Chapter 110: Fitting End

(A week earlier...)

Paul had always had a far higher tolerance for bullshit than most people.

That coupled with him being able to thread the fine line between pleasing a client and guiding them to make the right decisions, happened to also come in handy for someone pursuing the career he was.

It was why he happened to have gone quite far as a manager in Hollywood.

From directors, to producers, to actors, and musicians, and even renowned authors, his portfolio had been growing over the years and his experience was very telling.

He had also happened to become the manager of several problematic stars over the years, most of whom he’d successfully whipped into shape.

Naturally, this wasn’t because he was actively seeking all these problematic people out, but rather because their respective agencies or labels often hired him to work with them given his successful track record of keeping them in check.

They also happened to pay extremely well... which for a man who had heavy debts to pay off and two siblings in college whose education he had to sponsor, wasn’t something he could reject.

That alone was enough for him to suck up without whines or complaints, layering atop an already high threshold for dealing with things that would put the average manager in a constant fit of rage.

But even then...

Tyler Kingstone happened to be the one artist whom had really stretched his limits.

Every week, it was a new thing after the other... and hardly ever for the right reasons.

Another scandal.

Another sexcapade.

Another pointless altercation.

All of which he had to find a way to suppress as fast as possible before it blew up.

At some point, Paul had wondered if Tyler actually ever gave a shit about his career.

Because if not for him, perhaps the pop star’s career would’ve long gone to shit.

Afterall, for as controversial as Tyler was in the eyes of the general public, literally half of the shit he actually got up to, never actually made it to the news.

All the public ever really saw, was surface level stuff... all as a result of one man constantly keeping tabs on him like a hawk.

Yet, it was that very same man that Tyler was currently crashing out on;

"You’re fired, Paul! That’s right, you’re fired! I mean what do I pay you for?! What’s the point of having you around if you can’t even take down a single post?!" Tyler threw the nearest vase his hand could latch onto.

Swiftly, the ceramic soared across the room, whipping past Paul and shattering against the wall next to him, its shards bouncing off.

Despite this, Paul’s expression remained unfazed as he read the post that triggered all this, one of the shards having left a thin vertical line of blood across his cheeks.

It was a viral post, Paul admitted.

Posted by a handle called ’The Real Shitposter’.

One that seemed to have been done, mostly for the sole purpose of farming engagement and perhaps, ragebaiting the Tyler.

Clearly, everything pointed out to the fact that it was a shitpost.

Yet, Tyler had fell for it, hook, line and sinker.

But more than that...

’I’m about to be fired... because of a shitpost?’

Paul would’ve almost laughed... perhaps even scoffed if he didn’t find it so, utterly, stupid.

His client went ahead and did something stupid yet again, and despite the fact that he’d done a fantastic job of making sure things didn’t balloon out of proportion, this was what his biggest concern was?

Not the fact that this would hurt his brand deals?

Not the fact that his record label was definitely going to pull back their support for him in the meantime?

Not the fact that he needed to improve upon his craft considering how effortlessly his old bandmates seemed to have grown past him while he was speedrunning Hollywood parties and orgies?

This, really, was what was bothering him?

The more Paul thought about it, the more his rage began to bubble to the surface.

Rage he’d been bottling since forever. Rage he hadn’t felt in literal years. Rage that one person was going to bear the full brunt of.

Like a tidal wave, it burst through the now open dam, filling the man with an indescribable sense of vindictive rancor. Yet, outwardly, his expression was as cool as ever.

"Well! Say something!" Tyler furiously demanded upon noticing the typical blasé reaction he was getting from the man, his arms gesturing wildly.

Clearly, this wasn’t the first time this was happening. Certainly, it wouldn’t be the last.

At least that was what Tyler had believed as he kept pacing back and forth around the trashed living room of his condo, his gaze flicking over to the manager who simply stared at the phone in his hands.

Typically, Paul would’ve tried to placate him by now.

