The room was heaving with bodies, some famous, but mainly music exec types and those looking to land themselves a contract or a rock star for the night. I was glad. All my hard work had paid off. I hated event organising and I'd really expected when I took this job 18 months ago, that the work would be more of the hands on personal assistant kind the job spec stated as opposed to relying on others to get it right. Still it seemed like most people were having a good time, but when the bar is free that is usually the case!
I breathed out a long sigh of relief and put my business face back on before stepping out from behind the heavy velvet curtains and back into the hustle. Straight away people began to compliment me; "Darling what a fabulous night, I hope he gives you a raise for all this hard work!" blah blah blah… I hated the falseness of these functions but I smiled and made the necessary small talk my job required of me, introducing this record exec to that society girl who had always dreamed of releasing an album, this hot new singer from Hollywood to that new up & coming producer from New York. I'd not even worked my way around half the room when my boss put his arm around my waist and saved me from some over the hill, overweight, perspiring journo who was telling me how he could still have any of the hot young chicks in the room – yeah right fella.
"Elle, you've out done yourself this time! This has to be the best party we've ever had!" He was more than a little drunk. "And we've had a few I can tell ya!"
I laughed, "Well I'm surprised you can remember any of them, don't tell me that these are usually sober affairs."
"Heavy on the sarcasm as usual Elle, I love that about you Londoners," Lars laughed, "I can rely on you to tell me how it is always! I'm so glad I got you first." Here we go, that old chestnut…
"Did you know that both James & Kirk wanted you to work for them when you came for your interview?" Lars whispered conspiratorially to me
"Really?" I said with wide eyes, I'd lost count of the times he'd 'let this one slip' after a couple of bottles of something or other.
"Yeah, that's why I called you straight away to offer you the job – I know one of those fuckers would try it on if I didn't!" He said laughing. "So have you had a drink yet?" Lars asked looking at my empty hands.
"No, I've been working the room, just like a good host should Lars" I teased. "I'll get one soon, I just want to make sure that everyone is having a good time and then I'll relax."
"Are you serious?" Lars asked incredulously "Take a look around, everyone is having so much fun. Although I'm not sure how much longer that ice sculpture of the devil dispensing vodka is going to last!" Lars turned me round and pointed to a corner of the room where the ice statue stood. Where a raucous drunk crowd waited their turn to drink chocolate flavoured vodka from Satan's beard.
"That has been the show stealer all night!" It had certainly received a lot attention and it looked to me that Satan's beard had all but disappeared and people were now simply sucking on his chin.
"Come on, lets go to the bar and get you a drink. You deserve it."
"Ok then." I sighed as I let Lars guide me towards the bar and decided that he was right, what else could I do apart from more schmoozing and to be honest my face was already starting to ache from the fake smile. As we walked Lars pointed out some of the characters in attendance and gave me the gossip on who was going to be taking who home that night. I loved the way he was so amiable and could make anyone feel like the most special person in the world, even if it was just for a few minutes. It ensured he had the confidence of most of the people in the room and they would all fall over themselves to do his bidding should he ever wish them to. As my old man would say, he could sell ice to the Eskimos.
With a glass of champagne in my hand & another Jack in Lars' we turned away from the bar
"Oh great," said Lars enthusiastically "here is someone I know you're going to want to meet; with your Grunge fetish!"
I followed Lars' glance to a mane of long very blonde hair that cascaded down the back of a 6ft plus slim man. I knew that could only belong to one person on the guest list, probably in the world, and despite the fact that I worked for Metallica & knew full well he was going to be there tonight I was suddenly a bit star struck.
"Jerry!" Lars called.
As Jerry Cantrell turned to greet his long time friend, I felt my stomach flip and the colour rise in my cheeks. How embarrassing! I couldn't let this happen, I would die from the shame if I behaved like a stupid kid in front of the man I'd had a lifelong crush on. 'Hold it down girl!' I instructed myself and snapped on the showbiz smile.
"Long time no see bro!" Jerry said slapping Lars on the back doing that rock star hug thing.
"How you doin' man? Have you met my amazing, gorgeous and not to mention very single assistant?" Lars said by way of introduction.
Great something else for me to cringe at! I thought as I gulped back half my champagne in one go.
Jerry turned to give me his full attention "No I don't think I've ever had the pleasure." he replied smoothly. I'd spent a fortune on tonight's outfit and as I felt the weight of his stare taking in my figure I was glad I'd made the effort.
'Oh my God,' I thought, 'this whole situation is turning into a complete cliché and I'm obviously already looking like a fucking groupie. Thanks Lars!'
Jerry took my hand and brought it purposefully to his mouth in a faux chivalrous way and kissed it. I wanted to puke. But my smile remained, with just a hint of sarcasm.
I raised an eyebrow; it meant to say 'If you think you can get in my knickers with that move, think again pal!' Who knows how it actually came across, Jerry laughed "Yeah I should know better than try and mess with a redhead." So I suppose the ice was broken.
"This is all Elle's work," Lars said waving his arm around the room. "Isn't it a great party Jerry?" he asked putting his arms around us both and leaning in drunkenly to whisper – or so he thought – to Jerry "You know Jer, this girl's gonna make someone a great wife one day," he followed up that classic comment with a big stage wink and another slap on the back.
I downed the rest of my champagne and picked up a fresh one from a passing waitress. Well if this was how it was going to go, I may as well get drunk! There was no way I could hide my mortification, but Jerry put me at ease straight away with a subtle wink & a smile at me as he laughed and said "No doubt, Lars. I bet she cries herself to sleep at night knowin' that she missed your boat hey buddy?"
"Wha..?" said Lars taking a step back before he realised that Jerry was in fact joking "You're a funny fucker Cantrell! Now would you excuse me I need to drain the lizard."
We watched Lars stumble away and grab his next unsuspecting victim by the shoulders before we turned back to one another.
"I should apologise for my boss," I laughed "He can't handle his drink like he used to I'm afraid."
"You ain't wrong there Elle. Is it Elle or is that just a nickname?" Jerry said, dazzling me with those blue eyes again.
"It's actually Eleanor, but I don't think it suits a girl from South London working for a drummer in California. My parents clearly had delusions of grandeur for me, they must be so disappointed!" I laughed again nervously and Jerry smiled warmly at me "Just call me Elle." I still felt a bit awkward and I think he could sense this, but rather than make his excuses for a quick exit, he struck up a conversation.
Half an hour and 3 glasses of champagne later, I was much more at ease and more than a bit drunk to boot. Amongst other things, we talked about our love of Seattle and the craziness of London and LA. I found it really freaky to know that we'd been to the same bars and sweaty little dives, sometimes at the same time before I worked for Lars and I'd never known that he was there.
I was really enjoying myself, and even found myself flirting, but after 4 glasses of champagne, I needed to pee. I hung on for as long as was comfortable, knowing that when I walked away that would be the end of our conversation and who knew when we'd meet again. Suddenly I realised that I was standing with my legs crossed; not a good look. Reluctantly excused myself.
