Chapter 29: Ed

I hated green rooms. Purgatory, that's what they felt like. An awkward limbo between on-air and off-air, where you didn't have to worry about cameras but couldn't be yourself, either.

"How's single life treating you?" Hanna Keaton, a twenty-something actress who had the confidence of someone who'd been in the industry ten years, not ten minutes, shuffled closer.

"Fine." I shot her a polite smile. "Getting there."

Her dark red lips pursed into what I assumed was supposed to be a sympathetic smile. Instead, she resembled a condescending fish.

"I thought what you wrote about her was beautiful."

"Thanks."

"So mature of you, too." She edged even closer until I could smell her eye-watering perfume.

No doubt Soph would find humour in this, but it was the last thing I needed before a live TV panel show. She was inches away from me now, her knee pressed into my thigh. Long nails grazing my blazer jacket. If she kept this up on camera, I'd be screwed. I'd have to laugh it off. Maybe bring it back round to Soph somehow by referencing how the break-up was fresh. That would earn me some respect. And hopefully some respect for Soph, too, if I was shown to be sensitive towards her.

"I meant everything I said," I told Hanna. "I loved her, and those feelings don't just disappear."

That seemed to do the trick. Another smile, this time more sheepish, like she'd been caught red-handed. At least we were both on the same page now.

*

We were not on the same page.

Lionel Hennessy was a great host. A fair host. For the most part, he moderated discussions like a champion, but every great host recognises what will score high ratings, and having a young actress publicly flirt with me was just that.

"So, Teddy Stone can sing. We've seen you act. Dance. You've done some award show hosting. You're great in interviews. You're polite in person..." Hennessy reeled off the compliments while I waited for the punch line. "What aren't you good at, Teddy?"

I chuckled. "Plenty, believe me."

"You don't look like the kind of guy who's bad at things," Hanna piped up from across the table. "The opposite, actually. Like, I look at you and think, there's a guy who's good in bed."

I breathed in oxygen through another chuckle to settle my nerves. This was what I wanted. To show a different side of me. To relax and laugh.

"I've not had any complaints," I replied.

"Who'd complain about fucking Teddy Stone?" She threw her hands in the air. "It's a privilege! Us mere mortals would never stand a chance."

"And how many have had the privilege?" Her teammate asked, because apparently now it was fair game.

"A few," I said with a casual shrug.

Hanna rolled her eyes. "Please! A few? You must get loads of pussy."

"I'm very picky."

"Picky enough to turn me down when I hit on you backstage."

The audience laughed, thinking it was a joke, but my heart rate skyrocketed. All I could think about was Soph. She'd be watching. Imagining Hanna and me backstage. Knowing it wasn't a joke because she understood the reality.

*

"'Teddy Stone's appearance is one for the history books,'" I read. "'He handled himself with dignity and humility, humouring the explicit conversations without fully indulging them.' The perfect balance for a perfect guy."

"Did it actually say that last sentence?" Jeremy glanced at me through the rear-view mirror.

"Of course it didn't." Helen snatched the tablet out of my hands and clicked to lock it. "Don't be so bitter, Ed. It shines you in a fantastic light."

I gritted my teeth and shifted my gaze across to the window. Watched the bustling New York streets zoom by at a faster pace than our crawling car.

"Why aren't you happy?" Helen asked. "You did great. The viewers loved you. The media loved you. This article proves—"

"It was supposed to show a different side of me. A fun side. A more adult side."

"And talking about how much pussy you get isn't that?"

Oh, Christ. That was the last thing I needed while trying to forget the whole sorry ordeal: Helen using the word 'pussy'.

"Except I didn't, did I? I evaded the question. And somehow, they still liked that."

Helen drummed her nails against the glass iPad screen. Clackety clack. Over and over. God, I needed out of this car. I didn't have high hopes for this Michelle girl being more tolerable, but she had to be better than this.

"It's not going to be an overnight change," Helen said. "You played it perfectly. Maybe you think you were being safe, but that's what made it authentic. I haven't spent a decade building a brand for you to easily destroy it in one night."

I grunted in acknowledgement. She had a point there. Plus, I didn't want to come across as an asshole. Just a human being. An imperfect human.

