An Idol is the Devil's Plaything

People had put a lot of time and effort into some of this stuff, and while some kernel of my soul deep down felt my stomach churn by seeing the vulgar shit that people fantasized about with my baby girl...the rest of me was suddenly very interested.

I started clicking through as many of them I could find, stopping to intently study the really good and convincing ones. The ones that had perfectly captured the right size, volume and heft of Annie's tits -- the smooth and curvaceous form of her body -- even the sweetness and beauty of her smile. I found as many as I could and saved them to my laptop as quickly as I could.

I rationalized it away -- there was no harm in just looking, right? It's not like it was really Annie. Just...just some art of some chick that looked like her and—

What the fuck is wrong with me!? I hollered at myself within my head, beating my cranium against the keyboard.

I was beginning to feel more and more like I should have just said "No" to Annie those months before and stayed far, far away from all this.

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

Fame was a struggle for Annie, too. It was clear that she was lonely -- she'd had plenty of friends her own age when she was in school, but now that she was a celebrity, she had no one. Early on, she seemed eager to be friendly and meet people, and I think that was part of the reason she let her guard down back at her 18^th birthday party.

Since then, though, she'd been wisely keeping everyone at arms' length. When we mingled and fraternized, she always made sure to keep a strong eye on her drinks and came and talked to me repeatedly just so that we could stay close and keep an eye on each-other. She hardly went anywhere without me, and the few times she did, she would usually blow up my phone with texts and selfies so I constantly knew what she was up to. On the surface, it may have looked like petty teenage shit, but I knew that in addition to her loneliness, she just really wanted to know I was watching out for her.

In the meantime, Annie kept growing up and filling out. Her breasts continued getting bigger, her hips continued getting wider, and by this time, her figure had stabilized into a perfect hourglass thanks to constant diet and exercise.

So overall, life was pretty great...which only meant that where was nowhere to go but down.

When her second album was finished, Annie and her label began planning her second tour, and she even got to promote it at a national music awards show. We had a couple of weeks of rest and basic rehearsal back in San Fran, which had become as close to a home as we had these days. Naturally, I accompanied Annie to the studio on her rehearsal days, usually finding myself content to sit off to the side and occasionally play with my phone.

Annie was feeling super amped about the tour -- the first one where she'd be the headliner and the first to feature songs from a full commercial album. So, she decided to rehearse a couple of extra, unscheduled days. Not for too long, an hour of singing before giving her voice a rest, and then another on the piano and guitar, so that she wouldn't lose her touch.

I starting to nod off a bit in the studio, so I headed to the coffee machine, and as soon as the cup started filling, I turned to my side -- and saw something I never wanted to.

That scumbag tech -- the one that had attacked my daughter --walking across the other side of the room.

He spotted me and froze, his eyes widening into an "Oh shit!" look. My lips immediately curled into a snarl, and my fingers into a fist.

"What the fuck are you doing here!?" I demanded, turning and marching toward him.

He started backing out the way he came, almost tripping over the coil of wires he was carrying with him. Knowing he couldn't get away from me, he backed up to the wall, dropped the bundle of cords and held up his hands like a scared bitch.

"Hey man! I -- I don't want no t-trouble! Don't touch me or nothin, man!"

"The 'trouble' is that your ass is standing here at all, motherfucker. You don't wanna be touched, but you sure as fuck didn't have a problem touchin' my daughter!"

"That was months ago, man! I did my time! I been on probation! What the fuck else you want?!"

"I told you: I want to know why you're here, shithead!"

"I work here, man! I work here!"

That was not the answer I wanted to hear. "When did you come back?"

"Um...six? Seven weeks ago? I dunno. Long enough to pay my rent this month!"

"And they re-hired you!?"

"'Re-hired?'" he chuckled, until I rose a fist and got him to cut that shit out quick. "I was never fired, dude! I was just on, like, suspension or some shit!"

I had answers, but they made me even more furious than before. They had told me he was gone. They had told me this little shit's job was history. I knew that the time he served was pitiful without Annie's testimony, but at the very least, those record label suits had sworn that this little pissant was done working here.