To assure him that it was just a few trolls trying to get under his skin.

To massage his ego a bit and relieve him of his insecurities with a few choice words.

That was what Tyler had also been expecting.

Yet, what he got in response, was a single word;

"Alright."

Tyler suddenly paused in his steps, furiously demanding with a shout;

"What do you mean ’Alright’?!"

"I’m fired, right?" Paul casually tossed the phone aside and onto a nearby couch as he adjusted his blazer.

"Good luck with your new manager." he calmly made his way out, the door clicking shut behind him.

Through it all, Tyler had frozen in place... his fury rapidly morphing into a sense of dread in real-time.

"I didn’t mean it..." he tried to get out, only to gulp to himself a moment after.

A cold sweat broke across his forehead, and suddenly, clarity began washing over him just as quickly.

Not once in all their five years of working together had he ever seen such a cold expression on Paul’s features.

More than that, was there really any manager asides the man who could work with him?

Especially since Vinewood Records themselves had purposely sourced for the man themselves after he’d fired the previous four he’d initially worked with much the same.

But what was probably hitting Tyler hardest in the moment, was that he’d lost the one person who actually seemed to give a damn about his life, even despite all his destructively toxic habits.

Finding one of the nearby sofas to sit on, his gaze taking in the site of the thrashed environment, Tyler actually began to bawl, raising his palms to his face as tears began to stream down his eyes.

Unfortunately for him... the next few weeks brought hell upon him.

*

First, was the wave of allegations.

From sexual harassment, to drug use reports, to manipulating streaming charts... all of it and more began to hit him one after the other.

Then there was the wave of secrets that followed.

From stealing rival artists songs through underhanded means, to unlicensed sampling of songs without paying required royalties, to sleeping with executives to be prioritized above more deserving artists... Tyler wasn’t spared of any of it.

But what was probably the biggest of all, was the secret behind what led to the falling out between he and Midnight Avenue.

It didn’t take long after all this.

The wave of backlash that came, not just for Tyler himself, but also for Vinewood Records was on such a widespread scale, PR practically did nothing to stop the internet from fanning the flames into a massive bonfire.

At the same time, Tyler’s core demographic of fans turned on him just as quickly.

Given how toxic the fandom generally had always been, it also didn’t take long before they started sending death threats.

Amidst it all, the pop star was equally set to appear in several court trials, each one inevitably bound to end in one payout after the other... all of which was sure to not just run his career into the ground, but also render him utterly broke and in serious debt.

Truly, the trajectory of Tyler’s career had taken such a staggering nosedive overnight, it was inevitable that he would never recover from it... a fitting end to an ’icon’ such as himself.

Yet, amidst all that, Midnight Avenue naturally found themselves in the spotlight...

...especially after the public was now well-aware that Tyler’s first hit album--the album that essentially rocketed his solo career--had been written and produced by them before they were ultimately stabbed in the back by Vinewood Records and their former snake of a bandmate.

As for Niall, he honestly couldn’t care less about what happened to Tyler Kingstone.

He was just glad that Midnight Avenue was finally getting the justice they very well deserved after all these years.

Besides, he had been too busy practicing his dance moves to really follow up on all the court drama that was going on in what was perhaps bound to be the biggest celebrity scandal of the year.

His hard work had also paid off, as he’d managed to get his dancing shoe icons to evolve from a bronze frame, to a half-bronze, half-silver frame within a week’s time.

At the same time, today also happened to be the day [Rink] would be finally released to the public on streaming platforms, Blu-ray discs for those wanting, and in small theatres around the world.

As fans eagerly awaited its release, Niall himself was reviewing through a list of candidates Victor had procured for him... all of whom he’d assured would be excellent for a managerial position to help with his career.

Just as he’d placed aside yet another portfolio, his gaze landed on the newest one, his cool-gray irises flickering upon seeing the name on the document.

Paul Goodman.

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/Caer07