Be My Bad Boy

Later, when the café was quiet, I rang the record company. I asked for the man who'd given me the card. The receptionist asked my name.
I could hear her suck in her breath when I said it. There was only the briefest of pauses then she said she'd put me through.
I waited for a while, listening to the hold music. While I waited, I went over what I'd say in my head. I wanted to sound confident and reassured. As if I did this kind of thing all the time and it meant nothing. As if we had heaps of offers on the table and I was working out which was the best. I could do that. I could be a hard-headed business bitch. Even if my palms were a little moist and the pulse at my temple throbbed.
The phone clicked. I was ready to go into action.

Before I could talk though, the receptionist came back on the line.
"Sorry, he's in a meeting right now. I'll get him to call you back."
I gave her my details.
I put my phone on the table and waited for their call.
I spend most of the day at the café, working on plans for the band. We had a pretty full calendar now, with bookings most weekends for the next few months. Word had gotten around about their success at the Metropolis and it seemed so much easier to get them booked into decent places. I sent all the details to the music press and gave them to Angie for the website. I checked their Twitter and Facebook. Whoa, the number of followers kept climbing but what some of those girls posted, it was just plain wrong. I did not need to see all those boobs and butts.

I thought about booking a tour. We could travel up the coast. I'd have to discuss it with the guys next time. And support gigs. We should try to get support gigs with some big name bands.
My phone hadn't rung all day. I picked it up to check it was working properly.
"It's still early yet," said Angie. "They might call back soon."
Angie sat beside me most of the day, doodling ideas in a notebook.

"So, what do you think of Andy?" she asked. "You haven't really said."
"I've told you. I'm not interested in him."
"Yeah, you say that but you can't say it without blushing. You blush and you squirm like a schoolgirl. He's got you in your pants with his Andy Dandy Magic! I'm surprised you don't have his name written all over your notebook with hearts around it."
"You can't talk. You do have his name written in hearts in your notebook."
Angie laughed and looked down at her notebook.

"I don't like him, Angie, but I respond to him. You know. On a lustful level. Like, when he's around, my skin feels especially sensitive and my heart beats a little faster. I do stupid things and… I dunno. Maybe it's a lust thing. But I don't like him.”
“Oh, you've got it bad. Maybe you should just screw him and get him out of your system."
"Maybe. Or maybe not. He was a total jerk the last time I saw him. There's something not right with him."
"There's a lot that is right. His butt, his shoulders, his eyes…"
"I mean in his head."
"I'd go there, regardless."
"Yeah, that's obvious. But he scares me sometimes."

I wondered if I should tell her about how he attacked me but she jumped up to go to class. I figured I should leave too. A person couldn't spend all day stuck in a café. I felt a bit wired after three cups of coffee but I didn't feel nearly so stressed about the story in the paper. Who even pays that much attention to the papers anyway?
I paid up and left the café, wondering if I should go home and sleep. I still felt a bit sick and it hadn't helped getting caught in the rain.

"It's her!" I heard someone yell as I walked out the café door. Then a camera got thrust in my face.
I had no idea what was going on. Before I could get away, others had come to join him. They snapped photos and bombarded me with questions. I put my hands up to cover my face and didn't speak.
"Where's your father, Hannah?" one guy shouted at me, and soon the rest joined in.
"I don't know. I don't know."

I wrapped my arms around myself and tried to move through but they closed in tighter around me, like a pack of animals after my blood. I could feel the sheen of sweat on my forehead and my arms began to shake. I didn't know why they were doing this. I didn't know anything. I heard another shutter go off and flinched away from the sound.

My legs went weak, as though I’d buckle to the ground, but I could only think of being strong and not letting them see they were getting to me. Surely they'd go away. You have to be stronger than anyone, I heard my dad say.
"I haven't done anything wrong," I muttered under my breath. "I haven't done anything wrong."
But the questions kept coming. I didn't know what they were even talking about. Huge sobs rose up in my throat and I kept my head down, not wanting them to see.
Then one of them grabbed me.

"Come on, Hannah, give us a story."
Why did they keep saying my name as if they knew me? He clutched me tighter and I tried to shake him off, screaming at him to let me go.
Then someone broke through the crowd and took hold of me, dragging me away.
"Andy?"
He'd pulled the top of his hoodie over his head so they couldn't snap photos of him and pushed them aside with his body. A couple of them sized him up and then stepped aside. He grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me after him down the street.

Notes

See, now he's nice Andy again. He has GOT to get his shit straight.