by DaNeo Duran
After shaking himself Johnny spoke to Stu who agreed though young, the bass player had something about her and given her age perhaps could be moulded into excellence.
Although Stu found her most attractive he guessed the keyboard player’s womanly exuberance would appeal more to his pal. He also observed the communication between bass and keys sensing a matriarchal quality from the keyboard player.
Jostled by the massing crowd Stu said, ‘Le-Clash are only minutes away.’
‘Yeah,’ Johnny said despondently, ‘are you thinking what I’m thinking?’
‘What, stuff Le-Clash, let’s meet that bass player?’
‘Yeah, but for the band or yourself?’
‘The band of course.’
‘She looks pretty young,’ Johnny stated.
‘Perhaps. You want the girl on boards don’t you?’
‘For the band?’
‘You tell me.’
Again Johnny looked towards the keyboards. ‘She mightn’t be that good-looking up close.’
Stu laughed. ‘At least we know they both look tremendous on stage.’
‘Even talking to them might be a long shot. We’ve waited a long time to see Le-Clash. Are these girls worth losing our places for?’
Stu thought about it. ‘Maybe. With a plan – something to really motivate them, it’ll be worth it.’
‘I know what might motivate them,’ Johnny said.
‘Yeah, what?’
‘Same thing as motivated you.’
They conjured a scheme and pushed through the crowd. The guard at first refused to let them backstage despite their passes but, given they’d still to collect their instruments he told them to hurry.
Intent on being there as long as necessary the night’s air warmed Johnny’s excitement despite knowing he might miss Le-Clash.
‘Keep your eyes open for jealous boyfriends,’ Stu said as they headed over flattened grass towards the stage.
They watched the Wayward Wenches round up their set.
Johnny readied himself for Stu’s execution of the plan. ‘What record company cards you got?’
Stu fanned the business cards he’d collected. ‘None very suitable. I’ve got one for a management company in Finsbury.’
‘That’ll work,’ Johnny said. Taking the card he read, ‘Reginald Caldwell?’
‘Is that who I’m supposed to be?’ Stu said. ‘Do I look like a Reginald?’
‘It’s just a name.’
Stu took the card back off Johnny. ‘I don’t know about this. I’m too young to be a manager or to be called Reginald.’
‘Same here but at least they’ll not recognise you.’ Johnny thought for a moment. ‘Okay, tell them you’re the company’s junior. Use your real name.’
‘Alright,’ he said cursing the drums that had hidden him.
‘You know what to say – roughly?’
‘Maybe. Got to put them at ease about their playing ability too.’
‘Right, but it’s about making things easy for them. Don’t mention America yet.’
‘But if I make things sound too good they won’t believe me.’
‘So be authoritative. Tell them under no circumstances to be late. That’ll make you seem more believable.’
‘I should be in a suit.’
‘They mightn’t know that; the industry types buggered off before the Wenches turned up. Plus you’re a junior, remember?’
‘And I’m to direct them to this Finsbury office address?’
‘Correct.’
‘An office we don’t work in?’
‘That’s your ace. You must be genuine; you’ve got a real card with real company name and details. We’ll get down well before ten and I’ll wait in the nearest café; you wait outside the office then bring them to the café.’
‘There’s just one problem.’
‘What?’
‘We’re both working tomorrow at ten.’
‘Damn. Bank holidays mess with my head.’ Johnny thought for a moment. ‘We’ll finish early and do it at half four. It’ll work better anyway; nothing in the music biz starts before lunchtime anyway.’
‘Look out; they’re here,’ Stu said getting nervous.
Standing in the wings the lads let them pass with guitars but without keyboards.
‘That could a problem,’ Stu said. ‘How much do keyboards cost?’
‘She might have keyboards elsewhere. But mate, you haven’t talked to them yet.’
‘What if it comes up in conversation?’
‘Tell them we’ll sort it. We’ll worry about that later.’
They watched, surprised the girls didn’t receive more hounding. Though the group separated the keyboard player and bassist stuck to each other like the pages of a top shelf magazine.
