The Devil You Know (19 page)

It took twenty minutes of bus ride to realise she had made a mistake.

Rothstein was a scion of lothstein Realty. If she was serious about striking back at them, she should use him - the same way he’d used all those chicks. He looked at her like a sex object, and he said he was proud of the company. She shouldn’t have any hesitation about deceiving him.

When she saw him tomorrow, I

The arrogant son of a bitch.

24

‘Yeah, baby,’ Fiona crooned. ‘Yeah!’

Poppy thrashed out the last chord on her bass and tossed her black mane of hair into the red spotlight trained on her. That was it; last song. She felt the sweat dripping from her body. Her leather pants

looked hot, but they also felt hot. She needed HO badly. ‘Thank yew!’ Fiona screeched. ‘Good night!’

Poppy smiled out at the crowd who were clapping dutifully. A couple of metal-heads in the front who had been leering at the band all night stuck their fists in the air and whooped.

Make noise, make some noise, Poppy thought. ” ,: But she knew it wasn’t working. Fiona grabbed one of her haft.& and Lianne, their rhythm guitarist, the other. Behind the drum-Nt Elise stood up and did her patented Nikki-Six drumstick twirl. T15e band bowed and blew kisses to the audience.

‘Hey man, they want an encore, let’s do “Outcast”,’ Fiona hissed. Poppy could see the crowd was already drifting off to the bar. ‘No they don’t. Let’s go.’

To forestall further debate, she waved at the club and ran into the tiny dressing room at the back. It wasn’t much bigger than a bathroom stall and didn’t smell much better. Graffiti from a hundred club acts covered the walls. Poppy thought about scrawling her own - Snaggletooth was here and we sucked ass. At least that would be honest.

The other four girls followed behind her and went straight for their pathetic rider, a bottle of cheap vodka and a carton of cranberry juice. There were also some plastic bottles of water and Poppy drained one of those instead.

‘Dude! Did you hear that! We fuckin’ rocked,’ Fiona gloated. ‘They were, like, so into it, man. And I sounded awesome, I sounded like Lira Ford.’

Hoo boy, Poppy thought.

I25

‘Yeah, we rule,’ Lianne said. ‘Those guys were totally staring at

US.’

‘I thought we sucked,’ Poppy said. ‘We really need some new

stuff. And more practice.’ ‘You’re so negative.’ ‘Shut up.’

‘You don’t know.’

‘Ignore her, she’s always like that.’ Fiona scowled at her bassist.

‘Maybe we need some other chick on bass.’

‘She looks good, though,’ Elise said.

‘You’re real lucky, Poppy. Lucky that not too many chicks play bass,’ Fiona said again, like she always did. ‘Anyway,’ she added, tossing her long blonde hair and brightening, ‘guess what? Fix your

make-up, ladies. Guess who’s waiting to see us after the set?’ Poppy had a sinking feeling. ‘Joel Stein, that’s who.’

‘Please tell me you’re joking,’ Poppy said.

‘Who’s Joel Stein?’ Lianne asked.

‘He’s this big-time manager. And he’s here to see us!’

The other gifts screamed, jumping up and down and clapping their hands.

Poppy blushed from pure embarrassment. Her band, Snaggle tooth, had only just started. The girls didn’t want to rehearse enough, their songs sucked, and they all thought they were about to be discovered by John Kalodner and turned into the next Guns n’ Roses. Joel Stein, she knew who Joel Stein was. He ran the Dreams management company. He had a huge stable of multi-platinum bands and a handful of up-and-coming new acts.

She hoped Stein had not come to see them. They were nowhere

near ready. Poppy wasn’t sure if they ever would be.

‘We’re gonna meet him at the bar. Let’s go!’

‘Wait!’ Elise said. She turned to the small, grimy, cracked mirror over the doorway and adjusted herself, undoing her leather zip-top to show a generous amount of cleavage. The band tarted up; lipsticks, liners, perfumes were all generously applied. Poppy reluctantly checked that her mascara had not run.

‘Wooh! Yeah!’ Fiona was giving that annoying screechy cheering she loved to do. ‘Let’s go, Snaggletooth!’

She flung open the door and raced out into the club. Poppy followed. Girls ignored them totally; a few of the guys patted their asses as they threaded their way through the packed darkness.

