Bad Boy vs Millionaire

by Candy J. Starr

  We walked down the hill without any mishaps and then through a grove of trees. I'd never find my way back alone. I'd get lost and be stuck there forever and it would be just like that movie.

  When we came to a clearing, I could hear the sound of water. When the woman said “dam”, I thought she'd meant a muddy hole with animals drinking at it but this wasn't a dam. It was a clearing with a small creek running through it and ― OMG ― a waterfall. It looked near to perfect, the colours all muted blue-greens and sunlight dappled through the trees.

  “I think the other girl wanted to use the old smithy's hut,” the woman said. “Come and I'll show you.”

  The mud got even squelchier near the river. As we walked, a flock of multicoloured birds flew through the trees. I stared at them, open mouthed.

  “Come on, girl, we're not here to look at the scenery.”

  “Well, actually, technically I am.”

  We rounded a corner and saw a fallen-down stone cottage that looked as though the bush was trying to reclaim it. Moss and vines covered what was left of the stone walls, with the interior exposed on one side. The old fireplace still stood in place though. I ran around finding things for Jack to take photos of. It really would be perfect for the new song. The ruins and the regrowth. I could see why Angie wanted them to film there. But how the hell had she found it?

  “It's okay for us to film here?” I asked.

  “Well, you'd have to careful about scaring the cows,” she said, giving Jack a pointed look. “If the cows go bad, I won't get any milk outta them.”

  “Of course, we'd be very careful. It should only take a day and then we'd be gone.”

  “Well, you can have a look around. I've got to go to see to the cows. I'll meet you back at the house.”

  I was about to protest that we wouldn't be able to find our way out but the old woman had already disappeared.

  “Shit, we can't get out of here. All of that bush looked the same as we were walking. We're stuck here forever.” It was seriously bad. And how the hell did that woman disappear so quickly?

  “What are you talking about? We can just follow our footsteps back in the mud. Anyone would be able to follow those tracks.”

  I looked at his mud-drenched boots. He must be regretting not putting on the gumboots. Jack took more photos on his phone. He wanted to get in everything that Angie needed. I stood on what would have been the verandah of the old house and watched.

  “Hey, Hannah, give me a hand,” Jack called. “I think my boot is stuck in this mud.”

  I walked over and let him lean on my shoulder to prize himself out. His weight pressed heavily on me.

  “Step on those old planks,” I said. “Then you won't get stuck again. Anyway, didn't you have to get back to town by 3.00? It's getting late.”

  Jack looked up at the sun then, realising that would tell him nothing, looked at the time on his phone.

  “Shit, you’re right. We need to find a way out of here. I think I can work out how to get back.”

  Chapter 27. Angie

  Eric asked me to go with him to meet the management guy. Jack was supposed to come too but he hadn’t gotten back from the farm yet. Anyway, Eric wasn’t convinced that signing up with Blainsley was the right thing to do so, without Jack and Spud around, he could get some hard facts to convince them.

  “It's not necessarily proven that, just because we sign to a big company, they are going to be any better for the band than what we have now. And we have to make sure Hannah is looked after.”

  I nodded. His argument made sense and, plus, I really wanted to go along and be a bit of a sticky beak. There was no down side.

  The office was so hipster. Like, they just had to prove to the world how hipster they were. They even had a typewriter in duck egg blue sitting on the reception desk. No computer, just a typewriter. Like a neon sign saying “look how hipster we are.” It probably wasn’t even a real typewriter but some kind of weird computer made to look like a typewriter. For hipsters.

  We looked around but we could see nobody.

  “Oh my god,” said Eric. “We can't sign with these people. They don't understand rock in a non-ironic way. They’ll want us to play twee love songs.”

  I nodded. I would see nothing reassuring about the place.

  He squeezed my hand. Tight.

  A guy came bouncing out of a back room, wearing a trilby hat and a yellow checked bowtie.