Then, with a stroke of luck, they saw the pair head together towards the portaloos.
‘Alright mate, time to move,’ Johnny said.
‘I can’t just grab them right out the bogs.’
‘No, but get them before they regroup.’
Whilst Johnny collected his guitar Stu ran along the grass positioning himself between the girls and their band. Soon the girls reappeared striding his way.
Trying to seem less obvious he kept his back to them. In the last moment he spun round. ‘Hi girls.’
‘Hi yourself,’ the keyboard player said smiling but not slowing.
‘Great show,’ he said as they swept by.
‘Cheers.’ Neither looked back.
Feeling desperate and idiotic Stu jogged after them. ‘Can I get your autographs?’
The keyboard player stopped. So did the bassist. ‘Really? Well, I suppose we might be famous someday.’
‘Not with that band,’ Stu blurted.
‘What did you just say?’ Her eyes narrowed.
Stu clamped a hand to his mouth. ‘I mean, why be famous someday, when you can be famous this day?’
‘This day?’
‘Well, tomorrow, actually. I’d like to make you an offer; both of you.’ Stu motioned to the silent bassist. ‘I work for Phoenix Entertainment Management.’
The older girl took the offered card and glancing at her friend said, ‘Wow, we’re impressed aren’t we Mazz?’
‘You should be, we represented The Sex Pistols.’ Stu’s mouth seemed to be doing its own thing.
‘Malcolm McLaren managed them. Everyone knows that,’ she said turning away. ‘Come on Mazz.’
‘Of course. We seconded him to The Pistols.’
‘The Sex Pistols were rubbish.’
Stu figured all keyboard players would’ve said that. To the back of her head he said, ‘We agree.’
‘Good for you.’
‘We’re creating a new band of star quality characters.’
The keyboard player stopped again. Shifting her weight on her heels she eyed him suspiciously. ‘You’re too young to be a manager.’
‘I’m the firm’s junior.’
‘Who has star quality, me or Mazz?’
‘Both, potentially, believe it or not?’
‘Why wouldn’t we believe it?’
‘I mean, well, you’re scaring me a little. We need a keyboard and bass player.’
‘So?’
‘All I know is what I saw. What I heard doesn’t matter so much. The interplay between you, the chemistry, that’s what we need to complete the line-up. I don’t know how old you are or what goes on in your lives but I urge you to come to the office tomorrow at half four.’
‘Half four tomorrow?’ She studied the card. ‘Reginald?’
‘Reginald’s my boss. Don’t be late,’ he said remembering Johnny’s advice.
She still looked suspicious. ‘Where will Malcolm McLaren be?’
‘He doesn’t work from the office anymore.’
‘Hmm. What about instruments?’
‘We can source them if need be.’
‘So it’s not an audition?’
‘Not as such. Like I say, we’re i
nitially after characters. We can fix things in the studio; Top of the Pops and Swap Shop can be mimed and the rest we’ll leave to the promo videos.’
‘Videos?’
‘Yeah,’ he said sensing her perking up. ‘Video’s essential. If we film a good-looking enough band people will watch the video all day, and buy records. It may even chart in America.’
‘Half four you say?’
‘Sixteen-thirty.’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Stu.’
‘Okay. We’ll see you then.’ She turned to leave. ‘Come on Mazz.’
‘Don’t be late. My boss won’t tolerate lateness given this opportunity,’ he called after them. ‘You can tell me your name tomorrow.’
‘Christine,’ she said without a backward glance. ‘Till tomorrow cutie-pie.’
Tuesday 26th August 1980
At 2pm the lads dashed home from the markets and groomed. An hour later they set off on foot; Johnny carrying his guitar.
‘Where is it we’re headed?’
‘Finsbury.’
‘Specifically?’
Stu stopped in his tracks. ‘You know the address don’t you?’
‘It was on the business card. You had it last.’
‘Yeah; I gave it to the girls.’
‘But … you made a note of the address right?’
‘I thought you knew it.’
‘My god,’ Johnny yelled, ‘Are we making history here?’
