Georgia (46 page)

Soon these people would be involving Max in further deals. Films, tours, advertisements, public appearances. Money flowing backwards and forwards, but somehow never reaching her bank account.

She hadn’t had a penny yet. Everything spent had been charged to Max’s office. She didn’t begrudge the boys new clothes, they deserved them. Norman’s green mohair suit must have cost a hundred pounds, John’s leather jacket another fifty, that was mere chicken feed to the amount of food and drink being consumed. Deirdre the receptionist from Max’s office in a sparkly dress costing probably twice as much as her own. Miriam across the room with a pair of diamond earrings she kept touching protectively. Max no doubt had a new car in the garage.

Was the man who owned the limousine company dancing with the Sloaney woman from the King’s Road boutique? Could the fat man with bow legs be the printer? The tall man with the beard a director of the musical equipment store? They were leeches who would suck her blood until she was dry, then spit her out and look for another victim.

‘Wonderful party darling.’

Georgia smiled at the elegant redhead who sailed past her on Jack Levy’s arm. She owned a string of secretarial agencies in Oxford Street and by Monday morning she would have a list of new contacts.

‘Don’t let anyone know you’ve cottoned on,’ she whispered to herself as she slipped into a toilet to compose herself. ‘Just stay cool and observe. They’ll soon find out you aren’t quite as dumb as you look!’

It was easy to play the role of the little innocent. The glass in her hand was just water with ice and lemon, no one guarded their tongues when faced with a girl they thought was tipsy. Listening, watching, observing, remembering names and filing them away for another time.

It was late, almost one o’clock when she overheard something interesting.

She had stopped by the buffet, helping herself to some chicken and salad. Standing just a foot or two beside her were two men. One of them she knew slightly. He was the lawyer from Decca who had been there when she signed her contract. Slim, dark haired, an accent like cut glass which belied his swarthy Mediterranean looks. The other man was smaller, sandy haired and stout. But by the way he was speaking she suspected he was a lawyer too.

‘I knew he’d be trouble when he said he had Riox acting for him,’ the man from Decca said. ‘Damn me if the little guttersnipe didn’t start asking all kinds of questions.’

She guessed the men were talking about a singer called Ricky Delaney. A tough Liverpool rock singer that Max had attempted to handle and then abandoned because of his wild behaviour. Or at least that was what Max claimed!

Was this Riox a new manager on the scene?

‘I’ve heard the name,’ the stout man replied frowning as if trying to put a face to the name. ‘Is his office in Chancery Lane?’

Georgia sidled closer, pretending to be engrossed in the food.

‘The Strand,’ the Decca man was swaying slightly as if he’d drunk too much. ‘Old established law firm. Riox’s got a bee in his bonnet about protecting the interests of young entertainers. Sharp as a razor.’

‘Eton man?’ the stout man asked.

‘Rugby I believe. Strange fellow. French father, mother, one of the Asprey family. One has to admire his integrity, but there’s such a thing as loyalty to one’s peers.’

‘Did you have a good time?’ Robert the chauffeur was waiting for her, the car gliding silently towards the steps at just a wave from one of the porters.

‘It was interesting,’ she said slowly as she sank back into the comfortable leather seat.

Robert glanced over his shoulder. The spark had gone from her, she wasn’t tired, or drunk, just kind of sad.

‘Not your sort of people?’ He had a desire to ask her if she wanted to ride in the front with him, but that would be too impertinent.

‘No,’ her voice was faint, like a child about to cry. ‘And I’ve got a feeling I’ll need to watch my back from now on.’

Georgia sat before Simon Riox’s desk and wondered if somehow she’d got it wrong.

He was only a junior partner in the law firm of Hollins, Burke and Gibson, too young, too lanky to be the formidable lawyer she’d imagined. His brown hair threatened to stand up in spikes, dark-rimmed glasses reminded her absurdly of Buddy Holly. Behind the thick glass his dark eyes were as soft as a spaniel’s.

‘Of course I know who you are,’ he laughed softly at her suggestion he wouldn’t.

His voice at least was the kind she expected, deep, resonant, entirely at odds with his almost feminine small features. She could see now he was older than he looked, at least thirty-five. ‘What I’d like to know is how you heard about me. I’m not a visible attraction like yourself.’

