The Publicist Book One and Two

by Christina George

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “I’m fine,” Kate replied curtly.

  “Fine. I know you’re eager to meet Andrew, but here’s the thing…” Trevor stepped behind a large, wooden desk that looked as though it had been freshly polished.

  Oh, God, she thought, here it comes.

  “Whatever you see here today cannot in any way be included with your publicity campaign. Is that understood?”

  Kate’s heart sank; it was worse than she’d expected. “What am I going to see here today? I need Andrew sober.”

  Trevor chuckled, “I can assure you, he’ll be sober. It’s just that, well, Andrew is not who he seems.”

  Kate’s mind raced. What the hell was this guy talking about?

  “I need you to sign this.” The attorney pulled a thin set of papers out of the desk drawer.

  “Excuse me?” This was some sort of joke; it had to be. Regardless, she wasn’t signing anything.

  “It’s a simple NDA, that’s all.” Trevor walked over to Kate, handing her the document. “Here, have a look.”

  “I can’t sign anything.”

  “Then I can’t let you in to see Mr. Trapp.”

  Jesus. Kate snatched the document from his hand. “Fine, let me read this.” Kate read it quickly. It was simple, just as he’d said. Basically, anything that went on in the house during the three days she was there was totally and completely off limits.

  “I’m not agreeing to any legal team overseeing my work.”

  He nodded. “Nor is that our intent. We know your reputation and Andrew is happy to be working with you, but we have some secrets that, if made public, could hurt the book’s success.”

  “I won’t be party to anything illegal,” Kate spat. She was starting to get pissed off.

  Trevor chuckled. “Nothing illegal, I can assure you. I tell you what, if after you meet Andrew you don’t think this relationship will work, we’ll find another publicist at your firm to work with.”

  “It’s not that easy, I’m sorry to say. Teams have been assigned, so it’s me or no one.” Kate placed the paperwork on the desk and signed quickly. She handed it back to the attorney. “I don’t get this, but fine. I have a job to do.”

  Trevor nodded. “Right this way, then.”

  He led her through a maze of hallways to the back of the house. A door opened to a simple living area, kitchen, and beyond that, Kate assumed, were the sleeping rooms.

  “Andrew will be right out.” Trevor disappeared behind the doors, and Kate was left alone to observe her surroundings. This part of the house was much simpler; there were family pictures on the mantel, simple furniture, and a small, framed British flag. It was actually hard to tell who lived here—certainly not a celebrity. Kate assumed they must be meeting in the servants’ quarters or something, to keep with this whole crazy mystique and privacy thing they seemed to have going.

  “You must be Katharine.” A lilting British accent startled her. Kate spun around. A well-groomed man in his late-fifties, dressed in a light blue shirt tucked neatly into his tan pants, tall, lean and smiling, was walking toward her.

  She nodded. “Yes, I’m Kate. And you are?”

  He laughed, “I’m Andrew Trapp.” He noted her shock, smiled, and tipped his head toward her. “Not what you were expecting, is it?”

  “Not at all. I expected you to be…”

  “Drunk and high on cocaine?”

  “Sort of.”

  Andrew laughed even harder. “They all do. It’s a shtick I must keep up. Appearances and all, you know.”

  Kate was confused.

  “Come on, Katharine, have a seat. I was just about to make myself some tea. Would you like some?”

  “Y-yes, and please call me Kate. But I don’t understand.”

  “That’s what the NDA was for, Love, so you wouldn’t go tell everyone that the darling of the tabloids was really not all that bad.”

  “But the drinking?”

  “Haven’t touched a drop in years. Come with me.” Andrew led her to another room, an open kitchen with high windows that overlooked his ranch. Andrew set a kettle on the stove. “I love making tea the old fashioned way; I think boiled water in a kettle is just better. Do you have a tea preference?”

  “No, whatever you have is fine.” Kate felt like she was in some odd version of an Ozzy and Harriet Twilight Zone.

  “If this were seventeenth-century England, you’d be beheaded for saying that,” Andrew smiled.

  “I’m really confused,” Kate said, ignoring his comment about her indifference to the type of tea he served.

  Kate watched as Andrew filled the kettle and set it on the stove. He looked nothing like the many pictures she’d seen of him—most showing him sprawled out and drunk or being handcuffed. Often both.

  “Do you know Danny Bonaduce?”

  “Pardon?”

  “You know, the kid from the Partridge Family? Always a mess growing up, got into drugs and the lot?”

  Kate nodded. “Sure, right. Yes, I’ve heard of him.”

  “Where are my manners? Please have a seat.” Andrew motioned to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair for her. “Anyway,” he continued, “I know Danny, have for years. He was quoted once as saying, ‘I get more attention when I’m bad. The world doesn’t reward me for being good.’”

  “So, you decided to be bad just to get attention?”

  “Well, not exactly. You see, years ago I was on my own and struggling somewhat. I did drugs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and still the fans loved me. Then came my first hit record, and suddenly everyone knew who Andrew Trapp was. I met Steven, who is still my manager, and he promised that he’d make me the biggest star on the planet. And he did. In exchange, I had to keep playing the bad boy.”

