An Idol is the Devil's Plaything

But that wasn't the worst of it. In addition to the hair, makeup and clothes, Annie got a lot of coaching and training on things like body language, and posture. I'd rarely seen Annie sit while crossing her legs before, but now she did it all the time, and with those short skirts, it became damn obvious that my daughter's genetics had inherited the legs of the gods. They started round and thick at the hips and ended long and smooth at the end, and the heels she loved to rock now only accentuated the shape that much more.

Then there was the dancing -- Oh God, the dancing. I didn't have a lawbook handy, but I was convinced that some of those moves they were teaching her had to be illegal. Annie's favorite dance routine, what sort of became her "signature", was standing close to the edge of the stage and then doing a little belly-dance type thing, moving her hips rhythmically and hypnotically. Holy shit -- no man in the audience could look at it without blowing steam out of his collar...

...And that included me.

Fuck me, I didn't want to admit it, but I'd otherwise be lying to myself. Sometimes, when I'd look at Annie onstage, my mind would wander and I'd think I was looking at someone else. Some other girl not related to me. Not blood of my blood and fruit of my loins.

And then I'd snap back to reality and have an overwhelming urge to punch myself in the gut.

It didn't happen just one time. Or even two or three. But night, after night, after night...every time I saw my daughter up on that stage.

Stage after stage, city after city, Annie stunned everyone who came to see her. Even people who'd come to listen to the other acts had to pick their jaws off the floor after hearing my little girl's immaculate voice. Even when she left the stage, the crowd was clamoring for encores, forgetting that there were other acts that needed to follow up after. When Annie disappeared from the limelight, there was a stampede to the vendors to buy a copy of her album.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

When the American leg of the tour was done, we hit Europe next. It was the first time either of us went overseas and I found myself suffering a horrible case of jetlag, but if Annie was affected, she sure as hell didn't show it. Her performances were even more radiant than before, and it was plain to see that the previous nights had stoked her confidence. Watching her performance, I knew she was having the time of her life and living her dream. Seeing her now, I could only wish that her mother could have stood in the crowd with us, but I had to be content knowing that wherever she was now, she was surely smiling.

The last leg of the tour took us through Korea and Japan, and not surprisingly, by this time, Annie herself was generating as much interest as the other performers. Reading the papers, they were calling her the next big thing, and copies of her album had tripled in sales.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

CHAPTER THREE

It was finally around this time that Annie reached her big moment -- her eighteenth birthday. At last, my little girl was no longer little...or a "girl". She was officially a grown woman, technically free to make any decisions she liked.

They threw a party for her at the studio of course, the record label invited a veritable who's-who of important names and faces to help celebrate the end of a successful tour, the debut of their newest star, and her coming-of-age. I could smell that this was just an excuse for them to show her off a bit and maybe start getting some bigger business, but I decided to back off and just let her enjoy herself. She'd earned this, after all.

And besides, we can add parties to the list of what was never my thing.

Still, I stayed close by, both as her manager and a parent that had a really, really hard time letting go. She was still under the drinking age, so she declined the hard stuff and just helped herself to the tea. I could see a lot of important rich people swarming around her -- most of whom I didn't know but definitely acted like everybody was aware that they were God's gift to music.

At first, Annie had been coached on how to "sell" her Anniebell persona. Originally, they only ever said that I was her manager to help sell the idea that Annie was born into money. She had changed up her voice quite a bit to make it higher and to give that nasally quality that all the pompous rich bitches tended to have. It was almost uncanny how convincing she was able to make it sound, but then again, making her voice bend to her will was something she'd been learning how to do all her life.

But now, Annie happily introduced me as both her manager and father, gleefully letting everyone know that her success was all due to me. I was embarrassed by all the attention, but I had to admit that a part of me felt honored and validated.

After spending some time just hanging around, I felt like some creepy old stalker and decided to go to the bar they'd set up to have a beer. As I was waiting for the tapster to fill my glass, I looked over the room again.

Immediately, something in my gut felt wrong.

