down below."
I looked around the garden of Julia and Michael's stunning, hilltop house high above Los Angeles. Getting up here would have confused even the most sophisticated of GPS systems, but luckily Rick knew the way perfectly.
"That's why so many celebrities live here," Julia smiled, pouring me a glass of wine. "These hills are like a rabbit warren. They help to keep out both the press and the crazies."
"So how did that pair manage to get in?" I joked, glancing over at Rick and Michael, running around the garden firing toy NERF guns at each other. Luke, a typically vivacious five-year-old boy, shared his dad's good looks. The recent revelations about Rick's fatherhood in the media hadn't filtered down to Luke just yet; Michael was still very much his dad, although "uncle Rick" had now become his second, rock star father. At this point in his life, it was simply something cool to tell his friends at school.
"Well, Amy, it's official. You're a sex symbol and certified babe, whether you like it or not."
Julia handed me her iPad. There I was, splashed over all the Grammy Awards news feeds along with Rick brawling with his bandmate. I rolled my eyes at some of the headlines.
RICK'S THREE BIG HITS - HIS GUITARIST AND HIS GIRLFRIEND'S CHEST
MAXIM AND FHM BATTLE FOR ROCK BABE AMY
PLAYBOY WANT CURVY BEAUTY AMY TO BARE ALL
RICK TAKES HOME GRAMMY AND TWO GOLDEN GLOBES
"I can't believe they used the Golden Globes line," I sighed. "So predictable."
"Never mind that," Julia replied, sipping her wine. "Which offer are you going to take - FHM, Maxim or Playboy?"
I shook my head. "I'll let you know as soon as they get in touch...which they haven't, incidentally. Seriously, why do they make this shit up?"
"So people click on their web site and they can charge for advertising. Welcome to LA, baby."
Rick ran over to our table and took a swig from his already opened beer bottle. "See?" He smiled, gesturing at Julia's iPad. "Told you us men don't like skinny girls."
"So, you don't have a problem with Amy getting her bits out for Playboy?" Julia asked, folding her arms.
"Absolutely not. Hey, you got to work with what God gave you. Besides, she could probably earn enough to finance my next album."
I slapped him playfully on his ass as he began to walk away. "Sexist pig. Go and be a role model for your son instead of a misogynistic asshole to the rest of us."
"He's a sweetheart, really," Julia grinned. "He thinks the world of you, you know."
I felt my cheeks blushing. "I still can't believe this is all happening to me."
"Don't be so quick to believe you're the lucky one. You're the best thing that ever happened to him. Anything that gets Rick off the Beautiful Losers treadmill has to be a good thing."
I was puzzled. "Do you think Rick should go back and reform the band?"
"No," she replied, topping up her wine. "Why should he? He is the band. Tell me, Amy, what have the other band members released since they went on hiatus?"
I thought for a minute and came up blank. "Nothing that I know of."
"Exactly. They're good musicians, but they couldn't write a sentence let alone a hit song. I don't know why Rick has carried them for so long, to be honest. Now he has a Grammy and a bestselling album under his belt, he really can do what he wants. That's partly why we've asked him if he's interested in doing a soundtrack for the thriller we're working on."
Michael had written a screenplay which, after several years in development, had finally got the green light. Julia was producing the movie and had already signed up a big-name director and A -list actors. She wanted Rick to write the entire musical score and come up with an iconic hit song for the theme.
"Rick's pretty excited about it," I smiled. "I'm not going to lie, I'm just giddy about meeting Emily Blunt. You have signed up Emily Blunt, right?"
Julia laughed. "Yes, Amy, we've signed Emily Blunt. I find it so funny how starstruck you still get when you're
I looked around the garden of Julia and Michael's stunning, hilltop house high above Los Angeles. Getting up here would have confused even the most sophisticated of GPS systems, but luckily Rick knew the way perfectly.
