Dirty Rock Star

by Sky Corgan

  Dirty Rock Star

  SKY CORGAN

  Text copyright 2018 by Sky Corgan

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the author.

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  CHAPTER ONE

  GABRIEL

  I threw my notebook against the wall in frustration as Kia, my manager, walked in. I turned to glare at her; she knew not to interrupt me during my writing. Especially right now. Nothing was working how it should be, and I was on a deadline.

  “Gabriel. I told you I was bringing the web designer for the band.” Her tone was laced with irritation.

  Right. She had decided that we were finally big enough to warrant an online presence. She gazed at me impatiently, and I sighed, moving all my notebooks filled with bad ideas off her chair. I was in the midst of writer’s block; it was far from the best time to ask me for anything. Let alone this.

  My band, The Flaming Arrow, was rising on the indie scene. We had locked in an opening for a big name rock band. I guess she was trying to get us ahead, help use this as a launchpad beyond playing bars and clubs.

  “I still don’t get why we need an internet presence. Word of mouth has done wonders for the band,” I complained, moving items off the coffee table.

  “Your name is getting bigger. I can’t handle booking gigs, marketing, and your online presence. All I’ve managed is a weak twitter account and a few Facebook posts. This could rocket you to internet fame, expand you beyond the city. So, shut up and get ready. You are getting one, no complaints.”

  I sighed. If she could make it work in the band’s budget, even I had no right to complain. The rest of the band was already on board with the idea anyway. I just felt like it was capitulating to the system. Part of what we stood against.

  “He’ll be here any minute.” She looked me over disapprovingly.

  Great, even on my day off, she wanted me to dress up like a rock star. Not happening. However, I could trade the sweat pants and hoodie for a t-shirt and jeans. That was my only concession. Moving to my room, I heard the doorbell, and she answered it, sounding more pleasant to him than she did towards me. He must be important.

  I walked out, hair pulled back in a ponytail, and looking more presentable.

  “Hello, Gabriel. A pleasure.” He smiled professionally. I can see a mask like that a mile away. I gazed at him, thousand-dollar suit, expensive watch, gelled back hair, and a briefcase. He couldn’t be more bland and expensive. I shook his hand, accepting his business card.

  I took one look, smiled back at him, and grabbed his arm before he sat down.

  “Excuse me?” He looked confused.

  “I can tell you are a well-established name in the business, right, Mr. Hatfield?”

  “Yes, I’ve done quite well for my other clients. They too made waves in the rock industry.”

  “So, you would say you are a staple for rock bands on many of the major labels?”

  He nodded, clearly pleased with himself.

  Kia smacked her forehead, sighing.

  “Then, I’ll have to ask you to leave. I appreciate your time, but we are going a different direction.”

  “I haven’t even given my pitch yet, Gabriel. I’m sure once you hear what I have to…”

  I cut him off. “No, thank you, I appreciate your time.” I gently pushed him towards the door.

  Closing it in his surprised face, I turned back to Kia. “A suit? You hired a suit? I am indie for a reason. That name means something, Kia. It means we don’t follow that traditional route, we don’t use traditional labels, and we sure as hell don’t hire big wigs like that square suit!”

  “Calm down.”

  “Calm down? You found the most streamlined name in marketing possible!”

  “What would you have me do? Hire a no-good hack with no experience?”

  “We were no bit hacks with no experience,” I growled, irritated.

  “Well, not anymore. Your name is out there, and you need help getting the attention and recognition.”

  “What will our fans think if we start going mainstream?”

  “Who cares? You’ll have more fans, more people listening to your music. That is what you care about.”

  “No, I care about impacting people. We stand for something, Kia.”

  “Then do you want to find a fucking web designer?” She lost her manager professionalism and became my closest friend again. She spent far too much time acting like a manager. I smirked.

  “I will. I’m in a funk anyway. I’ll find someone befitting an indie band.” I spoke with confidence. After all, how hard could it be?

  She threw her hands in the air in frustration. “I can’t deal with your prima donna shit right now. I spent over a thousand dollars just getting him here. If you want to find some nobody to screw up all of your shit, you do that.” She grabbed the folders she prepared and stormed out, slamming the door.

  Picking up my laptop, I frowned. I would show her that we don’t need to compromise our morals to become well known. I would find a new startup, indie helping indie. She would see. Besides, it was a welcome distraction from the pathetic excuse for songs twirling around in my brain.

  A few hours into the search and I realized I was wrong; it was not an easy task. There were hundreds of web design websites out there. They all looked… pretty pathetic, to be honest. Sighing, I continued working through them, looking for someone who stood out.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ABBY

  They all said I was crazy for leaving such a well-known company and creating my own. I was a nobody branching into businesses I was unfamiliar with. Unlike them, I wanted creative freedom. Not to constantly be locked into the cookie cutter mold they had for most clients.

