Image of You

by M. G. Morgan

  "I just need two things."

  Grabbing a pen and pad from Brody's desk, I waited for Matt to share his artistic demands with me. Normally the artists we worked with were very temperamental. Their demands sometimes nearly impossible to meet. The fact that Matt only had two had already piqued my interest.

  "My guitar, and you." He winked as he turned and made his way out the door.

  "Wait where is your guitar, if you don't have it?" I called after him but he simply waved back at me.

  I let out a frustrated groan and turned my anger on Brody.

  "What the hell were you thinking? You've never allowed a client to bully you before?"

  "He wasn't bullying me."

  "He threatened to walk if you didn't do exactly as he said."

  Brody smiled and shook his head. "That's where you're wrong. It wasn't really a threat as such. It wasn't something I could have bargained him out of. If I didn't give him you, he would have walked. And there would have been no coming back from it."

  "Brody, you know I'm not ready to do this. You know it's not why I signed up to work with you."

  He nodded. "I know why you signed up with me, Kat, let's not lie here. You were desperate and I was willing to over look a certain few indiscretions that no one else would."

  I smiled sheepishly. "I know and if you hadn't I would be on the street. But still... You know this isn't what I'm good at. I'm not good with people."

  "And yet from what I can see you're perfect with him."

  I didn't answer him. There was no point. Brody had decided that what had happened was for the best. It never ceased to amaze me how easily he could right things in his head. And in the end it was nearly always his idea. Or at least that's what he told everyone else.

  ***

  I made my way for the door. My mind desperately mulling over where I could find Matt's guitar, without any help from him. Why he couldn't have just told me? I didn't know. It seemed a little childish.

  Once out in the main office Stephanie watched my progress back to my desk. Sitting back in behind the computer I started to look at the tabloid articles about Matt. Lots of pictures of him snapped with different girls every night. In each picture he looked moody and as though he had the weight of the world sitting on his shoulders. There was even an article about how he had attacked a member of the paparazzi that had waited for him outside the toilets at a festival.

  "So, who has Brody assigned to Matt. I'd imagine it has to be one of the more senior members of staff." Stephanie was a senior member of staff and after the way she had flirted with Matt earlier, I could only imagine the disappointment she would feel when she found out the truth.

  "Why are you researching. Brody would never chose you." She started to laugh as she examined her perfectly manicured nails.

  "Actually, Matt requested me."

  Stephanie slipped from the edge of my desk in surprise. She caught herself before she actually fell, but the look on her face was one of pure venom.

  "That's not possible! You're not qualified to take care of Matt's needs... You don't even look like someone who does this type of job. Brody's not stupid. The image of the company is so important. There's no way he's handed our biggest asset to you."

  I smiled sweetly and returned my attention back to the computer screen. "I guess you'll just have to speak to Brody yourself."

  She glared at me before storming to Brody's office. The glass rattled in the door as she flung it open and stomped inside. The sound of a frustrated tantrum scream moments later was the only sign to let me know that Brody had told her.

  She tottered from the office as fast as her stiletto heels would allow and grabbed her purse from the desk across from mine.

  "You'll regret this job, Kate. I'm going to make sure you regret it."

  All I could do was grin as she left the office. It was the only thing that made me happy about having this job. Knowing I had pissed Stephanie off was almost worth all the hassle of Matt Henley. Almost.

  Chapter Three

  "You're very dressed up?" Maggie's voice pulled me out of my reverie. I glanced down at the black satin blouse I wore and the skin tight black jeans. Looped through the waistband was a silver studded belt. A pair of suede boots with studded straps completed the ensemble. I was dressed up. Far more than I normally managed. Normally my wardrobe consisted of wallflower attire. But tonight if I wanted to blend in then I needed to make an effort.

  "Yeah, it sucks."

  I yawned and smacked my hands across my red lips. It was the fourth time in the last five minutes that the yawns had gotten to me. I was exhausted, and the very last thing I wanted, or even needed to be doing was heading to Matt's gig. The guitar was propped in the corner of the room, having taken me the best part of the day to track down.