Stu appeared to have no idea what he meant but looked furious.
Johnny yelled again. ‘We’re two idiots standing up two super-hot babes.’
‘Argggh, I thought you knew the address.’
Johnny couldn’t contain his laughter longer.
‘You think this is funny?’ Stu said.
‘Maybe we’ve another business card,’ Johnny said.
‘Have we?’
‘No. I don’t suppose there’s any point asking whether you remembered the phone number?’
‘No there isn’t.’ Stu said grabbing the railings beside the pavement.
‘Ah, don’t worry,’ Johnny laughed again. ‘It’s Phoenix Entertainment Management, remember? I just checked the Yellow Pages.’
Stu hardly knew how to react. ‘Crikey mate, don’t joke like that.’
* * *
Soon they peered through Phoenix’s glass door. Carpeted stairs led to the first floor office.
Looking at his watch Stu said, ‘We’re early.’
‘Good, let’s find a café.’
Heading up the street they settled for the first eatery they found. Overpriced but comfy they bought drinks and waited.
Stu checked his watch every few seconds. ‘I better get positioned.’
‘It’s still early.’
‘But we can’t risk them going into the office.’
‘True.’
* * *
After ages of loitering outside the office Stu wondered where the girls might be. Could they have stood him up? Could they have slipped into Phoenix’s office without his noticing? He doubted that. Nobody had passed in or out its door.
Well after the agreed time he started doubting everything. He’d specifically told them not to be late, how many times? He couldn’t have been clearer about the time and date, or could he?
Christine had herself said she’d see him tomorrow right before she called him cutie-pie.
Could Johnny have brought them to the wrong address – another Phoenix? Two Phoenix Entertainment Management companies in Finsbury? Impossible.
Two things came to mind, either the girls had turned up well before he had or they’d been held up. The first idea seemed plausible given Christine’s suspicions the day before.
Whether that, or a genuine hold up, the result would be the same. Christine would have spoken to someone in the office either in person or by telephone. Either way they’d know they’d been scammed and be long gone. Just before 5pm Stu decided he had nothing to lose so headed into the office.
Climbing rickety stairs he heard clacking and beyond a door found a lady in her forties typing.
‘Can I help you?’ she asked.
‘I hope so,’ he said recognising and acknowledging a man at another desk.
‘I remember you from yesterday,’ the man said.
‘Reginald. That’s right. Sorry for disturbing you,’ Stu said. ‘My mate took a card, which I gave to a couple of babes.’
Stu explained the situation. ‘I’d hoped to catch them outside but they haven’t shown up.’
Reginald laughed. ‘I admire your ingenuity, but I’m afraid nobody’s been in or phoned that matches your description.’ He checked with the typing lady.
‘They must have changed their minds,’ Stu said.
Thanking him Stu turned to leave but reaching for the door it burst open. Christine fell through it with Mazz on her heels carrying her bass.
‘Stuart,’ she said. ‘We’re really sorry I know you said not to be late but the Hammersmith line’s down.’
Stu looked at Reginald who winked.
‘Couldn’t you have phoned?’ Stu said snapping into character.
‘We couldn’t risk missing the first available tube. It was jam-packed.’
Ushering them back out the door Stu said, ‘Okay, everyone calm down. You’re here now. Let’s get a drink.’
* * *
Johnny had moved to booth seating ideal for four people. He’d propped his guitar against the wall, got another drink and then, with no sign of Stu and the girls, started worrying, then got bored, then worried again until that became boring.
Running fingers through the hair he’d so carefully spiked he debated chancing a look down the street when finally Stu appeared with a subtle nod. As he held the door Christine and Mazz followed.
‘Hammersmith’s down,’ Stu said.
Not knowing what to do Johnny half stood but let Stu lead the way.
‘Girls, over here is someone I’d like you to meet.’
The girls had blank expressions.
‘You don’t know who this is?’ Stu asked.
‘No idea,’ Christine said.
‘This, is Johnny Won.’
