The Stalker

"I have a rough draft of your contract here for you to look at." I handed her the amended standard contract that contained a clause that stated that this was a group contract only, and the individuals were free to pursue their individual musical careers.

She got as far as the clause that stated that each of the members would receive the same money. "No, I can't accept this."

"Why not?"

"Because Danny, I am the lead singer and I am the driving force behind this band, so I should get more than the others."

"No. Do you want a long term career for this band or not?"

"What I want is instant fame and recognition and a shit load of money. When I have that I can command a bigger fee for my classical work as well as pursue a solo career as a rock chick."

"And you don't care who you have to trample over to get that. I'm sorry, these are my terms, take it or leave it."

Her reaction to this was hardly what I expected. She took off her jacket to give me a closer look at her tits. They were as fine a set as I'd ever seen, and there was nothing holding them up. She wiggled her shoulders, setting them in motion. As they slowed down, her left nipple found a hole in the lace of her top and peeked through at me. How much of this can I be expected to stand? Drawing on my last reserves of resistance, I picked up her jacket and threw it to her. "Put them away, this will do you no good."

"Don't tell me that you're a poof."

"No, I'm not one of those. I am your normal everyday middle aged man, and believe me, it has taken a lot to resist you."

"Why fight it? You know you want this, and it's here for your taking." She dropped her jacket back onto my desk and undid her leather pants and slid them down her legs. She was not wearing panties, or a thong, which explained the lack of a panty line. Apart for her top, which was near enough to useless as a covering, she was gloriously naked. She shoved a couple of fingers into her pussy and coated them thoroughly before pushing them into my mouth. "This is all yours." She looked at my groin and my traitorous cock. "He wants it and who are you to deny him of it?"

I was saved by the bell, or at least by the ringtone of my phone. "Danny, It's Kingston from that band that you saw last night. We have been discussing your management offer and would like to talk to you about it. When can we get together with you?"

"Anytime you like, it's up to you."

"As soon as we locate Rhiannon we can be at your office, she seems to have gone off-line somehow, she's not answering her phone."

"As soon as you find her give me a call, this is a group deal, I'll not deal with the individuals in the group, you each have your solo projects that I have no involvement in."

"Will do, we'll just have to visit her usual haunts and see if anyone has seen her."

"They're not going to be too pleased if I do as you ask now, are they?"

She had dragged her pants up and put her jacket on. "You're right. This was something that I had to find out for myself, you're a good man, do you know that?"

"I wouldn't quite say that, I was close to giving in to you."

"Just how close?"

"Very close. I try not to mix business with pleasure, it's safer that way."

"I believe you, now I suppose that I'll have to let the rest of them find me." She turned her phone on as she was heading for the door.

"One thing I want you to do." I said.

"Yes?"

"I want you to think of a better name, something catchier, with a bit of zing to it."

"Zing? Boy, you're older than you look. We'll think about it, okay?" With that she was gone.

Wow, what almost happened here? Did I almost get to fuck this gorgeous creature? Would she have let me? Questions, questions occupying my mind as I tidied up my desk before going home. One final question, would she be outside waiting to follow me?

Short answer, no. Somehow I was disappointed by this, it robbed me of the chance of confronting her to discover why she had been following me around the past few days.

I needn't have worried. She was waiting for me outside my house. "Hi, Danny, can I speak with you, please?"

"Sure, I've been wanting to speak with you to find out why you've been following me around. I won't go so far as to accuse you of stalking, but if it had gone on much longer I would have to have faced that possibility. Explanations are in order don't you think?" I opened the door and ushered her inside. "Can I get you a drink, something to eat?"

"No, I'm fine thanks."

"Okay, who are you and what do you want to say to me?"

"My name is Danni, Danielle Martin, I'm a journalist, and I've been asked to write this piece about you, how you've transitioned from the lead singer of a moderately successful pub band to become a more than moderately successful artiste's manager."

"How much time do you have? It has been a long journey. Tell me, why didn't you just come to me and ask me if you could interview me, why follow me around?"