Surprise, surprise. They were a bunch of liars.

"Where the fuck are your bosses? We're gonna have a little talk."

"I-In the main office, where else!? Look, can I go, man?"

"Yeah. Get the fuck out of my sight before I regret not giving you another beating. And rest assured, if we meet a third time, ain't nothin' gonna prevent it."

He took off running, and my fist was throbbing, eager to punch something. But I channeled that energy into my legs, marching my way to the office so I could have that talk with the people in charge.

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

"Dammit -- you could try knocking," the exec said as I shoved his office door open, marching right past the woman at the desk. On the side of his luxurious setup was another girl, probably a little younger than Annie. Her wide doe-eyes were similar to what my daughter had been like back when we first started all this.

"Yeah, we could both try a lot of things. Like not keeping rapists on our payroll."

His face went blue, and the young girl's jaw dropped. She turned to look at him in shock.

"Oh, you didn't tell her, either? You should probably add 'awesome chance of getting raped' under the list of perks for signing with this place."

The exec straightened himself, doing what he could to save face. He turned to his young recruit and put on a phony smile. "Um, sorry my dear. We'll need to reschedule. Would you mind speaking with Sarah and setting up another date and time? I terribly apologize about the inconvenience."

The girl didn't need any further prompting. She got up, grabbed her handbag, and was out of there as fast as her thin legs could carry her. The secretary closed the door behind them.

In my head, I hoped that this was the last place that girl would show up at this shithole, after hearing what I'd said. But I also knew that was unlikely -- the pull of showbusiness was strong. And just like we had, a lot of people were willing to take risks just for the slight chance of making it.

When she was gone, the exec's smile disappeared, and he turned his burning gaze right back at me. "Look...I know what we told you, but there have been complications --"

"Complications? Complications? My daughter almost got raped by that piece of shit, and you think I give a fuck about compli—"

"He sued us, alright?!" he shouted. "He sued us and demanded his job back!"

"Sued you based on what?! That he didn't actually finish what he started?!"

"That you beat the shit out of him, you dumb fuck!" he yelled, pulling a hanky out of his pocket and wiping the sweat from his forehead. "You'd done the Hero thing and saved your daughter's precious virtue, but then you went way beyond that. You broke his hand and gave him a concussion when you beat him with those size-9s."

I paused, soaking in what he'd said. "Size-twelves, actually."

"Whatever. Do I look like I'm in the mood for jokes?"

"That makes two of us. Now, tell me more about this lawsuit."

"Nothing more to tell," he said, sitting back in the chair behind his desk. "He went to trial and the judge commuted his sentence down to 45 days..."

"Forty-five fucking days," I scoffed.

"...and immediately after, his ball-sucking lawyer had served us with a civil suit for physical injuries, to the tune of eight hundred-thousand. And he wouldn't drop it unless we gave him his job back."

"Eight hundred grand? Are you fucking kidding me?! My daughter has brought in more than that!"

"And marketing the little diva costs more than that!" he quipped back. "Until recently, we were barely breaking even."

"Oh cut the bullshit. You have dozens of contracts and make millions. I've seen the reports. You could have easily afforded to pay off the suit. But you wanted it to all go away quietly, like it had never happened." I considered for a moment. "That's why he was here today, wasn't it? Because Annie wasn't scheduled to rehearse."

"We were trying to protect her—"

"Oh shut the fuck up. The only thing you've tried protecting is your fucking pockets."

"No, fuck you. We were forced to clean up your mess. He could have sued you, but he came after us because we've got the deeper bank accounts. If anything, you should be on the fucking ground, kissing my feet because we took the bullet for you!"

"Yeah, that ain't gonna happen, but I'll tell you what is: we're done here, Annie and I. Right now, we gotta stick with this contract until the end of her next tour, but after that, we walk."

"Now hang on -- you're making a mistake."

"No, I'm fucking not. You did. I take promises very seriously. You don't go back on your word with me. You don't disrespect me or her by doing what you did.

"So...We walk."

