When the famous boyband, Rushed Division, begin to get into trouble with the press, it is up to Paisley to save the band's image before they do something they can't their careers cannot recover from.
Paisley is not a big fan of the band, finding th...
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"Up next: how the members of boyband, Rush Decision, are making waves in the music scene..."
I groan and turn off the TV, standing up from the sofa.
"Spoilt brats, hey, Bess?" I bend down to stroke my elderly Jack Russell Terrier. She stares up at me with wise eyes from her curled position.
I plant a kiss on her head before grabbing my bag for work and leaving the house.
My radio is haunted by the music of Rush Division, forcing me to drive in silence as I didn't have time to set up my bluetooth before I set off.
As soon as I reach the office, I'm summoned into an emergency meeting with my boss.
Jeez, not even enough time to make a cup of tea, first.
I internally groan as I sit down in one of the chairs in his office, my eyes flicking to the laptop screen he has turned to face me.
He hands me a briefing folder, the first page having individual headshots of each of the band members.
Ty Henry.
Hudson Riley.
Luke Quinn.
Blaze Wilson.
I look up to my boss with confusion in my eyes before flickering through the pages in the folder.
"You can't be serious," I look up at him again as I rest the now-closed folder on top of my crossed legs.
"We've been hired by their agents to fix their band image," John explains to me, "I said I would send our best person for the job."
"Aren't they embarking on their world tour next week?" I ask as I push my auburn face-framing hair behind my ears.
"That's why it's so important they have someone to keep them media-trained and on the straight and narrow," John responds, taking a sip from his mug.
I'd take any caffeine right now.
Thanks for rubbing it in, John.
I sigh, running my hand through my high ponytail.
"When do I leave?" I ask dejectedly.
"We've got you booked on the first flight out to LA tomorrow."
I open my mouth but he continues speaking, essentially stopping me from protesting.
"We've already made arrangements for your dog to come with you," he says with amusement in his eyes.
"Oh, Bessie is going to love travelling the world with a bunch of idiots who can't keep it in their pants or hold their booze," I mutter.
"I'm sure you'll both enjoy it," he laughs at my sarcasm, "Take today off to get your affairs in order. I'll make sure to check in with you at each tour location, and we will have bi-weekly virtual meetings."