  I'd finally found it in some dingy hotel room. The type of hotel room that Matt didn't need to stay in. He was rich, the number one artist in the country. talent, good lucks and a voice that practically melted the clothes off women had gotten him where he was. But why he insisted on staying in the cheapest, dingiest hotels he could find was beyond me. But then where Matt was concerned a lot of what he did was beyond me.

  "Where are you off to? Has Brody got you shadowing Stephanie?" Maggie sounded more excited about the prospect of hanging out with Stephanie than I ever could. But then she thought she was glamorous and cool. Maggie had started to live her social life through the stories I came home with about the clients we worked with, and the antics they got up to.

  "Nope. I have my own client."

  "Who? Who is it? Anyone I know?"

  I smiled at Maggie. "Matt Henley."

  The smile disappeared from her face. A look of shock leaving her mouth hanging open. "The Matt Henley?"

  "The one and only."

  "Brody let you manage Matt Henley?"

  I smiled and nodded. Part of me had become a little more excited as the day had worn on. I couldn't help it. I didn't want to be excited about seeing him again. Or spending time with him. I had no doubt that he would treat me more as a glorified skivvy than an actual personal assistant. But I was still a little excited.

  "Yup."

  "But I thought you weren't going to be working with anyone famous. That it wasn't your job?" Maggie plopped down on the sofa and watched me with big brown eyes. We were a lot alike. Neither of us like the limelight. We preferred to let others have all the glory. When we went out we tried to be as invisible as possible.

  "I know. I didn't think so either. But I guess things change..."

  She studied me, one eyebrow raised in a sceptical manner. "I suppose so..."

  "I need to get going. Matt is playing the Monkey House tonight. Brody wasn't too thrilled when he heard that one. Something about the venue being too small for someone like Matt. But Matt chose it himself, so," I shrugged, "no choice."

  Maggie nodded and grabbed the remote control from the edge of the couch. "You're going to miss the midweek movie..."

  I smiled at her again and picked the guitar up. "Work calls. As much as I'd prefer to be here at home, I have to go. I'll fill you in on all the goss tomorrow."

  She grinned. "Get me an autograph will you?"

  "Of course." I lugged the guitar to the door of the apartment and out onto the stairs. I was going to need a cab. There was no way I was carrying Matt Henley's prized guitar on the bus...

  ***

  Finally making it to the Monkey House I sighed with relief. At least I wasn't late. Pulling the badge that Brody had made up for me that day I flashed it to the doorman. He looked me up and down before taking the badge and insisting on running it past his manager.

  I was brought into a smaller office up a set of stairs and there I sat waiting for someone to tell me what the problem was. When the manager finally arrived he took one look at me and smiled.

  "You represent Matt?"

  "Yes." I stood, my shoulders automatically hunching with tension.

  "I find that hard to believe. We've
tried contacting the Broadside Agency but we can't get through... I'd like to believe you... You look like a nice person and everything... But..." He paused as his gaze dropped to my exposed cleavage. I folded my arms over my chest obscuring the view.

  "No way such a wholesome girl like you is repping Matt..."

  I tried to let the insult wash over me, the little voice in my head chanted that I should just let it go. He wasn't wrong. I didn't look like the type to be Matt's personal assistant. In fact I was all wrong for the job. But it didn't change the fact that I was.

  "Look just call Matt. Ask him."

  The manager smiled. "We don't make a habit of bothering our clients, especially just before a gig. And anyway, if you really are who you say you are, can't you call him?"

  Whipping the phone from my pocket I dialled the number that Matt had left as his contact information. The phone rang once twice and finally a groggy voice answered.

  "Yeah..."

  "Matt, it's Kat... Small problem."

  "What problem?" His voice had suddenly become more alert and I couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he had been sleeping.

