Roman glances at the clock. He's been tapping his pen on the desk for the last ten minutes. If there's one thing he hates more than L.A. traffic, it's waiting. Roman despises waiting. Taking a lungful of air, he drops the pen back in the pen holder. When will punctuality be a trend again? But at least his next appointment is in an hour, and then he'll be done for the day. That thought lightens up his mood a bit. A little bit.
"We've talked about this, Seth. Nothing we can do about it." Roman straightens up on his chair, when he hears voices from the slightly opened door. He recognizes the voice as Bayley's.
A snort, and then, "Doesn't make it less sucks."
The conversation stops when Becky opens the door. "Bayley and Seth Rollins are here, Roman," she says.
Roman nods. "Thanks, Bex, send them in."
Bayley walks in first, a smile on her face. Roman doesn't know her much outside work, but everyone in the agency unanimously agrees that she's really nice. He smiles back. And then his gaze falls on the guy standing next to her.
Seth Rollins.
Roman has studied him, like what he does to every potential client, and has seen lots of pictures and videos of him. But it's not the same as seeing him in person. He's wearing a metal band t-shirt that's unfamiliar to Roman and the tightest, dark blue skinny jeans Roman has ever seen. Though to be fair, they suit him, as well as the blond streaks in his dark hair. Seth Rollins is a good-looking guy, Roman has to give him that. To top it all he has the I-don't-care-about-what-you-think attitude a lot of rockstars have. Some people (well, he guesses a lot of people) might think it's attractive, but Roman only senses trouble.
"Have a seat, please," Roman says. Bayley pulls one of the chairs and sits down, while Seth doesn't budge. Bayley sighs and looks apologetically at Roman, who gives her a small, understanding smile. It's not her fault her client is being a jerk. Seth finally sits down after rolling his eyes, letting everyone knows that he would rather be anywhere but here.
See, this is exactly why Roman isn't thrilled to represent rockstars.
Seth takes his phone out of his pocket and begins to scroll away. Bayley throws a disapproving look at him. "Thanks for having us on such short notice, Roman," she says. "I wish we had more time, but Vince wants this done as soon as possible."
"It's alright," Roman assures her. "We can get it done today, the documents are ready. Only need Mr. Rollins to sign them."
"Seth." Seth suddenly looks up, eyes locked with Roman's. "Mr. Rollins sounds like a fifty year-old."
Despite himself, Roman can't help but notice that the pictures don't do his pretty eyes justice. "Right, Seth." He opens the folder in front of him and turns it around, pushing it towards Seth. "It's basically the same contract as the one you signed with Bayley, same conditions and stuff. The only difference is that I'll be taking over her position as your agent and manager," Roman explains. "Any questions? Do you need time to read it over?"
Seth doesn't even give the document a glance. "Yeah, I got a question. Why this transfer bullshit? I've had it fine with Bayley. What makes you better than her?"
Well, Roman expected him to put up a fight, so he's not surprised.
"Seth, we've gone through this four times," Bayley says, sounding tired. "Our chairman wants Roman to represent you. Roman is one of the best agents in the agency, and he's way more experienced than me. I have no doubt he'll do a great job."
"Is he?" Seth eyes Roman up and down, gaze lingering a bit longer on his upper body, before going back to Roman's eyes again. Then he blinks and parts his lips slightly. It's subtle but Roman has perfected his body-language reading skill over the years of dealing with people. Seth Rollins doesn't like that he finds Roman attractive.
Roman holds his gaze. "Bayley is a great agent, but I see Mr. McMahon's point. After your AMAs nomination things are different. You got signed by one of the biggest labels in the country is only the start of it. We'll need to handle everything differently, in terms of endorsement deals and public image," he says. Seth tries his best to look uninterested but Roman knows he's listening carefully. "You're in a totally different place than where you were a year ago, Seth."
"If that means you'll never get off my back—" Seth starts, narrowing his eyes.
Roman can see where this is going. "Technically, I don't care what you do behind closed door," he corrects him. "As long as it stays behind the door. And it's my job to keep it that way." Seth blinks once more, seemingly getting what Roman is implying. Good, then he's as smart as Roman thinks he is, based on what Roman read about him. "Any other question?"
