Sophia pouted. ‘He’s not as pretty as you.’
Alex felt a rush of triumph and then immediately looked around for Emma.
‘I tell you what, let’s phone Ellis,’ said Sophia decisively, pulling a mobile phone out of her bag.
‘What for?’ said Alex lamely.
‘I want to tell him that I’ve found the perfect guy for the campaign.’
‘You’re not joking, are you?’
‘No,’ she said, looking at him with those deep blue eyes that had peered from a thousand billboards. ‘I’m not.’
Just then there was a sudden blast of music as James Cook, one of EMG’s most successful solo acts, came on stage.
Sophia grabbed Alex’s hand and shouted in his ear over the music: ‘Let’s find somewhere quieter.’
On the other side of the room he could see Emma laughing with a TV presenter. Ah sod it, he thought. It wasn’t like he was doing anything wrong. Emma had said it herself: you had to flirt with these people, make them think you were their friend. And an ad campaign with Ellis Cole – that had to be a six-figure deal if Nathan negotiated it properly. For weeks now, Emma had been making noises about a place in the country. Somewhere she could ride and he could write and they could have dogs and go for walks. Besides, he thought with a smile, it would really piss Jez off.
They went out into the foyer, where dozens of people were still milling around, pointing at the bored tiger, but even out here the music was deafening.
‘Why don’t we go upstairs to my room?’ said Sophia, leading him towards the lift. ‘We can call him from there.’
Sophia’s suite was on one of the high floors. It had an impressive view across Hyde Park and was decked out with expensive antiques and silk furnishings. She went into the bedroom and opened the minibar, her tight white dress riding up her thighs as she crouched to pull out a chilled bottle of vodka, splashing it into two glasses. Then she took a little paper wrap, opened it and tipped the white powder inside on to a small mirror.
‘Will I need to send over a press photo or something?’ asked Alex.
‘What?’ she said distractedly as she arranged the powder into lines.
‘Do I need to send a photo to Ellis?’
As she shrugged, her dress fell off one shoulder.
‘Ellis tends to listen to my opinions,’ she said, offering him a straw. ‘So you’re coming round to the idea, then?’
He snorted a line of coke. It was only now, with the offer of a major modelling gig on the table, that he realised how much he had hated Jez taking on so much of the publicity and promotion for the band. He hated it that people thought Year Zero were simply Jez’s backing band. Lately he’d been getting the distinct feel that Jez’s increased profile was all part of a plan cooked up by Nathan and the record company to pave the way for a glittering solo career for Jez Harrison and Jez Harrison alone.
‘Where did you and Jez meet?’ Suddenly it seemed very important. Just how did a berk like Jez hook up with a supermodel?
‘At a mutual friend’s dinner in New York last month.’
‘Who’s that?’
‘Clive Benson,’ said Sophia, hoovering up a line.
Fuck. He hadn’t even known Jez was in New York two weeks ago. He knocked back his vodka and took another line.
His coke habit had crept up on him slowly. He had resisted at first – he didn’t want to become a rock cliché – but it was insidious: coke was everywhere. To celebrate in the studio after you’d laid down a track; before a party to get you ‘in the mood’. People you’d just met would invite you to the loos for a line; it was like a music industry handshake. It never made him feel bad; actually coke made him feel great most of the time. And he often congratulated himself on not progressing to any of the harder stuff that was rife on the circuit. Smack to come down. Crack to go back up. Coke was subtle and had a sheen of sophistication, how could it be that bad?
‘You don’t do things by halves, do you?’ said Sophia, coming up behind him, running her hands over his shoulders. ‘Now, before I call Ellis,’ she whispered in his ear, ‘I’d better check there’s no pasty body hiding under there.’
She slipped her hands under his T-shirt and pulled it over his head.
‘Mmm . . . very nice,’ she said, stepping away and admiring his six-pack. ‘Why don’t you hold that thought for me,’ she purred, turning to go into the bathroom.
Alex knew he should leave the room, but his feet felt welded to the floor. He looked up and Sophia was standing in the doorway to the bathroom, naked except for her black heels. Alex could only stand there, staring. Her breasts stood round and firm, her pert nipples begged for a mouth to suck them whole. A lick of pubic hair between her thighs, not like Emma’s slightly untidy bush, looked soft and inviting. She slowly walked over to the bed and knelt down in front of him, brushing herself against his chest. He groaned as her lips swept the side of his neck.
He forced himself to pull away.