  "The manager of the Monkey House won't let me up to your dressing room. Say's I don't look the part..."

  Matt swore on the other end of the phone. "Put him on."

  I handed the phone to the manager, a smug smile on my face as I watched the colour drain from his. When he handed the phone back to me, I could imagine what he would say once I hung up.

  "Sorted, come on up." The phone went dead and I flipped it shut.

  "I'm so sorry. If I had realised... Really I'm terribly sorry, I didn't know. If there is anything I can do..."

  I didn't answer him as I picked the guitar up and made my way past him. His apologies followed me up the stairs as I searched for Matt's dressing room. When I finally found it I struggled to open the door without dropping the instrument.

  Finally pushing the heavy fire door open I almost dropped the guitar. Matt lay sprawled across a couch, the empty bottle of whiskey that lay on the floor beside him was bad enough. But the fact that he was naked was what really threw me for a loop.

  I staggered into the room and the grin he gave me was lopsided. His eyes were unfocused as though he was watching me through a haze that only he could see.

  "Are you alright? What's wrong with you?"

  "Nothing. I feel great..." His words were slurred and suddenly everything clicked into place.

  "You're drunk."

  "Not drunk, Kitty Kat... Finally chill."

  I stared at him in dumbstruck disbelief. He was due to go onstage in less than two hours. The state he was in right now, there was no way he would even make it onto the stage, let alone perform.

  The sound of a woman's voice moaning softly had me staring around the room. Cautiously I picked my way over the discarded clothes and empty bottles to the edge of the couch Matt lay across. The woman was sprawled across the floor. She was at least partially clothed and for that I was grateful at least.

  "Kitty Kat, meet Hannah... Or Anna... I'm not sure it sounded like one of those."

  Anger bubbled up within me as I stared down at the girl at my feet. She was stupid. In fact stupidity didn't even cover what she was. To leave herself so open and vulnerable was asking for trouble.

  "Get up!" My voice seethed as I grabbed her shredded t-shirt and flung it at her.

  "Kitty Kat, chill out, you need a drinky too." Matt's head lolled as he grinned up at me from his perch on the couch. He tried to move his legs slipping beneath him, refusing to hold him upright. He dropped to his knees the sound of glass crunching making my stomach flip.

  "Shit!" I muttered as I tried to help him back up from the floor. A large chunk of a whiskey bottle was embedded in his knee. He stared at the glass, as the blood welled up around it and trickled down his leg.

  The girl stood on legs that were unsteady. Her eyes were glassy and a faint trace of white powder was still visible on her upper lip. It was a mess. A huge mess, and I had allowed it to happen. If she was taking drugs, it only seemed logical that Matt probably was too.

  Hurriedly picking my way to the door I hollered down the stairs. "I need someone up here, and bring some bandages!"

  One of the bouncers appeared followed by the manager. Within seconds the small dressing room was filled with people.

  "Right put her in a cab. Please try to keep the press from seeing her. Just get her home." I gestured to the girl who was standing over by a table attempting to pull something from her bag. Two of the bouncers immediately jumped into action, lifting her bodily from the room.

  I knelt by Matt and pressed a towel below the cut, my fingers shaking as I pulled the lump of glass from the wound. The moment it was clear the blood flowed faster soaking into the white towel and turning it a grisly colour.

  "He's going to need stitches." I turned to the manager.

  He nodded and looked a little worried. "He's due to perform in two hours. IT's booked out."

  "He'll have to cancel. He can't go on like this..."

  The manager blustered his face changing colour from red to purple. A vein appeared in his neck. It hopped in time with the flow of his blood.

  "You can't just cancel. It doesn't work like that."

  I ignored him as Matt stared down at me. His eyes had become a little more focused. A combination of blood loss and pain.

  "Kitty Kat, I can't cancel. We both know that."

