Friends & Rivals (17 page)

Above Ivan's head, the heavy black snow clouds were indeed clearing, and as he drove through the white cliffs that marked the Oxfordshire border, a chink of bright-blue sky appeared before him, like an arrow pointing the way to a brighter future.

There was nothing for it now but to look forward.

It was time to move on.

Jack Messenger turned up the steep, craggy path above Will Rogers Park in Pacific Palisades and turned his iPod up to full volume. He was listening to a download of a new indie band from Detroit, the inexplicably named Land of the Greeks
.
As yet unsigned, but doing well on YouTube, the three geeky teenage boys had a gift for uplifting, soaring melodies that Jack hadn't heard in a long time. There was something nostalgic about their sound, which ironically was what made it fresh. Jack made a mental note to call them once he got back to the office.

Not that he was in any hurry to return to Beverly Glen, or even home to what had once been his sanctuary in Brentwood. Since news reached the US about Kendall Bryce's affair with Ivan Charles, Jack had found himself living in a hideous goldfish bowl. Suddenly the story of Kendall's defection to a British label and the break-up of Jester, which had aroused little interest in the American press at the time, was a big deal. Jack's phone was ringing off the hook with reporters wanting ‘his side of the story' on the music business scandal
du jour
. Ironically, Kendall's profile was now higher than ever, Stateside, as a result of her affair with her much older, married manager. Worse, Ivan, who until now had been completely unknown outside the UK, was being feted on
E!
and in the trashier US tabloids as ‘Dastardly British Hottie Ivan Charles', and even as ‘The new Simon Cowell'. It made Jack wince to think how delighted that comparison must make his former friend and partner.

And, of course, while the public on both sides of the Atlantic settled back with their TV dinners to enjoy the latest instalment of the Kendall/Ivan soap opera, back in the real world the anguished repercussions of the affair continued to cause untold suffering. Last week Jack had had a particularly harrowing call with Catriona, who at times seemed to be almost on the verge of a breakdown.

‘Hector's been suspended from school again,' she told him, her voice ragged with strain. ‘His headmaster's tried to be understanding, but he says Hector can't come back unless he starts seeing a behavioural therapist three times a week.'

‘What does Hector say about that?' asked Jack. ‘It might not be a bad idea.'

‘Hector told me to fuck off. He said if anyone needs a therapist it's me because I'm clearly going mad. I think he might be right. Yesterday I put washing-up liquid into a chicken casserole instead of red wine vinegar. There were soap bubbles everywhere.' She broke down in sobs. ‘He's so angry with me, Jack. Before it was all directed at his father, but now he seems to think I must have pushed Ivan away.'

‘That's nonsense,' Jack said firmly. ‘He's just a kid, Cat. He doesn't mean it.'

‘Doesn't he?'

‘No. And nor, I suspect, does Ivan. This thing with Kendall is an infatuation, a classic midlife crisis. He'll be back eventually, believe me, like the proverbial bad penny.'

‘I don't think so,' sobbed Catriona. ‘Not this time. Rosie went to visit him in London last weekend and she said he seemed “really well and happy”. They went to the Hard Rock Café. Ivan bought Rosie a knickerbocker glory that apparently cost eighteen pounds. Eighteen pounds on a pudding!' She started laughing, then crying again, apologizing all the while as if any of this were her fault.

Jack felt terrible. It crossed his mind that he was at least partially to blame for this nightmare. If he hadn't sent Kendall to England in the first place, if he hadn't suggested she stay at the Jester flat, if he hadn't overreacted about her Polydor deal and played so pathetically into Ivan's hands, perhaps none of this would have happened.

He knew now that he'd made a titanic mistake in walking away from Jester. That he should have listened to everyone who had urged him to look before he leaped: Jared, Elizabeth, Lex Abrahams. He had allowed his anger and foolish, stubborn pride to rule his head. It was humbling to have to acknowledge just how easy it had been for Ivan to walk off into the sunset with his acts, effectively stealing the business lock, stock and barrel from under his nose. The final insult was losing The Blitz. Brett Bayley had broken the news as if it were nothing, a minor irritation.

‘Stella's so happy in London, man. This blog of hers is really taking off. It just feels like the right time to make a move, you know?'