I couldn't put my finger on it, but it seemed like the "air" had shifted just a bit after I'd gone to get my drink. I tend to trust my hunches, because I'd rather be pleasantly surprised than sadly disappointed.

Annie was still chatting with some people, so nothing had changed there...but still, something felt "off". I pretended to chat it up with the bartender and enjoy my drink, but I kept a close side eye on the room and tried rewinding my memory back a minute or so to figure out what felt so wrong here.

Really, just about ninety-nine percent of the party still seemed the same. Nobody had left or come in, and the music was still the same dumb shit the studio had put on to promote their "talents". The mood hadn't changed -- everybody was still having a good time, and nobody was acting overtly weird. Truthfully, nobody would have faulted me for just shrugging and assuming that I was simply paranoid.

But I couldn't let it go. I could never let go of that feeling when my Annie was in the middle of it.

So I swept the room one more time, looking for anything that seemed out of place...and...

Wait a second.

There was this kid...this dumb-looking blond dork in a backwards baseball cap. I'd seen him around here before. He was...a sound tech guy or some shit...I don't know...he worked for the studio. He looked about Annie's age, or a little older judging by his peach fuzz.

It was just for an instant -- he was trying to play it off -- but I saw him glance over at Annie. Now, he was playing it cool, taking a sip of coke through a straw like a true douchebag. He seemed to be acting chill, like he was waiting for something better to do with his time, but every so often, I'd see his eyes make a quick dart around the room, wait a little longer, and then glance back at Annie again.

It was like he was expecting something to happen. Like he was waiting for--

Oh my God. Oh no.

That was when it hit me.

I knew what he was waiting for.

"Heyyyy!" some pompous voice said while someone sat down at the bar next to me. "Mind if we chat for a bit? Name's Dexter Camben. I hear you're the manager for the star of the hour."

I turned and found some thick-necked, greasy-faced ass-clown with hair that hadn't been combed since the Clinton Administration chatting me up. The alcohol on his breath stung my nostrils, and it was only almost as distracting as the gold tooth dangling just underneath that obnoxious smile.

"Look, buddy, I don't have time for this," I said, trying to lean around to peek behind him again. "We could talk some oth—"

"Wha--? The fuck you mean you ain't got time? Ain't this a party? What, did you make an appointment with that beer or somethin'?"

Now, I was in a hurry and annoyed. "Yeah," I said, taking my glass and pouring booze all over the sloppy mop on his head. "Now fuck off so I can reschedule."

The guy was cursing obscenities at both me and my mother when I left the bar and returned to what was really important. But there was just one problem --

Annie was nowhere to be seen.

And when I turned to where the baseball-cap-wearing punk had been, that seat was empty too.

"Fuck!" I growled under my breath. "Nonononono...NO!"

My head spinning, my blood boiling, I spun around the room, looking for any sign of where they could have gone. But there were like seven different exits out of there -- two on top of a mezzanine at the north end, two more doors on opposite ends east and west, and three more on the south including the emergency exit. Annie had been standing closer to the south, and I'd only taken my eyes off her for one second, but if that bastard and swooped in and grabbed her, who knew where he had gone.

Fuck. I didn't have time to guess. I needed to do the only thing I could:

Act like a complete fuck-up.

I quickly raced up to foot table holding number of glasses with different drinks, and with all of my might, I booted the table as hard as I could. The fucker was heavier than it looked, and my toe was on fire the second it made contact. But thanks to a combination of anger and impatience, I just ignored it.

The commotion did what I needed. It got everyone's attention quick.

"Hey man, what the fuck is your pro—"

"Annie!" I cut everyone off. "Did anybody see where Annie went?"

Half the crowd was too irritated that I'd killed the mood to care about what I'd asked, and the other half just looked at each other like confused sheep.

"Uhhh...I think I saw her leave," someone finally said.

"Yeah. I think she had to go to the bathroom," someone else rattled off.

"Or did she say she had to make a call...?"

My patience was running just about thin.

"Did anybody see which way she went?" I demanded.

Again, the sheepish looks.

