Author's Note: This story is completely fictional and did not happen. All characters and names are fictional and were made up.
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Ibiza, Spain
Cool air cut through the vent, filling the space with a chilly breeze to wash away the hotness within the hotel room. From the bedroom, a man stood in the bathroom with a tooth brush lodged between his teeth and scrubbing away. After he was done, he looked in the mirror at himself. The fact in the reflection was that of a man at 37 years old: brown eyes, short brown hair and a clean shaved face. Outside the bathroom, a clean red shirt and a white jacket sat for his suit. He had already put on the matching white pants and his gold necklace around his neck. The man's name was Luke Evans and he was here to do more than just partying.
Ibiza was a place he was quite familiar with from experience in the past few years. While his name was Luke Evans, he was often known as 'Mr. Disco'. He worked as an agent in the modeling industry branching out from Los Angeles to over the pond into the UK. The nickname came from the fact he indulged in the nightlife and enjoyed a good party. The island of Ibiza was one of his favorite playgrounds to spend time at. After he got himself dressed, he began to head out of the hotel room when his cellphone began to vibrate and ring in the jacket of his suit. He pulled out and checked the screen, seeing his friend Peter was calling right on time.
"Hey Peter, we're still on schedule right?"
"Yes, was just calling to check up on you. I'm heading to pick up you soon."
"Alright, I'll be outside the hotel waiting."
There was a meeting at hand for today, just one of the reasons he had come to Ibiza. For the past 4 years, Luke had been operating outside Los Angeles as an agent to a number of different models. Some were freelance and others had their own agencies. In the time spent, he had to work alongside the girls to see to it that they were not getting ripped off or pushed into bad contracts. After two years, he ended up traveling to the UK and working there with other glamour models. It was there that he met Peter Morris, a man who had became his best friend from their work in the business. Peter managed negotiations among modeling agencies and had connections to top photographers in the business.
With Peter at his side, it was much easier to handle the job as an agent. Last year, the two had worked with a couple big names from America that had jumped over the pond into the English fashion world. To celebrate any success, they often retreated back to Ibizia to blow money and party at the clubs. Luke had earned his nickname 'Mr. Disco' from a couple models he worked with who couldn't help but get into the partying with him. The clubs in London, L.A. and Ibiza were his heavenly kingdom of fun. He had been born in a small town of California but moved into the big city as he got older after college over 15 years ago. At this point in his life, he could not recognize his former life at all, not after he started working in L.A. as an adult.
Outside the hotel, he looked over the streets while he waited for Peter to arrive. He assumed that it would be by taxi to escort them to the meeting. Just yesterday they had arrived from their flight, on schedule to meet with an agent about a possible contract with a large modeling agency. Just a couple minutes of waiting, the taxi pulled up and came to a stop. Luke could see his friend from within the windows, the big black mustache and long black hair was enough to tell him it was Peter. Opening the door, he climbed into the taxi with him. Peter spoke in his thick English accent.
"Morning Luke, you sleep well?"
He sighed, nodding his head while the car began to move off.
"I never sleep good the first night in Ibiza, not until I hit the clubs."
Peter chuckled.
"Yeah, right...Well, this meeting is within an hour out back at a hotel."
"Let's get it over with so we can party later, did you talk to this guy again?"
"Yes, we're meeting at a beach across from here. It's a private bay, I was told."
"Oh yeah? We'll see, let's just get this thing over with.
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1 HOUR LATER
The taxi ride between Peter and Luke set an imbalanced scale of enthusiasm. Peter could easily read over his friend's blank expressions over his face. The meeting had to happen, weather they wanted to do it today or not. The man that would be across from them was a businessman by the name of Nigel Taylor. He had reached out to them just last month about a new modeling agency in the works back in London, they were in need of agents and photographers. It was unknown at this point if they had any contracts with models so far that were well known in the business, but perhaps that would be revealed at this meeting. The taxi eventually stopped by the beach and Peter reached into his pocket to pay the driver before the two stepped out. The sun glared into their eyes, forcing Luke to reach into the inner pocket of his jacket and slip on his pair of dark Persol sunglasses. Peter stood by him before pointing out to the figure of a man standing alongside the beach.
"That must be him, right there!"
Luke looked forward and then back at his friend. The figure was definitely of a man in a black suit, standing there all by himself with his hands folded in front of him.
"Yep, that's our guy. Let's get it over with..."
Together, the two men walked while kicking the sand with their shoes. The figure that stood before them began to become more visible in appearance. It was an older man, obvious from the grey in his hair. He stood with a sinister grin over his face, an odd detail that struck through Luke's mind. As they stood across from the man, they were greeted in his thick English accent.
"Ah, gentleman. You must be Mr. Evans and Mr. Morris."
Peter nodded, speaking before Luke could get a chance to.
"Yes, that's us."
"I am here on behalf of Mr. Nigel Taylor...My name is Malcolm Green."
Instantly, Luke looked back over at his friend before speaking. They had been lied to, it appeared. He thought they were meeting with Nigel himself, not anyone else. This could not have been the guy they spoke to over the phone last week, that man had an obvious American accent. Luke objected in a response.
"Wait...I thought Mr. Taylor was going to meet us personally?"
The older man smirked.
"No, Mr. Taylor will meet you after we negotiate. He is back in London right now."
Luke took a couple steps in the sand, looking down before he responded.
"So, he sent you to get us to sign the contracts? I think I get it, he's the kind of busy guy who wants to avoid a negative confrontation."
Peter looked over at his friend, deciding that it was best to chime in with a reply before Luke could turn this into an argument. He responded to Malcolm.
"Well what's on the table for us with your company?"
The old man took a deep breath before replying. By now, Luke and Peter both had their hands in their pockets and looking forward. The wind quietly blew through their hair and past the sand.
"Gentleman, our company is going to thrive through London with the glamour industry. In case you didn't know, Nigel Taylor is the son of David Taylor."
Peter quickly replied.
"The same billionaire David Taylor who owns the fashion magazines in the UK?"
Malcolm nodded his head.
"Yes, Nigel is his son stepping out into the world with his own business. He began with the Paradise Dreams Hotel. Now, he is all set to open the Perfect Kiss Modeling agency."
Slipping off his sunglasses, Luke responded.