  “Come through, come through,” he said, as though rushing from something important.

  Eric rolled his eyes. It did not look promising. Maybe Jack should've come with us. He'd have hated that guy. He'd have never wanted to sign a contract with him. This guy was the epitome of all Jack hated. Spud too, I'd imagine. They would be going down a slippery slope to hell if they signed there.

  We followed the hipster into a room that looked nothing like an office, all white and blue with a big trestle table in the middle. It had the look of being banged together out of random bits of junk found on the street but the view from the windows did not come cheap. They'd probably paid a decorator a fortune for that slum look.

  I grinned at Eric behind the hipster's back. One of those things sat on the table. I dunno what they are called but they are like “executive toys” with a bunch of hanging balls and you ping the ball from one side and it goes pong, pong, pong and the ball the other side flies out.

  “So, I've got a few questions…” Eric started.

  The hipster ran his hand through his hair. “Great, that's really fantastic but say, guys, do you want a coffee first?”

  He ran out and asked someone to make us coffees.

  “It's okay, it's all single origin, rain forest friendly coffee here.”

  I rolled my eyes again. This guy could not sit still. Maybe he should cut down on the coffee.

  “First up, I wanted to know if you had some kind of management plan for the band if you take us on.”

  The guy still didn't sit.

  “Ah, here's our coffee. Management plan, yes. Well, we'd have to work that out once we got all the details. It's not a ― Hey do you need sugar? I'll grab you some.”

  He dashed from the room.

  “This guy is a dick,” I whispered to Eric.

  He came back with a jar filled with sugar.

  “Look, as soon as you sign the contract, we can work out the finer details. Of course, we want you to feel comfortable but we can't give away all our secrets now, can we?”

  “Just a general idea would be fine.”

  “Ummm, yeah, well the more we do for you, the better, right. We have some major clients. People doing big things. I don't think you need to worry about the whole 'management plan' thing.” He did air quotes as he said it. Damn air quotes guy.

  I played with the executive toy thing while Eric got his notes out of his satchel.

  “So, where would you see Storm being in five years’ time?”

  The guy sat down on a chair opposite us, folding one leg under him.

  “See, right there, the name…” He scratched his beard. “Storm, it's kind of not very… Have you thought about changing it? I think we could do a lot more if we got something a bit more in touch with our demographic. Something a bit more hip…”

  Eric looked at me. I bounced the ball on the toy again.

  “Wouldn't changing the name alienate some of our existing fan base?” Eric asked.

  “Ha, see that is great thinking right there. You have potential. Gathering up the low hanging fruit, yes. Really good point. I can see what you are doing. Of course, we could market it as an irony thing. Storm… its rock, it's got potential.”

  The balls on the toy kept bouncing.

  Eric asked a few more questions but really the guy wasn't saying anything. He was stringing together a bunch of buzz words, bouncing them together just like the balls on the toy were bouncing backwards and forwards without actually doing much.

  When finally there was a break in the conversation, Eric gathered his no
tes up.

  “Thanks for your time,” he said.

  “And thanks for the coffee,” I added.

  Eric and I exchanged a look. I thought we'd both have a lot to say after the meeting.

  “Sure, sure, any time,” the guy added and took us out to the reception area.

  “Hang about a bit,” he said. “I'll get you my card.”

  He ran off, leaving us there.

  “Freak,” I whispered under my breath to Eric. Eric grinned and lowered his head. I think he was trying to avoid my eyes.

  Behind us, the elevator pinged.

  I didn't really pay it much attention as the hipster raced out with his card and handed it to us.

  “That’s me. Chaz.” As if we couldn’t read his name on the card ourselves. “Call me with any questions, any time. And, yeah, we can go into more detail when the contract is signed.”

  The whole thing smelt fishy to me.

  As we walked to the elevator, I realised someone was standing in the alcove, looking out the window. There were no other offices on this floor and it seemed as though he was waiting for us to leave before he went in.