Seth doesn't reply right away. He glances at Bayley over his shoulder; she gives him a smile and a nod. Then he looks back at Roman. "No."
"Okay," Roman says. He picks a pen and places it in front of Seth. "Whenever you're ready."
The way Seth grabs the pen and messily scribbles his signature on the papers tells Roman that he's not gonna be an easy client. But well, Roman's always up for a challenge. He can handle him. Seth isn't the first self-absorbed rockstar he has represented, and surely won't be the last.
Since they're not off to the best start, Roman is hoping things will get better once Seth accepts that Roman isn't going anywhere. But so far, it isn't happening. Roman has talked to him a few times over the phone for the past week, and it's obvious that Seth hasn't trusted him yet. He kept giving vague answers when Roman asked him where he was.
Well, this is bad. Roman needs Seth to trust him. Even when he's fucked up, he gotta be sure that Roman will clean up the mess for him, however bad it is. That's what Roman gets paid for.
Today after a meeting with the record company, Roman goes to see Seth in the studio to deliver some news. His intuition tells him Seth isn't gonna be happy about it. And he's right.
"It's a joke, right?" Seth demands, crossing his arms as he half sits on the table in the conference room. "A collaboration with fucking Enzo Amore… come on, it's not April first anymore." He shakes his head. "Please, tell me you're joking, and this is your way of getting back at me because I didn't tell you I went to Iowa last Saturday."
Roman actually feels a bit sorry for him. He looks agitated. "It's not a joke. Enzo Amore has skyrocketed this past year, and the label likes his 'realest guy in the room' gimmick. They think a collaboration with him will make you look more approachable," he says. "And, you should have told me you were going to Iowa."
Seth says nothing for a moment, closing his eyes and opening them a second later. Roman doesn't rush him; he knows it never helps. Instead he fixes his eyes on Seth's long legs. The guy does love skinny jeans, doesn't he? They're black this time, and as tight as second skin. No, Roman's not checking him out. He's just being observant, which is a useful trait. Seth is hot, for sure, but there's no way Roman is gonna get involved with a client. No way in hell.
He can see the label's point of wanting this collab. Seth's image is far from approachable. He almost never appeared in his music videos, and he doesn't attend many events. He has both Twitter and Instagram, but he doesn't post that often. While people are on his side for now, saying that he's focused and only in it for the music, it won't surprise Roman if they turn their backs on him tomorrow and start calling him a snob.
"Is there a way to stop it?"
Roman looks at him, carefully deliberating his answer. "I can try to negotiate with them, but I can't guarantee anything. They seem adamant about it."
"Fuck," Seth mutters. "I'm not collaborating with a rapper. Rap is like, the kind of music I hate the most, man. It's not even real music." He doesn't look like he's expecting a reply, so Roman says nothing. "Just, do whatever you can to stop it, okay? Please," Seth says again.
"I'll do my best," Roman assures him.
Seth nods, looking slightly more hopeful. "Thanks," he says. "I'm, uh, sorry about Iowa. It won't happen again."
Now Roman doesn't expect that, but it sounds genuine. He smiles, despite knowing he shouldn't. "I'll hold you to that." Seth smiles, too, and that's a good thing. At least they're going to the right direction.
"Yeah, I'm emailing you the contract so you can read it over before the signing," Roman says, peering at the computer screen. He cradles the phone on his shoulder as he types away.
"Thanks, Rome, it sounds great," says Kyle on the other side of the line. He's a hockey player; Roman has had him as a client for more than three years. One of the nicest athletes he knows.
Just as Roman finishes sending the email, the office door slams open, and Seth storms in, followed by a worried-looking Becky.
"Got it, Kyle?" Roman asks, moving the phone to the other ear. He hears Kyle reply with a 'yes'. After saying he'll see him tomorrow, Roman ends the call. Then he turns his attention to the intruder, who doesn't look sorry for interrupting a phonecall.
"It's all right, Becky, I got this," Roman tells Becky, though his eyes never leave Seth's face. Becky nods and walks away, closing the door behind her.
"Why is the stupid plan still going on?" Seth snaps, as soon as the door is closed. "What the hell have you been doing? You said you'd do something about it."
Roman takes a deep breath to keep his composure. "I sent you a message, asking if you could come over this evening to talk about it."
