieres. Then we think about late night talk shows."

"Oh." Grant seems pleasantly surprised.

"Is that a yes?"

"Sure. Absolutely."

"Great. Now your fan mail... I know you get a decent amount of that. Of course you don't have time to see it all and reply to all. As it is written in the contract, we'll be handling that as well. Of course you can at any time check on that. All the lovely gifts they send you will be waiting for you and you then decide what to do." You see Grant nodding and you continue, "now the online platforms, social networks if you prefer... Extremely important nowadays. I already understood you love Twitter, you used it on a daily basis, you get in touch with your fans through it... Fine. You can keep doing that, just keep in mind what I said before about the contents, the overexposure of your private life..." You stop talking, afraid that you remind him of the failed relationship again.