He sighed, rolling his eyes. "You're letting the 'Father' outweigh the 'Manager'. You're not thinking about this from a business sense—"

"Good," I said flatly. "That's the fucking point."

I turned my back before he could respond and headed to the door.

"Good day, and get fucked."

When the rehearsal was done, I told Annie what happened and what I'd said. She was shocked, and when she found out that the boy who'd almost violated her was currently in the same building as we both were, she wanted to leave immediately.

"Sorry, I got pretty heated, Annie," I told her on the cab ride home. "I made some decisions without you."

"No, it's okay. I -- I'm glad you had the strength to say that. I think I would have been too shocked and scared to."

I doubted that. Annie was sweet-hearted and polite, but when it came to common sense or getting what she wanted, she had an iron brain and a steel spine. I didn't doubt for one second that if she'd been in my place, she would have quit, too. She probably just wouldn't have used the word 'fuck' as much.

I squeezed her hand and tried my best fake smile. "I'm always on your side, darlin'."

She smiled back. "But can we really find another label for me? I have a tour coming up, but what if it doesn't go well?"

"It will," I reassured her. "Have faith in yourself. You've been gifted with the greatest voice the world's ever heard, and soon, they'll know it."

Her smile broadened and she laid her head on my chest.

"Thanks, Daddy."

CHAPTER SIX

A couple of weeks later, the tour was underway, and Annie threw herself into her work. Each venue was sold out, and every performance was flawless.

The first single had already gone Gold, but Annie -- ever the perfectionist -- was pissed.

"Honey, Gold is still great," I told her, holding up the report with the sales figures. "Says here that you actually outsold both Gwen Stefani and Elton John this month!"

"Yeah, I know, Daddy," she said, her foot tapping agitatedly. Fresh from an interview, Annie was dressed in a fairly "modest" get-up for her standards -- a long, blue gown covered in long glittering tassles. The lower half of the gown was split up the sides from her hips to the bottom, giving a peek at the band of the white satin panties she wore, and giving an eye-popping view of her long, voluptuous legs as the fabric pulled aside whenever she moved.

The top of the gown was technically "shoulderless", but in reality was simply translucent everywhere from the top of her cleavage upward. Like I said before, Annie's bosom had been gotten one hell of a growth spurt over the past year, so now, even a tiny showing of cleavage would have been substantial -- and none of Annie's clothes ever showed a "tiny" amount of cleavage to begin with. Even showing just the upper surface of her tits was like exploring the surface two fleshy landmasses.

"It's not really the sales themselves that bother me -- I think we're making plenty of money now...but I don't want to just be some forgettable pop idol...I want my name to be talked about in music classes for the next 100 years. I want people to hear the name 'Anniebell' followed by 'One of the greatests of all time!'.

I chuckled. Sometimes, no matter how different she looked, she reminded me that she was still my Annie.

"Besides, I think I need to at least reach Plat if we're gonna have leverage for a new label contract."

With that, a realization flashed in my head, and I took a panicked glance at my watch. "Oh shit...! Honey, my meeting is starting in 4 minutes."

She smiled. "Okay Daddy, you go on. I'll wait until you're done."

I frowned. "Honey, you can just take a cab home."

She pouted and shook her head. "No way. There's no point in wasting the money."

I scoffed and shook my head incredulously. Like she'd just said, we were rolling in money now. Spending an extra $15 bucks on a cab back to the penthouse wouldn't have hurt us. In truth, I knew Annie just liked riding home together. It was like I said: she had become a lot more attached to me since the...incident.

I was still worried that she was developing a paranoid co-dependency or had some deep trauma that she needed to work through...but as I've said before, the mind is good at rationalizing things. I figured there was no harm in sticking by her for now, like any overprotective father.

The meeting was uneventful -- just a review of things I already knew and some last-minute plans for more aggressive promotions for her LP.

It was outrageously boring. The sales director and marketing rep had to be the slowest talkers I'd ever seen, and the latter had an annoying habit of repeating his points over and over. Twice, I had to tell him to stop wasting time and get to the point. I don't think he liked it much, but I didn't give too big a shit.