"That's why so many celebrities live here," Julia smiled, pouring me a glass of wine. "These hills are like a rabbit warren. They help to keep out both the press and the crazies."
"So how did that pair manage to get in?" I joked, glancing over at Rick and Michael, running around the garden firing toy NERF guns at each other. Luke, a typically vivacious five-year-old boy, shared his dad's good looks. The recent revelations about Rick's fatherhood in the media hadn't filtered down to Luke just yet; Michael was still very much his dad, although "uncle Rick" had now become his second, rock star father. At this point in his life, it was simply something cool to tell his friends at school.
"Well, Amy, it's official. You're a sex symbol and certified babe, whether you like it or not."
Julia handed me her iPad. There I was, splashed over all the Grammy Awards news feeds along with Rick brawling with his bandmate. I rolled my eyes at some of the headlines.
RICK'S THREE BIG HITS - HIS GUITARIST AND HIS GIRLFRIEND'S CHEST
MAXIM AND FHM BATTLE FOR ROCK BABE AMY
PLAYBOY WANT CURVY BEAUTY AMY TO BARE ALL
RICK TAKES HOME GRAMMY AND TWO GOLDEN GLOBES
"I can't believe they used the Golden Globes line," I sighed. "So predictable."
"Never mind that," Julia replied, sipping her wine. "Which offer are you going to take - FHM, Maxim or Playboy?"
I shook my head. "I'll let you know as soon as they get in touch...which they haven't, incidentally. Seriously, why do they make this shit up?"
"So people click on their web site and they can charge for advertising. Welcome to LA, baby."
Rick ran over to our table and took a swig from his already opened beer bottle. "See?" He smiled, gesturing at Julia's iPad. "Told you us men don't like skinny girls."
"So, you don't have a problem with Amy getting her bits out for Playboy?" Julia asked, folding her arms.
"Absolutely not. Hey, you got to work with what God gave you. Besides, she could probably earn enough to finance my next album."
I slapped him playfully on his ass as he began to walk away. "Sexist pig. Go and be a role model for your son instead of a misogynistic asshole to the rest of us."
"He's a sweetheart, really," Julia grinned. "He thinks the world of you, you know."
I felt my cheeks blushing. "I still can't believe this is all happening to me."
"Don't be so quick to believe you're the lucky one. You're the best thing that ever happened to him. Anything that gets Rick off the Beautiful Losers treadmill has to be a good thing."
I was puzzled. "Do you think Rick should go back and reform the band?"
"No," she replied, topping up her wine. "Why should he? He is the band. Tell me, Amy, what have the other band members released since they went on hiatus?"
I thought for a minute and came up blank. "Nothing that I know of."
"Exactly. They're good musicians, but they couldn't write a sentence let alone a hit song. I don't know why Rick has carried them for so long, to be honest. Now he has a Grammy and a bestselling album under his belt, he really can do what he wants. That's partly why we've asked him if he's interested in doing a soundtrack for the thriller we're working on."
Michael had written a screenplay which, after several years in development, had finally got the green light. Julia was producing the movie and had already signed up a big-name director and A -list actors. She wanted Rick to write the entire musical score and come up with an iconic hit song for the theme.
"Rick's pretty excited about it," I smiled. "I'm not going to lie, I'm just giddy about meeting Emily Blunt. You have signed up Emily Blunt, right?"
Julia laughed. "Yes, Amy, we've signed Emily Blunt. I find it so funny how starstruck you still get when you're
Similar Books
Miss Pymbroke's Rules
Rosemary Stevens
The Pumpkin Eater
Penelope Mortimer
Scar Night
Alan Campbell
Spider Bones
Kathy Reichs
Tall, Dark & Distant
Julie Fison
Shopping Showdown
Buffi BeCraft-Woodall
Everything, Everything
Nicola Yoon
Living Dolls: The Return of Sexism
Natasha Walter
Ultima
Stephen Baxter
The Hard Life
Flann O’Brien