Strung (Rock & Romance I.)

Chapter 19. - Homey

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to FakingLifesince3754 ! I appreciate the love and support!

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The date of the album release party was approaching by the minute, and with the permission of the building management, I started to set up two weeks earlier. Most of the decoration was not real - as I refused to cut so many trees and bushes down, just so they can be arched over a few celebrities for a couple of hours, and then be tossed to the side.

The fake trees and vines I've ordered online looked just like the real thing, and even felt, weighted, and behaved accordingly.

I was perched high on a ladder, trying to hang a chandelier above one of the tables, when Arielle walked in. I admired the confident way she strolled into the room, stealing the attention of all three men that were there to help me.

Which was rather unfortunate from where I was standing, because I nearly tumbled face first off the ladder when the guy holding it swirled around so vehemently to look at my friend.

"Good morning!" Arielle greeted us, and came to a stop next to me. "Need a helping hand?"

I glanced down at the heels she was wearing, coupled with a very nice and expensive looking pantsuit. She looked like she stepped straight out of Vogue, and she wanted to climb ladders and twist vines with me? I shook my head. "We're doing okay, but thank you!"

She glanced around, her observant eyes noting everything in the room. "It's coming along nicely."

I finally managed to get the chandelier up, and came down, checking out my work from this angle. "I'd say so." To be frank, I was fucking proud of this project. I thought the whole renaissance room was coming together perfectly, transforming into a magical, gothic forest worthy of a band like Hazmat.

"Do you have a second to talk?" Arielle asked, eyeing the men who were tinkering around the room, pretending that they weren't checking her out when they thought she wasn't looking.

"Sure. Lead the way."

We walked into the manager's office, off the front hallway. Arielle let me walk in first, and closed the door gently behind us. "How are you feeling?" She asked, unsurprisingly cutting right to the chase.

"I'm okay." I lied, like we both didn't see the security details – yes, plural – perched outside the entrance of the venue. "Considering."

Arielle nodded, and I was cringing inwardly, waiting for her to tell me about how inappropriate and awful it was to sleep with the client. Not to mention unprofessional.

I've heard that she had a lengthy history of employees betraying her by hooking up with her customers, or talking to the press behind her back. In fact, her own right hand caused quite a scandal last year, when he outed her as a cheater, and first linked her with Maksim Mikhailov in the press.

It was a PR nightmare, and while Arielle came out on top and was doing better than ever, she had a long road of nasty press and comments to get through before getting where she was now. I understood that sleeping with a client was a soft spot for her. And after the pictures of Lukas LaBelle, Brian and Nikki coming out of my studio the day after the incident on every gossip blog on the internet, there was no doubt that something has happened between us.

But, to my surprise, Arielle looked more concerned rather than furious, as she held her hand out to me. "If you need any help... You know you can ask me."

I snapped my mouth shut, realizing it was open. She chuckled.

"Don't look at me like that – I know exactly what you're going through, and how nasty people can be! I'm here if you need advice, or just someone to rant to."