  What a joke. Six months in and I was ready to go under from lack of clientele. I didn’t want to go begging for my old job back. I still had some pride.

  But if I landed the client that just reached out to me yesterday, I could be on my way to getting my name out there. He was some bigwig in a band called The Flaming Arrow. His name was Gabriel McMasters. It was not my scene, rock music, but if I could build him an awesome website, I could branch beyond the mom and pop websites I was used to designing. Fortunately for me, he already had thousands of followers. Using his band as a base, I could grow my business beyond this studio apartment.

  With one last look in the mirror, I fixed a few stray hairs, tucking them safely into my raven bun. Professional. I had to look professional and land this contract. I sighed, stepping into my heels. I could do this, I could close the deal and get this job.

  Hailing a taxi, I cradled my laptop securely in my lap. All my proposal materials were ready, I just had to wow Gabriel and his manager. I had barely enough time to agonize over my presentation before we pulled up to an apartment complex. Strange to have an interview in an apartment. I hit the buzzer on the door, calling to the unit.

  A feminine voice answered. “Hello?”

  “Hello, this is Abigail Andrews, here for the interview on the web design contract?”

  “Abigail. Come on up.”

  A buzz sounded, and I entere
d, taking the elevator to the eighth floor.

  A beautiful woman answered the door in a professional skirt, blouse, and a suit jacket. Far more dressed up than I was, her makeup and hair were immaculate. I mentally cursed. I should have put more effort into my appearance. I had read that Gabriel was an indie artist, so I assumed it would be more casual.

  When I stepped in, there stood a tall, blond man in jeans and a t-shirt. I mentally sighed in relief. Okay, I could still save this. If he was in a suit too, I would have definitely been screwed. He didn’t look like what I expected from a band member. In fact, he almost seemed… conservative.

  “You must be Kia and Gabriel. I’m Abigail Andrews.” I shook her hand first.

  He assessed me, looking me up and down, and I shivered at the intensity. Gabriel was easily over six feet tall and very muscular. Did rock stars work out? I guess this one did. I waited until he finally took my hand. Despite his size, he was gentle.

  “Can I call you Abby?”

  I tilted my head. Abby was far less professional, but I didn’t mind. “Sure.”

  Gabriel gestured to the couches. I took one, and he and his manager took the other.

  “So, you are just starting to build your internet presence, correct?” I asked.

  They both nodded as I pulled out my laptop.

  “Okay. So our first goal is to set up your website to showcase samples of your music and get a dialogue going on between your fans.” I pulled up the presentation with a few sample website designs. They nodded along. I had researched a few larger rock bands' websites, incorporating a similar layout for this proposal.

  “So, once we establish that, we will link your Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, and any other social media accounts you might have.”

  “Instagram?” Gabriel furrowed his brow in confusion.

  “It's an image sharing app,” I explained.

  “Excuse me, Abigail. Your samples of the website designs do not have merchandise tabs,” the manager interrupted me.

  Crap. I didn’t think about merchandising. “These are simple, bare-bones samples. Obviously, once we get into the nitty-gritty of designing your website, we will get merchandise in there with all of the options,” I soothed.

  “Abby, how long have you been in the business?” Gabriel asked, his silky voice a balm compared to the harsh tones of his manager.

  “I've worked in web design for a little over six years now. I've had my own business for about six months.”

  “I see.” Kia frowned. She was not impressed. “How many bands have you taken care of?”

  I could feel the blush crawling up my cheeks. “This would be my first, ma’am.”

  Her look of disapproval couldn’t have been clearer. “Then I think…”

  Gabriel held up his hand, cutting her off.

  “Why did you open your own business?” he asked, eyes boring into me.

  I hadn’t expected that question. “I wanted to work with a diverse range of clients and help get their businesses off the ground.”

  “Show me some of your past work.”

  “Okay.” I pulled up a few of the previous jobs I’ve worked on. Most of them mom and pop stores. He took my laptop, flipping through them. Kia arched her eyebrow, not impressed.

  “Well… It is clear you are professional and care about the clients,” he said, nodding.

  “They are so basic…” Kia pointed out.

  “The clients didn't want something too flashy,” I interjected, trying not to sound defensive.

  “Who is your favorite rock band?” Again, an out there, irrelevant question.

  “To be honest, I don’t really listen to rock.”

  “Why are you even here?” Kia looked at Gabriel, frustrated. Amusement danced in his eyes. I think he was taking more enjoyment out of upsetting his manager than looking for a web designer. I wondered if they were dating. Unimportant to my task at hand.

  “How about this? Do a first draft design of the website. Kia can send over some music. Show me that, and if it impresses us, you have the job.”

  “Okay.” I stood up, smiling.

  “Come back first thing tomorrow morning, and we'll see what you have.”

