Bad Boy Rock Star(9)

By: Candy J. Starr

I folded the notes and put them in my bag. They might come in handy.

"By the way, I need to ask you something. Where do…" I couldn't actually say poor people, could I? I mean people get a bit upset about that kind of thing. What was the polite way of saying it? "Where do you buy moisturiser when you don't have much money? Is there something that's good but not too expensive?"

She gave me a strange look.

"You don't exactly look poor, you know."

"Yeah, well all my money is tied up at the moment. I don't have a lot of cash to spend."

"Ah, shit. See, it's going to take about $1000 to make the video. We can do it cheap but we need to hire lights and a space. If we want it to look good, I reckon a grand is the absolute minimum."

"That might be difficult." I hated to say it. I'd never once in my life had to tell anyone I'd not been able to do something because I couldn't afford it.

We both sighed.

She rummaged around in her handbag – seriously that bag was the hugest thing I'd ever seen – and handed me a fistful of sachets.

"Here, take these. I get them free."

I took them. That was enough moisturiser to last me a few weeks. Surely everything would be back to normal by then anyway. I'd never heard of the brand though. I hoped it wouldn't make me break out in hives.

"Thanks. Where do you get this stuff?"

"Well, it's my job. Hey, wait, do you want to earn some easy money?"

I raised my eyebrow. I might be down on my luck but I wasn't that down on my luck. Easy money usually meant one thing and I wasn't desperate enough for that.

"Don't worry, it's nothing dodgy. Easy as. I'm a promo girl. You know, those chicks you see at the train stations handing out free samples. It pays all right money and they are always looking for people. So long as you are okay-looking and not a complete social retard. It's just a couple of hours in the morning then again at night when everyone is knocking off work. You'll be a shoe-in."

I actually didn't know anything about people handing out free samples at the station. I'd never even been to the train station.

"I can't do that!"

"Why not? You said your money is tied up. Hey, is someone holding it for ransom?" She exploded into giggles at that, slapping the table. I tried to grin but she wasn't far wrong.

"And you get to keep heaps of samples, sometimes even chocolate or that moisturiser. Of course, sometimes it's shit stuff like discount coupons or crappy health food bars. Still, I'll just call Sammy and let him know to expect you."

"Wow, you're like my fairy godmother or something."

"Yeah, or something more like it. And anyway, the guys should reimburse you for the video production costs, right. I mean, it's for them. A couple of good gigs would just about cover the cost."

I looked at the menu while she talked on the phone. Surely, if I was going to work, I could justify buying something to eat.

She covered the phone. "You don't mind dressing up as a tree frog, do you?"

Chapter 4

I turned up to the meeting wearing a red shift dress. I figured red is the colour of power and I needed power. They would never know about the pile of about 50 outfits I'd tried on before I left home. Not that I was nervous or anything. I wasn't even sure if they'd turn up. I'd probably be stuck waiting for them for an hour and then give up and go home.

To add to the stress, I'd stupidly arranged to meet them at Sorrento Inc. headquarters. The office building that had been the site of Dad's now ex-company. Hopefully they wouldn't notice the empty spots on the signboard or the lack of people around. I really, really didn't want to run into people I knew. As much as it'd been kept out of the news, people there would know all about the scandal. They probably knew more than I did. Of course, most of the business had been wound down now but that didn't mean I'd not run into anyone.

As a safety measure, I donned my massive sunglasses.

The only reason I'd picked this café was that I knew they'd know it. I'd had to think of something off the top of my head when I gave Jack Colt a meeting place and this was the only place I could think of at the time.

My eyes swept around the café, checking if the band were there but not expecting to see them. I almost jumped to see them sitting in the corner, with guitar cases blocking the walkway between the tables.

At this time of day, there were only a few other people there. They sat in their suits on the other side of the café as though wanting to put as much distance between themselves and the band as possible.

Jack Colt lounged back in his low chair, his leg over the arm. He looked up as I walked toward them but didn't acknowledge me. He just kept talking to the other two as though I were a random person walking in off the street.

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