  I couldn't see his face but I could've sworn it was Tamaki.

  What was he doing at the management company? I was going to call out but I couldn't be 100% sure it was him and he looked as if he didn't want to be seen. Then the elevator came and it was too late to say anything.

  Chapter 28. Hannah

  “Okay, smart guy, just follow the tracks in the mud you said. Well, that worked out well for us.”

  We had walked for an hour and somehow ended up at the same old cottage where we'd started. The tracks in the mud got confusing at one point and there had been lots of animal tracks added to them.

  “What are we going to do now?”

  Surely, if we didn't get back to the house, eventually the old woman would come looking for us. But how long would that take? Already, the sun seemed less bright and my jacket too thin to deal with the cold.

  “We could try again?” Jack didn't sound very certain.

  “How long do you reckon it'd take for the woman to come looking for us?” I asked. I hoped she didn’t have dementia or something and had forgotten we even existed.

  “I dunno but I have to get back to the city. I've got stuff to do.”

  I noticed he'd never exactly said what it was he had to do. That had to be dodgy. He looked away in that way he did when he didn’t want to talk about things.

  “Well, you are not going to get back in time anyway, even if we do magically find the path back. I don't even know if there is a path. It might all be a trick and the forest has grown in around us and we'll never get out.”

  “You're right. I mean about not getting back in time. What a screw up.” Jack sat down on his haunches and lit a cigarette. Not much else to do there.

  I jumped up and down beside him. Jack could be so damn thick sometimes.

  “You have a lighter. Woohoo!”

  “You taking up smoking?”

  “No, I'm going to build a fire in that old fireplace.”

  “I'll build the fire. Do you have any paper or anything?”

  I looked through my bag. I had a bunch of old receipts and a couple of pamphlets and some other junk. I also had half a bar of chocolate and some jelly beans.

  “You are so sharing that candy,” Jack said.

  “Oh, it's okay for you to take handouts now, is it? Not so high and mighty.”

  “You want the lighter, you share the candy.”

  “Okay, but you'd better make that fire good.”

  We scrounged around for dried sticks then piled them beside the fireplace in the old house. Two of the walls around it were still intact and the third had only half fallen down but the wall on the other side was completely gone. At least it would provide some shelter though.

  Jack broke up some of the smaller sticks then got a fire going with the junk papers from my bag.

  “Your rich boyfriend wouldn't be able to start a fire like that. It takes skill and manliness.” He brushed his hands together in total self-satisfaction.

  “No, my rich boyfriend would call for a helicopter to airlift us out. That's what rich people do.” I folded my arms.

  “Why don't you call for one then?”

  “No battery. What about you?”

  Jack checked his phone. “A little bit, maybe enough to make a call, if I actually knew the number of a helicopter place. Which I don't, on account of not being rich.”

  “You could text Angie or Eric. Then they could try to contact the old woman. Angie said she didn't have a phone but I don’t know if she was kidding about that.”

  “She was kidding, of course. No one in this world doesn't have a phone. And the old lady, she's old. Even if she is scary, she could fall and break a hip or something and no one would know. I bet her kids never contact her and just leave her alone out here in the bush. And the neighbours don't come around because she's so scary and old. Wow, poor old lady.”

  I wasn't sure were the concern about the old lady and her made up kids came from. But he was right. It wasn’t safe for an old woman like her to be living all the way out there with no phone. Even if she did seem as tough as boot leather.

  “Just text them. It's getting even darker.”

  I gathered up some more branches for the fire while Jack sent the texts.

  “Wish we had some marshmallows for the fire.”

  I shivered. My front was warm where I squatted in front of the fire but my back was getting colder. I turned around, figuring if I rotisseried myself like a chicken, I'd get even amounts of warm. The clouds looked bad too. If it started raining, we’d be doomed. I wasn’t sure if the fire would keep burning if it rained.

  Jack took his coat off and put it around my shoulders.

