Chelsea White
folder
Individual Celebrities › Ewan McGregor
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
7
Views:
2,537
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Individual Celebrities › Ewan McGregor
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
7
Views:
2,537
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. I do not know the celebrity I am writing about. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
2
NOTE: This is more of an explanation section than anything else. More naughtiness will follow in due course. :)
CHAPTER TWO
The Shore Club, like the sea,sea, was an Art Deco refurbishment, with white and blue accents to it. But unlike the Chelsea, it gave off the air of being more than what it was. Pretentious, he thought. More people milling about here, and some he vaguely recognized, but still, overall, he was happy to be staying right where he was.
He found Mike waiting in the lobby for him, looking slightly agitated. He was a few years older than he was, and slightly taller, with ash blonde hair and blue eyes. He had been a publicist for some years now, and had the temperament to show for it. He was far too cranky for his age, however, a fact that Mike did not relish this ‘plaid skirt wearing bastard’ reminding him of.
He paused in front of him and said, “Come on, I am not late, Mike.”
“May as well be,” he said icily.
“You know what, mate? You need a shag. Maybe two. You are way too uptight.”
“Piss off, McGregor. Just get over there and shill whatever you shill.” He waved a hand over towards a pair of men in their mid-forties in nondescript suits and severe looks, and very out of place in the brightness of the room.
He shook his head. “Christ Almighty, Mike- they look like the bloody KGB or something.”
“Don’t annoy me, McGregor,” he hissed. “Not today.”
He grinned at him. “Aww Mike, where’s that smile, then? Where’s that gorgeous smile you have, eh?” He gave him a playful nudge. “If you don’t smile, I’ll kiss you. And it’s not even New ’s E’s Eve.”
In spite of himself, Mike gave a small grin. “Jesus, fate worse than death, you kissing me. Get over there, you shaggy bastard.”
“See? I knew you still loved me,” he said with a wink, then moved in the direction of the suits, with Mike shaking his head behind him and smiling.
He reached them and introduced himself. “Name’s McGregor. Nice to meet ya, chaps.”
The less severe looking of the pair, cocked a brow and said, “I assume you have a *first* name, sir?” His voice was as icy and flat as his demeanor.
//God, these suits are always so fucking anal....// “First name’s Ewan. Mind if I have sit down?,” then he planted himself on a sofa across from them. “What can I do ya for?”
“My name is Council. I run a gallery in town called Ondine’s. You have heard of it, I assume?”
He shook his head. “Sorry. Haven’t. Haven’t been here in an age.”
The second suit said, “Someone of your ….*stature*…..”
//Pains you to admit that, eh ya anal bastard?//
“I would assume you would know of these things.”
“I said I haven’t been here in bit, mate. So that would preclude me from knowing about it, now wouldn’t it?”
They both sat up straighter and Council said, “I see time has not rounded your edges any.”
“Nope, not in that respect.” He reached into his jeans pocket and retrieved a package of smokes and shook one out, saying, “So, Mr. Council, again I ask, what can I do ya for?” He lit up and inhaled quickly.
“A month at the gallery. Your work. Full fee if any sells,” the second one said crisply. “Plus opening night reception and full art world press. Name the time and pieces you want to show.”
Ewan chuckled. “You’re having me on, aren’t you? I haven’t had a major showing in two years, mates. And the last one was a minor disaster, if you recall.”
“Nevertheless, these are our terms. You choose the pieces- sculpture, photos, paintings, whichever-, and we pay you. And if it’s successful, we would like to also take it to Chicago, Detroit, Portland, San Francisco, Los Angeles and two cities in Japan. The permanent, not for sale pieces, of course.” He paused. “Retainer fee of $30,000 will be adequate, we assume?”
He took the cigarette from his mouth, then blew a plume of smoke into the air as he thought. //Fuck…if that’s just the retainer…..I could live with that.// As it was, he was behind on his rent, and it wasn’t a thing he relished. That money would keep him comfortable for a few months yet. “More than adequate, gentlemen.”
“The paperwork will be drawn up this evening, pending your approval before you leave Miami.” They both stood up and said, “We thank you for your time.” He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Your first fee. Enjoy in good health, Mr. McGregor, and we will courier the contract to you tomorrow morning.”
