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Oh fuck. It was true, wasn’t it? Fuck. Fuck.

I looked back at Tristan. I must have looked desperate, because he finally spoke. “Lily, we want this to be special. No hack job, something above the usual. You’re the best fit.” One corner of his mouth turned up in an almost invisible smile.

Nice choice of words, I thought, as I blushed, from both the praise and the memory of what else I fit. Fuck. Dave looked happy. James was scowling.

Dave tapped the table with his perfectly manicured fingertip. Tristan’s eyes darkened. Oh, the pissing contests between powerful men. It was funny—almost. This was a contest between titans. Dave was no lightweight—if he backed the tour, dragging along all the extra publicity the magazine could get, Tristan and his solo career would take off. And then there would be more money. And fame. And of course, more for the magazine. It was a win-win situation. But neither of them would admit to being equals; one of them would have to feel they had the upper hand. And there I was, in the middle. My job, to please them both. While acting as though I didn’t really care. I wasn’t sure I was really up to it. But I sure had to try. The power behind the throne. The power on the throne. I turned to Dave, first, in response to the finger tapping.

“Dave.” I swung my head around to Tristan, and gazed at him. “Tristan.” I ignored the idiot between them completely. I turned back to Dave. I focused my admiration on the way his shirt rose an even amount above the dark slice of the single-breasted cut of the suit. “This magazine has given me so many opportunities. I hope you know how much I value your guidance and support. As an editor, your instincts and skills are unparalleled. I’ve learned so much from you.” Dave smiled. He knew what I was about, but he didn’t mind his ego being stroked. And he knew I wasn’t lying. Now to see how Tristan liked it. A sudden image of me on my knees before him popped into my head. “Tristan.” And I kept my eyes steady with his. His arms were folded, each forearm solidly encased in black leather. My knee was shaking. I pinched myself to make it stop. This was not the time. “Tristan. I’ve enjoyed meeting and talking with you so much. You know how I feel about getting the word out there about your music, your genius. I think your solo work is your best yet. And it’s been thrilling to see you in action.” He smiled. The irony wasn’t lost on him. “So what can I say to both of you?” I paused and drank some Perrier. Timing. Making them wait, even if the outcome was obvious. “I’d be a fool to turn down an opportunity like this, to work with two such important figures in music. And can I say,” I turned to look from Dave to Tristan and back again, “I think you’ve made the right choice. I’m very excited to be involved, and I think this will bring out my best work so far.” I pinched my leg again. Inside, I was quaking. Hopefully none of that was visible.

Dave was smiling, but he tapped the smooth surface of the table impatiently. “Excellent,” he said. “We’ll consider London a first go. Lily, I’ve lined up an interview with the head of their first record company. In addition to the still photographer, we’ll be sending along a cameraman. For now, it’s going to be mostly handheld for the show. Simple things. Direct. Like the music.”

I nodded. And looked over at Tristan. He looked more relaxed, but still held a wary tension about his body.

James spoke up. We all looked at him, surprised. “I’ve unearthed some of the people who followed the band on the very first tour. I’m sure Lily would like to speak with them as well.” He had that look again. A line from the song “Red Light” by The Strokes suddenly jumped into my head. “Get yourself a lawyer and a gun.” I’d need both, judging from his face.

Dave waved a hand at him. “Great, James. Give me the details, and I’ll set up a meet and pass the details over to Lily.” I smiled gratefully at Dave. Yes, he did know more than he was letting on, but as long as he was on my side, I had some protection. I wondered how much more he knew.

James was smiling, hypocritically. “Of course, of course. You’re her boss, understood.”

I felt Tristan bristle, and looked over to see him scowling. More power plays. I turned away and looked at Dave again. This was a relationship I could count on, at any rate. “Dave, that’s brilliant. Your organization is always impeccable. I’m sure it will be,” here I paused, “interesting to meet some of the crowd that’s been there since the start. I’ll let you know just how ‘interesting’ it is.” I laughed, and Dave joined in.

Tristan interrupted. As usual, his voice came as a shock, his dark, liquid voice. “Lovely. Lily, glad you’re on board. Looking forward to collaborating with you on this.”

“Absolutely,” I answered, completely straight faced. “Your input will be invaluable.”

Tristan’s voice was steady. “Obviously.” He put his sunglasses back on. “Dave, always a pleasure. Thanks for meeting us at such short notice. But I’ve got to get going if all of the band is going to get on the plane.” He came around the table, and Dave stood to shake hands with him. Tristan turned to me, and placed his hands on my shoulders, and kissed me, lightly, on each cheek, in a strange imitation of what Dave had done when I came in. “Lily, look forward to seeing you in London. Have a good trip.” And he and James were gone.

I was standing up, ready to go. Dave was heading back to his usual chair, when he turned towards me. “Lily, can I have a word before you go?”

