by Oli White
“Austin, if you ask Harriet Rushworth, or anyone else, for an autograph, I am going to kill you, do you hear me? We need to look like we belong here, not act like fangirls.”
Austin looked to AJ for support but AJ shook his head.
“Not cool, Austin, not cool,” he said.
“Sorry, boys, I can get a little bit star-struck,” Austin said sheepishly. “It was the same when I met Ant and Dec after a charity footy match once—I could hardly speak.”
It was total chaos in the room, with more and more people swarming into the swanky bar area, which was fitted out with plush red furniture and oriental-style lanterns hanging down from the ceiling.
“It’s not exactly exclusive, is it?” I said, referring to the sheer volume of people as the crowd swelled, but then I spotted a young woman in square geek-chic glasses waving energetically at me as she headed toward us. She was wearing a plain white T-shirt and faded jeans, so she was clearly staff and not one of the glammed-up party guests.
“Hey, guys, you’re here!” she said in a chirpy American accent, shaking our hands vigorously. “I’m Millie, Harriet’s PA—it’s so great to meet y’all!”
Austin looked at me with a raised eyebrow and I tried not to smile. Why was everyone in America so bloody enthusiastic?
“You need to follow me and put these on.” Millie handed us silver plastic wristbands and set off through the crowd, her brown ponytail bobbing behind her.
We followed her to a smaller room off the main bar with a couple of security guards flanking its entrance. Millie held up her silver-banded wrist, and once we followed suit, they opened the doors into a softer, darker atmosphere.
“This is the VIP room,” Millie said. “It’s completely crazy tonight, so just kick back and enjoy yourselves in here. We’ll catch up on Saturday afternoon at the interview, then Harriet will have a chance to say a proper hello, OK?”
She gave us a wide smile and AJ thanked her while subtly preventing Austin, who was holding a five-dollar bill, from trying to tip her. When we ventured further inside, we found that this room was indeed a lot less manic than the main bar, but within seconds of sitting down at a table in the quietest corner there was already someone heading toward us, trying to get our attention. This time it was a heavy-set guy with dreads, wearing a quilted silver jacket and wrap-around sunglasses—despite the fact that it was pretty dark in there—with what looked like diamonds on either side of them. Nice!
“Hey, guys, Justin asked if Jack would like to join him at his table over there,” he said. “And the rest of your party, of course, Jack.”
The guy turned and looked back across the room. I followed his eyes to the table in question and nearly choked.
“We don’t know any Justin, thanks,” Austin smiled. “But tell him we said hi.”
The guy shrugged and walked away and I stared at Austin like he was an alien.
“What are you doing?” I said, in a ridiculously high-pitched voice.
“Look, you’re bound to meet fans and followers, J, but we can’t go mingling with everyone. You said it yourself, we need to be a bit elusive and look like we belong here.” Austin clearly felt like he was finally getting into the Hollywood show-business vibe.
AJ started to laugh. “Who do you think you are, Austin, Lady Bloody Gaga?”
“But . . . but . . . the Justin he was talking about was Justin Bieber,” I said, pointing over at the table. “Look! What is he going to think now we’ve blown him out?”
Austin wasn’t listening, though. As soon as I mentioned the Bieber, his veneer of cool completely vanished and he was halfway across the room before I could take a breath or even finish the sentence. AJ and I got up and followed, and by the time we reached the table where Justin and his entourage were hanging out, Austin was gushing about how we’d love to join them, what a big admirer of Justin’s tats he was, and how he was dying to get seriously inked himself, just as soon as his mum gave him permission. Yeah, kill me now—that was what I was thinking. Justin didn’t seem to care, though. He just smiled and invited us to sit down and join him and his friends, which of course we did.
The rest of that evening was like some kind of crazy hallucination. I mean, I was actually sitting chatting with one of the biggest pop stars in the world, who actually knew who I was and what we’d created, and what was more, he loved it—it was insane. About half an hour after we’d sat down, there was some kind of big commotion over at the entrance to the VIP room; the space lit up with camera flashes and a bright beam of light coming from the film crew who were backing into the room.