Very few people saw that imperfect side of me. The problem with that had shown itself with Soph's vilification. After all, how could a normal human match up to a perfect one? If only these people saw that I, too, was human, maybe they'd be more accepting of her. If not, this career had always had an expiration date. The quicker I could chip away at my perfection, the sooner I could distance myself from the idolising teenage crowd. Then it would just be me. My authentic self.

Starting with Michelle Lopez. She'd get the real me, whether she liked it or not.

*

Turns out, she didn't like it. I was already in a bad mood from the car journey, and I couldn't muster the willpower to dazzle her with faux charm.

While the adults scuttled off to discuss legalities, I was left to babysit a twenty-two-year-old who was much more irritating in person than she seemed on TikTok.

"So, who is the bitchiest celeb you've ever met?" She propped her feet on the chair between us and nudged my thigh with her pointy-toed boot.

"I'm obviously not going to answer that," I said.

"Oh, come on. Apparently your manager said to my manager that you'd be an amazing mentor. So, mentor me. Who do I need to watch out for? Any creepy talk show hosts? Hey, I watched you on that panel last night. So fucking hot. The way you gave us just a taste of that side to you. Left us wanting more. Damn."

Give me strength. This girl better deliver. If I put myself through this and my image didn't even change one bit... I'd be tempted to retire there and then.

"If it's mentoring you want, let's keep it to music, shall we? What are you working on currently?"

She scrunched her nose and let her feet fall to the ground. "We'll be talking about music all week. I wanna know about the non-music stuff."

"We can do that over dinner. Me and you. Just us. When we're here in your studio, though, we need to have something to show for it."

As soon as her eyes lit up, I regretted suggesting dinner. She might get the wrong idea. Other people would definitely get the wrong idea. Although...

"Okay." She beamed. "Sure. Sounds like a plan, hot man."

This had to be a front. A brand. A persona. I was an expert at that, but I didn't know her well enough to tell for sure.

"Can you look at my next single?" she then asked, thankfully back to business. "Well, technically it'll be my first single since apparently the TikTok stuff doesn't count—"

"Who told you that?"

"What? That it'll be my first?"

"Yeah, that the TikTok stuff doesn't count? Because that's nonsense. It's your music. It counts."

For once, she didn't have much to say to that. Just shrugged to dismiss it, like it didn't bother her. Even though her sassy tone had suggested it definitely bothered her.

"I think he just meant my first coming from this label. An album, you know? If we want to sell an album, the debut has to be strong. Right?"

She stared at me. Waited for the confirmation. Or reassurance. I just nodded.

"Let's take a look," I said. "Can you get me a paper copy?"

Off she bounced to find a printer. Finally with some time to myself, I shot off a text to Soph.

Me: Miss you. Life feels like it's in monochrome without you.

Soph: You fucking sap. Surely it's too early for you to be drunk?

Me: About to do some writing and was getting in the creative mood. Thanks for appreciating it

Soph: You're welcome. Did you fuck lots of pussy last night?

I bit my lip to stop the laugh leaking out. Stole a glance at the door to check Michelle wasn't on her way back—she probably didn't even know what a printer looked like, never mind how to use one.

Me: Nah, just thought about yours as I jerked off alone in my bed

Proving that she was perfect in my eyes at least, Soph had seen the funny side of last night's show. The time difference had meant I couldn't speak to her afterwards, so I had to rely on a semi-grovelling text instead. Only semi, since I hadn't actually done anything wrong and I didn't want her suspecting otherwise by overplaying it.

Soph: How flattering

Me: You not in the mood for my fantastic dirty talk?

Soph: You're about to do a song-writing sesh with a flirty sex bomb. I am not going to turn you on for that

Me: Give me some credit

Soph: I'll be in the mood tonight

Damn. It's like she knew I'd just made dinner plans with the flirty sex bomb.

Soph: I'll be wearing something new that I bought for your eyes only...

On second thoughts, dinner could wait one night.

***

Thank you for reading :) xx

***

First impressions of Michelle?

We see Ed's song-writing session with her in the next chapter, before we return to Soph's POV for that phone sex date...🌶️🔥