Chapter Text
FROM POP STAR TO HOMEWRECKER: Did the Prince of Pop break up Hollywood’s IT couple?
SCANDAL! Ryden’s breakup and what Clancy had to do with it.
Keep your bliss? More like, keep your hands to yourself! Clancy’s scandalous fling breaks up a marriage.
Josh hated tabloids. The one he held in his hand claimed to be the forefront of fashion, pop culture, and entertainment, but all that really meant was it was the place to go for gossip and rumors about famous people. Still, in every rumor was a grain of truth, and Josh liked to be in the know about what the general population was thinking about his clients.
His newest client was the biggest of his career – Clancy, the newest pop star to break into the industry like a wrecking ball after his first album’s single Keep Your Bliss topped the Billboard Hot 100 for twenty-one weeks straight. His album sold millions of copies worldwide, sending him into the international spotlight almost overnight. It was a real rags to riches storyline that the public ate up. Josh didn’t really listen to pop, but it was basically impossible to go without hearing Keep Your Bliss. It was in commercials, playing at the mall, and on every radio station.
From what he’d read, Clancy seemed pretty normal – at least, normal by Los Angeles standards, which meant he was a party animal who probably did far too many drugs, but at least he hadn’t had any major scandals – until now, that is.
The elephant in the room was the public crashout Clancy had a few weeks earlier. Amidst rumors flying about a months-long affair resulting in the divorce of Hollywood’s favorite couple – Ryan Ross, another powerhouse singer/songwriter in his own right, and Brendon Urie, who’d done everything from music to Broadway to big budget Hollywood blockbusters – Clancy had been confronted by a group of paparazzi. He screamed in their faces and broke down sobbing in the street, all of which was gleefully photographed and plastered on magazine covers the world over.
His security had done a piss-poor job of keeping the paparazzi at bay, which was presumably why Josh was being brought in.
Josh had made a name for himself by working his way up from doing small-time festival security in his hometown in Ohio to being brought on the road by a band who made it big, ending up in Los Angeles, the city of opportunities. He’d dealt with it all – divas making scenes about being brought the wrong brand of sparkling water, leading men trying to start fights with the audience, groupies trying to climb over barricades to rip clothes off of the lead singers. He garnered a reputation of being able to calm down even the most dramatic talent, and keep out the nosiest reporters and fans.
Really, it wasn’t a surprise when he had gotten the call from Clancy’s manager, Nicolas Bourbaki. Josh watched the grainy video feed of Clancy’s breakdown enough to clock how his security just stood there, barely working to hold back the horde of paparazzi shouting into an already frazzled and overwhelmed Clancy’s face. One of them even got close enough to grab the star’s arm, pulling him back when he tried to turn away.
It was a shameful display, and some distant twinge of empathy twisted in Josh’s chest. He tried to keep emotions out of his work. It kept things professional and assured that he did his job correctly, without getting too overprotective so as to keep his client from missing opportunities, but not lax enough that something happened he couldn’t prevent. But still, you had to be heartless to not feel bad for Clancy, especially with his lowest moment becoming the talking point of everyone even slightly tuned into pop culture.
The secretary sitting at a desk to his left looked up from her computer and waved him over. “Mr. Bourbaki will see you now,” she said, with one of those fake customer service smiles Josh could spot a million miles away.
He smiled back at her anyway, and nodded in thanks, standing up to enter the office. He was on the fifth floor of Dema Records, one of the biggest record labels in the country, if not the world. It was only a decently sized building in the heart of Los Angeles, but the people in here were behind some of the biggest music careers of the past two decades, Clancy being the latest in their long line of success stories.
Nicolas Bourbaki was a serious looking man, brow wrinkled with age and concentration. He didn’t look up from his computer, just kept typing as Josh made his way to the desk. After a moment he finally looked up, seeming almost annoyed to be interrupted until he saw who it was and his face smoothed out.
“Ah, Joshua Dun, correct?” He offered a hand across the desk.
“Yes, sir,” Josh said, returning the handshake with the proper amount of force. He’d excessively studied how to handshake well when he’d first come to Los Angeles, something his friend Debby teased him relentlessly about, but it paid off as Bourbaki’s face changed even more into something more welcoming. “It’s a pleasure to meet you face to face.”
“Our phone conversation was very reassuring,” Bourbaki said. “Come, sit down. We’re dealing with a lot over here, I’m sure you can imagine, and our last security team was a bit too incompetent to let stand.”