‘Not ringing any bells.’ Though spoken with attitude Johnny detected some nervousness in Christine, who to his relief, yet also discomposure, looked as gorgeous close up as she had on stage; though she did keep a finger close to her lips.
Following introductions Stu vanished to buy everyone drinks.
When Johnny sat, Mazz slid next to him and Christine shuffled opposite. In his stomach butterflies sprang to action as he yearned to take Christine’s hand from her lips and just hold it in his. Her smooth skin and soft pink of her painted nails seemed at odds with her sharp personality. However, a glance at her eyes brought his doe-eyed wishes to an end; her harsh expression unmistakable.
Back with drinks Stu said, ‘I thought you might’ve recognised Johnny from Johnny and the Used Ones. They played yesterday before Wayward Wenches.’
‘We’d have been getting ready at that time,’ Christine said, a finger’s movement momentarily revealing her top lip.
Johnny glimpsed a single enormous, foundation-encrusted spot. The finger returned at once. He stifled a smile until Stu looked at him.
They both knew the time to be honest had arrived.
Stu spoke up. ‘Johnny and the Used Ones is the band I was talking about yesterday.’ He waited for a reaction but the girls only listened. ‘They’re currently operating as a three piece. Johnny here on guitar and vocals, there’s a bass player who’s leaving and me on drums.’
‘You’re in the band?’ Christine asked.
‘Yeah,’ he said sheepishly.
‘So it’s your band you’re pushing?’
‘Yeah.’
Christine’s eyes narrowed.
‘You any good?’ Mazz asked surprising the lads.
‘Sure,’ Stu said.
‘Let’s see,’ Christine chimed.
; Stu wondered what she meant but Johnny slid two forks towards him. Catching on Stu ignored the café’s groove-less Gershwin and demonstrated several rhythms on the table’s surface, including rolls and paradiddles off Coke bottles and ashtrays.
‘Anyway,’ he said slapping the cutlery down, ‘the proposed band is the four people sat right here.’
‘And you think us four sat right here have star potential?’ Christine asked.
‘Potentially,’ Johnny said.
Christine didn’t argue. But she looked at Stu with chilling solemnity. ‘Yesterday you said a lot of stuff about management and singles – and videos?’
‘And,’ Stu started, ‘I implied we wouldn’t need to be any good live but there’s no avoiding it. We’d have to be exceptional.’
‘Don’t sidestep the question. That stuff you promised?’
‘Well—’
‘I mean, you work for Phoenix right?’
‘Err, no.’
‘But you’re managed by them?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Yeah?’
‘No, actually.’
‘So you lied. All that stuff about The Pistols and McLaren and the office where we just met was just a scheme to get us here.’
‘Yeah, but—’
‘It’s not a question.’ She stood up and shoved past Stu grabbing the bass. ‘Come on Mazz.’
Johnny’s mouth dropped open but no words came. Mazz stood up and gave him an apologetic look but followed Christine who already stood holding the door.
As it closed Stu banged his elbows on the table and put his face in his hands. ‘That didn’t go well.’
Johnny could’ve screamed. He’d been sizing the girls up and felt sure he liked them. This couldn’t be happening. He sat straight beating his fingers on the table. ‘I’m going after them.’
‘Mate, that’s not cool.’
‘I don’t care,’ he said already on his feet.
‘What will you say?’
‘I don’t know.’
On the street he looked left. Nothing. He looked right. The girls had already covered some distance.
‘Girls.’ He caught them up. ‘Please.’ Christine wouldn’t face him. ‘I’m sorry.’
No longer hiding the spot Christine’s vexation worsened.
‘Mazz, please,’ Johnny said.
She looked at him and slowed.
‘I’m sorry, we didn’t know how else to get you to meet us?’ Neither girl spoke so Johnny continued. ‘You’ve come all this way. At least come back and finish your drinks. No more lies.’
Still neither girl spoke. Johnny understood Christine’s agitation.
‘Fine,’ he said jamming a hand in his pocket. He thrust a fiver into Mazz’ hand. ‘Go home then. But take a cab, Hammersmith will be murder after the delays.’
He faced the café with slumped shoulders.