Seth crosses his arms, doesn't seem to be embarrassed at all about the outburst. "I forgot my phone at home," he says carelessly, reminding Roman of the Seth that came here with Bayley two weeks ago, as if the progress they made last time is gone and they're back to the beginning. "I'm here now. What have you got?"
"Have a seat." For a moment it seems like Seth isn't gonna sit down, but then he huffs and flops down on the nearest chair. Roman reaches for the folder that has Kyle's contract and places it inside the top drawer. "The record label could accept that you didn't want to be associated with rap. The problem is, Monster Energy, which is the biggest potential sponsor for your tour next year, is also Enzo's sponsor and they demand that collaboration," he says. The frown on Seth's face grows deeper. "Or else they'll pull out."
"You gotta be fucking kidding me." Seth shakes his head. "Then I'm screwed."
Roman watches him, probably a bit longer than he should. Seth holds his face in his hands, looking so dejected. "Not necessarily," Roman finally says. Seth looks up, hope and fear of hope in his eyes, all at once. "We just need to find a new sponsor for the tour."
The hope now overpowers the fear. Seth stares at Roman intently, with his big, brown eyes. "Is it possible?"
"The tour is still eight months away, so yes it's very much possible," Roman says. Seth's face breaks into a grin, and it's—quite adorable. "But there's something else we need to talk about."
After being told he probably doesn't have to do the collab, Seth doesn't look concerned anymore. He picks up one of Roman's pens and plays with it, twisting it between his fingers. So different from how he was when he entered the room. "Yeah? What thing?"
"This is a serious stuff, Seth," Roman says. "It can affect the whole deal."
That gets Seth's attention. He stops twirling the pen and looks at Roman. "Now you scare me. What is it?"
"Your public image. Don't do anything that can possibly jeopardize the sponsorship." Roman opens a new tab on his computer and types on a website address. "Tweeting 'rap sucks' belongs to that category."
Seth opens his mouth, both laughing and protesting. "Oh come on, it's from a year ago."
"The internet never forgets, you should know that," Roman says admonishingly. "Some websites found it and linked it to you refusing to collaborate with Enzo. It could put you in a bad light."
"Should I do something about it?" Seth asks, putting the pen back into the pen holder.
"It's been taken care of," Roman says. "I released a statement that says the tweet was from a year ago, and that it was your personal opinion which has nothing to do with the current situation. You don't want to work with Enzo simply because of creative reasons, that rap isn't your thing."
Seth looks at him, a smile slowly crosses his face. "Impressive."
He sure is pretty, especially when he's smiling like that. Roman ignores the thought, so what if he's pretty, he's a client. Roman is surrounded by beautiful people; why should this one be any different?
"Until we find a new sponsor, please don't get yourself into trouble," Roman says.
Seth leans back on his chair, watching Roman with a half-smile. "I'll try not to. But you seem to get everything under control," he replies, before adding sweetly, "keep up the good work, man." He stands up and smoothens down his t-shirt.
"Going somewhere?"
"Just a party," he says with a shrug. "Sasha throws great parties."
"Sasha Banks?" Roman asks, and Seth nods. Sasha Banks is a rising hip-hop singer, and also one of Bayley's clients. "And when did you plan on telling me about it?"
Seth gives him another sweet smile, slightly tilting his head. "I'm telling you now."
Roman suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. If Seth thinks he can use his big, Bambi eyes and cute smile to get what he wants, he better thinks again. "You're not taking this seriously." Roman lets out a sigh. "In order to make it work, we have to be on the same page. Which means you can't keep doing things behind my back, Seth."
At least Seth looks a little remorseful. It's still better than nothing. "Alright, fine. It's just a party. You can come with me, if you want to make sure I don't get myself into trouble," he says. Roman can hear a mockery in his voice. "Or just to have a bit of fun; you look like you need it. When did the last time you had fun, Roman?"
Roman chooses not to answer. He rises from his chair. "Okay, let's go." Parties are the root of all evil. It might be a good idea to keep an eye on Seth until the sponsorship deal is sorted. He can't risk Seth doing something stupid like drunk driving or being involved in a brawl.
Seth holds his hand up. "You can't be wearing that suit, man, are you kidding me? It's not a party for bankers."
