[[[the wonderful mess that we've made]]] [[[part iii]]]

3.

Over the four months since the explosion I had done to well to avoid him. Despite working for the same company, in the same business, and at times, the same radio, tv or venue, I hadn't seen him once. But I had come dangerously close at one point.

My phone began to ring as I watched over my charge during her photo shoot for her new album. I excused myself outside and answered it, knowing it was the record label.

'Lillian Smith speaking, how may I help?'

'Lillian! I have a job for you!' Came the voice of the artist relations manager, Susan. She had been sorting me out with work as best as she could.

'Fantastic! When and where?' I took out my notebook from my back pocket, jammed the phone between my shoulder and my ear and began scribbling away the details. Next week, just for a few days, I'd be in America. Flights were booked and I was to collect the band from their homes. 'Who is it?' I finally asked.

'Bastille, they did personally request you.'

'Ah.' My heart sank. 'I erm, I don't think it's appropriate. One of the members is my brother.'

'I forgot. Well, there's nothing in the rules that says you can't manage them.'

'I know, but I don't want to be seen as favouring anyone.'

'We are in a bit of a tight spot.'

'I'll think about it, Susan.' I told her I'd get back to her in an hour. But I had no intention of taking it.