  The look of pain in his eyes had nothing to do with the physical pain he was feeling. This pain came from deep within. And for one instant I saw something within him that called to the secrets within me. I understood the need to forget. Wanting to bury yourself in alcohol, anything to help you forget. It was something I understood only too well. And I wished I didn't.

  "I'm so sorry." The words came out in barely a whisper and only I heard them. But then they were only for me. A moment passed between us as I knelt on the floor by his feet.

  "He needs a doctor. Stitches. If I can sober him up before the gig then fine, it'll go ahead. But if he's not fit for it then my client will not be performing. No matter what he says to the contrary."

  The manager smiled and rubbed his hands together. "No problem, whatever you need. You just tell my boys and they'll get you whatever you require. But you better do your part Miss Faulkner. Matt has to perform. Make sure he's able to."

  I nodded and returned my attention to Matt. The blood had started to soak through the towel. My hands were stained red and my brain automatically reacted. There was something wrong. Something more that I wasn't seeing.

  "Matt, what have you taken?"

  "Just the usual, nothing weird." His voice still held an edge of slurring but that was starting to fade. His skin had taken on a nasty hue and beads of sweat were beginning to form across his forehead. He was losing far too much blood for something as simply as a cut knee. It didn't make sense.

  Gesturing to one of the bouncers to push the towel against Matt's legs I stood. Matt's hand frantically clung to my arm, and as I stared down into his frightened eyes something twisted inside me. I wanted to help him. There was something terribly vulnerable about him. And it worried me.

  "Matt, I need to call an ambulance. We can't wait for a doctor." I fumbled in my pocket for my phone, dragging it out my fingers shook as I typed in the emergency number.

  "Whoa, this isn't what we agreed." The manager's voice cut across me as I spoke to the emergency operator.

  I didn't even look at him as I gave her the address and a rundown of the situation. Once I'd hung up I tried to move back to Matt but the manager had other ideas. Grabbing my arm he twisted it hard enough to make me yelp in pain.

  "What the hell are you doing?" I demanded as he pinned me against the grubby wall of the dressing room.

  "We had an agreement. You changed the rules. Matt will play here tonight."

  I tried to shake him off me but his grip tightened threateningly. "I don't think so. Matt is going to the hospital
. He needs professional treatment, and not just some on call doctor. He's losing too much blood. Just look at him. Do you really want him to die here? All because you want him to play a gig?"

  The manager glanced back over his shoulder. The guard was attempting to help Matt pull his clothes back on, it was a struggle neither of them seemed particularly adept at.

  "You owe me for this. When he walks out of here tonight and I have to cancel that gig you're going to owe me... And I'll call that debt in whenever I feel like it. Got it?" He gripped my face with his hands and shoved me away. I stumbled, barely keeping my balance as I tripped over the debris.

  Crouching back down at Matt's side I examined the wound. All I could hope was that it simply required stitches. But there was something about the blood loss that had me concerned.

  "Matt, you need to tell me what you've taken."

  "I don't remember... I had a drink..." He paused and gazed off into the distance, his eyes gradually becoming more and more unfocused.

  "Matt! You need to remember you did more than have a drink?"

  The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs had me releasing a sigh of relief. The paramedics made their way into the room and immediately began assessing the situation.

  "What's he taken?"

  I gestured to the empty bottles on the floor. "Other than alcohol, I don't know. But there's something not right. He's lost far too much blood."

  The paramedic moved past me. Their questions to Matt being repeated over and over. His colour had gotten even worse, and sweat had soaked through the white t-shirt he wore.

  The paramedics helped him to the door and then down the stairs. I followed behind, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling as the manager watched us leave.

  Once in the ambulance, Matt took a turn for the worse. His blood pressure falling rapidly as he lost consciousness. The only thought that ran through my mind as I held his hand all the way to the hospital was that he couldn't die. I couldn't let him slip away. It was irrational. I barely knew him, and just hours before I had been cursing his very existence. But now. Now something had changed. I had seen something in him. Something that called to me, and I wasn't willing to let that go. Not until I could understand it.