It was bullshit, of course. Ivan had called all Jack's clients behind his back, undercutting him with the lure of a ten per cent commission. Brett Bayley was sticking with Jester for one reason and one reason only, and it had nothing to do with his wife's stupid blog. Jack could have said as much to Brett. That he and his band had been penniless kids when Jack took them on and that without him they wouldn't
have
a career. But he was too proud to stoop to such a conversation. If The Blitz wanted Ivan Charles to manage them, then so be it. Jack Messenger wasn't in the business of pleading. The problem was that, if things continued the way they had been, Jack wasn't in any business at all.

The path forked left and plunged sharply down into the canyon. The muscles in Jack's calves ached, and he could feel himself starting to tire. The Land of the Greeks song had finished now, and to Jack's irritation his iPod shuffled onto one of Kendall's early releases, a light, poppy track called ‘As I Am' that showcased her powerful vocals. Since she'd left, Jack had nursed his anger towards Kendall like a precious child. He knew that the moment he let it go, he would have to admit to himself how much he missed her, how empty the Brentwood house felt without her dramas and tantrums, her raucous, infectious laugh and her lust for life. Kendall had unwittingly helped him in this effort by running off with Ivan, something Jack found so morally and physically repugnant it made him nauseous just to think about it.

He stopped, angrily yanking his headphones out of his ears and taking a swig from his water bottle. It was time to head home, shower, and kick himself out of this funk. Then he would drive over to Lex Abrahams' place and have a serious talk about the future of the business. Since Jack had broken up with Elizabeth last month, Lex had become his closest confidant. Other than Sonya, of course, whom he still turned to nightly in his prayers and dreams. It scared him to think that the young photographer was probably the only person left in the music industry that he trusted. One thing you could say for career catastrophes: you find out who your friends are.

Kendall stretched out her long legs on the Green Room couch and reached for another packet of salt and vinegar crisps, her third.

‘You'll ruin your figure,' said Isabella James archly. Do you know how much sodium there is in those things?'

Kendall gave
Talent Quest
's presenter a dismissive glance and returned to her Walker's. She could tell instantly that Isabella didn't like her. Blonde, bland, minor league TV presenters usually didn't. Used to having all the male attention to themselves, the Isabella James's of this world didn't take kindly to having the likes of Kendall Bryce swanning in and upstaging them. If Kendall had been a one-off guest performer, it might have been different. But as Ivan's girlfriend, both Isabella and Stacey Harlow, Ivan's fellow judge and the other
Talent Quest
‘hottie', knew that Kendall Bryce could well become a semi-permanent fixture on what they saw as
their
show. They resented her for it hugely.

‘Seriously,' said Isabella. ‘You don't want to get heartburn while you're performing.'

‘I'll worry about my performance. You worry about your mung beans,' said Kendall scornfully, nodding towards the über-healthy, macrobiotic veg pot that Isabella was picking at like a miserable bird. ‘You know, those things make you fart like a bastard,' she added cruelly, enjoying the titters from the runners, all of whom were delighted to see the up-herself Miss James taken down a peg or two.

‘Kendall, sweetheart, you're on in five.' Don Peters stuck his smiling, bald head round the Green Room door. ‘Do you mind coming to door three for a final sound check?'

‘Not at all,' said Kendall, licking her fingers and deliberately dropping the half-eaten packet of crisps on the table in front of Isabella. The fact that
Talent Quest
's producer, and Ivan's nominal boss, was being so obsequious towards her had no doubt increased Isabella and Stacey's hostility, but Kendall didn't care. She wasn't here to make friends. She was here to build her brand with Ivan as a couple. Already a star at the height of her solo career, Kendall knew that, together, she and Ivan could become far more than the sum of their parts, a marketing man's wet dream. She had her sights set on commercials and endorsement deals, and Ivan's TV platform would be a huge help with that. When Don Peters suggested that she do a live performance on
Talent Quest
, Kendall had practically bitten his hand off. She was already enjoying herself hugely.