“Sure. What’s up?” His face appeared oddly stern and serious. What the hell? Where did the happy power hungry money counter go?

“Lily, this is a huge thing. For you. To be honest, for the magazine as well.”

I instantly felt defensive. “Dave, I know, believe me. I’m sorry if I haven’t showed it. I’m a little shocked, that’s all. You know what you want, and I hope you wouldn’t pick me if you didn’t think I was up to it. I’m really very thrilled to do this.”

He looked slightly sheepish. “No, Lily, that’s not it. Can I be honest with you?”

“Please.” I sat down in one of the chairs, but stayed poised on the edge. I needed to be ready.

“Firstly, James.”

“Oh, him.” I sneered dismissively.

“Lily, watch him. I’m not sure his motives in this are entirely honest, and between you and me, I’m little worried about his management of the band and Tristan as well.” Dave picked up a Mont Blanc pen from his desk and examined it closely, before placing it back symmetrically next to his glass. “Although Tristan seems like he can handle himself.”

I shook my head to rid it of the images that flashed into my mind. Professional, Lily, professional. And not that kind of handling.

“Yeah, Dave, I don’t like him either. And I don’t trust him. So I’ll keep my eyes open. I think he’d like to see me trip and fall.”

“I don’t think you’re wrong there.” His hand went towards the phone, that was always the cue to leave, so I started to get up, but his hand missed the phone and went up to stop me. “Lily, one more thing. It’s none of my business, but there…are…” He faltered and I stared at him, astonished. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him lost for words. He obviously felt my surprise, and he cleared this throat. “I’m embarrassed to have to say this, I don’t know why. But you should know. I feel protective of you. You’re a beautiful woman, smart, interesting. They’re lucky to have you involved in this project. But of course, Tristan, well, you know the stories about him, don’t you? There are just rumors that have floated around for a long time. Anyway. I don’t need to give you details, I’m sure you get the idea.” He ran his hand through his hand. He was actually flustered.

I wondered what he had heard.

“What if I take you out to dinner tonight? We can go over the schedule.” He smiled at me. “Do you like Japanese? There’s a new place, sake bar, supposed to be fantastic.”

He looked a little more than business like. I thought of my ripped underwear, in the trash in Tristan’s house. This was a day of surprises. And here was a perfect way to detach. And someone else would be on a plane. I didn’t need to even think about it.

“I’d love to.” I gave him a big smile, which he returned. He was a good looking man. The sharp look of those in charge. Besides it was business, right? “I love Japanese food.” Hadn’t I just said those words to someone else? “We can finalize the interviews. And you can give me your vision of how all this should go.” I tilted my head, biting my lower lip. “I’d like to talk about all these big ideas.”

He grinned at me. “I’ll send a car to pick you up at 8. See you later.” And he waited until I had left the office before he picked up the phone. Another first.

I walked out of the building into the chilly afternoon sunshine, slightly in shock. What the hell was going on? Was it the fantastic sex, sticking to me like some kind of magic potion? Or just the way I felt about things? I shook my head, and started walking up 7th Avenue. I felt so much energy rushing through me, I thought I’d be sick if I got into a cab. Crowds of people thronged along the streets, waiting at the lights, cars stopping and going, a group of noisy girls shouting to each other. Suddenly I was walking past Macy’s, and looking vaguely at the big glass windows. History. So much history. Mixed up with a lot of new unknowns. Sometimes moments felt like they contained past, present and future at once. Catching sight of my reflection, with the mannequins in the background, I thought of all the times I’d walked past shop windows and looked back at myself. I stood there for a minute, watching, thinking about the people I’d known, friends, lovers, family, some no longer around, but the energy remaining, the images overlapping, intertwining.

I kept going, right up to Times Square, an outdoor mall compared to the seedy iconic ruin it’d once been. Manufactured excitement driving the big neon billboards and the tourists, every kind of person milling around. They were all waiting for something to happen. I thought I’d take a picture, remember this strange little moment, and I fished around for my phone in my bag.

The blinking light said there was a message.

Forget everything I said before. There will be a car to meet you at Heathrow. This is going to be hard. Please don’t make it harder.

I started laughing in the middle of the street, next to the bizarre red metal arena stairs that held the TKTS booth. People went around me, as I stood there, staring at the text. “Please don’t make it harder? Whatever the fuck did happen?” I said out loud, watching a couple carrying two large shopping bags emblazoned with the M&M logo quickly change direction to avoid me. I dropped the phone back in my bag, and started walking up to 8th Avenue to hail a cab going uptown, singing “set me free why don’t you babe” as loudly as I could in my best Diana Ross impression. The guy collecting money for his charity called over to me, “Hey looking and sounding good beautiful lady. How about some money for the homeless today?”