I had better things to do, like spending time with my beautiful daughter.

Forty-four excruciating minutes later, it was finally over. I slid out of the meeting and headed back to Annie with a quickness, eager to head home and relax.

I got back to the waiting room where Annie was, and she was still sitting exactly where I left her. But I could instantly tell that everything seemed different -- her head was hung, her back slumped and she was holding a massive was of tissues in her hands.

"Annie...?"

Her head sprung up when she heard me, and the dark smudges and dark trails under her eyes instantly let me know that she'd been crying...and for some time. Her eyes were puffy and swollen, her lips sunken into a hard frown. Just the fact that she would let herself been seen in such a state was enough to let me know that something devastating had happened.

I immediately feared the worst.

"Annie! Baby, are you hurt?" I sank to my knees and held her shoulders, looking her over to see if she were bruised or harmed in some way. "Did somebody attack you?"

She shook her head. "N-No, Daddy, I..." she buckled, trying to stop from sobbing again. "Nobody did anything to me...

"Somebody...Somebody from the studio came to talk to me. I thought they were going just try and change my mind -- get me to stay..."

I knew things had been too quiet. Since the incident a while back, the record label hadn't really tried to renegotiate or threaten us. I was starting to think that they thought Annie was more trouble than she was worth, especially after her album only went Gold. It was a welcome surprise.

Or it had been, anyway.

It made sense that they would go straight for Annie and avoid talking to me. She was the commodity here -- I was baggage. It wouldn't matter what I wanted, if they could convince or pressure Annie to change her mind.

"What did they say?"

"They -- They kept making threats --"

"What kind of threats?" I asked, my voice low and hissing. "If someone tries to do anything to you, then I swear --"

I was prepared to go jail, if I had to -- if that was what it took to keep my daughter safe.

"No, not me, Daddy.... You."

"Me?" I laughed. "What the fuck do they think they can do to me?"

She stood up, twiddling her thumbs and pacing the room. My heart was pounding -- whatever she wanted to say had Annie really upset. Annie wasn't a sensitive flower. She hadn't even cried like this after almost being raped, so I knew that anything that had her this upset had to be pretty fucked.

"They...they claimed that you're a pedophile. They said they could prove it."

"...What?!"

She took a deep breath. "They had pictures. They were photos of you, allegedly flirting with teenage girls at my concerts...and...and going to underage prostitutes."

All the color drained from me then. Those dirty sons of bitches -- they were watching me all that time! They were waiting and trying to find a smoking gun to get me out of the way. They were definitely trying to isolate Annie and get her away from me, and they figured the best way to do that was to make sure I was out of the way.

I was light-headed and dizzy...struggling to stay level on shaky knees. But I had to stay focused. I had to think.

First of all, I knew that it was all bullshit. Those teen bimbos never did anything but talk to me, even if some of them got a little "grabby" at times. And I'd never touched a hooker. Hell, I still hadn't so much as gotten off in going-on eight years. So any "proof" they had was pure bullshit.

But the question was whether or not it was convincing bullshit. And whether or not Annie believed it.

"Annie, I never --"

She nodded. "I know you never touched those girls. I could always see you -- when I was on stage. I watched you. Every night I was on stage, I knew exactly where you were and what you were doing. You looked like you wanted nothing to do with them."

She wiped her nose again. "And the hookers -- I...I don't judge, Daddy...but..."

"I didn't do anything there, either, hon," I told her, being as sincere as I could. "I was a little curious at one point -- but I couldn't go through with it. That's all, I swear."

She nodded. "I believe you."

So that should have been that. Annie didn't believe a word of what those charlatans had told her, and their "evidence" was bullshit. So why did this not feel resolved...?

"But...that's not all, Daddy," she said.

"They also told me about -- about what you have on your computer."

"On my computer...?" I repeated, confused. "What about my computer?"

"The porn you keep on it -- of, of me..."

"Oh shit..." I muttered. It was instinctual. I didn't want to say it, but I couldn't help it.