Snippet #1682973

Pete smiled and laughed to himself. It was interesting talking to Tabbi about her home and her family. Even if she'd been the kind of artist who you saw in the magazines and on TV all the time, those were things you didn't really ever hear musicians talk about openly. No matter who you were, you had to have an image, an act, a facade that suited your music and pleased your fans. He knew Tabbi had one too; he'd seen the pictures on her site of her on stage and posing for marketing pictures, usually with a quixotic smile, eyes tilted to the sides, or else in a classic pose with a guitar digging into the strings, pouting slightly with her head turned away and lit from behind so you couldn't really see her features. All pretty standard stuff that he knew she'd probably had very little say in.

Happily, on this occassion, the real person behind all that was starting to seem rather more interesting and likeable than the poster image.

The assistant turned up with the two pasties, set them down and left. Pete identified which one was Tabbi's; which was also the larger of the two by some considerable measure.

"OK well, I hope it's good." he said, picking up his cutlery and cutting his open to let it cool a bit. "What's it like working with family then? You find it's easier to get things moving?"