  “Wait, you mean this was all a set up? All of the crazy things you did were all just for show?”

  Andrew smiled. “No, Love. Not all of it. In some of it I was actually pissed, but in later years I sobered up and cleaned up my life. I had an agreement and so I kept it. This book is the last piece of that agreement.”

  “Wait. You mean this book was part of the deal?”

  “Well, sort of. It wasn’t planned that way, but my manager said that once the book is out, I am free to do whatever I want. And what I want is to get married.”

  “But why couldn’t you get married anyway? I mean, what’s the harm in that?”

  The kettle began to whistle and another male voice deeper than Andrew’s, also clearly British, echoed through the hallway. “Andrew, my darling, are you here?”

  The man was as tall as Andrew—handsome, tanned, and, Kate guessed, slightly older.

  Andrew’s face lit up as the man neared him and kissed him softly on the lips. Suddenly he spotted Kate.

  “Oh dear, I’m so sorry; I forgot you were having company today.” He strode towards her. “I’m James. Nice to meet you.”

  Kate shook his hand. It was slowly beginning to dawn on her.

  “I’m Kate, the publicist for Andrew’s book.”

  Andrew set two steaming cups on the table. “Would you like some tea, James?” he asked his partner.

  “No, I won’t disturb you; I need to go check on some things anyway. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Kate.” James disappeared out of the kitchen.

  Andrew smiled at her. “I’m known for being a ladies’ man; imagine how the world would react if I were a man’s man,” he chuckled.

  “But no one would care, Andrew.”

  “Sure they would. Well, my manager would. They want me to play it straight until the book is out, mostly because I’m talking about all of my wanton love stories with some of the biggest starlets in the world.”

  “Someone will find out.”

  Andrew nodded and sipped his tea. “Of course they will, but by then my contract will be up and I’ll be able to lead my own life.”

  “So this manager owns you, totally.”

  Andrew shrugge
d, “I was drunk off my ass, young, and hungry when I signed it. What can I say?”

  “And James. What happens when you go on the road with this book?”

  “He’ll stay behind. He gets it. He knows the game, too. He hides for a while, and then he doesn’t. Everything in life is an illusion, Kate.”

  Kate would have to agree; certainly, when it came to publishing, much of what went on was about perception.

  “How did you two meet?” she asked.

  A broad smile took over Andrew’s face. “At school. I’ve known James for almost forty years. We were best friends, and then he married a woman.” He winked, “And one day he realized he was gay. By that time in my life, I was sort of feeling it, too. So, we snuck around for the better part of twenty years.”

  Kate was surprised. “Wait. You’ve been seeing each other for twenty years? How did no one find out?”

  “We were very careful.” He smiled. “And truthfully, Love, when you see stars with secrets that come out and they’re horrified and whatnot, I will tell you most certainly they want them to come out. If you really want to keep a secret in this industry, you can. But most of us are attention whores.”

  “But you had relationships with women, stories you’ve written about in this book. Andrew, I appreciate what you’ve been through, but I won’t promote a lie.”

  “Oh dear, Piper was right. You are a gem!”

  “Piper?” Kate frowned. Piper Maru, the hottest singing sensation, had helped her draw some attention at a signing for Janet Easter, one of her favorite authors MD was getting ready to dump. Having Piper at Janet’s book signing turned out hundreds of people and resulted in Janet’s book hitting the bestseller list and MD finally giving her the attention she deserved. Kate, however, didn’t know Piper, per se, and she assumed Piper didn’t know her.

  “Piper Maru, Love. She’s a good friend of mine. That’s why I insisted you be the publicist for this book; she said you were the best.”

  “Wait. You asked for me?”

  “Well, yes, I did, though they said you were already assigned to the project. I insisted you be a part of this. Piper said you were creative and, well, basically a genius.”

  Kate shook her head; she had no idea that Piper even remembered her. Generally, no one remembered the publicist.

  “It’s also why I brought you here,” Andrew continued. “I’m sure you had visions of a drugged out rock star showing up at signings and the like, and I wanted you to know that if I act out it’s, well, all part of the act.”

  Kate shook it off. “I won’t promote a lie,” she said again.

  “I won’t either. This book is my legacy, Kate. Once this book is done, I’m writing another about coming out and being with someone I have loved all of my life. I’m going to tell it all—how the music world works, what’s real, and what’s not.”

  “That book will end your career.”

  Andrew laughed, “Love, my career is long over. I turn sixty this year. I have no desire to be another Mick Jagger and play concerts in the geriatric home. For God’s sake, the man looks like a turtle. Have you seen him recently? Look, I’ve done what I set out to do: made music. Now I want my life back.”

  Kate stared at her cup. “There’s one more thing you should know about me, Andrew.”

  He leaned in smiling. “Yes, Love?”

  “I don’t like your music.”

  Andrew’s laughter carried through the kitchen. “For fuck sake, Kate, neither do I. Well some of it I adore, but some of these songs I’ve played ten thousand times that I bloody well hate.”

  She smiled. “Then let’s get to work.”

  …

  They had dinner on the veranda. James barbecued steaks and they sipped margaritas. Andrew wanted his virgin.