I26

‘Hey, babes. Great band.’

‘You ladies are hot, you want a drink?’

‘What’s up, sugar?’

‘See?’ Fiona turned around and looked disdainfully at Poppy. ‘They love us, man.’

They reached the stairs that led up to the bar area. There was a tiny, cordoned-off section in the back; the ‘VIP’ room, what a joke, Poppy thought. A small cubby hole that only stank less than the rest of this poorly ventilated cess pit because there were less bodies crammed into it like human sardines. Oh no … there was a guy there …

Fiona flashed her laminate at the security guard and he drew back the shabby red rope to let them in.

‘Joel, dude, so nice of you to come,’ Fiona purred. The other four swarmed around him, batting their eyelashes and jiggling their boobs. Poppy blushed some more; no matter, it was too dark in here for that to show. She looked at Joel Stein. He was tall, well-dressed; beautifully cut chinos, a pressed white T-shirt, a lKolex, a gold pinky ring, and long hair in a pony tail, with Kay-Bans on top of his head.

Typical record exec, one of those fit forty-year-olds.

:

He glanced at her. “i

‘How do you do, Mr Stein,’ Poppy said politely, and offered ler

hand. ‘

Stein shook it, crooking an eyebrow. Fiona kicked her, none too subtly.

‘So, hey, we rocked! Huh? Huh? We should talk contracts!’ Fiona screeched.

Stein’s face was impassive.

‘I’m gonna have to pass, girls. You’re a good band, but you’re just not what Dreams is looking for.’

‘Whaddya mean, pass? Didn’t you see the set?’ Fiona demanded.

‘Shut up, Fiona. Thank you for coming to see us, Mr Stein,’ Poppy said.

‘You always ruin everything, Poppy!’ Fiona’s voice was almost a scream now. ‘Keep your fucking trap shut!’

‘Um, good luck with finding management,’ Stein said.

‘No, wait!’ Fiona yelled, but he was gone.

‘Oh - shit!’ Lianne rounded on Poppy. ‘You just blew it for us!

We could have talked him into it!’

‘You’re fired!’ Fiona yelled.

‘No, man, we can’t find another chick bassist,’ Elise moaned.

I27

‘We’ll get a guy then,’ Fiona snarled.

‘No, Fi-“

‘Save youelves the trouble.’ Poppy’s disgust overflowed. ‘Joel

Stein isn’t stupid. He didn’t think we were good, he was .just being polite. We don’t practise enough to be good. The songs suck and Fiona has a voice like a barn owl. It takes more than long hair and big tits to be a rock band. I quit.’

‘You suck as a bassist! You’re always off-beat!’ Elise, the drummer, accused.

Poppy considered this. ‘You’re right. I do. But yon know what

the man said - “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try, try again. Then

quit. No use being a damn fool about it.”’

Fiona reached out and pulled the laminate off Poppy’s neck. ‘Fuck

you, bitch! You’re out of Snaggletooth!’

Tll try to get over it,’ Poppy said.

‘Come on, girls. Let’s get the hell out of this dump.’ Tossing her

hair, Fiona stormed off with the others, leaving Poppy behind.

‘If you don’t have a laminate you can’t stay in the VIP section,’

the guard grunted.

Poppy looked around her at the empty four square feet of ground.

‘That’s fine.’ She bit back a smile and went to the bar. ‘Jack and

diet Pepsi, please.’

‘Diet?’

‘Damage limitation,’ Poppy said. She slid ten bucks across the bar

and waited for the glass to appear. This was her drink now. The alcohol and soda and ice was cool and pleasant in the heat of the club.

Poppy needed a drink. She’d have this one, then leave. So much

for her career as a rock star. And Joel Stein had actually seen that

disaster …

Ugh.

‘And now, please welcome Silver Bullet,’ the PA said.

The nightclubs had opened now and the crowd was thinner, unenthused. Poppy looked at the stage with sympathy. A quartet of girls ran on, waving. They were cute; they looked a lot like Snaggletooth.

This is gonna be bad, Poppy thought. She wondered exactly how

bad. Worse or better than her own shitty band? They couldn’t be all

that much worse …

‘This one’s called “Flying”,’ the lead singer said. Poppy saw that

she was cute and in her early twenties.

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The band started to play.

Poppy blinked.