He stood and took the envelope, opening it and pulling the check out slightly. //Yep….five figures on there…done deal..// He pocketed it and replied, “No worries, mates. Glad to be of service.”
They shook handsh hih him stiffly and walked away, pausing only to speak with Mike, who was waiting by the door. Ewan ambled over just as they finished with Mike, who was by now wearing the biggest shit eating grin his face. He grabbed him in a vice like hug and said, “About damn time you didn’t let that smart ass mouth sink you.”
He chuckled. “You have no faith in me.”
“I know you.” He reached into his left back pocket and took the check. “So you don’t mugged with all this money on ya.”
“Gee, aren’t you nice, Mike.”
He slipped it into his jacket pocket, then pulled out his billfold and replied, “Oh shut up. Here-” He handed him about five one hundred dollar bills. “Go drink until you have to crawl home. It’s on me.”
He was never one to turn down either free drinks or money, so he took it and said, “If I run out, am I allowed to turn any tricks?”
“*Jesus* McGregor….” He pulled out three more. “Happy now?”
He grinned cheekily. “Deliriously so, mate,” he replied, then kissed him impulsively. Mike *always* hated that.
He pushed him off and said, “Control yourself, Scotsman.”
“Yer not even me type, Mike. More’s the pity for you,” he said, then laughed. “We’ll talk later, m”
”
“No doubt,” he said. “Go get some rest, man. And try to behave yourself tonight, if you can. I know it’s a task for you and all….”
He waved him off. “Don’t I always?,” he called back over his shoulder.
“That’s a question I won’t even attempt to answer.”
He laughed out loud and flagged down a cab, then turned back and said, “I’ll be an angel, promise.”
“Lucifer was one as well.”
He chuckled. “So he was.” A cab pulled up and he opened the door, then said, seriously, “Thanks, Mike. I mean it.”
“Shut up and go rest,” he responded with a smile. “And enjoy the Beach. It’s your kinda place.”
//I had no doubt that it would be.// “Cheers,” he said, then slipped into the cab, pulling from the curb and speeding down Collins en route back to his hotel.
//Enjoy the Beach, eh? I will do my best.//
CHAPTER TWO
The Shore Club, like the sea,sea, was an Art Deco refurbishment, with white and blue accents to it. But unlike the Chelsea, it gave off the air of being more than what it was. Pretentious, he thought. More people milling about here, and some he vaguely recognized, but still, overall, he was happy to be staying right where he was.
He found Mike waiting in the lobby for him, looking slightly agitated. He was a few years older than he was, and slightly taller, with ash blonde hair and blue eyes. He had been a publicist for some years now, and had the temperament to show for it. He was far too cranky for his age, however, a fact that Mike did not relish this ‘plaid skirt wearing bastard’ reminding him of.
He paused in front of him and said, “Come on, I am not late, Mike.”
“May as well be,” he said icily.
“You know what, mate? You need a shag. Maybe two. You are way too uptight.”
“Piss off, McGregor. Just get over there and shill whatever you shill.” He waved a hand over towards a pair of men in their mid-forties in nondescript suits and severe looks, and very out of place in the brightness of the room.
He shook his head. “Christ Almighty, Mike- they look like the bloody KGB or something.”
“Don’t annoy me, McGregor,” he hissed. “Not today.”
He grinned at him. “Aww Mike, where’s that smile, then? Where’s that gorgeous smile you have, eh?” He gave him a playful nudge. “If you don’t smile, I’ll kiss you. And it’s not even New ’s E’s Eve.”
In spite of himself, Mike gave a small grin. “Jesus, fate worse than death, you kissing me. Get over there, you shaggy bastard.”
“See? I knew you still loved me,” he said with a wink, then moved in the direction of the suits, with Mike shaking his head behind him and smiling.
He reached them and introduced himself. “Name’s McGregor. Nice to meet ya, chaps.”
The less severe looking of the pair, cocked a brow and said, “I assume you have a *first* name, sir?” His voice was as icy and flat as his demeanor.