  “I’m not in a program, as you Americans say. I just want to keep my head clear for this work. Alcohol never helped me do anything but get into trouble.”

  He smiled to James, who stood tall and handsome against the backdrop of the mountains and the evening sunset. Kate found him to be a delightful man, and obviously, he and Andrew were completely in love. She wondered how you could hide a love that was so strong it showed in their faces each time they looked at each other. Then she thought of her and Mac and wondered if everyone saw it in her face each time she looked at him. She made a mental note to try to avoid that when they were in public. She chuckled to herself. Good luck with that. Her eyes were glued to him the minute he entered a room. God, this was complicated.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kate’s phone buzzed, forcing her to slip through the layers of sleep and open her eyes. She glanced at the clock. It was six a.m. in Vegas, her last day with Andrew and James. Two men who she’d become impossibly fond of. She rubbed her face and pushed herself upright. Her phone buzzed mercilessly on the nightstand. She finally grabbed it. It was Mac.

  “Hey,” she said, her voice still heavy with sleep.

  “Wow, that must have been some party last night. It’s nine a.m. here and you’re still in bed?” she could hear Mac smiling through the phone, the mere sound of his voice left her a quivering mass of raging female hormones.

  “It’s six here in the West, Mac.”

  “Oh right. I knew that. I just miss the sound of your voice when you first wake up. Sorry I woke you.”

  “It’s okay. How are you?”

  “I’m good, Kate. How’s the Trapp book?”

  Kate pondered her answer. Though Mac was the editor, she was under an NDA, and moreover, she respected Andrew too much to not keep his secret. “It’s good actually. Andrew is, eh, a surprise.”

  “Good. Well look, I wanted to prep you for something before you come back today.”

  Kate held her breath. This was never good.

  Mac continued, “They’re moving up the release date for The Continued Promise.”

  Kate leaned back on the pillows. She was certain she’d misunderstood. “What did you say?”

  “Eddie wants to move up the release date of the book from fall to summer.”

  Kate’s heart dropped. Summer? Summer was not a terrible time to release a book, but something like The Continued Promise needed a fall release; the bigger books were always pushed to the fall.

  “Mac, there must be some mistake.”

  “No mistake, Katie. I tried to talk Eddie out of it, but he’s determined to release it early.”

  “Why?”

  “I have no idea, but there’s something odd about this. I mean, not just a changed release date, but the whole thing. Ed refuses to give me a solid reason for the early date; he said, ‘just do it.’ He wants you back right away.”

  “I leave tonight;. I’m not changing my flight. Mac, this is insane. Does he have any idea what work goes into a title this size?”

  “The bookstores are already being called. If we can’t get early placement, that might change his mind. But you’ll need to call Publishers Weekly right away. I’m sorry, Katie.”

  “It’s not your fault, Mac. When did you find out?”

  “Fifteen minutes ago. My first call was to the sales team to see about taking care of the bookstore piece. Then I called you.”

  Kate hesitated. “Mac, you know I never felt right about this guy, Michael Singer has corrupt written all over him. There’s something so fishy about this release being moved up.”

  “I agree, but there’s nothing we can do. I hope you’re not right about Singer though—we have a lot riding on this book.”

  “We do, and that’s why this makes no sense at all. This could kill the book.”

  Mac was silent for a moment; they all needed this book to do well. “I know,” he said quietly.

  After news like that, Kate was fully awake. “Mac, I need to make some calls before I head down to breakfast.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Katie.” Mac clicked off and the bad feeling that had followed her ever since she and Mac had met Michael Singer in Seattle haunted Kate. There was more to this story. She was
certain of it.

  Kate picked up her phone again and started making calls.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Master Yee Woo was a noted something, Kate couldn’t recall. But he had legions of devotees and a Twitter account that boasted a million and a half followers. His website was all about driving good energy, bringing prosperity and wealth into your life, and generally making everything just skippy and lovely. In order to get to Master Woo, Kate had to go through a series of assistants. She suspected that bank vaults had less security. After a few weeks of trying to get the author on the phone, they finally had a call scheduled that afternoon. Between this release and the shuffling of The Continued Promise release date, Kate’s bandwidth was stretched pretty thin. She barely had time for anything social, though she and Grace had a quick cocktail earlier that week. While they sipped their Cosmos, Kate gingerly dodged the topic of Mac—which wasn’t easy.

  Kate had been assigned to this title, and Pete, the office lowlife, had been asked to assist her. Pete made no secret of the fact that he aspired to head up the publicity department one day and wanted to be Kate’s boss. She’d rather have a job asking, “Would you like fries with that?” than work for that little redheaded twerp. There was little good to be said about Pete, other than the fact that he excelled at being a loathsome pest. How he managed to keep his job was anyone’s guess.

  “What time is our call, Kate?” Pete popped his head into her office. His red hair was tousled. His grooming habits left a lot to be desired. She wondered if he even brushed his hair in the morning.

  “I’ve told you three times. It’s at one p.m., but you don’t need to be on the call.”

  “I think it’s important. We’re both working on this title, Kate.”

  She frowned. “No, I’m working on this title. You’re helping.”