"Context, I needed some context for my piece."

"Oh." I said, trying hard to give the impression that I understood this. "Where do we begin?" We were seated at the dining room table and she took out one of those little recorders and turned it on.

"When did you first get into the music business, where did it all begin?"

"That would have been back in the 70's. I was at Uni and one day a couple of friends and I got this bright idea of forming a band. At first it was only Uni gigs, parties and stuff like that, nothing big, if we drew a crowd of fifty we thought that we were famous."

"Who was in that band?"

"Let me see, there was Freddie, he was the drummer, he's no longer with us, he was off his face one night and crashed his car. Stevie, he began to do drugs after the split, he's back in rehab I hear. I haven't seen him in years, not since the day that he came to me for money to help him score, and I turned him down."

"What about the girl, what was her name?"

"Suzie. Yeah, she landed on her feet after the split. She'd been studying part-time while the band was happening, and married a Lawyer that she'd met in one of her classes."

"It was rumoured that you and Suzie were an item."

"You shouldn't believe rumours. We lived together for a while, and did have this sort of casual relationship, if neither of us were otherwise occupied we'd get together."

"Get together? You mean for sex?"

"You could say that, yes. Both of us realised that there was no future in a more permanent relationship."

"Did you ever think of marrying and settling down?"

"A couple of times, but the life of the wife of a travelling muso was not one that I wanted to subject any woman that I fancied to, and there always seemed to be a ready supply of girls not interested in anything more than a quick fumble and fuck in a motel room."

"You make it sound so, sordid."

"Well it was. It was expected of us to play around, we had an image to maintain. Although, I must admit that we didn't sink to trashing motel rooms or anything like that, but this was the age of sex, drugs and rock and roll you must remember."

"Leaving that aside for the time being. You started out as a cover band, didn't you?"

"Yes. None of us had the talent or confidence to contemplate writing songs. For the first six months it was nothing but covers. Around that time we got ourselves a manager and he began looking for new material for us. After about a year I wrote my first song and it was a hit. I have been writing on and off since then."

"What motivates you to write these days?"

"If I have a band and the material that they're playing is not a good fit for their style, then I'll sit down and write something for them. One of my current bands is an all girl group called the 'Hornbags', and I've written a song for them that I think will chart in the top five. When I went to their recording session to listen to them the other day, they sucked big time. It turned out that Brigitte, the bass player, had found out that Wendy, she's the lead singer and guitarist, had been fucking her boyfriend. Once the drama was out in the open and sorted they got back into doing what they do best, and the result looks like exceeding even my expectations."

"Is that part of the role of manager, sorting out relationship problems?"

"Amongst other things. Anything that affects the cohesion of the band has to be addressed and sorted, or I might as well give up on them. Another of my bands I've just had to can because of their attitude. They thought that I, and everyone else, was there for their convenience. They know better now, and if they can get their shit together I might take a second look at them."

"How many bands do you have on your books right now?"

"I have a dozen or so working pretty much full-time, with the same number working part-time because they have good jobs that they don't want to give up, or they're students. I have a band that I think will sign with me that are professional musicians doing this as a hobby. Look, I'm sure that you have a lot more questions to ask and, as I see it, we can go somewhere for a pleasant meal and you can ask over the munching of food, or you can go home and call in to my office in the morning and continue this there. You do know where my office is, don't you." I tried to hold eye contact with her, but she broke it off.

"Yes, I think I can find it. But the dinner sounds good. We don't have to continue this over dinner you know."

"More context I presume."

"Maybe."

"Well, let's go then, do you have a favourite restaurant?"

"Do you like Thai cuisine?"

"Yes." I didn't really, but it was her suggestion and I'll eat just about anything whether I like it or not. That's what comes of being in this industry, there are times when cheap is all you have to eat.

"What made you get into journalism?" I asked as I made inroads into the Pad Thai.

"I guess that I always wanted to be a journalist, it was in the blood."

"Your father was one then?"