Giving up to the temptation to roll his eyes this time, Roman takes off his suit jacket and hangs it behind the chair, followed by his blue tie. It leaves him on his white shirt and black trousers. "Better?" he asks, doesn't hide his annoyance.
Seth stares at his body, slightly longer than necessary, before looking up to meet Roman's eyes. "It will do," he says. But the mocking tone in his voice is gone.
Roman has been working as an agent for ten years, and over the years he's had different types of clients. But never before did he come across a client like Seth Rollins.
Seth seems to know how to push Roman's buttons, constantly testing his patience. He does things that he knows will annoy Roman, like saying he bets Roman categorized his socks based on colors, or asking if he's allowed to drink the blue cocktail he just got or if it belongs under 'trouble' category.
"Cause I don't want to make things hard for you, you know," Seth says with feigned concern, provokingly lifting the glass. "So, is it okay?"
Roman looks at him and replies in an icy voice, "It's fine."
"Cool. Cheers for babysitter—I mean agent of the year." Seth gives Roman a sugary smile before taking a sip of the cocktail. Roman watches him with emotionless face. "Hmm, this is good, you should try it. Wait, didn't you say you don't drink while working? That's too bad."
Roman doesn't say anything. Seth downs the remaining blue liquid and winces, making Roman wonder how strong it is. But when Seth speaks again, his voice is perfectly clear, "How about dancing? You don't dance while working either? Or because it's fun and you don't do fun."
If he's always been this infuriating, Roman is sorry for Bayley, although he should feel more sorry for himself. Seth thrusts the empty glass into Roman's hand. "Can you hold this for me? I'll go get another one." And before Roman can do anything, he strolls towards the bar.
Roman takes a deep, deep breath. No. He's not gonna let the little brat get to him. His watch tells him that it's twenty past nine. It means he won't be able to tuck his daughter into bed. He always tries to be home before her bedtime, as much as he can. But sometimes it's just not possible. Joelle is pretty understanding, for a kid her age, but it doesn't make Roman feel better. He sighs and decides to go outside for some air. Surely, Seth can stay out of trouble for five minutes.
When Roman is back, he spots Seth on the dance floor, the blond streaks in his hair shine under the sparkling lights. The good thing is, he doesn't look too drunk. Before going here they dropped by at Seth's place for him to get changed. Now he's wearing a form-fitting black shirt and (of course) a pair of dark, super tight jeans. How many skinny jeans does he have, honestly?
Seth dances with a girl for one song, and then with a guy for another song. Roman initially means to watch him from time to time, checking if he's doing all right, but once his gaze falls on Seth it's hard to look away. And it's not even because Seth is dancing wildly or anything—he simply moves his body to the music—yet, Roman's eyes are glued to him.
He knows from the start that Seth is attractive, everyone can see it. But there's just something about him… something about the way the black shirt clings against the contour of his lean and taut body, and how the jeans make his legs look fantastic. Then Seth grinds his hips against the guy he's dancing with, and Roman's breath is caught in his throat. He's suddenly aware of his hammering heartbeat.
What the fuck are you doing? Roman jerks and looks away in shame. He just checked a client out, what's wrong with him? Never in his professional life has he done something like that. What a disgrace. He closes his eyes, trying to regain control of his body. Right, it's okay… things happen, he's only human, but it must not happen again. After some long seconds, he opens his eyes. He should go somewhere else, clearly Seth is doing all right. Walking away from the dance floor area, Roman heads towards the lounge.
He still doesn't understand how his body reacted like that. Sure Seth Rollins is smoking hot, but he's not the only good-looking person in the room. Why does he effortlessly affect Roman that much? As if it's not enough that he's gotten under Roman's skin.
A waiter walks by, carrying a tray of glasses. "Perrier, sir?" he kindly offers. Roman isn't a fan of sparkling water but right now he's not in the position to be picky. He nods. "The original, lemon, or green apple?"
"Green apple," Roman says without thinking. As soon as the waiter leaves, he drinks the entire water in one go. It leaves a weird taste in his mouth, but Roman won't say no for another one.
At least going to the party is a good decision, because Seth is wasted when they're driving back to his place. He repeatedly tries to take control of the steering wheel, telling Roman he doesn't want to go home. Roman has to use force to push him away, as well keeping the car on the road. He's impressed he doesn't crash the car.
