25%?”
“Err … not quite.
We use our contacts throughout all industries to promote you, your
work, your brand to increase recognition and maximise exposure to
increase revenue and fully exploit your talents. And we take around
8%, not 25.” The entertainer grunted, and Andre pulled out a small
wad of papers. “This is the sample contract, and this is my
suggestion of what we do with you. I suggest a DVD to begin with
and a promotional tour. Now …”
Pedro snorted and
idly picked up the papers, flicking through them and looking back
at the shifting feet of Andre. “Trouble is, I know your kind. Ya
sign loads of people up do sod all for 'em and still want ya cut at
the end. Ya on a commission if ya sign me up?”
“Err … no.” Andre
stammered and squinted at the magician. “Not at all. I came here to
speak to you as agreed on the 'phone. And we will work hard for
you, like we do for everyone.”
Pedro sniffed. “Ya
gay?” Andre shook his head, and Pedro chuckled. “Ya came to a gay
club to watch me?”
“Yes, in short. I
came here today to watch you. And it was a good act. I liked it,
and it made me laugh, so I want to work with you.”
Pedro scratched
his ear. “My mate got an agent after he was on telly and all that
bastard did was leach off him. And then sued him. Near-on lost 'is
'ouse did he.” Pedro gulped and took a sip of his beer. “So, how do
I know …”
“We aren't like
that,” Andre promised.
“How do I know
that ya ain't gonna flake out on me? There's one way.” He pushed
himself into the chair and moved his legs further apart. “Ya get ya
straight arse over here and you put your lips around my little
friend,” he said with a grin. “And I'm gonna film it on my phone.
And if you try any of your little games, it goes public.”
Andre gulped.
“Pardon?”
“Give me a blow
job?” Pedro demanded and Andre put his hands in front of him,
pushing the air.
“No. Umm … no,
I-I-I-I don't do that and …”
“So you won't do
anything for me?” Pedro asked. “'Cause I want your lips around my
little man. Am I gonna get it?”
Andre shook his
head and backed out through the door. For a moment, the idea was
almost palatable; he had not managed to secure any new clients and
his uncle was getting restless with him, but it was too far.
“Sorry,” he muttered and fled the room as Pedro cackled behind
him.
* *
* * *
“It's you,” Jack
muttered as a familiar face ran to catch up with him as he left his
exclusive college. “How did you know where to find me?”
“I know,” Claire
said cryptically and then smiled. “OK, you told me where you went
to college, and you said you finished at lunchtime on Mondays.”
“You're not
stalking me, are you?” Jack moaned. “'Cause my parents reckon you
are trying to seduce me and want to … yeah, well, you can't blame
me for asking, can you?” Jack looked at Claire as her giggling
turned to scowling.
“No. I am not
stalking you. And I don't want to seduce you. In fact, the
opposite.”
“Oh cheers,” Jack
moaned, and Claire crossed her arms.
“I want to ask a
favour,” she begged. “Can I see your recording studio?”
“Why? I've not
been in it for four months. It's probably really musty and
'orrible.”
Claire sighed and
ran her hands through her hair. “OK, cards on the table. I have a
friend who has an awesome voice. And I would love to get some of
the singing on tape to send to some record companies. And they have
some songs written, and I want to try and get 'em to record a
couple 'cause they're better than all the X Factor crap or
manufactured bands and stuff. I just want to give 'em a chance to
get something quite special down onto tape. And we haven't got a
studio and … that's it.”
“So, why do you
want to use mine? There are loads all over London that have the
latest kit in them!”
“And they cost
money,” Claire replied. “And lots of it. I know you don't use
yours, and you have lots of time
“Err … not quite.
We use our contacts throughout all industries to promote you, your
work, your brand to increase recognition and maximise exposure to
increase revenue and fully exploit your talents. And we take around
8%, not 25.” The entertainer grunted, and Andre pulled out a small
wad of papers. “This is the sample contract, and this is my
suggestion of what we do with you. I suggest a DVD to begin with
and a promotional tour. Now …”
Pedro snorted and
idly picked up the papers, flicking through them and looking back
at the shifting feet of Andre. “Trouble is, I know your kind. Ya
sign loads of people up do sod all for 'em and still want ya cut at
the end. Ya on a commission if ya sign me up?”
“Err … no.” Andre
stammered and squinted at the magician. “Not at all. I came here to
speak to you as agreed on the 'phone. And we will work hard for
you, like we do for everyone.”
Pedro sniffed. “Ya
gay?” Andre shook his head, and Pedro chuckled. “Ya came to a gay
club to watch me?”
“Yes, in short. I
came here today to watch you. And it was a good act. I liked it,
and it made me laugh, so I want to work with you.”
Pedro scratched
his ear. “My mate got an agent after he was on telly and all that
bastard did was leach off him. And then sued him. Near-on lost 'is
'ouse did he.” Pedro gulped and took a sip of his beer. “So, how do
I know …”
“We aren't like
that,” Andre promised.
“How do I know
that ya ain't gonna flake out on me? There's one way.” He pushed
himself into the chair and moved his legs further apart. “Ya get ya
straight arse over here and you put your lips around my little
friend,” he said with a grin. “And I'm gonna film it on my phone.
And if you try any of your little games, it goes public.”
Andre gulped.
“Pardon?”
“Give me a blow
job?” Pedro demanded and Andre put his hands in front of him,
pushing the air.
“No. Umm … no,
I-I-I-I don't do that and …”
“So you won't do
anything for me?” Pedro asked. “'Cause I want your lips around my
little man. Am I gonna get it?”
Andre shook his
head and backed out through the door. For a moment, the idea was
almost palatable; he had not managed to secure any new clients and
his uncle was getting restless with him, but it was too far.
“Sorry,” he muttered and fled the room as Pedro cackled behind
him.
* *
* * *
“It's you,” Jack
muttered as a familiar face ran to catch up with him as he left his
exclusive college. “How did you know where to find me?”
“I know,” Claire
said cryptically and then smiled. “OK, you told me where you went
to college, and you said you finished at lunchtime on Mondays.”
“You're not
stalking me, are you?” Jack moaned. “'Cause my parents reckon you
are trying to seduce me and want to … yeah, well, you can't blame
me for asking, can you?” Jack looked at Claire as her giggling
turned to scowling.
“No. I am not
stalking you. And I don't want to seduce you. In fact, the
opposite.”
“Oh cheers,” Jack
moaned, and Claire crossed her arms.
“I want to ask a
favour,” she begged. “Can I see your recording studio?”
“Why? I've not
been in it for four months. It's probably really musty and
'orrible.”
Claire sighed and
ran her hands through her hair. “OK, cards on the table. I have a
friend who has an awesome voice. And I would love to get some of
the singing on tape to send to some record companies. And they have
some songs written, and I want to try and get 'em to record a
couple 'cause they're better than all the X Factor crap or
manufactured bands and stuff. I just want to give 'em a chance to
get something quite special down onto tape. And we haven't got a
studio and … that's it.”
“So, why do you
want to use mine? There are loads all over London that have the
latest kit in them!”
“And they cost
money,” Claire replied. “And lots of it. I know you don't use
yours, and you have lots of time
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