‘Eavesdropping,’ she admitted. ‘I heard a lawyer complaining you had too much integrity.’

She had tried four different lawyers’ offices in the Strand before she found him and now as she sat in the small oak-panelled office she was beginning to lose her nerve.

She had put on a red trouser suit because it made her feel strong and decisive, but in this formal place it looked too loud.

‘I find that very flattering,’ his eyes never left hers and all at once she knew she could open up to him. ‘I expect you feel nervous Georgia, let me order some tea, then you can tell me what’s troubling you. If I can help, I will. I’m sure I hardly need tell you anything you tell me is in the strictest confidence.’

‘I haven’t had any money yet,’ she said simply. ‘I found out last night I was footing the bill for a party at the Savoy, and flying over men from the States who aim to fill their pockets at my expense.’

He listened carefully to the whole story, looking at her over his thick glasses from time to time, writing copious notes in a thin, spidery hand.

‘Don’t be put off by my notetaking,’ he said at length. ‘I actually have an excellent memory, but writing it down helps cement it in here,’ he tapped his forehead with a pencil.

‘I felt used last night,’ she rung her hands in her lap. ‘Humiliated even. I mean can you imagine thinking you are the one they’ve all come to see, and then discovering almost every guest is on the make?’

‘I understand your feelings,’ Riox smiled sympathetically. ‘This kind of thing happens all the time, it’s all show, glitz and promotion. Max was probably astute in throwing this party. Perhaps he even had good reason to oil the wheels in America. But he should have discussed it with you. Made it clear it was ultimately your expense.’

‘But that Al Green wasn’t even interested in me. I just paid for a free holiday for him!’

‘I wish you’d come to me before you signed the contract with Decca. I could have acted for you independently, protected you from sharp business practice,’ he sighed deeply, as if afraid he was too late to help. ‘I despise people who prey on young talent and grow rich while they wear out their protégé.’

‘Is it too late to change things?’

‘The contract with Decca is rock hard.’ He flicked through the copy she’d brought with her. ‘But it’s a fair one. However, your contract with Max Menzies is another story.’

‘Really?’

Riox smirked, almost as if he relished a challenge.

‘Less than three months to go. He slipped up there, but maybe he was too busy thinking about Decca’s contract. This will be a good lever to make changes. To make sure you get what you’ve earned. For goodness sake when he suggests you sign another, consult me first.’

‘Do you think it would be better to find a new manager then?’

‘Not necessarily.’ Riox had a look of cunning in his eyes. ‘Max Menzies may be too sharp, but he is the undisputed king of promotion. If you got yourself a gentler character, the chances are Max would outwit him, just for spite. There is only one way to beat him, and that is by being just as sharp yourself.’

‘What should I do?’

Simon Riox weighed up the girl in front of him and he liked what he saw. He had heard her record soon after it was released, liked it so much he actually bought a copy, and since then he had watched her shoot to overnight success.

Perhaps it was merely the blanket coverage in the press that had put him off her a little. Somehow he had formed the opinion she was just another vacuous pop star who would burn herself out with the high life. Now he could see beyond the beautiful face and passionate voice. She was highly intelligent, brave and resourceful. How many girls of her age would balk at throwing a Savoy party surrounded by all those socialites fawning at her? Indeed how many would stay sober and work out what was happening?

‘I was going to say I’ll handle it all for you,’ he smiled at her, suddenly boyish and mischievous. ‘But I can see you are a woman of action. Go to him now, tell him you discovered last night’s bun fight was at your expense. Demand to see his books and tell him I’m your lawyer. That is, if you want me to be?’

‘Yes, please,’ she said softly. There was strength in him, she felt it now, flowing across his desk to her.

‘I’ll write to him today. I’ll outline how we expect your affairs to be managed in future. If you need advice on handling your money I can do that for you too.’

‘I’m so glad I came,’ she breathed a deep sigh of relief, as she got to her feet. ‘I felt murderous last night, but now I feel calm.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. A murdering pop star makes too many ripples,’ he laughed, standing up and pushing back his chair. ‘I think you’ll find he will play reasonably fair from now on,’ he said as he shook her hand. ‘He’ll probably be hiving off a bit, but a man like that is so practised at deceit even an auditor would have a job to catch him out. I’ll do a little double checking from time to time. Just so he knows he can’t be greedy. Ring me if you have any further problems.’