“I saw how they dealt with the incident,” Josh said, settling into the chair in front of Bourbaki’s desk. “I can promise you nothing like that will happen when I’m around.”
When Bourbaki smiled his lips thinned until they almost disappeared. “And that is why we hired you, Joshua. I need a man I can rely on to do the job and make sure it gets done. I’ve done my research on you, you know. Impressive resume, and an even more impressive track record.”
“My clients hire me to keep them safe,” Josh said. “I’ve never let them down.”
Bourbaki dropped the smile, becoming serious once again. He leaned back in his chair contemplatively, like he was trying to figure out how to word what he was about to say. “We’re running an image rehabilitation campaign right now,” he said. “Clancy’s been in a bit of hot water recently, to say the least. The general public is not the brightest when it comes to seeing the nuance in these things, and the press loves to stir up drama for the clicks and views. You get what I’m saying, right?”
Josh nodded, thinking back to the tabloids he’d just read out in the lobby. It was a bit hypocritical to say things like that while offering them as reading material, but who wasn’t a bit hypocritical in LA?
“I need to trust that you won’t get caught up in any rumors or gossip,” Bourbaki continued. His face hardened, staring at Josh like he could see through him. “I need to know that you won’t go running to the press at the first sign of anything odd and sell your story to the highest bidder. I need you to understand what will happen to you if you betray me and my client.”
Josh had heard plenty of threats, and he was sure he’d hear more in his career. This was a different level, though. Nicolas Bourbaki had the entirety of Dema Records behind him, and countless connections in every level of LA industry. If he had his way, Josh wouldn’t be able to find work again in LA, maybe even all of California. Hell, maybe even the entire United States. This wasn’t just the threat of suing that every star’s manager pulled out, but an end to his run in this profession as a whole.
“I can absolutely promise I won’t go to the press in my time working for you,” Josh said after he’d processed. “I would be happy to sign an NDA, a contract, anything you need to feel like you can trust me.” He’d already signed at least five NDAs when he took the job, relating to different levels of Clancy/Dema-related information he might encounter, but Josh knew how paranoid managers could be about anything jeopardising their clients’ careers.
“I believe you,” Bourbaki said simply. “I’m putting my trust in you, Joshua. I know you won’t let me down. I just have to be…thorough with these things.” He sighed and leaned forward, steepling his hands on the desk. “I have…an extra favor to ask of you. No contract, just a little extra step.”
“What is it?” Josh knew better than to agree to anything before he knew what it was.
Bourbaki watched his face very carefully as he spoke. “I want you to report back to me about Clancy. Tell me where he’s going, who he’s talking to, what they’re talking about. I need to know his movements.”
“That seems like a breach of privacy, sir,” Josh said tentatively.
“No, no,” Bourbaki shook his head. “It’s just a preventative measure. Clancy gets these ideas in his head, and he can’t talk himself out of them. He’s a sweetheart, really, but he doesn’t know how to carry himself in this industry. People try to take advantage of him, especially with the incident making him the talk of the town. It’s for his safety, and the safety of his career.”
Josh could read between the lines — the safety of Bourbaki’s career also relied on Clancy’s continued success. But still, laid out like that it didn’t sound too bad. Maybe it was a bit harsh to assume Clancy couldn’t take care of himself, but he was new to the scene and paparazzi could be brutal when they tasted blood in the water, and Clancy was still actively bleeding out. Josh wouldn’t report anything too personal, but keeping Clancy away from the press unsupervised was the smartest choice at the moment.
“Can I count on you?” Bourbaki asked.
The world of entertainment was full of people trying to tear down everyone around them for their own chance to reach the top. Josh could already tell that Bourbaki was just as sleazy and manipulative as the rest of them, but it wouldn’t do himself or Clancy any good to walk away. Might as well sacrifice a few of his morals to get paid than walk away from this opportunity.
“Yes, sir,” Josh said. “You can absolutely count on me.”
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The drive to Clancy’s house in West Hills was sufficiently awkward. Bourbaki claimed the front seat of the SUV, leaving Josh to slide into the back, feeling like a child being carpooled by a friend’s parent.
The driver was a blonde woman who introduced herself as Jenna, one of the only people left from Clancy’s original team. Josh shook her hand, glad to have someone experienced with the star on his team. He knew he’d have to gather the team for a meeting at some point to go over strategies and expectations, and having Jenna’s input would be invaluable.
