“Seriously, a chauffeur driven limo isn’t enough, he wants a helicopter?”
“Mr Wade doesn’t have the time or the inclination to sit in traffic. It’s a chopper or nothing.”
“He does know that this is a charity event, right, a charity event organised in the memory of Sean McCarthy, lead singer of Carnage?”
“Mr Wade is well aware of that Ms… sorry, I didn’t get your name?”
“McCarthy. My name’s McCarthy. Mrs Georgia Layton McCarthy and don’t worry about it. We won’t be needing the attendance of Kurt Wade. We’ll get by with the other fifty-odd rock and pop stars that’re all giving their time for free and making absolutely no demands for transport, not even a contribution towards their bus fare. So you can tell Kurt from me, that he can go and fuck himself with the rough end of a pineapple, and when he’s finished, perhaps he might choose to make a small donation to the Maca Music and More foundation, seeing as my husband had more talent, grace and humility in his little toenail than Kurt fucking Wade will ever have even if he lives for a millennium.” With that I end the call.
I look up to see Marley and Lennon looking at me from across their desks.
“You do realise if this gets out you’ll lose the support of millions of nine-to-sixteen-year-old girls across the world?” Lennon says while tapping a pen against his temple.
“I don’t give a fuck. He’s a five-foot-nothing, sixteen-year-old prick who can’t even sing. I don’t want him involved in this anyway and neither does Sean.”
“And he told you that personally, did he?” Len asks.
“Yeah, actually he did. We have convo’s almost daily and that’s the one thing he has insisted on.”
“No Kurt Wade?”
“Yes, Len. No Kurt Wanker Wade.”
He nods his head at me slowly. “Fine, your call.”
I sit and rub my temples with the middle two fingers of both hands and close my eyes for a few seconds.
“Why don’t you go home, George. Go home and get some sleep,” Marley tells me.
I lean back in the big leather desk chair and let my arms drop to the side. I’m exhausted, mentally drained and running on pure adrenalin. What we have pulled together in the space of six months is mammoth and now we have just over a week before the big weekend.
Neither Sean or I followed a religion of any kind. We believed in good and evil, right and wrong, so I decided that instead of having a formal and stuffy memorial service in a church, which Sean would’ve hated, I wanted to celebrate his life with the one thing he loved as much, or even more than me: music. But then the idea grew and evolved and I thought that I would include something I loved, fashion. After all, I had a lot of contacts in both industries, why not use them to do some good and remember Sean all at the same time.
Cam and I had spent our first Christmas together at Jimmie and Lennon’s place with all of my family. After a lot to drink on Christmas day, I announced to everyone what I wanted to do. I’d already discussed it with Cam a few times since first coming up with the idea. He had been an absolute rock and told me to do whatever I felt was right and he guaranteed he would be there to support me every step of the way. He had, in fact, gone above and beyond that.
As soon as I’d told Len and Marley that I wanted to organise some kind of combined music and fashion event in memory of Sean, they had both been on board and then Cam had come up with an even better idea, why not make it global? So, here we were, a week out from a charity event like no other, the biggest names in rock, pop, fashion, film, entertainment and sport, all coming together in the name of Sean McCarthy and the charity Lennon had helped me set up in his name.
Cam had given us the use of every venue he owned around the world, and we had acts, fashion shows, comedians and guest presenters lined up for each and every one of them.
We ended up with a massive team of event organisers, all working for free, taking charge in each country. We even had football matches arranged between sports stars and celebrities.
Cam had been in Australia all week, making sure that everything was going to plan with the biggest venue, K.L.U.B, in Sydney. He was due home today and I have been missing him like I could never have imagined. My heart hurt and my gut twisted just thinking about seeing him this evening. We’d spoken on the phone this morning and I’d promised to be waiting for him to get home, wearing nothing but stockings and heels.