  “You can't give me your coat. You'll freeze to death.”

  Jack looked at me all squinty-like.

  “You're right. It's bloody freezing. Give me back my coat.”

  “Hey, that's not how it's done. You can’t take it back.”

  “Don't you think it's unfair that I have to give up my coat because I'm a man? I feel the cold too, Hannah. I feel it bad.” He rubbed his arms as if to emphasise his coldness. “It’s reverse sexism, that’s what it is.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “We can time share the coat. I’ll have it for a while then you can have it.”

  Jack grinned. He was totally going to let me do that.

  “How's the preparation going for the tour?” he asked.

  “Good, it's pretty easy actually. With a big set up like this, we just have to send them our stuff and they organise everything. They'll send though a schedule for publicity soon. I'll email it to you. There's going to be radio interviews and stuff like that. Articles in the local press. You'll have watch what you say. Don't offend anyone.”

  “I don't offend people. Well, apart from you. I'm pretty good at that.” That crooked grin of his always made my heart melt.

  “That's for sure. So, yeah, most of the prep work is done. It's just up to you guys now to make it happen.”

  “Let's gather up some more of this wood in case we’re here for a while.”

  We got to work looking for wood. Soon, we had a decent sized stack gathered near the fire and at least the exercise kept me warm.

  I found a huge branch, nicely dried out for burning and lugged it into the house.

  “Take a break, Hannah. You look stuffed.”

  “I'm okay.”

  “No you aren't. You’re screwed. If you keep working, you'll break yourself.”

  “Why do think it's your place to tell me what to do? Don't you think I have the sense to take a break if I need one? I don't need you to do it for me.”

  Because what was the alternative? Sitting with Jack in front of that fire? The two of us, alone. I wished I could press the pause button on my life for a while. No Jack, no Tamaki, just some time to work out what I wanted.

  “
It's because I care for you.'

  Even though he said these things, there was a catch in his voice like there was some big ‘but’ he wanted to add.

  The branch I carried fell from my hands, narrowly missing my foot. I’d totally not expected him to say that. I picked it up and added it to the stack then squatted in front of the fire, giving it a poke with a long stick. Looking at the fire was much safer than looking at Jack Colt.

  “See, this… this is what I mean. You throw this shit at me out of left field and I'm supposed to deal with it.”

  “Well, if I didn't throw it out of left field, where would I throw it from? I've got to get it over that stubborn high wall of yours. You don't let people close, Hannah. Maybe you should rely on others more instead of trying to do everything yourself. You don't have to be strong all the time. Have you thought about taking it easy?”

  “And what if I do rely on other people? It's just letting them screw things up. Do you think I can rely on you?”

  Jack squatted down beside me, looking me right in the eyes. For a moment, the earnestness in his deep, brown eyes disarmed me.

  “Maybe you can’t, Hannah. The reason I wanted to get back to the city was to sign with Blainsley Management. But I think it’s best for you. For us too. For all of us.”

  I pushed him away from me and stood up, putting some space between us. Again, he’d gone from being almost caring to pulling the ground out from under me. I needed to not look at him. I needed to get my shit together.

  “Listen to me, Hannah. It's for the best. It really is. You can't be with your rich boyfriend if you’re tied to us.”

  His words made no sense to me. What he was really saying was that he was done with me. He wanted nothing more to do with me. That was the only reason I could think of.

  He’d said he’d fight for me but this wasn’t fighting. This was giving up.

  Why did he even bother going there with me today? What was the point of making the video — or doing anything, when it meant nothing? Their new management would probably want to do things their own way. Where would that leave me? And where would it leave Angie?

  “Don't worry, it's just easier this way. You aren’t going to stick around managing a band for the rest of your life. You must have plans for the future that don’t involve us.” He reached out to stroke my hair and I knocked his hand away. “Well, for other reasons too. You know I'm fucked up, but I mean what I say, Hannah.”