by Dillon Khan
It was clearly an epiphany he’d seen in the rear-view mirror instead of the windscreen. I could see the hurt in his eyes. Even Max wasn’t that good at hiding things. Then something suddenly occurred to me. ‘But what about me?’
‘Well, I assume you’ll stay till the end of the month, then that’s it – your contract’s up. Time for you to head into the big bad world as well,’ he said.
I felt like my Achilles tendon had snapped just metres from the finish line, and the pain was about to engulf me. I sat there stunned as I started thinking about my bleak future. I’d have to start looking for a new job and if I didn’t get one I’d soon have to move back home. I couldn’t go back to being a new graduate, unemployed for months at a time. But worse than that was the let-down: I had honestly thought I had the permanent job in the bag.
‘Look, it’s not the end of the world,’ Max continued, seeing the shock on my face.
I sat still, looking down at the pasta sauce that had soaked into the tablecloth.
After a long silence, Max left money on the table for the bill and got up to leave. ‘What can I say, mate? Themuthafrikkinbeat.’
30
Keep on Movin’
I stood in the Virgin Atlantic check-in area at Heathrow, waiting for PJ who sauntered across the polished floor to me.
‘You checked in yet, mate?’ he asked, barely looking up while reading the text messages on his phone.
‘No, I was waiting for you,’ I said, like ‘duhh’.
‘What? You should have checked in – I’m going left when I get on the plane.’
I was puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Upper Class,’ he said, like ‘duhh’.
‘And me?’
‘You go right,’ he said, stone cold like the wrestler Steve Austin.
I headed to the Economy check-in queue, which was long. PJ meanwhile went straight to the gorgeous check-in girl behind the Upper Class desk and within two minutes flat had his boarding pass in his hand. When I finally got to the front, I tried flirting with my check-in girl. She put me in 58A. Just 57 rows behind PJ with enough legroom to swing an ant.
Once through Security, I didn’t even have a chance to explore the shops to buy a gift for Sophia as the line on the departures board for Miami started to flash ‘BOARDING’. I ran towards the gate to find yet another queue of people waiting to board the plane. Ahead of me, PJ was walking past everyone to the fast-track boarding line, chatting away to a leggy model. As I stood at the back of the crowd, my phone started ringing.
‘Hello, this is Terry Perkins.’
What did the head of Production want from me? ‘Hi, er, Min … Terry … I’m just about to board my plane,’ I stammered.
‘You off on holiday?’ he asked.
‘No, I’m going on a shoot with PJ,’ I replied. Did Max not tell him?
‘I see. Where are you boys swanning off to this time?’ he said in a disapproving tone.
‘Miami,’ I said anxiously. Should I tell him about Vegas too? I wondered, then decided better not.
‘So it is a holiday then,’ he said sarcastically.
I made a vain attempt to defend the trip. ‘We have an exclusive interview with Will Smith.’
‘Does he still make music?’ he asked.
I was surprised. You’re leading a TV music channel and you don’t know? ‘Er, yes, he released Willennium last year,’ I said.
‘Right. Very funny. Anyway, as I’m sure you know, Max has left the company. We’re having a big restructure at The Beat to move the company forward and I’m going to be more hands-on. I’m looking to change strategy and focus by scrapping some shows, because, well, they just don’t work for me.’
For you? But you’re a forty-something-year-old unmarried man who walks with a freakishly long stride. You probably don’t even know any kids, I thought.
‘Total BEATS is going to be one of those shows,’ he said before I could respond. He went on to explain that, now that Max had gone, without a producer on board the show wasn’t viable any longer. Then he told me he wasn’t sure what to do with PJ, who still had a hefty contract that would need to be bought out. I didn’t know why he was telling me all this.
‘What about the viewers?’ I asked.
He laughed incredulously. ‘Wake up, there’s a ratings war going on. Besides, the viewers won’t care so long as we give them some other crap to watch.’
‘And me?’ I asked tentatively.
