Be My Bad Boy

Then I jumped up. I had an idea. What had I been thinking? I was sitting on a gold mine. Almost literally. All my money problems would be over.


“I only do commission sales," the girl said, twirling her hair around her finger, but she had the hunger in her eyes. I recognised it.
"Yeah? Well, I need the money now."
I figured if I just stood there until she said yes, she'd give in eventually. I hadn't lugged two huge bags of clothes all the way across town, using my last coins on train fare, to sell stuff on commission. She was getting a super bargain and she knew it. There were thousands of dollars of designer clothes in those bags. Not to mention handbags and shoes.

I'd sorted through the clothes in my room, ruthlessly putting them into piles of things I could sell. I'd made myself have a heart of stone. Absolute stone. No emotion at all. That formal gown I'd worn when Tom first kissed me – gone. The shoes I wore to my debutante ball – gone.
The fabulous one-off gown that made me look as if I was made of diamonds – didn't need it.
When I picked up the fab Valentino boots I'd only bought a few months ago and never worn, I started to falter.

"Heart of stone, Hannah," I reminded myself and put them in the "for sale" pile.
I looked at what was left. A couple of Donna Karan dresses for those power bitch meetings, a few pairs of jeans and some t-shirts, my leather jacket that had a price tag so high I could've bought a small apartment for the same price and some cute dresses.

I picked up the top I'd worn the night I'd gone to see BVB play about to toss it in the bag but, for some stupid reason, I lifted it to my face and sniffed it. Something about the smell made me happy for a moment. I decided to keep it. With all the beer stains and muck on it, I doubted it would sell anyway.

"Heart of stone," I told myself again and remembered that someone had told me 'It wasn't as if I was losing my clothes anyway. I was just clearing out my wardrobe so I could replace things in the future.' I had nowhere to wear this stuff and it'd all get ruined and be unwearable and worthless soon.

"Why are you selling all this stuff anyway?" the shopgirl asked.
"I lost weight and don't need them any more." Like I'd tell her I needed the money or I'd starve to death. "I don't want the hassle of having to come back here so just give me some cash and it's a done deal. There's other shops you know."
I put my hands on my hips and stared her down.

She sighed. "Yes, and they work on a commission basis too."
"Not for good quality stuff like this. You know you want it."
I took a top out of the bag. Still this season's fashion. That'd be snapped in no time.
She picked up a calculator and tapped in a number then held it up to show me. It was way, way less than those clothes were worth, even second-hand and she knew it.

I hesitated then picked up the calculator and tapped in a number myself. She shook her head. We locked eyes, both not wanting to back down. Then my stomach rumbled again and I just couldn't stand the thought of another of those bloody fake chocolate tree frogs. I tapped in another number and she nodded. Score, I'd get cash.

As she handed me the invoice to sign, I nearly cried. Those clothes were my friends and now I was selling them for some cold, hard cash. What kind of monster would sell their friends for cash? A hungry monster that got rolled on the train, I guess. I took a moment to say a silent goodbye to all those darling little shoes and those sweet twin sets. No mother sending her kids off to school for the first time would ever have felt so bad. But then I guess a mother doesn't have to worry about her kids being stretched over the girth of some chick's belly in a change room. On the other hand, I could buy new, better clothes one day but she's stuck with the same crummy kids.
Heart of stone.
She handed me the bundle of cash and I put it in my bag then realised that wasn't safe. I spied a cheap wallet in the display case.
"How about you throw that in for free?"
"It's $100 bucks."
"Like hell it is. It's a fake. The logo is even a little bit off in the printing. You can't sell a fake for that much. Come on, you are making a bundle here."
She sighed and handed me the wallet.
I grinned. The wallet totally wasn't a fake but she'd fallen for it. See, when you look classy, you get away with murder.
I had enough money for rent and for the video costs and to buy myself a delicious burger for dinner.
Today was really looking up. I went to the café where I'd gone the other day. The one with the hanging ferns. I ordered coffee and my burger then decided to move to Step 2 of the Get Hannah Out of Poverty Plan.
I took a deep breath and made the call. I put on my best business voice and asked about getting a booking.
"Sorry, we aren't booking new bands at the moment."
"But you're a band booker. That's what you do. And this band is hot. They are like the biggest band around at the moment. I can send you their demo."
I tapped my fingers on the table. Was this some crap he gave to everyone to see if they were determined? Well, I was determined. I was more determined than them all.
"Fifty times a day, I hear from bands that are the hottest thing around or the next big thing. They all want the same thing but we are booked solid for the next month. Maybe longer. I have enough bands that can drag in a crowd knocking at my door, I don't need to take a chance on an unknown."
"Well, they are hardly unknown."
"Unless they can pull in over 5,000 people guaranteed, they are unknown to me."
I quickly calculated the crowd at that bar the other night. I'm pretty sure it was less than 5,000. A lot less.
"I'll just send you the demo –"
"I don't need it. I've got to go. I'm busy."
"You'll regret that."
"Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. I'll take that chance. Now, goodbye."
Argghhh, what a pig. I could see him sitting there, stroking his big belly while smoking a cigar. Didn't he realise how important this was to me? I had a feeling "I tried my best" wouldn't cut it with Andy and Ashley. If they had walked away at that meeting, I couldn't stop them but, if they acknowledged me as their manager, I could get my cut of the band money and maybe sell the manmanagement company for a decent amount.
Why did I think I could do this? I didn't know the first thing about managing a band. Who knew you could ring up to make a booking and be told no? It seemed wrong like they should at least listen to the demo first and see if the band was any good. Anyone would think they just cared about making money and nothing else.
I thought about my options. I could get a job. A real job. I didn't know what I could do since I'd dropped out of my degree. I could maybe be a secretary or a waitress. Probably not even that. I had no experience. No skills. Well, apart from ballet lessons and being able to ride a pony and talking French. They didn't seem like very handy skills though.
My only hope was for Dad to come back and I hadn't even heard from him once.
I swirled the spoon in my coffee.
"Hey there."
Angie sat down opposite me.

Notes

Let's be honest , this chapter is pretty boring. But boring chapters lead to the exciting ones xD