Finally, someone near the mezzanine stairs rose his hand. "Pretty sure I saw her going upstairs. Some guy was with her."

"What guy? Can you describe him?" I asked, trying to make certain.

"Uhhhh...some blond guy in a baseball cap. I think he works here or some—"

"Did you see which door?" I asked, dashing toward the stairs.

"The one on the right, I'm pretty sure."

I reached into my back pocket, yanked out my wallet and tossed it at the young man who'd tipped me off.

"Look inside and take however much you want. Just give the wallet back before you leave."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Racing up the steps, I dashed through the rightmost of the two doors and found myself in a series of interview rooms. There were six doors to choose from, but I figured I could go to the middle of the hall and try listening. And hopefully hear -- well, something I hoped I wouldn't hear.

Getting to the center of the hall, I could faintly hear a voice. It sounded like mumbling I could barely make out, but as I got closer, it definitely sounded like Annie. When I reached the door at the end, I didn't even bother calling out any kind of warning. I just reared back and unleashed the full force of my heel against the door and broke it off the frame.

And when I got inside, I found exactly what I feared.

Annie was laying on the ground, barely conscious, her blouse pulled down so that her bra was exposed. Her skirt had been pulled around her ankles so that the only thing covering her bottom was a thin pair of panties that had been fumbled with sloppily, with clear signs of trying to pull them off the limp body of an unconscious girl.

The door flying open had startled the dickhead. He was staggering back, his belt and pants unbuckled and unzipped, and the way he struggled to get his footing indicated that he'd been hunched on top of her only moments ago.

There wasn't a shred of doubt what this shit stain had been trying to do, or why he'd been creeping around Annie all this time.

"Whoa, whoa man! Hold up! I...We...We came here because she wanted --"

Everything this punk said made my vision go redder. Before he could say one more stupid word, my fist caved in his gut and he crumpled over, coughing and wheezing. While he was doubled over on the ground, I didn't miss a beat and started kicking the shit out of him, completely forgetting about the pain in my toe. I kicked him over and over and over, ignoring his cries of "Stop!", "Please!" and "Help!".

At that moment, the only thing I could think was that if Annie had been awake, if she had had known what this piece of shit was trying to do...those are the words that she would have been crying out.

And this little shit-stain wouldn't have cared. So why the fuck should I?!

It was only the fact that I was a 40-something out-of-shape man that made me finally stop. I had to catch my breath after kicking on that twerp for God-knew-how-long. He was still laying on the ground, crying and sobbing like the total fucking pussy that he was. My head finally began to cool down, just a little. I was still furious as fuck, and every minute in that room threatened to make my blood boil like a volcano, but I had to get this over with. I needed to get this handled so that I could take my daughter someplace safe and deal with this complete piece of garbage.

I took out my phone, dialing 9-1-1.

"Yeah. I'd like to report an attempted rape. Yes, I'm with both the victim and the perp. Believe me, he ain't going anywhere. No, the victim isn't conscious. Yes, I believe substances were involved.

"We're at BlueJay Records -- the big music studio. I don't know the address. I'm not from around here. Yes, please send an ambulance, too.

"Yes, I'm a relative. I'm her father."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Eventually, a few people from downstairs came up to see what the commotion was. After I gave an explanation, they agreed to help, and some even took the chance to spit on the punk before the cops finally showed and slipped him in handcuffs.

The paramedics took a look at Annie but didn't find anything terribly abnormal about her condition. Other than some bruising on her knees and elbows from where that asshole had been trying to move her around and get her clothes off, she was fine. No signs of major trauma. No signs of forced penetration.

Thank God. All she needed now was to get some rest and sleep off the Rohypnol in her system. They suggested that she go to the hospital just in case, to run some tests to make sure that the drug wouldn't cause any lasting side-effects.

I rode with her in the ambulance, holding her hand the whole way, and remained with her in the emergency wing, waiting for her to wake up.

And in the meantime, I drank a million cups of coffee and iced the hell out of my toe.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"D-Daddy...?" she said, coming to. "What...what happened to me...?"