It was a little strange for a first meeting with a client being at their house instead of them coming into the office, but Bourbaki explained that Clancy would prefer it this way.
“We’re meeting him where he’s at,” he said. “It’ll make him more comfortable to be in a familiar place.”
The house they pulled up to was a lot more modest than Josh had been expecting. Sure, it was larger than the average house and with the strange amount of floor-to-ceiling windows that rich people loved so much, but it was a lot smaller and less extravagant than most celebrity houses. The large gate that surrounded it was standard, as were the obvious security systems that Josh knew were just there as cover for the real systems, much more well hidden than the cameras placed in plain sight.
Bourbaki walked into the house like he owned it, disarming the keypad lock and ushering Josh inside. The inside was much the same as the outside – modern, rich architecture, but nothing too over the top.
Still, all the furniture looked like it was plucked straight out of a catalogue. White, monochrome furniture that looked far too stiff for anyone to be comfortable sitting on, a glass coffee table with magazines placed artistically, more worried about looking good than being natural, a huge contemporary art piece that probably went for far too much money for a mass produced print of some black lines on a white background. It all seemed so staged, and Josh couldn’t imagine actually living in it.
Bourbaki called up the stairs, then led Josh into the kitchen. He navigated the house easily, like he was used to it. Josh followed, taking note of the layout of rooms and the locations of furniture. He hopefully wouldn’t spend a lot of time here – security systems were for protecting stars after hours, after all – but it was good to be familiar with the house in case of an emergency.
Then Clancy came down the stairs and Josh’s concentration was broken.
The first thing he noticed was just how pretty Clancy was.
He wasn’t used to describing other men as pretty, but it was the only word that fit. His skin was smooth and unblemished, like an airbrush job in real life. His pink hair was playfully tousled in a way that seemed intentional, as if he knew exactly how to run his fingers through it to make it fall that way. Even his house wear was elegant and fit him perfectly, wrapping his frame like it had been styled.
His eyes ruined the picture, though. They were red-rimmed, like Clancy had either been crying or perhaps imbibing in some illicit substance. Josh wouldn’t be surprised if it was both.
“Clancy, darling, come on in,” Bourbaki said, inviting the star into his own kitchen. “What took you so long?”
“I didn’t know I’d have company,” Clancy said. His voice was high and raspy, almost exactly the same as his singing voice from what Josh remembered. “Who’s this?”
Bourbaki wrapped an arm around Clancy’s shoulders and led him over to Josh. “Your new head of security. We’re stepping it up and making sure we only have the best for you, I can assure you.”
Clancy’s brow furrowed. He still hadn’t looked Josh in the eye. “What happened to Sax?”
“Sax has been relocated,” Bourbaki said, voice low and sympathetic. “I know you liked him, but he really messed up. The public has to see that we’re serious about protecting you, and that means replacing your entire security team with…more trusted personnel.”
“I don’t trust them,” Clancy argued. “I don’t know them.”
Bourbaki smiled, patting Clancy’s back like he was a misbehaving child. “Well, that’s what this is for. Clancy, meet Josh Dun. He’ll be your personal bodyguard from now on.”
Clancy scowled, but held a hand out for Josh to take. Not letting his hesitation show, Josh returned the shake. Clancy’s handshake was firm and professional, but he let go quickly. “Call me Tyler,” he said.
“It’s a pleasure to be working with you, Tyler,” Josh said. He didn’t ask if Tyler was his real name or preferred name. Plenty of people he’d worked with had stage names, or names they only used with family and friends. Whichever one it was, it didn’t matter if it was what the client preferred.
“See, you’re getting along already,” Bourbaki said. He patted Clancy – Tyler – once more on the back, before moving to the cabinet to take out a glass.
Josh watched Bourbaki apprehensively. While he was technically Josh’s employer, Tyler was the client, and the way Bourbaki acted around him, and the way Tyler reacted set off red flags. They’d popped up in the meeting, especially when Bourbaki had brought up his “favor”, but seeing their interactions only cemented it in Josh’s head. He knew it was common for managers to try and control their artists, either for money or fame or both. Tyler clearly wasn’t entirely happy with it, but went along with it, presumably because the benefits of being under Bourbaki’s management outweighed the negatives. Josh took note of, storing it in the back of his mind, but it wasn’t his problem to solve at the moment.
