Friends & Rivals (9 page)

Which wasn't to say he didn't miss her. To this day Jack didn't know what it was that drew him to Kendall. On the surface she was everything he disliked in a woman: vain, selfish, attention-seeking, capricious. But there was a need in her that Jack responded to, a need for a father and for a friend, a true friend who didn't blow smoke up her ass like the rest of her rich, spoiled Beverly Hills crowd. Since Sonya died, there'd been a void in Jack's life that was more than just romantic. He hadn't only lost his wife, he'd lost his family, his future, his reason to care. In some strange, undefined way, Kendall had filled that void. Not romantically, of course. As sexy as she was, Jack needed a relationship with Kendall Bryce like he needed a hole in the head. But, emotionally, Kendall mattered to Jack at a time when he'd feared that no one would ever matter to him again. In a bizarre way, taking care of her was a relief.

There were other things too. Kendall was powered by fear the way that a car was powered by gasoline. Jack Messenger understood fear. Beneath Kendall's bravado and bullshit lurked a sweet, smart, funny girl with a good heart. Jack wanted more for that girl than career success. He wanted her to be happy, which was one of the reasons he'd kept her at Matador for so long, rather than let her swim with the sharks at one of the big global record companies. Eventually she would have to make the move to the big league. But Jack was in no rush to hurry her out of her safe little cocoon.

The intercom on Jack's desk buzzed into life.

‘It's Kendall for you. Line one.'

Jack's smile broadened.
Speak of the devil.
‘OK, put her on.'

Back at the Eaton Gate apartment, Kendall stumbled around the kitchen opening and closing drawers with one hand, while the other kept precarious hold on the neck of a bottle of Moët. Ivan's phone was wedged between her shoulder and ear, playing Jester's hold music. Beverly, Jack's Rottweiler of a secretary, was ‘checking' whether the great man was available to speak to her, and Kendall had decided to multitask while she waited.

‘I can't find a fucking corkschrew,' she called out to Ivan drunkenly. ‘Your fucking kitchen's fucking dishorganished.'

Ivan, who'd drunk the best part of a bottle of Chablis himself at their celebration lunch, but who at twice Kendall's body weight was doing a better job of holding his drink, walked in to a deafening clatter of cutlery. Kendall had upended the entire top drawer onto the tiled floor. Dressed only in a pair of knickers and a T-shirt – she'd stripped off as soon as they got back from Boisdale's, declaring herself ‘boiling' in her Hudson jeans, and Ivan's flat ‘a fucking oven' – she seemed to be attempting to search through the drawer's contents with her bare foot.

‘You don't need a corkscrew, angel,' said Ivan, relieving her of the Moët and expertly de-corking it with the softest of pops. ‘It's champagne.'

‘Ooooohhhh. Oops,' said Kendall.

‘Now go and sit down next door and I'll get you a glass, before you totally trash the place. Who are you calling?' Ivan glanced at the phone.

‘Jack.' Kendall hiccuped loudly, then collapsed into giggles.

Ivan's eyebrow shot up. ‘Really? I'm not sure that's the best idea.'

‘Courshe it is. Jack has to be the firsht to know. He'll be happy for me, you'll shee. He lovesh me really.'

Ivan didn't know whether Jack loved Kendall or not. But he'd have been willing to put good money on him
not
being happy about today's events.

The reason Kendall was so drunk was that she and Ivan had only just returned from a long, celebratory lunch. They were celebrating for two reasons. The first was that ITV had called last night and confirmed Ivan's appointment as a judge on
Talent Quest
, their newest reality talent show. And the second was that at eleven o'clock this morning, Kendall had signed a huge, two-album deal with Polydor's Fascination Records. Fascination were already huge in the UK, representing the likes of Cheryl Cole and Take That, but their big focus was on signing more big-name US acts, acts whose profile was still building and who were prepared to deal exclusively with the label. Kendall Bryce fitted the bill perfectly.

Financially there was no doubt it was a terrific deal. Not only would Polydor buy Kendall out of her remaining contract with Matador, they were more than tripling her upfront money, and had committed a huge sum to promotion of her albums and at least one live tour. It also fitted well with Jack's strategy of broadening Kendall's appeal internationally, and particularly in the crucial UK market. The problem was that Ivan had made the deal. And he had done so without consulting Jack.