The problem doesn't stop when they arrive. Seth fumbles for the key in his pocket, leaning on Roman, who has no choice but holding him, ignoring the weird feeling in his stomach when Seth's hair brushes against his face. It feels like years before Seth finds the key, but then he struggles to put it in the keyhole. At that point Roman's patience is already wearing thin, that he snatches the key from Seth's hand and unlocks the damn door.
Seth lives in an apartment in the 17th floor, and the view of glittering Los Angeles lights at night from the glass balcony door is stunning. But Roman has no time to watch, let alone admire it. He just wants to get Seth into bed as soon as possible and goes home. It's been a long day. Not to mention he has a meeting with Kyle and a brand representative tomorrow.
"Come on, let's get you into bed," Roman says, looking around to find Seth's bedroom.
In contrary to his stunt in the car earlier, Seth looks deceivingly sober when he looks up at Roman. "Wanna bed me already, huh?" he says with a grin. Roman hasn't had time to do anything when Seth raises his hand and touches one of Roman's eyebrows. "You're not bad, Roman, not bad. Especially when you're not scowling."
Roman opens his mouth to respond, but everything he's about to say goes out of the window as Seth gently trails a finger on his eyebrow. "I bet you look really good when you smile," Seth goes on, his voice soft and low. Roman can only look at him in bewilderment, doesn't understand why he doesn't stop what Seth is doing, when he's the sober one.
Like getting a cue, his traitorous mind begins to flash the images of Seth dancing from the party. The effect is doubled, now that Seth is right in front of him, watching him with lidded eyes and a half-smile. Fuck. Seth most likely won't remember any of this in the morning, but Roman sure as hell will.
This isn't the first time he has to deal with drunken clients, but normally Roman has full control of the situation. Not like this—where his body refuses to listen to him. The hell is he supposed to do?
To his luck, Seth's eyes are slowly closing, and he drops his hand. He mumbles something unintelligible as his head falls on Roman's shoulder. Roman breathes out in relief, but it's short lived as he realizes that Seth's body is pressed against his. Cursing everything he can think of, Roman wraps his arms around Seth to keep him from sliding.
Now where is that goddamn bedroom?
The rest of the week passes without any incident—or so Roman thought. He talks to Seth on Friday, and as he expected, Seth doesn't remember a thing of his drunken stunts. He only tells Roman he woke up with a headache and drenched in sweat because he slept in his shirt and jeans. Well, it was partly Roman's fault because he left as soon as he'd put Seth on his bed. But at least he remembered to take the shoes off.
So Roman has a nice and quiet weekend with Joelle, with only one client emergency. A soccer player from LA Galaxy got caught driving a car—when his license is currently suspended for three months. He'll have to pay a fine and get a longer suspension, but that's not the biggest problem. Roman quickly writes an apology and sends it out to various media outlets, as well as telling the player he's scheduled an interview with LA Times tomorrow morning. Roman also sends him an email with all the important things he has to say in the interview. The player has been on media training before; he'll be able to handle it.
On Monday morning, Roman goes straight to LA Times' office for the interview. It goes as well as he expected. The player is charming and apologetic, as he owns up his mistake and promises he won't do something that irresponsible again. For his sake, Roman hopes he keeps his words.
When he arrives at the agency, Becky immediately reports that Seth is all over social media this morning. Great, Roman hasn't even had his coffee yet. What has he done this time?
It turns out he was at a small concert in a downtown bar last night, of a band from Chicago that he used to play with. Then the fans spotted him and chaos erupted. The police had to escort him out of the building. The good thing is, nobody is seriously injured. While the bad thing is some music blogs wrote that it's inconsiderate of Seth to come and steal the spotlight. They also mentioned how he used to perform with the band, but he left them as soon as he got a record deal.
Roman sighs as he gazes at the computer screen. This may not seem like a big deal, but it can be. Seth can't afford to have bad publicity, especially right now. At least he hasn't tweeted anything about it without consulting Roman first.
When Seth comes to the office an hour later he's in a foul mood. Dropping his sunglasses on the desk, he roughly pulls a chair and plops on it. "You're gonna lecture me? Go ahead," he says, in a challenging tone. "I didn't tell you I was going to that concert, because I knew you wouldn't let me."