I felt a lump in my throat. I didn't say what I knew I needed to. "You...(sigh)...you were drugged, honey."

Her eyes tried to widen, but it was clear that she was still too groggy under the effects of the roofie. I pulled my chair next to the bed.

"Someone spiked your tea," I said.

"S-Spiked my...?" she was trying to sit up, but the effort was making her nauseous. It took her a few additional seconds to realize what I had just said. "Oh God, I...I was roofied?!"

I nodded. "Fraid so, honey."

"Oh God," she said, the panic clearly setting in. "W-Who...?"

"One of the tech boys from the studio. Don't worry. He won't be trying that shit again. On you, or anyone else."

"But....but did I...?"

"No. No...I found you just in time...but...if I had been just seconds later..."

"Oh my God..." she gasped.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay," I said, placing my hand on her head. "You go ahead and sleep this off. I'm going to be right here, looking after you. Nothing happened, and nothing will happen."

"But I...I almost..."

The more excitable she became, the more it seemed to tire her again. I think being too overloaded by emotion was severely draining for her under the roofie's effects.

"But you didn't," I reassured her. "Don't worry. No dickhead's going to spoil my little angel's virtue."

"I...I've tried...I've tried so hard to save myself," Annie said, her eyes were becoming heavier, and her head started drooping again. I gently caught the side of her head and lowered her onto the pillow. But she kept yammering in her semi-lucid state.

"I'm a virgin, Daddy. I saved my...I've been saving myself..."

"That's fine, honey. That's just great. Now, lay down and get some re—"

"...For you."

I froze. Staring at her as I tried to rationalize whether I'd just heard what I thought I'd just heard.

"Honey, what did you just--?"

It didn't matter -- nothing I was saying at the time would have gotten through to her, because she was already tumbling deep into sleep.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

CHAPTER FOUR

The mind is a remarkable machine. It can rationalize anything away, given enough time and motivation. By the time the next morning came, I had already reasoned that what Annie had meant...if indeed there even was any meaning to her words in that state...was that she had been saving herself for my approval. That made the most rational sense. A lot of people get unreasonably angry or possessive if they believe that their precious daughter is giving up their body to some random asshole...

...And I'm definitely one of them.

But I had long come to terms with the fact that she was her own person, and kids will do dumb, stupid things. Again, I was definitely one of them. I lost my virginity before I was old enough to drive. In fact, until she'd said what she did, I hadn't even been sure Annie was still a virgin, because it's not like I'd been with her every moment of her life. Heck, right now -- during my time as her manager -- I'd been with her more on a daily basis than I'd been when she was in high school. She'd been to slumber parties and study groups, and gone to field trips and prom, all without me. It wasn't until I had to start following her everywhere that'd bothered doing it, and I'd even started coming to the conclusion that I might have been stifling her a bit.

But now, I was glad I had been. No matter how badly I wanted to, I couldn't protect my daughter from the entire world for the rest of her life -- but I was glad that I was able to do it just this one time.

There was no better feeling in the world for a dad than to know that he'd fought the world for his little girl -- and won.

When Annie was finally out of the hospital and feeling her old self again, I told her what happened. She went white as a sheet as I went over the details, absolutely frozen until I finished. It was painful me to relay those events to her, and to see the terror rising in her eyes.

Something like that is always traumatic for any woman to go through, even if nothing really happened.

"Daddy, I—" she began weakly. "I...I don't know how to thank you."

I smiled and placed a warm hand on her shoulder. "I'm your father. That's my job."

"Yeah, but...I'm 18 now. I'm supposed to be grown up and—"

I shushed her. "Eighteen or eighty, you'll always be my little girl. Until the day my body crumbles to pure dust, I'll always look out for you and do my damnedest to hurt the bastards that wanna hurt you."

She smiled, tears welling. "Thanks, Daddy," she said, falling into my arms.

"Just be more careful now, honey. You see now what kind of creeps you're going to be running into, and it'll only get worse as you become more successful."