Georgia was fired up now. She caught a taxi straight to Berkeley Square and ran up the stairs two at a time.

Without waiting for Deirdre to invent some reason she couldn’t see Max, she barged down the corridor and straight into his office.

‘What is it?’ Max looked up from his desk, surprise and some irritation showing in his face. ‘I’m busy.’

‘So am I,’ she said sharply, slamming the door behind her. ‘But neither of us is so busy we can ignore what’s going on.’

Max sighed deeply and pushed his papers away.

‘Five minutes,’ he said. ‘That’s all I can spare.’

She sat down opposite him and crossed her legs.

There was never a time when she wasn’t struck by his looks. The broad shoulders, the dark handsome face, gold jewellery, handmade suits, silk shirts and Italian shoes all added to the image of a man to be obeyed and feared. But she wasn’t going to let him get the better of her this time.

‘Has it ever occurred to you that you work for me? Not the other way around?’

Max’s hooded eyes shot open, they were as dark as her own, for a moment stunned by her statement.

‘What?’

‘You heard.’ She held herself in check. Not for one moment must she falter, or the chance might never come again. ‘You’re treating me like an idiot Max, and I won’t stand for it any longer. I’m your best client. The golden goose if you like.’

‘Georgia darling,’ he gave her his widest, most disarming smile. The one he always used while frantically thinking how he could outwit his opponent. ‘What is this? What on earth do you think I’m guilty of?’

‘Using my earnings to finance other deals,’ she said quietly. ‘Last night for example. Not only did you omit to tell me I was paying for it, but Mr Green seems to believe I’m in the English holiday business.’

‘Now come on Georgia,’ Max stood up threateningly. ‘Have I ever kept you short? Don’t you trust my judgement to make a shrewd move?’

‘A sharp move,’ she corrected him. ‘I wouldn’t have paid to entertain that load of wankers. I’m the one with a number one hit. I don’t need all that. You did it for your own ego, at my expense. I want to see your books. I want every penny accounted for. You can have your percentage, and I want the rest.’

‘But Georgia, you already owe me. I’ve been keeping you on full wages for over two years even when you didn’t bring in a penny.’

‘Bullshit,’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ve done my sums. You’ve been on to a nice little earner from the day I started with Samson.’

‘But expenses have to come out of that,’ he said smarmily. ‘What’s this all about Georgia? Do you want money for a new frock?’

‘No. I want what’s mine,’ she put her hands on her hips, glaring at him defiantly. ‘The books Max, the ones you keep each week. I’m entitled to see them.’

‘Who’s put you up to this?’ He turned his back on her, moving over to the window.

‘No one. Are you surprised I have a brain as well as a voice?’

‘I never doubted you had a brain.’ She knew Max was struggling to find a good excuse for his behaviour. ‘You don’t know the business like I do. Even a singer as good as you needs promotion.’

‘Thousands of pounds are being made out of me each day,’ she snapped, striding across to him and grabbing his arm to turn him. ‘Every gig, every personal appearance brings in a fortune. I hired you to manage my career. Not my money. Like I said. You work for me.’

‘How dare you?’ His dark eyes flashed. She saw his hand clench into a fist.

‘Don’t even think of hitting me,’ she hissed. ‘You’ve done some shabby things in your life I’m sure. But don’t add hitting women to them. All I want out of you is straightness. Itemized accounts showing every penny I’ve earned, and every penny you claim you’ve spent on me. Then we’ll come to the point where you hand over the rest.’

‘But you must understand that the money coming in now is paying back all I spent on you earlier,’ he said with a snake-like smile. ‘New equipment, the van, the band’s suits.’

‘Bollocks,’ she retorted. ‘You might have spent money on Samson, but not on me.’

She waited just a moment or two for the implications of this statement to filter into his mind.

‘I’m on my own! Right?’ she snapped. ‘You diddled the boys out of a shared contract with me. When did I ever sign anything to take over their expenses?’

‘Come on, play fair,’ his mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. ‘You were part of that band!’

‘You didn’t think so when you wanted me away from them. The only equipment I need is in here,’ she touched her throat lightly with one red talon.