  After I packed up, Gabriel walked me to the door. As it began to close, I heard Kia say, “You can’t possibly…”

  ***

  I spent the whole night researching other rock sites, tailoring mine to look like them. I took random clips from the music, segmenting it for listeners to sample. The band dominated the cover, and the theme was typical rock and roll, blacks and reds, with some other colors faintly mixed in. Overall, I thought it would highly appeal to a rocker fanbase, despite my unfamiliarity with the genre.

  By the time I made it back to Gabriel's apartment, I was confident in my work and ready for my second pitch. I wore a tan skirt and a purple blouse. A cardigan jacket classed it up a bit to look more professional like Kia.

  Once more, I buzzed in and was granted access to Gabriel's apartment. “Welcome back, Abby. I’m excited to see what you have.”

  I set up as he and Kia watched. Sweat dripped down my back. This was make it or break it time. I opened the website and introduced the different pages, showing them the requested merchandise page and the samplings of music.

  “Why did you pick those samples?” Gabriel asked curiously.

  “They seemed to have the most energy,” I answered honestly.

  “Were they your favorite parts?”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “Gabriel, she is too unfamiliar. Look, this couldn’t be more of a hodgepodge of other rock websites. Let’s end this farce and hire the guy I picked in the first place,” Kia told him.

  I frowned. I felt it was unique in its own way.

  “How much do you want this job, Abby?” Gabriel asked. I still couldn’t read him, but amusement was dancing in his eyes.

  “Very much, sir. I am happy to alter the site however you want,” I assured him.

  “Excellent. She can come with us to L.A.”

  Kia and I both blinked. “What?”

  “Kia, you said I could pick. She wants the job, she is indie, and do you remember how we got introduced to rock music?”

  “Yeah, we went to a concert, and a drunk guitarist let you play his instrument.” She sounded much less nostalgic about it than he did.

  “Exactly. So, let’s give her a chance. Once she understands rock music—our brand of rock music—I imagine her website will be more interesting.”

  Were all rock stars this eccentric? Seems a bit much dragging a web designer to an event. Not that I was complaining if it got me the job.

  “It can’t be much more lackluster,” Kia complained. “Are you doing this because I hired that suit? Is this some revenge?”

  I was wondering the same. Typically, if you didn’t like the product, you didn’t invite the creator to a concert. You say thanks but no thanks and leave it at that.

  “No. I’m curious.” Gabriel shrugged.

  “Thank you for this opportunity. I assure you my next design will be much more engaging.” Regardless of his reason for inviting me, I would observe them closely on the trip and tailor the website accordingly. I was not about to give up on this opportunity.

  “You just need to have a passion for the subject.” Gabriel laughed. “Kia will get your ticket and email you the details. We leave Friday.”

  “Yes, sir. I will be there.” I collected my things. I could start working on a new layout tonight.

  “It is Gabriel. None of this sir nonsense.”

  “Okay.”

  “Don’t wear that. You are going to a rock festival. Wear something…more interesting.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Do you own jeans? t-shirts with pictures? Anything interesting?”

  I was offended by the last statement, but I nodded.

  “Good. Wear that.”

  I left, laptop in hand and totally confused. Was I getting this job or doing somet
hing ridiculous for him to get back at his manager? I sure hoped it was the first one.

  CHAPTER THREE

  By Friday, I had another version of the website ready for review. I needed this to work. After going over my finances, I discovered that my business would go under come tax season if things didn't turn around.

  Kia had emailed me the information regarding the flights, so I showed up early in jeans and a Lord of the Rings t-shirt. Probably the least nerdy of the options in my closet. I don’t collect band t-shirts, so this was the best Gabriel was going to get. Despite his request for me to dress casual, I did stick with heels. At barely over five feet tall and surrounded by tons of people, I needed the bit of height advantage. Wanting to look less professional, I left my hair down cascading over my shoulders in waves.

  After checking in for my flight, I settled down with a book, waiting for the plane. I had barely started reading before being interrupted.

  “Abby!” I glanced up to see Gabriel walking towards me. He wore the rocker look, colorful and decorated pants and a black mesh shirt with green sleeves. I barely recognized him under all the makeup.

  “When you say interesting, you mean it,” I muttered before catching myself.

  He laughed, tapping his fully gelled in place spiked up hair.

  “Kia likes me to go out fully dolled up for marketing. Makes for interesting travels.” As if to prove his point, a middle-aged couple stopped and stared, whispering before walking up and asking for a picture. He smiled and obliged them.

  “I can take it,” I offered, and they handed me their phone. I snapped the picture with Gabriel making several ridiculous faces. Even I was smiling by the end. They thanked him, and then me, and walked away.

  “See, now all of their Facebook friends are going to look me up. Kia is good at her job.”

  “I imagine so. She seems quite professional.”

  A twinkle flickered in his eyes. “You would be surprised, she used to be quite the rocker when we started out. But she decided the manager side worked better. She used to have a foot-long mohawk, like punks, not so much rocker, but she loved it. When she shifted to being my manager, she got all stiff and professional. She often forgets there is more to rock than just making money.”