Ensconced on Ivan's suede couch, with a fresh glass of Moët in her hand, Kendall waited impatiently for Jack to come on the line. Perhaps she was a
little
tipsy. The grandfather clock in the corner was swaying from side to side like a metronome, and the swaying didn't seem to stop when she closed her eyes. But if she couldn't let her hair down today, when could she? Jack would be so proud when he heard about her deal. Perhaps now he'd finally believe that she was capable of great things? She was determined to show him she was mature enough to make good decisions, and that all the time and effort and money he'd invested in her had been worth it. Only once he stopped seeing her as a problem, a burden, would he be able to see her as a woman.
The
woman.
His
woman.

Coming to England had changed Kendall's thinking about a lot of things. She'd agreed to move into Jack's guesthouse because it meant being near him and seeing him every day, but she realized now that had been a mistake. She'd become too commonplace in Jack's mind, too familiar, a part of the furniture. They needed some distance.

Plus the trip itself had been far more enjoyable than Kendall had ever imagined. Her first gig, at the Apollo, had been a blast, and had received gratifyingly glowing reviews. Meanwhile, Ivan had put together a media tour that had her racing from rehearsals to TV studios to radio stations twenty-four seven, but he managed to make the gruelling days feel like fun. That was the thing with Ivan. With his sharp, caustic sense of humour, his flirting and his love of a good party – and of mischief-making in general, he was more like a naughty frat boy than a management company chaperone. Kendall loved Jack deeply and totally. But being with Ivan made her realize how dull her life in LA had become. Jack was still in mourning. He was depressed. It wasn't until she got away that Kendall realized that his sadness was contagious.

‘Hey, kiddo! How's it going over there? I hear you killed at the Apollo.'

Kendall felt awash with happiness. She couldn't remember the last time she'd heard such enthusiasm in Jack's voice. Absence really had made his heart grow fonder.

‘Yeah, it was great,' she gushed. ‘The
Evening Shtandard
said I sounded like Aretha Franklin.'

Jack went silent. When he spoke again, all the warmth had drained from his voice. ‘Have you been drinking?'

Kendall was about to deny it when a loud hiccup gave her away. She giggled. ‘Jusht a little bit. But I had a very good reason. You are talking to the new, frontline act for …' She made a
boom boom boom boom
noise like a drum roll: ‘Fascination Records!'

She waited for Jack to respond. He didn't. Holding the handset away from her ear, Kendall looked at the swirling keypad curiously. Had she accidentally pressed mute?

‘Are you there?' she said eventually. ‘I think I losht him,' she called to Ivan.

‘I'm here.' Jack's voice was icy cold now. It began to dawn on Kendall that all was not well. ‘I sincerely hope you're joking.'

‘Why would I joke about a thing like that?' Kendall asked, defensively. ‘I thought you'd be pleased. Aren't you going to ask me how much it's for?'

‘No,' said Jack. ‘Because whatever damn fool agreement you've made, you're gonna unmake. You are under contract with Matador.'

‘Not any more I'm not.' Kendall felt her anger rising. ‘Polydor are buying me out.' Why could Jack never, ever give her the benefit of the doubt? He was against this deal before he even knew what it was.

‘I assume Ivan's behind this. Is he with you?'

‘Ivan was kind enough to set up the meeting. But it was my—'

‘Is he with you?' Jack interrupted tersely.

‘Yesh. We're at the flat,' said Kendall.

‘Put him on.'

Ivan, who'd been hovering in the kitchen doorway listening to the conversation, smiled encouragingly at Kendall. ‘He'll calm down,' he reassured her in a stage whisper, before taking the handset. ‘Jack. It's Ivan. How are you, mate? Your protégée here told you the good news? As of today, she's officially Jester's highest-paid client.'

Jack exploded. ‘What the fuck are you playing at?'

‘I'm not playing at anything,' Ivan said smoothly. ‘I'm doing my job. Getting the best deal possible for Jester's clients.'

‘Kendall's
my
client!' Jack roared. ‘I sent her to you for a few weeks to do a handful of concerts. And you go and blow up her record deal?'