"I surely would tell you to be more careful," Roman says. He rubs his temple with a thumb. "You're very easy to recognize, and it's not just because of your hair."
Seth crosses his arms. "I was wearing a snapback," he retorts defensively. "And I was totally careful. I stood in the back row and made sure nobody paid attention to me. But there was this girl who spilled her beer on my shirt and saw who I was. Then she started screaming and soon people were all over me." He pauses for a second. "It was awful."
Roman looks at him. "Are you okay?" he asks. Seth blinks, looking like he doesn't expect the question.
"Yeah, I'm okay," he says. "The security took me to the storage room, and the police came quickly."
"All right. And I'm glad you haven't tweeted anything before talking to me," Roman tells him. He gives Seth a detail of what to write on Twitter: an apology to the band, and an acknowledgment that what he did was reckless. Seth doesn't protest any of it.
"Does the band have a Twitter account?" Roman asks.
Seth looks up from his phone. "No, but Jimmy and Marek do, though they don't use it much. Dean hates social media."
"It would be nice if they could tweet something about they appreciate you coming to watch them, or something like that," Roman says, writing it down on a piece of paper. "Do you want me to contact them or do you wanna do it yourself?"
"I can see your point," Seth says with a slow nod. "I'll ask them myself, they're my friends."
Right, so it's settled. "I really hope this is the last time you hide things from me." Roman straightens up on his chair, holding Seth's gaze. "Whatever it is, we'll figure it out together. Please, Seth, don't make it more difficult than it needs to be."
"I know. Sorry," Seth says, sounding genuine. He locks his phone and puts it on the desk. "I hadn't watched them perform in a while, so when I heard they were coming to L.A. I didn't think twice. They're my friends, man, I love playing with them; we always had a lot of fun. I didn't… never intended to ruin their concert," he trails off. Roman doesn't urge or interrupt him. He feels that Seth needs to let it all out.
"I'm sure you know the story, about how the record company only wanted me," Seth goes on. "I tried to persuade them to take all of us, but they refused. So I grabbed it, because who knows when an opportunity like that would come again. I worked hard to be where I am right now. I earned my place." He looks at Roman. "If some people think I'm an opportunistic bastard, then be it. I gotta do what I gotta do."
"You're good at what you do," Roman says. "That's why the fans love you."
Seth looks surprised, like he doesn't expect a compliment. "Thanks. So are you. I can see why McMahon wants you to manage me."
"Does it mean you promise you won't keep anything from me in the future?"
The soft laugh that Seth lets out is nothing short of adorable. "Damn, Roman, you're good," he exclaims, before adding more seriously, "Fine. I promise."
"Thank you," Roman says. His eyes linger on Seth's face for one second too long.
"Are all these people your family?" Seth asks as he stares at the photographs on the wall. "You have a big family."
Roman smiles when he looks at the picture of his parents and his brother and sisters. "I have four siblings, and a lot of cousins. And I mean a lot." He grins. "They all live in Florida."
"That's cool. I always wonder how it feels to have a big family," Seth says. "Christmas must be fun."
"If you call chaotic fun," Roman replies, with a chuckle. Seth is still looking at the pictures. Roman watches him, as he suddenly understands. He's read about Seth's family: he is an only child, and his dad left when he was a baby. Seth never knows him. As far as Roman knows, his mom remarried and still lives in Iowa.
Seth turns to Roman. "So, you only see them on Holidays?"
"Yeah," Roman says. "My daughter is always excited to go to Florida." Seth's gaze is fixed on the picture of Roman and Joelle on the desk, which was taken on her 8th birthday last year.
"She's lovely," Seth says, smiling. "How about her mom?" He must have noticed there isn't any picture of her. The way he asks sounds so casual that Roman doesn't feel like he's prying.
"She lives in Sacramento," Roman replies, guessing it's a good thing for Seth to know more things about him. Seth nods in understanding.
They're both quiet for a moment, until Seth announces that he has to go back to the studio. He puts his phone into his pocket and takes the sunglasses from the desk.
"Keep a low profile for now," Roman tells him. "Stay out of trouble, at least until we find a new sponsor."
"Oh Roman, aren't you so fun," Seth says jokingly. But then he says again, in a more serious tone. "No worries. I know what not to do."
Roman genuinely hopes so.