‘Well, your contract runs out at the end of the month,’ he said without hesitation.
‘What about the other interns?’ I asked.
‘That doesn’t concern you,’ he said, clearly irritated by my questions.
‘Last call for passengers on the Virgin flight to Miami,’ said a woman’s voice over the tannoy.
‘Sounds like you’ve got to go and so do I. We’ll speak later.’
‘OK, bye –’ He’d already hung up the phone.
Boarding, I took my right turn, quickly walked to the back and collapsed in my seat. I couldn’t believe how effectively the last twenty-four hours had knocked the stuffing out of me, with one shock after another. My world was crumbling. I couldn’t even think of what to do next.
‘Excuse me, sir, are you, Jay Merchant?’ asked the stewardess, accompanied by a member of ground staff in a bright yellow vest.
‘Yes,’ I said, looking up and thinking, Oh, what now?
‘Can you follow us please, sir?’ she said in a serious tone.
I got up and a sea of heads turned to look at me. I went red in the face. Had the Minister managed to get me taken off the flight and sent back to the office?
‘Do I need to bring my bags?’ I asked.
‘Yes, please, sir,’ she said, turning and walking off.
I grabbed my stuff and marched behind her, but we didn’t head out of the door. Instead we walked past everyone until I got to a grinning PJ in Upper Class.
‘Jay, welcome to the left! Take a seat behind me. So glad you could join us. This is Christy,’ he said, pointing to the woman sat next to him. ‘She’s on her way to a modelling shoot. And this lovely lady who’s upgraded you is Lucy. She’ll be joining us with the other stewardesses pool-side at the Delano.’
The recent bad news I’d received completely left my mind as I behaved like it was my first time on a plane, pressing seat buttons back and forth while sipping champagne. I guessed this would probably be my first, and last, flight in Upper Class. PJ, on the other hand, was a pro, regularly flown by record labels or film studios to see artists in concert or film premieres. He had more air miles than an astronaut.
A few episodes of The Sopranos later, PJ had got bored of trying to convince the model to join the mile-high club, so he came and sat next to me. As he flicked through GQ, I thought I’d ask him the obvious question.
‘So I take it you know about Max’s news?’ I asked, eating my eleventh Ferrero Rocher of the flight.
‘Yeah, I found out last week. I’m pissed at him for not telling me earlier, but I understand.’
I was shocked he was so calm. ‘You do?’
‘Yeah, they’ve treated him like shit in that place for years. He always threatened to leave, but it looks like the boy’s finally grown some and done it.’
‘What about the shows?’ I asked.
‘Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,’ he said, unwrapping a chocolate. ‘I think we should carry on producing them.’
‘What?’ I exclaimed. ‘We?’
‘I’m game, so why not? You’re young, ambitious and clearly very talented.’
It was weird hearing praise from PJ when I was used to being the butt of his jokes. I wasn’t sure how to take it. Suddenly the phone call I’d had with the Minister came flooding back. Surely PJ already knew about the show being axed? He must have assumed that I didn’t, and was trying to be nice.
&nb
sp; ‘But I just spoke to the Minister before I got on the plane,’ I said. ‘It sounds like he’s going to cancel the shows.’
PJ suddenly looked like he was experiencing cabin sickness. He clearly didn’t know. He suddenly sank back into his chair deep in thought. After several moments he finally spoke.
‘Bastard!’ he said. ‘This guy wants to take my show off? My show?’
‘I think they want reality-lead stuff,’ I said, recalling the rumours.
‘Screw reality. What about the music? That’s what The Beat’s about.’
He continued to scatter rhetorical questions in my direction. The shock of it all was clearly getting to him. I stayed quiet and let him vent.
‘And all this right now, just as I’m about to go for Radio 1,’ he said, rubbing his temples. ‘I’m speaking to my agent when we get to Miami. We’ll see.’
He got up and went back to his seat. I watched him get out a pen and pad and start scribbling on it. The model next to him had suddenly lost her appeal.