‘Don't be so melodramatic,' breezed Ivan. ‘Nothing's been “blown up”. Matador are getting their money. Kendall's moving on to bigger and better things, that's all. It happens all the time. Besides, you were the one who wanted her to raise her profile over here.'

‘I didn't want her to move to a British fucking label!'

‘Why not? They've got The Jonas Brothers and Miley Cyrus.'

‘Yeah, as side deals! Not as their primary label.'

‘Which is exactly why they wanted Kendall. She'll be the first big US act they've signed exclusively, and they've paid handsomely for the privilege. It's a forty-million-dollar deal, Jack. If you'd pull your head out of your arse for five minutes, you'd realize this is a good thing.'

Ivan rolled his eyes at Kendall, who was looking increasingly tense and miserable on the couch. Whatever happened, he must not let Jack talk her out of this. This morning's paperwork would take weeks or even months to finalize. If Kendall wasn't committed, the whole thing would unravel, and any hopes Ivan had of making the move across to the pop market would be dead in the water.

‘You know, if you
really
cared about Kendall, you'd be happy for her,' he said slyly. ‘Forgive me for saying so, but you seem mightily concerned about your own, personal interests here.'

Jack started yelling so loudly that Ivan had to hold the phone away from his ear. As a result, Kendall heard everything.

‘Kendall's a child,' he roared. ‘She's spoiled and short-sighted and completely emotionally immature.'

Kendall blushed scarlet. Was that really what Jack thought of her?

‘She has no idea of the kind of risk she's taking, walking away from a US record deal at such an early point in her career. She's an addict, Ivan. She's unstable and needy and she's simply not ready for the kind of pressured environment you're throwing her into.'

Ivan responded, fixing his eyes on Kendall as he spoke.

‘I disagree. I've found the young lady to be smart, savvy and very much in control of her own career decisions. I made the introduction at Fascination. But it was Kendall herself who's been driving this thing.'

‘Bullshit,' said Jack, again loudly enough for Kendall to hear. ‘Kendall's no more capable of driving a deal than she is of staying off the booze. I should know. I've been wiping the girl's nose for the last two years. She's a walking disaster.'

Suddenly sober, Kendall got up and snatched the phone back from Ivan.

‘You listen to me, you smug asshole. You're not my father, and you're not my boss. You're my manager. Which means that
you
work for
me.
I'm not going to be held back in my career just because your nose is out of joint that I finally made a decision without you. And it was a good decision.'

‘It was a terrible decision,' said Jack, deadpan. ‘Let me speak to Ivan.'

‘No!' said Kendall. She was angry, but she also felt close to tears. She was pleased about the money, of course she was, but what she wanted more than anything was Jack's approval. She hated herself for wanting it, and she hated him more for not giving it. ‘
I'm
the client. You can damn well talk to me.'

Jack hung up.

‘I don't believe it,' Kendall spluttered. ‘Of all the arrogant—'

Ivan's mobile rang. ‘Let's talk about this calmly, OK?' Cupping his hand over his mouth, Ivan walked back into the kitchen and pulled the door closed. ‘We're supposed to be a team, Jack. Team Jester.'

‘A team?' If it hadn't been so outrageously hypocritical it might have been funny. ‘You got my client to sign a deal behind my back!'

‘Our client,' corrected Ivan. ‘They're all our clients, remember?'

This was one of Jack's favourite catchphrases back in the old days. He wasn't amused to have it used against him.

‘And it wasn't done behind your back. It was an opportun-ity; it came up very quickly, and Kendall wanted to take it.'

‘You should have called me.'

‘It was the middle of the night in LA. I took an executive decision, as your partner. I genuinely thought it was what you wanted.'

Jack let out a mirthless laugh. These days, Ivan was about as ‘genuine' as a plastic Rolex.

‘You know, sometimes I really think you're intent on holding Jester's European business back.'

‘That's crap,' said Jack robustly.

‘Is it? Then why are you so against me diversifying and pursuing our interests in reality television?'

‘Because they're not “our” interests, they're yours,' said Jack. ‘You want to take time out from the clients to become a TV personality.' He injected these last two words with as much disdain as humanly possible. Ivan, who'd been about to casually drop his ITV offer into the conversation – Kendall's deal probably made this his best opportunity to ‘bury' any other bad news – suddenly thought better of it.