Cat Nightingale strode confidently through the bar and took a seat on an elegant tan leather sofa by the window. She placed her Kelly bag next to her and took out her iPhone. Ava was always late and Cat was always early. Cat liked things this way. It gave her time to check e-mails, Twitter and anything else that required her attention. She swiped a neatly manicured finger over the screen and flicked her way through her correspondence. Cat had a relationship with her iPhone that was more serious than any she had ever experienced with a man. It was always by her side, faithful and reliable, except when its battery ran down.
As Deputy MD at Hemingway Media, keeping in touch and up to date was vital but she also knew that it was something of an addiction – a good addiction. She had to get that digital hit throughout the day. She had to be on top of everything. Their portfolio of celebrity clients was impressive and her relationship with each and every one of them had to be maintained with a delicate mix of discretion, professionalism and a smattering of the friendly banter that she was known for.
Cat was good at her job and she knew it. Her boss, Jesse, worshipped the ground beneath her feet. She had helped him set up the company three years after they graduated from university and the combination of his easy charm and her sharp intellect had meant that they quickly attracted a host of high-profile clients through word of mouth alone.
You need to launch your new range of perfume? Call Cat. You’re flying to New York and need a go-to for the best clubs and restaurants in town plus reservations to boot? Call Cat. You’ve been caught in a compromising position with your wife’s sister? Call Cat.
Her phone buzzed with a call. She glanced at the ID and swiped to answer immediately.
‘Will. How are you?’
‘I’m hoping I’ll be a lot better after this call.’ Will Bateman didn’t do niceties. He was the most powerful football agent in the country and time really was money in his world. Hemingway Media was organising the launch of a new coffee for the Daily Grind coffee shop chain and Will’s biggest football star, Alvarro Diaz, was going to front it.
‘I’ll do my best.’
‘Can you assure me that there will be no cock-ups on Thursday? I’m taking a big punt using Hemingway and if it goes pear-shaped, it will be my arse on the line too.’
Cat took a deep breath. ‘Everything is in place. Daily Grind love working with Alvarro and we’re already getting a huge response on social media to the “From Bean to Cup” promo film.’
‘I’m more concerned about Alvarro behaving himself,’ admitted Will.
Cat shared these concerns. Alvarro was the latest in a long line of footballing bad boys. He was young, had too much money and since moving from his native Costa Rica, was making the most of his freedom by hitting the London nightlife hard. He was a journalist’s dream and a publicist’s nightmare. ‘I’ve organised a dinner with some journalists for the night before the launch and we’ll make sure there are no detours on the way back to the hotel afterwards.’
‘Okay. Let’s hope you can keep him in line,’ said Will. And with that he was gone.
‘Bye then,’ said Cat to the silent phone.
‘Who you gotta screw to get a cocktail round here?’ cried Ava sweeping through the bar towards Cat. People turned to stare and Ava smiled and waved like the Queen. Cat grinned and stood up in readiness for their air-kiss greeting. Ava Jackson liked to make an entrance; she loved the attention almost as much as the celebrities she featured in her magazine. She was a pint-sized New Yorker with a fearsome reputation and immaculate hair. She had landed in the UK twenty years ago, forging an impressive career as a red-topped paper journalist before founding her own celebrity gossip magazine called Mwah!
A handsome, slick-haired waiter appeared by their side. Ava gave him an approving smile as they ordered their drinks. ‘So,’ she said, fixing her gaze on Cat, ‘tell me everything.’
Cat smiled. She was used to Ava’s ways. She was an important contact in the world of celebrity gossip magazines and probably the closest thing Cat had to a best friend, but she didn’t trust her. Not really. Ava would sell her grandmother and probably Cat’s too for a good story. They had playfully named these informal monthly get-togethers as ‘The Tuesday Night Mojito Club’, but Cat was careful to be measured in both her drinking and divulging. Still, they enjoyed each other’s company and for the most part the relationship was mutually advantageous. Cat gave Ava the stories that would help her sell magazines and Ava gave Cat the publicity her clients required. It was beautifully simple. Most of the time.
‘Saffy Bridges’s agent has asked me to find the right home for her engagement pictures,’ said Cat, casually. The waiter delivered their cocktails and Cat nodded her thanks.
Ava sat up in her seat. ‘I’m listening.’
Cat smiled. Saffron Bridges was the pop sensation of the moment and she had recently announced her engagement to the floppy-fringed song-writing star Sam Taylor. As soon as it had been announced #SaffSam had trended worldwide and the Tiffany’s engagement ring that Saffy had posted on Instagram shortly afterwards now had a six-month waiting list. Cat had overseen the entire thing. ‘The problem is, there are obviously a number of other channels interested,’ said Cat, studying her