"No, it was Mum. Dad was an Engineer. I had no brain for mechanical things so here I am."

"Do you only do music pieces or are you a newshound?"

"I started by doing band reviews for the Uni paper and it just went from there. I love live music, it has an immediacy that you don't get from records or TV. Good bands you can feel reach out to their audience, while others are almost condescending in their attitude to their audience, like they were doing the kids a favour just showing up."

"What are you favourites, and if you tell me it's boy bands I'll be disappointed, really disappointed."

"Yuck. Don't get me wrong, some of them are good, but for me, it's the pub bands, even the metal bands, there is an earthiness to the music, an almost tactile experience listening to them play in small venues."

"Like the stuff we used to play."

"Yes, like the stuff that you used to play. Mum has some vinyl albums of your music and yes, you were good. Have you ever given any thought to getting back into performing?"

"Not even at a karaoke night, the general public will never hear my voice again, live that is."

"I'm disappointed, but it's your decision. Anyhow, I'm the one who's supposed to be interviewing you. Tell me, which of all the bands that you've managed over the years, has been you favourite?"

"I try not to have favourites, you lose your objectivity when it comes to arranging gigs. If you have a favourite band you would ensure that they get the best gigs, at the expense of others. Venue managers can request their favourite bands, that's completely different, it's their decision and if they have their own favourites that's fine by me. Do you have a favourite?"

"I don't know, there was this band years ago, I never actually heard them perform myself, but by all accounts they were much better as a live band than a studio band. They produced one live concert album, and it's my favourite. You may know them, the Freaks."

"Live at the Largs. I know it well, I was there."

"I sincerely hope so, or else we've been duped."

"Now that was a venue." I was reminiscing here. "The Largs Pier Hotel at Largs Bay in Adelaide, rough as guts the crowds there, but if you gave them their money's worth they showed their appreciation. Short change them, and it was like the cowboy bar scene from the Blues Brothers, but without the chain wire screen."

"The crowd really got into it, didn't they?"

"That was one of the best gigs that we ever did. If you made it there you could make it anywhere."

"I think that deep down you miss those days."

"Sometimes, like when I'm talking to you, you seem to appreciate the history of rock music in this country, in that time. It was a time of change, Vietnam was over, the protest movement in decline and there was an air of freedom and opportunity in the industry. Bands were experimenting, the indie scene was advancing and the influence of the record company dominance of the music being played was diminishing. The people embraced this change with a vengeance, musical fads came and went as new things were tried, and throughout all of this change there was one constant, in behind the fads, bubbling under the surface there was pub rock, and it's still there today. It's not as fleetingly rich as the fads, the Gangnam style, little rich kids behaving badly because they hit the top before they were ready and couldn't handle the fame. The pub scene is unforgiving to those who aren't prepared to put in the hard yards, but if you're good enough you can make a comfortable living from it. You'll never die rich, but I'd rather die poor than sell my soul to that devil called fame and fortune."

"My aren't you the philosopher? Now I can understand why you do what you do. You have a passion for this that few would understand and appreciate."

"You started this."

"This what?"

"This maudlin crap about how great the world of the pub rock scene is. If the truth be known, it's just a bunch of old farts hanging onto an age that's long gone. Much as I've enjoyed speaking to you, I'm tired, and all that I want to do is crawl home to my empty house, my empty life, and empty bed, and hope that I don't wake up in the morning. This life is killing me, I bust my hump for these young kids that use me to get a leg up in the industry, and when they make it, who's that first person that they thank? Not me, I never get the thanks I deserve."

"Come on. I'll take you home." She stood up and helped me to my feet.

"You don't have to do this, I can find my own way home."

"No, I insist." She had my arm and was leading me like some doddering invalid towards the door. I let her. I let her call a passing cab and pay for it. I let her lead me to my door and take me inside. I felt old, older than I'd felt for ages.

"Thank you very much for seeing me home Danielle Martin, you have been most kind."