“It’s Harriet,” Austin said, as half the room jumped out of their seats to get a better look.
For the next five minutes, I watched in awe as Harriet glided effortlessly around the room, smiling, chatting with guests, greeting friends and answering questions from the TV crews and journalists who clustered around her. She looked totally gorgeous in a short, strapless gold dress decorated with tiny beads, and her distinctive mane of hair tumbled down over her shoulders like a red waterfall. In the midst of it all I could just about see Millie, her ponytail sporadically poking out of the crowd as she darted around, efficiently, making sure Harriet didn’t get stuck with the same reporter for too long.
“She’s kind of amazing, isn’t she?” I said, glancing over at Austin, whose eyes were out on stalks, like a cartoon animal.
“She’s coming over,” he said, elbowing me, and before I could open my mouth to answer, Harriet and half her entourage were upon us and once again I was temporarily blinded by the flash of half a dozen cameras.
Millie pushed through the photographers and took charge. “OK, guys, that’s enough for now. Let’s give Harriet some time to enjoy the party; there’ll be more opportunities for questions and photos later.”
As the flashes subsided and Millie ushered the scrum of followers out of the VIP room, Harriet leaned across our table and blew a friendly kiss at Justin, rolling her eyes as if to say, “How crazy is all this, dude?” while he nodded in empathy. She looked down at Austin and me with a smile that could have lit the whole room and held her hand out to me—to be honest, I wasn’t sure whether to shake it or kiss it, like she was royalty or something—but then she changed her mind and went in for a hug before pulling up a chair and sitting down next to me.
“Well you’re just as good-looking in real life as you are on screen,” she said, still beaming. She touched my arm lightly. “Nice physique, too.”
“Oh . . . thanks.” I was more than slightly taken aback by her directness. “I’m trying to watch what I eat—not too much sugar, you know?” OK, I don’t know why I said that. What was I, a bloody Victoria’s Secret model?
Luckily, it made her laugh. “You wanna try wearing this dress for half an hour,” she said. “I’ve eaten nothing but lettuce for two days in preparation, but as soon as this launch party’s over and done with, there’s a tub of Ben and Jerry’s Caramel Chew Chew with my name on it up in my mini-fridge.”
“Sweet,” Austin said, and Harriet spun around to face him.
“Sweet indeed,” she said, nodding approvingly. “You must be Austin; named after the city I was born in.”
“That’s me,” Austin said, just as Millie returned, hovering over Harriet with a cocktail.
“They sure breed ’em sexy over in the UK, huh, Millie? Just look at you two,” Harriet said, leaning in toward Austin. “Are you boys, like, together? Because you would make a really cute couple.”
Austin looked horrified and I giggled. It was weird; I knew Harriet was just playing her part, being the perfect pop-star host, but there was something so warm and charismatic about her, and her upfront, flirty nature was funny as well as sexy.
Millie knelt down beside her boss with a slightly pained expression. “Harriet, I know you’ve only just sat down, but the guy from Rolling Stone has finally turned up and wants to say hello. If it were anyone else I’d tell him to take a hike, but we are doing the cover shoot
next week, so . . .”
Harriet sighed and stood up. “Duty calls, boys, but it was lovely to meet you—short and sweet though it was—and I’m so looking forward to our live chat on Saturday. I’m real excited about being on GenNext.”
I stood up just as she did and she planted a soft kiss on my cheek.
“We’re excited too,” I said, “and it was great to meet you. Enjoy your Ben and Jerry’s.” I gave her a wink and she flashed one more amazing smile at me before disappearing into the crowd again.
After that, Austin and I were up and working the room like pros and it felt like everyone knew who we were and why we were there. I laughed, talked, listened and learned and I seriously couldn’t remember a time when I’d ever felt so alive. It was the most fantastic buzz and I couldn’t wait to show everyone what GenNext was really all about when we did the big interview in a couple of days’ time.