She couldn’t believe it. They were awesome. They were everything Snaggletooth wasn’t; put together, on-beat, punk rock with a nice dose of pop, and a singer with a rich voice. Kind of low and husky for a girl. Great rock-star voice. Kind of Janis Joplin …

Her drink lay untouched before her on the bar. Poppy watched the whole set. Even the thinning crowd moved to the front of the stage. People cheered and whistled.

It’s a pity for Joel Stein he didn’t stay to hear them, Poppy thought. And then it hit her.

She tossed back her drink - it felt good - and slid off the bar stool, moving down the steps into the main body of the club, trying to get a good look.

The place was half-empty, but the electricity was still there. Tunes. They actually had tunes. What a change from her own shitty band; from .just about every other half-baked act that played this dive. Excited, Poppy did an inventory in her head. Songs, check, attitude, check - the bass player was a bit overweight and was playing her instrument like she was Keith l

They were stars.

She could see it, right away. They were everything Snaggletooth wasn’t. And she had ideas for them, plenty of ideas.

Poppy wasn’t interested in being a bassist any more. She watched these chicks and she knew she had no talent. It didn’t bother her, though. She had a better idea.

She wanted to be a manager.

Silver Bullet ripped into another number.

Poppy turned her attention to the small crowd. They were going mental. It was probably a shock to them to watch something that wasn’t a total suck-lest.

Poppy had found her vocation. She knew something was wrong when her own band stunk the .joint out and she didn’t really care.

129

Her heart hadn’t been in it. But when she’d heard Joel Stein was there, then she’d started to give a shit. Poppy had been so impressed by him. The way he’d stood there, so calm. Such command. His

eyes had swept over everything, processing data like a computer.

She had wanted to be him. Instantly.

And maybe now she could. She wasn’t sure how, but she’d think

of something.

‘Hey.’ The singer tapped the mike. ‘Thanks. We’re Silver Bullet.’

The whole band stood up and just walked fight offstage, ignoring

the baying cries for more.

Stylish.

Wait a second, Poppy thought, I know that girl -

The drummer was walking off. She had a cute haircut, very distinctive, a platinum-blonde bob. Poppy had seen her earlier that evening, up in the bar before Snaggletooth went on. She was getting her rider - the plastic bottle of four-dollar vodka - to carry it backstage, and had seen the girl then. She was tall and lean and surrounded. A group of drunk guys were homing in on her; Poppy had only noticed in the packed darkness because that blonde hair caught one of the dim club lights and reflected it.

Poppy hadn’t thought twice. She’d had her band laminate on, and

had strode into the men.

‘Hey!’

‘Ease up, sugar.’ A brawny biker-type with tattoos was stroking

the girl’s denim-clad butt as she swore at him and tried to get away.

‘Unless you wanna join the party.’

Poppy was wearing her spiked-heel boots. She ground one of

them into the thug’s toe and he yelped and stared at her.

‘I’m with the club,’ Poppy said. ‘Leave the young lady alone or

get the fuck out.’

Her voice had so much venom they actually backed off.

‘You OK?’

‘I am now. Thanks.’ The girl had looked shaken and moved off.

Poppy had headed backstage, feeling slightly virtuous, and then

forgotten all about it.

She grinned. That was a start, no? Managers were supposed to

make trouble go away. Now the band were backstage. Poppy checked out the door that led back into the club. Nobody was going to see them. She felt a tiny sense of relief. Mingled with nerves.

Was she really about to pitch these girls to let her manage them?

I30

She was younger than them. Poppy tossed her long black hair. It didn’t do to think too much about it.

They emerged. She saw they’d changed outfits. They were now in jeans and T-shirts. Poppy’s excitement grew. That was rad. Even

this early on, they had stage clothes. She loved it. Poppy walked up to them. ‘Hey.’

‘Hi. Oh, hey.’ The drummer thrust out her hand. ‘This is the chick I was telling you about, she saved my butt. How you doing? I’m Lisa.’

‘Poppy Allen.’

‘Kate,’ said the singer. ‘Molly.’ The bassist. ‘Claire.’ ‘Debbie.’ P,.hythm and lead. They were all smiling at her; that was a start.

‘I watched your set,’ Poppy said without preamble. ‘You rocked. I’d like to manage you.’