"Sit down and I'll make us a coffee." I sat, and as I sat I wondered to myself, what was I doing letting this young woman into my house, and boss me around like this. My self rationalised that this was not a bad thing.

As she placed the cup in front of me she bent down and kissed my cheek. "You're a good man, has anyone ever told you that?"

"Not recently, no."

"Drink up and we'll get you into bed, you need your beauty sleep."

"Now you've gone and spoiled it. Here I was thinking that the reason that you're here with me is because of my dashing good looks and amazing personality." I looked her in the eye. "What's your story Ms Martin, why the sudden interest in me?"

"I'll tell you in the morning."

"In the morning?"

"Yes, in the morning. Don't tell me that you've forgotten that you promised me and interview in the morning."

"Oh yes, I did didn't I. Well goodnight Ms Martin, I'll see you in the morning."

"I could always stay here tonight."

"You could, but where would you sleep, I'm not giving up my bed just because you're a beautiful young woman." I looked at her, trying to work out what was going through her mind right now. I gave up, I could never fathom the devious thought processes of women, which was probably why I was scared of them.

We stood there for a few minutes before she broke the silence by asking me where I kept a spare blanket for the sofa. "I'll get one for you." I managed to find one in the linen closet and handed it to her. She accepted it and kissed me, this time on the lips.

"Stop that, I could add 'unless you mean it', but I won't because, fuck it I'm old enough to be your father."

"You are."

Sometime, in the middle of the night I realised that this was not a question.

I woke to the smell of breakfast. "It's about time you made an appearance, I was almost ready to drag you out of bed."

"Christ woman, it's only eight, I don't surface until at least half past."

"That's bullshit. You are usually leaving home around now, and you stop off for your usual breakfast of a double hit of caffeine before staggering, cup in hand to your office. This morning you are going to have breakfast here, saving you the time to stop at that café and make small talk to the girl at the counter whose attention span can be measured in nanoseconds. Then we are going to your office where you will check your messages and handle any emergencies before starting your usual round of calls to bands and venues to set up the next lot of gigs."

"What are you, a fly on my office wall?"

"No. I'm someone who has done a lot of research on you."

"Then why the need for this interview, why cant you write what you know and hang my feelings?"

"Because, I want to know all that there is to know about you and what motivates you, what decisions you have made in your lifetime that you are proud of, and those that you regret."

"You don't want much do you? But why, what is in this for you? You don't honestly believe that your readers are at all interested in the life of a rock and roll has been do you?"

"I am, and that's all that matters."

There was something about this statement and how she said it that disturbed me. Did she have some sort of fixation about me? Was it a rational one, or was she deranged. Was she really a stalker?

"Come on old man, Let's get you to work." She said it with a smile on her face so I was not offended.' As we walked we chatted about nothing in particular, and as we walked and talked I kept getting this feeling that somewhere in the mists of a past life I had met this woman.

I was none the wiser when we reached my office. Without my takeaway coffee to drink while I kick started my brain, I got straight to work. The dreaded answering machine blinked at me telling me that there were seven calls saved on it. I worked my way through them, confirming bookings and amking an appointment to met the band from the other night whose name I chose not to remember. Bruno left a message to tell me that the 'Hornbags' had completed their CD, and it was waiting for me to give it my seal of approval before he sent it off to the record company. I rang to tell him that I'd be there this afternoon.

Danni sat throught this and then went off to get a fresh supply of coffee while I chased up a couple of bands to see if they were interested in putting together a short country tour around the state. It took an hour to get that one sorted and confirmed.

Danni had come back with coffee and a funny look on her face. "I have a surprise for you."

"Okay, tell me what it is."

"Then it won't be a surprise, will it?" Even this got me thinking, it was almost as if I was being nudged by a cattle prod powered by a AAA battery, just a little nudge, not enough to kick my memory bank into gear.

I had just finished doing what I had to do, and was thinking about lunch, when there was a knock on the door. Before I could react, Danni got to her feet and went to open it. A woman walked in and kissed her. They smiled at each other. "Is it okay?" The woman asked.