By the time we got back to the hotel, I felt completely shattered. I’d heard about jet lag but had no real idea what it was, and what it did to your body . . . by then my body was telling me that it was 9 a.m. UK time and I seriously needed to crash. The trouble was, once my head hit the pillow, my mind was crammed full of that evening’s events and I still couldn’t get off to sleep. In fact, right at that moment I felt so alive I thought I might never sleep again.
THE OFFER
So there we were the next morning, sitting around a weird space-age-looking glass table loaded down with a massive box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts and cartons of Tropicana orange juice, in the offices of Herald Media in Universal City, Burbank. To be honest, I wasn’t feeling good vibes from the minute we walked out of the elevator into the unfriendly, sterile environment, but maybe that was because by that time my brain and body didn’t seem to know whether it was morning, noon or night. Whatever happened, I’d told myself I was going to keep an open mind. Just like AJ said on the car journey over there, the people at Herald Media had offered to pay for our time, so we at least had to be professional and show our faces.
“You might be the hottest thing since Netflix right now, boys, but we don’t want to slam the door in anyone’s face at this stage,” he told us. “That would be a big mistake.”
Austin, who was looking very sharp in a shirt, jacket and slim-cut khaki chinos, seemed a little more intrigued about the whole thing than I was, and while we sat making introductory small talk with the company president, Angela Linford, and her male counterpart, it dawned on me that he might be more open to some kind of involvement. In fact, I wasn’t really sure what he thought. Jeez! Maybe I should have discussed it with him before we walked in; maybe we should have had a game plan. Typically, I’d just imagined he’d be on the same page as me—sure that GenNext didn’t need anyone else—but I didn’t really know.
Angela was a tall, self-assured blonde in her mid-thirties with the whitest teeth I’d ever seen. Her business partner, Tyler, looked like Will Smith, only a bit younger—tall, super-confident and totally slick. They were exactly the kind of people you’d expect to meet in Hollywood and both looked like they could have been movie stars themselves, or at least robot versions of movie stars. They were a bit too perfect for me and I found it all slightly disconcerting.
“Jack, Austin, we are truly thrilled about the prospect of working with you guys,” Angela said. She gave us a shiny white smile so wide I imagined you could see it from space. Hang on, what the hell? She seemed to have assumed that working with us was a definite. Beside me, AJ looked a little taken aback.
“Sorry, can you explain what you mean by that?” I said, doing my best to sound polite. “You’re a big company out here in LA and we’re working out of a basement in Hertfordshire. I mean, what’s the attraction for you guys?”
“We may be thousands of miles apart, but we know something hot when we see it, Jack,” Angela said, her eyes gleaming. “Yes, you may be a small operation, but you’re already known all over the world. You’ve tapped into a way of presenting and interviewing and reviewing that people love. It’s captured the zeitgeist; the essence of now. I’m talking about an investment on our part, Jack, a coming together of ideas. We would love GenNext to become a part of what we have here at Herald, and we feel we can offer you something in return. Something we have that you don’t.”
OK, now I was convinced that Angela was an actual robot. Her patter sounded so rehearsed and phony; it was like she’d reeled it off a thousand times and just changed the names to suit the occasion. My stomach was tying itself into a knot just listening to her. I looked over at Austin, who was nodding along with Angela as she spoke, and my heart sank like a stone when I spotted the eager expression on his face.
“And what is that?” I said, finally.
“I’m sorry?” Angela said, smiling pleasantly.
“What is it you have that we might want?”
“Money, for one thing,” Tyler jumped in. Jeez, this guy didn’t beat around the bush.
“GenNext is doing pretty well financially,” AJ said calmly. “If it’s just a money thing, then—”
“Our clients are some of the biggest companies out there, Mr. Perera,” Tyler said. “Soft-drinks companies, fast-food chains. Waving a few hair products in front of a camera for a couple of hundred bucks is an impressive start for Generation Next, but we’re talking a whole different ballgame here. This is about us seeing the potential for development in this project, and providing you with the resources to take it into the big league.”