I continued watching TV and eating chocolates, when he suddenly jumped back to join me half an hour later.
‘You and I can do it together,’ he said with more gusto than before.
I took off my headphones. ‘What?’
‘Look, I’ll come into the office and write scripts with you. You can produce and direct the show,’ he said.
‘But I’ve never directed before,’ I said fearfully.
‘Come on, Jay, why did you join The Beat? To be an intern forever? Step up! This is what The Beat’s all about: learning. You’ve just been given a ticket to the Fast Track,’ he said unswervingly.
‘But I’d be –’
‘Exactly: paid to learn. Do you know how many people would kill to have your opportunity?’ he asked with a serious look in his eyes.
‘Yeah, but it’s a lot –’
Quickly cutting me off he said, ‘You’re right, it is a lot to be in a job where we make the rules up as we go.’
‘I don’t want to fuck it up and let you down,’ I said, clamming up.
‘You won’t,’ he replied. ‘Listen, Jay, they want us to fail. They want us off air. So let’s prove to them we can do it. Prove to yourself that you can do this,’ he added, knowing the argument would appeal.
But his plans didn’t match mine. Was he mad? I couldn’t produce two shows alone and make them properly. I was just an intern. What if all I did was embarrass myself? I’d never work in the industry again. But PJ made it sound so simple and easy, and I knew I’d be mad to just turn it down without serious thought.
‘Will I get a pay increase?’ I asked.
‘I’m sure we can arrange that. But it’s not about the money, Jay, it’s about the opportunity. Are you gonna grab it with both hands or let it slip through your fingers and then regret it for the rest of your life? What are you going to do outside of The Beat – go and look for another job? How long will that take? You have the opportunity to make one for yourself here and now.’
He was very good. He was listing very good and reasonable points and he didn’t need to read it off an autocue.
‘Let me think about it, PJ. It’s a lot of work. I don’t want to let anyone down. Let myself down,’ I said.
‘Look, we owe it to a lot of people to keep this show going. These execs might not care but the kids at home will. We’re doing it for them.’
I knew he was chatting me up like I was a Virgin stewardess but it seemed like I had something more to gain than just a quickie. My other options weren’t good. In fact there were no other options on the table. This was the chance of a lifetime. But as we flew on towards Miami I became increasingly sceptical I could pull it off, as the voice in my head reminded me that if the last five and a half months had hurt, the next few weeks would be unbearable.
31
Sweet Dreams (are Made of This)
PJ and I spent the next few days enjoying South Beach, Miami. We were chilling by our luxurious pool at the Delano with the stewardesses by day, and clubbing by night. The day before we were due to fly out to Vegas we caught up with Will Smith. He was on great form with PJ and produced an entertaining and hilarious interview that the European regions would lap up when we got back. Things had gone so well, we were invited to eat dinner with him later that night.
This was my first time in Miami and, staring out of the window of the restaurant, I was like a spectator at a tennis match, watching beautiful women walk by. Here Mother Nature was like Ben and Jerry, mixing all the flavours together with jaw-dropping results. In comparison, ice cream back home was just chocolate, vanilla and strawberry.
Dinner was an out-of-body experience which I spent listening intently as PJ talked to Will and his manager. But I snapped back to reality as the food arrived. The manager of the restaurant was trying his hardest to impress, laying on a great feast of sushi and sashimi for Will, who’d said he wanted to increase the protein in his diet to bulk up for his role as Muhammad Ali.
Seafood: I didn’t like looking at it let alone eating it. Just walking past the counter at Sainsbury’s made me want to vomit. Everyone picked up their chopsticks to dig into the yellow-tail sashimi like it was as normal a meal as beans on toast. Seeing the tails on the prawn tempura alone had triggered a gagging reflex that I was doing well to hide.
‘Try this, it’s amazing,’ said PJ, pointing to some pinky-purple slab of raw fish.
