𝘼𝙑𝘼𝙍𝙄𝘾𝙄𝙊𝙐𝙎 // 𝙁𝙍𝙀𝘿𝘿𝙄𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝙍𝘾𝙐𝙍𝙔

I. "One Of His Tarts"

London.
November 30th, 1974.

"Arabella, I know it's not what you wanted, but it's a start."

"Not what I wanted?" I echoed with a frown, "It's nowhere near what I bloody wanted."

Earl Sheffield ran his grubby fingers through his ash blonde hair, already impatient and ticked off. "Sweetheart, I'm just asking you to help me out a little here with studio business, it's nothing major, then we can talk about proper payment, and your brother's career."

I feigned a pout in attempt to soften his mood.

As usual it worked a treat because the next I knew, Earl let out a deep sigh. "You love cajoling the stars. Think of it as building connections, that sort of thing."

In the years I had known the Sheffield brothers, I was always fed the same "building connections" shit, every time I even brought up the subject of my brother's demo and talent. I also wanted some sort of real job of my own, instead of just being the pretty face Earl sent to be the bringer of bad news amongst his clients.

"Mhm." I hummed, toying with the leather woven bracelet on my wrist, "I suppose."

I just wanted a real job, whether it was as a secretary or just polishing someone's shoes, at this stage I didn't care. I was well off I suppose, which was nice, but my God I was absolutely bored out of my mind. Mooching off of your partner isn't the most glamorous way of getting by, but when I needed quick cash, it was handy. The money is put towards good use anyway, not for lavish living.

A smile broke out on Earl's weathered face, "Offer is still on the table to let me send out those photos to modelling agencies." He leant over, resting his hand on my knee, "Imagine my girlfriend, a model."

I took in Earl's smarmy face, and fought the urge to just growl with frustration. Instead, I flashed him an innocent smile, "I couldn't imagine it really."

Okay he's not that bad looking... but he certainly was not my type nor was he in my age range. I'm sure I was Earl's mid life crisis fling that just turned into an actual relationship somewhere along the way. He was someone I messed about with to piss off my father in the beginning, but now he was a necessity.

Thankfully, Earl missed my clear dig at him as he squeezed my knee, "Now, now sweetheart, you're gorgeous."

"Thanks but I'm not comfortable with those photos going anywhere." I said stiffly. I was immediately uncomfortable, thinking back to the less than professional headshot pictures of me that Earl had once snapped of me.

"I wouldn't let anyone take advantage of you."

I didn't acknowledge that statement, I merely flashed him a half hearted smile. Earl took this as further reason to console me. He wasn't the most romantic or intuitive of people, but if he thought I was upset he always tried to cheer me up the only way he knew how. Gifts.

"I did get you something actually." Earl quickly stood up from the hard leather couch in the corner of his musty office. Predictable.

"Oh did you?"

He didn't answer as searched through his drawers, pulling out his tin of cigars along with a black velvet box. The size of it scared me, at least with the bigger boxes I always knew it was a necklace or bracelet, but the little boxes... there's always the possibility of a ring.

Earl isn't a bad man, he's not, well unless he's your manager. I feel bad for any of the talents that he's over because he always manages to get them into predatory contracts. They're often impossible or too expensive to get out of. Trident studios was well known and high profile, I had often seen David Bowie, Elton John and the odd Beatle member in the halls. Nice lads actually.