Tyler definitely wasn’t as nicey-nice as Angela was clearly trying to be; in fact, he was pretty bolshie. I wasn’t at all keen on him, and I think Angela sensed my discomfort because she jumped right back in to smooth things over.
“What Tyler means by development is—well, you guys have some rough edges that we could help smooth out. You’re still inexperienced, but there’s a charm in what you do. It’s won you such a big audience so far and it’s something we can really tap into. Let me tell you a bit more about the sort of vision we have for you.” She sat forward and smiled again. “Ultimately we’re talking about creating a fresh new brand for Generation Next that we could sell to one of the big networks out here, with, eventually, the prospect of a major new prime-time TV show. Ella Foster certainly has a great face for the small screen, so the idea is that she and you, Jack, could even end up anchoring the project yourselves. The possibilities are endless; you see that, don’t you?”
I flinched at the mere mention of Ella’s name, and Austin shot me a worried glance. We hadn’t mentioned her sudden departure, obviously. And what did Angela mean—that Herald would sell our brand, and that Ella and I could “even” end up anchoring the project ourselves, like that wasn’t a certainty? Surely she didn’t imagine we were just going to hand GenNext over to them and walk away, did she?
“Look,” Tyler said, “Herald Media are in the business of building brands and commercial success. That’s where we can really help you guys.”
“Well, we definitely like the idea of commercial success, right?” Austin said nervously. AJ nodded.
“And what about connecting with your audience?” I said. “What about that?”
“That goes without saying,” Angela said, the toothy grin making a sudden reappearance.
“You see, the thing is, I think we know our audience better than anyone,” I said.
Angela and Tyler gave each other a swift look. “Well of course you know your audience, Jack,” Tyler said patronizingly. “Our plan would be to expand that demographic; make GenNext really fly. There’s a lot of money to be made if you—”
“We’re talking a lot of money where you’re concerned,” Angela said, smoothly cutting her partner off before he could get my back up any more. “A life-changing amount, in fact.”
Austin was still nodding, like he’d been hypnotized or something, and I looked over at AJ, who’d stayed eerily quiet throughout, just to see what he might be thinking. I couldn’t read his expression, or make out what his reaction to this pair was. Wh
at was it Angela had said? Smooth out the rough edges? Network TV? The whole point of GenNext was that teenagers could dive in and watch whatever content they wanted whenever they wanted; it wasn’t some lame weekly program you could nestle between a crappy game show and The Real Housewives.
It suddenly hit me that I didn’t have anything else to say to these people—I’d had enough. It was just like Callum all over again, but now I was in a fancy office instead of at a fancy party.
AJ picked up the slack just as I clammed up. “It’s very important to the guys that they feel they still have full control over their own company,” he said, firmly. “GenNext is something they’ve built from the ground up; they don’t want to let go of it just when things are getting exciting.”
“Mr. Perera, we wouldn’t dream of having it any other way. Isn’t that right, Tyler?” Angela put her hand over her heart, her eyes wide and innocent.
Tyler nodded, slowly and, to me, unconvincingly.
Angela went on, “It’s clear to us that Austin and Jack here are extremely talented and informed—how else would they have created such a phenomenon? If they were to partner with Herald, they would of course retain full creative input and control.” Her voice was laden with an insincerity that seemed lost on Austin and—worryingly—on AJ, who looked like he believed her.
“What do you think, guys?” Tyler leaned over the desk toward Austin and me. “Can you see yourselves living in a nice pad in West Hollywood? Great car, beautiful weather, successful global company?”
Austin’s eyes widened at this. He was smiling like something amazing was going on, clearly entranced by the possibilities.
“Look, why don’t the three of you grab a coffee and read through our proposal, and then if everyone’s happy we can move forward and get some contracts under way?” Angela said, sliding sheets of paper across the desk toward us.
“What, now?” I sprang into life again, practically yelling the words.
