"So... who are you with?" The burly security guard steps forward, barring your way.
"I'm with the band," you say, your voice loaded with suggestiveness, and it doesn't go unnoticed.
He raises an eyebrow, taking in your too-tight dress and cherry red...
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The party's in full swing now, and the hotel suite outdoor terrace is buzzing with people. I look around, taking it all in, a swell of excitement rising in me. I just wished that I'd brought something else to change into so I could dazzle a little brighter. I picture my slinky designer dresses hanging uselessly in my wardrobe back at Larry's and sigh, shrugging out of my denim shirt and slinging it aside, then adjusting my cleavage in my push up bra. I might not have my designer finery to make me stand out so I'll just have to work with what I've got.
A slick looking guy in an immaculately cut suit gives me the eye as he's walking past. He's the exact type I'd see lingering at one of the chic bars back at home. All pearly white teeth and groomed to perfection. I give him an alluring smile as he walks past, then coyly drop my gaze before draining my glass of champagne. I don't even have to look around to know that he's headed for the makeshift bar, and it's so predictable it almost raises a yawn from me when he appears a few moments later, hand outstretched with a full glass for me.
"Looks like you could use a refill," he says, flashing teeth so white I wish I'd brought my sunglasses.
I thank him and he introduces himself as someone associated with the record label. I don't catch his name, I immediately zone out to the sound of his monotonous voice. The fact that he's talking about platinum record sales and name-dropping famous artists every other word would usually have me at least feigning interest, but he's served his purpose now in fetching me a drink. I'm too busy looking past him, watching the small crowd starting to gather around Van as he takes a seat on the far side of the large decking area, cradling his acoustic guitar.
"Bells, you gonna come and listen?"
The sound of Larry's voice is welcome and I make my excuses to get away from Mr Smooth, who looks crestfallen and mumbles something about coming to find me later whilst I quickly shuffle away.
"Can't take you anywhere," Larry chuckles as we both head over to Van.
"I'm just being friendly!" I protest, a little dismayed because for once I wasn't actually trying to snare a potential victim.
"Well you should be careful," he replies, his grin fading quickly as he leans closer to talk in hushed tones. "I mean it. You need to watch some of these industry types. They talk the talk and flash the cash, but they're proper dickheads underneath it all. Just out for what they can get and half of 'em are coked up to the eyeballs. You'd do better to stick with me and the lads."
"Aww Larry, you going all protective on me now? I can look after myself you know."
He shrugs and turns away to carry on making his way across the terrace, and I smile to myself as I follow him. Although I don't usually like people interfering in my business it actually feels quite nice having someone to watch out for me. I'd never considered Larry to be the protective big brother type before.
"C'mon, we'll sit here," he says, taking a seat on a low, comfy looking sofa, patting the adjacent seat.
I sit down and I glance around, spotting Johnny lingering near the back of the crowd. He catches my eye and raises his glass with a smile and a nod. I return the gesture and then turn back to find Van's eyes on me. He offers a little wink before his attention's back on his guitar as he carefully tunes it.