Already seated at the judges' panel, waiting for the live taping to begin, Ivan also felt confident. Earlier he'd watched, gratified, as his fellow judge Richard Bay, a well-known lothario almost ten years Ivan's junior, had crashed and burned in his attempts to flirt with Kendall. Richard's chat-up lines might have worked on Scarlett Johansson, but Kendall appeared gloriously aloof to his charms, announcing in front of the entire production team that she was ‘crazy in love' with Ivan, and telling Richard that the two of them had ‘better sex than you could even imagine'. When the cameras finally started rolling and Kendall marched onstage in a clinging white silk dress to rapturous applause from the studio audience and started swaying sensuously to ‘Shake It Loose'
,
Ivan felt like the luckiest man in the world.

Needless to say, Kendall aced the song, but the real performance was to come. With a fake smile plastered on her Barbie-doll face, Isabella James walked over to Kendall for the on-camera congratulations.

‘Kendall Bryce, ladies and gentlemen!' she shouted to the audience, grabbing Kendall's right hand and raising it in triumph. ‘What a performance, eh? Amazing. Judges, what did you think of that?'

Stacey Harlow and Richard Bay clapped and smiled dutifully. Ivan made a big show of standing up and blowing kisses at Kendall. Breaking free from Isabella in an ‘unscripted moment', Kendall skipped over to where the panel was sitting, leaned down to give camera two a provocative glimpse of her ample cleavage, and proceeded to kiss her famous boyfriend lingeringly on the lips. The entire audience went wild.

Watching the screen in the Green Room, Don Peters offered a small prayer of thanks. Hiring Ivan Charles had been a risk, a risk that in
Talent Quest
's early days, Don had seriously regretted taking. But now, since Ivan had shacked up with Kendall, his star was rising so fast it was blinding. Even better, Brit-pop's new golden couple were dragging the show up with them. Tonight's ratings were bound to be off the charts, and ‘that kiss' would be splashed all over every gossip magazine and tabloid come tomorrow morning.

Don Peters was a happy man.

Back in LA, Jack was driving his Mercedes convertible along the well-worn route from Brentwood to West Hollywood – San Vicente, Wilshire Boulevard, Beverly, Doheny – drinking in the sunlight and flower-filled gardens like a humming bird gorging on nectar. Even in early February, Los Angeles could produce some sparkling, blue-skied days that made you glad to be alive. Today was one such day.

Fuck Ivan Charles. Fuck Kendall Bryce. Fuck Brett ungrateful Bayley. Jack was free of all of them, free to start again. It was time to start looking on that as an opportunity, time to rise from the ashes of Jester into a bright and hopeful future. Jack knew that Lex had been down too since the business dried up, and it was clear the boy was missing Kendall. He never said anything, but there was a tiredness in his face and a deadness in his eyes that hadn't been there before she left. Lex had actually taken a few weeks off work over the holidays, very unusually for him. Jack hadn't seen him since, but he hoped the break would have done him good.

Turning left into Lex's street, Jack pulled in outside the condo. He noticed that the mailbox was stuffed to bursting, and when he walked up to the front door all the shades were drawn and the inside lights switched off. Perhaps Lex was still away? He rang the bell. No answer. He tried again, still nothing, and was starting to walk away when he heard the door being unlatched. It opened a crack and a pale, unshaven face groggily appeared, blinking against the sun-light like a mole.

‘Jack. Whadda you doing here?' Lex's voice was heavily slurred and the stench of alcohol on his breath made Jack reel. ‘You di'n' call. You shoulda called.'

Pushing the door properly open, Jack walked past him into the apartment. He hadn't seen such squalor since his own student days. Weeks'-worth of old takeaway boxes were strewn all over the furniture and floor in various stages of mouldy decay. The TV was on low, some Spanish language show about DIY that Lex clearly wasn't watching but apparently hadn't had the energy to switch off, and beer cans, candy wrappers and every other conceivable kind of rubbish flowed out of the trash baskets like water from a fountain. The smell was quite astonishingly awful.

‘What's going on?' asked Jack, ignoring Lex's protests and lifting the blinds, opening windows to let in some desperately needed fresh air. ‘Are you sick? Did somebody die?'

‘No and noooooooo,' said Lex, ill-advisedly attempting a sort of standing pirouette and ending up collapsed on the litter-covered couch in a fit of giggles. ‘I am fit as a fucking fiddle. Happy as a clam. I am in the pink!'