Chapter 22: January 2012

916 74 30
                                    

January 2012

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

January 2012

MARK

I watch the cocky teen in front of me Google his own name. We only met ten minutes ago, and I can already tell we won't get along. Not that it matters—my job is to keep him safe, not be his friend. As long as he listens and keeps his head screwed on, we'll be fine.

"He's going to be huge one day," his manager had told me.

Judging by his self-obsession, that day can't come soon enough for the boy.

"What's your name?" I ask him.

Sitting on the sofa opposite me in the state-of-the-art recording studio, he doesn't look up from his phone. "Teddy."

I clench my pen and fight to stay patient. "Your real name."

"Teddy is what I'll be known as."

"Not with me. What's your real name?"

Finally, he tears his egotistical eyes away from his phone screen and grants me the honour of his attention.

"...Ed."

"Then that's what I'll call you."

He sighs and scrapes a hand over his jaw. Clean-shaven. Pristine. Tidy. He's not done a hard day's work in his life. This is going to be a shock to his system, and I'm not convinced he's ready for it.

"Problem?" I ask.

"No." His gaze flickers over my body, hesitant but curious. "It's just that Helen and I decided on the stage name last week. I need to get used to it."

"You also need to keep public and personal separate. If your career takes off, you'll need that barrier."

"Hm." His mouth scrunches in thought as he leans back into the forest green cushions. "So don't let anyone in my private life call me Teddy?"

"Other way round. Don't let the public know your real name. Keep it separate to maintain that boundary."

Otherwise you'll end up hooked on drugs to recreate a high in your private life because you can't tell the difference anymore. It didn't end well for Curtis, but this is a fresh slate. The boy is nineteen. I can mould him. Educate him. Stop him going down the wrong path before it's too late.

If he co-operates with me.

"You worked with famous musicians before?" He props one foot on the opposite knee and drums his fingertips against his thigh.

"Yes."

"Anyone I'd have heard of?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me who or...?"

"No. Now, I have a few rules—"

"Whoa." He holds up one palm with a short laugh. "I already had this meeting with your boss. Thought this was just a courtesy get-to-know each other session."

BodyguardWhere stories live. Discover now