//God, these suits are always so fucking anal....// “First name’s Ewan. Mind if I have sit down?,” then he planted himself on a sofa across from them. “What can I do ya for?”
“My name is Council. I run a gallery in town called Ondine’s. You have heard of it, I assume?”
He shook his head. “Sorry. Haven’t. Haven’t been here in an age.”
The second suit said, “Someone of your ….*stature*…..”
//Pains you to admit that, eh ya anal bastard?//
“I would assume you would know of these things.”
“I said I haven’t been here in bit, mate. So that would preclude me from knowing about it, now wouldn’t it?”
They both sat up straighter and Council said, “I see time has not rounded your edges any.”
“Nope, not in that respect.” He reached into his jeans pocket and retrieved a package of smokes and shook one out, saying, “So, Mr. Council, again I ask, what can I do ya for?” He lit up and inhaled quickly.
“A month at the gallery. Your work. Full fee if any sells,” the second one said crisply. “Plus opening night reception and full art world press. Name the time and pieces you want to show.”
Ewan chuckled. “You’re having me on, aren’t you? I haven’t had a major showing in two years, mates. And the last one was a minor disaster, if you recall.”
“Nevertheless, these are our terms. You choose the pieces- sculpture, photos, paintings, whichever-, and we pay you. And if it’s successful, we would like to also take it to Chicago, Detroit, Portland, San Francisco, Los Angeles and two cities in Japan. The permanent, not for sale pieces, of course.” He paused. “Retainer fee of $30,000 will be adequate, we assume?”
He took the cigarette from his mouth, then blew a plume of smoke into the air as he thought. //Fuck…if that’s just the retainer…..I could live with that.// As it was, he was behind on his rent, and it wasn’t a thing he relished. That money would keep him comfortable for a few months yet. “More than adequate, gentlemen.”
“The paperwork will be drawn up this evening, pending your approval before you leave Miami.” They both stood up and said, “We thank you for your time.” He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Your first fee. Enjoy in good health, Mr. McGregor, and we will courier the contract to you tomorrow morning.”
He stood and took the envelope, opening it and pulling the check out slightly. //Yep….five figures on there…done deal..// He pocketed it and replied, “No worries, mates. Glad to be of service.”
They shook handsh hih him stiffly and walked away, pausing only to speak with Mike, who was waiting by the door. Ewan ambled over just as they finished with Mike, who was by now wearing the biggest shit eating grin his face. He grabbed him in a vice like hug and said, “About damn time you didn’t let that smart ass mouth sink you.”
He chuckled. “You have no faith in me.”
“I know you.” He reached into his left back pocket and took the check. “So you don’t mugged with all this money on ya.”
“Gee, aren’t you nice, Mike.”
He slipped it into his jacket pocket, then pulled out his billfold and replied, “Oh shut up. Here-” He handed him about five one hundred dollar bills. “Go drink until you have to crawl home. It’s on me.”
He was never one to turn down either free drinks or money, so he took it and said, “If I run out, am I allowed to turn any tricks?”
“*Jesus* McGregor….” He pulled out three more. “Happy now?”
He grinned cheekily. “Deliriously so, mate,” he replied, then kissed him impulsively. Mike *always* hated that.
He pushed him off and said, “Control yourself, Scotsman.”
“Yer not even me type, Mike. More’s the pity for you,” he said, then laughed. “We’ll talk later, m”
”
“No doubt,” he said. “Go get some rest, man. And try to behave yourself tonight, if you can. I know it’s a task for you and all….”
He waved him off. “Don’t I always?,” he called back over his shoulder.
“That’s a question I won’t even attempt to answer.”
He laughed out loud and flagged down a cab, then turned back and said, “I’ll be an angel, promise.”
“Lucifer was one as well.”
He chuckled. “So he was.” A cab pulled up and he opened the door, then said, seriously, “Thanks, Mike. I mean it.”
“Shut up and go rest,” he responded with a smile. “And enjoy the Beach. It’s your kinda place.”
//I had no doubt that it would be.// “Cheers,” he said, then slipped into the cab, pulling from the curb and speeding down Collins en route back to his hotel.
//Enjoy the Beach, eh? I will do my best.//