Your funeral, I thought. My fingers had fidgeted with the chopsticks enough. I had to dive in. So I went for the smallest piece I could find, decorated with a small jalapeño on top, and placed it calmly in my mouth while holding a glass of water to wash it all down in case of emergency.
As I began to chew, I realized that it didn’t taste like, well, fish! Even more surprisingly I actually appreciated the texture. This wasn’t like my experiences of fish I’d had as a child: puking after I was forced to eat mackerel, the feeling of which had stayed with me ever since. I was just happy it was staying down and not coming back out as projectile-vomit all over the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.
After dinner, PJ and I went back to the hotel for a drink at the bar, realizing another night out clubbing would have us in bad shape for the next leg of our journey – Vegas. We’d enjoyed three great days in Miami for only half an hour of work.
‘So how was tonight?’ he asked.
I began counting the fingers on my right hand. ‘Beautiful women, succulent sushi, great stories, getting merry off sake and meeting my childhood hero – what more can I say but fucking amazing!’ I said, like a giddy teenager. ‘Not bad for a geeky kid from Finchley.’
He smiled. ‘This is how it could be all the time if we continue the show. Trips abroad, award ceremonies, movie premieres, concerts, sporting events, freeness, parties, women, meeting the stars. Miami is just the tip of the iceberg,’ he went on, trying to entice me to take up the challenge.
I looked around at the people in the bar, who were almost glowing with VIP-status. ‘I could get used to this lifestyle.’
‘Damn right. These are things mere mortals don’t get to see and do. Thanks to The Beat you’re in the front row of life-changing events, meeting the icons of our time, with an access-all-areas pass. You’re seeing it up close. This isn’t a job, this is heaven. How many people have jobs like this? All this just for a few scripts, a day of filming and some editing,’ he said, like a lawyer delivering their closing argument.
He made good points but I was still hesitant, aware of the pain that lay ahead. I couldn’t even imagine the effect it would have on my relationship with Sophia.
‘Don’t you get a buzz from meeting these people? I do. Their aura is palpable. I get an energy boost from it. It’s the best natural high in the world,’ he said dramatically while inhaling through his nose. He was drunk!
I still didn’t say anything as I was trying to figure out what was real and what was his sales speech.
&nb
sp; ‘We get to influence people’s thoughts and attitudes on a weekly basis,’ PJ continued, increasingly slurring his words. ‘Sure, some may say it’s just music, but in today’s terms, it’s a religion. I bet there are more people singing songs from the charts than psalms right now. I get more spirituality from listening to music than a preachy sermon. Everyone looks to us now – we’re at the pulpit with a congregation that spreads across the world.’
It was amazing he’d brought religion into this. Did he believe it?
Not getting much response from me he changed tack to be more direct. ‘Look, Jay, I’m offering you everything –’
I interrupted him before he killed my buzz. ‘Shut up. You had me at trips abroad.’
Barely five hours later, in my hotel room, I was woken up by my mobile ringing. I reached over and grabbed it as the clock next to me flashed 6.01 a.m.
‘Hello, Jay, this is Terry Perkins again,’ said the unforgiving voice at the end of the line.
I know your surname, you don’t have to say it every time! I thought.
‘Listen, I’ve spoken to people here and it’s going to be more cost effective keeping the shows than getting rid of them. So I’m going to extend your internship – until December only,’ he said, adding the last word quickly.
I figured PJ’s agent had been on the phone in the intervening hours, making it crystal clear how cost ineffective it would be to get rid of him. I hesitated before I dared to ask, ‘Will I get a pay increase?’
‘Increase?’ He laughed.
I took that to mean ‘no’. ‘I can’t make both shows alone –’
He cut me off. ‘All right, I don’t want to hear any violins. I’ll get Tola to report to you two days a week, but she’ll still be working on her own show with Stuey.’
‘And the other interns?’ I asked, wanting to know the fate of my friends.
‘They’re all on rolling monthly contracts till their show budgets run out or until December. Whichever comes first.’