Bourbaki offered them both water, which they both turned down. He filled his own glass, then turned back to them. “We’ve been on the defensive so far,” he said. “Now we’re switching to the offensive. Clancy, you’ll be doing a few interviews in the next few days. We need to take back control of the narrative.”
Tyler shifted, eyes darting around the room. He was clearly uncomfortable with the topic, but he steeled himself remarkably well. “What do I say about the- the affair?”
The words hit the room and immediately the atmosphere shifted. Bourbaki had been trying to dance around it, keeping the conversation to implications only. Tyler saying it out loud changed things.
Bourbaki’s lips thinned, displeasure clear on his face. “It’s just an unsubstantiated rumor,” he corrected. “There’s no proof out there, just conjecture. Deny, deny, denial, that’s our game plan. Understand?”
“Deny, deny, denial,” Tyler repeated warily. “But there is-”
“It was one kiss,” Bourbaki interrupted, waving his hands dismissively. “What do they have, a blurry photo shot on a flip phone? Hardly proof of a coordinated affair. You were two friends having a laugh at a party. That’s it, end of story.”
“That is the story,” Tyler said, voice landing on the edge of something sharp.
Bourbaki held up his hand. “I don’t care what actually happened. It’s about what the public will see. And what they see is a homewrecker who practically flaunted it, and then had a meltdown when he was caught.”
Tyler flinched back as if he’d been struck. Josh looked between them like a spectator at a tennis match, halfway ready to jump in between them if it escalated. As much as Bourbaki was correct about public opinion, especially with what Josh had been reading that morning, the way he said it was cruel, a biting attack thrown directly at Tyler’s weak points.
“Fine,” Tyler said after he’d recovered. His voice was quieter now in defeat. “Who am I talking to?”
“We have one lined up with Zane Lowe for tomorrow,” Bourbaki said. “You liked him the last time you talked. And then one with TMZ. They may be a tabloid, but they hold a lot of sway. If we get ahead of them specifically it will be better in the long run.”
“Is that really a good idea?” Josh asked before he could stop himself. “They’re not going to go along with whatever rehabilitation plan you have. They’re going to go for the shock value no matter what you want.”
Already they were running any rumor they could find, regardless of whether it came from a verified source or not. TMZ cared about what sold magazines, not what was true or helpful.
“Yes, of course,” Bourbaki said, a patronizing smile on his face. “But they are the biggest tabloid out there. If we can get them on our side even a little, that goes a long way in this fight.”
More like, with any outcome there would be more attention on Clancy, which translated to more money for Bourbaki. Any press is good press, and all that.
Despite Bourbaki’s condescension, Tyler was watching Josh with a strange expression on his face. It was like he’d realized something and was now looking at Josh in a new light. Josh tried to send him as comforting a smile as he could manage, but it probably looked more like a grimace. Tyler didn’t smile back, but something in his eyes softened.
“We’ll pick you up for the interview tomorrow at three o’clock,” Bourbaki said, interrupting their moment. “Josh, you’ll meet with your security team tomorrow morning, but you’ll be the only one going with Clancy to the interview. We don’t want to look scared.”
“Of course not,” Josh said. He finally looked away from Tyler
“Clancy, I’ll send over a list of the approved questions for tomorrow. Review them and come up with appropriate responses. Remember, deny, deny, denial.”
Tyler nodded, not looking either of them in the eye. His fingers twitched at his sides, like they wanted to grab at something, or move around more than they were allowed.
The rest of the conversation was very normal. Logistics, scheduling, events booked for the next month. Josh only spoke up when needed, feeling out the flow of the conversation. He tried to focus on the important things, but his eyes kept flickering over to Tyler.
Tyler was present, an active part of the conversation, but he looked tired and drained. Every once in a while he winced, like the dim lighting in the kitchen was making his head hurt. There were classic signs of a hangover, but they could also just be from stress and overtiredness. Either way, he’d have to keep an eye on that, in case it took a turn for the worst.
The drive back to the label was just as awkward as the first. Bourbaki spent the entire drive on his phone, the job of a manager never done, leaving Josh to reflect on his first impressions.
Tyler wasn’t at all like he’d expected, though maybe he should have. He’d had some invented image of a bright and bubbly pop star, but Tyler had been withdrawn and sullen, mistrusting and defensive. It made sense for what he’d been through, but it had still thrown Josh off. He found himself intrigued, interested in getting beyond the armored exterior to learn more about Tyler.
There was just something about Tyler, whether it was the man himself or his situation, that had Josh looking forward to what the next day might bring.