Heavy Bass

Charlotte's Songbook

The room emptied quickly, Erin passing me a look that was either one of sympathy or perhaps telling me to run and never look back. But my agenda here was not complete. The band stayed seated, eyeballing me like I was the devil herself, and Patrick came to sit beside me. I felt his hand squeeze my shoulder, gently, but I didn't need his support. I could hold my own with these over grown children.


'We don't need you.' Xavier protested. He wore a beanie hat over his shoulder length dirty blonde hair, and a beard that reminded me of the children's book, 'The Billy Goats Gruff.' 'I mean, no offense love, but I can say right off the bat, us four, and you? Zero compatibility.'


'Oh, I don't know Xav, get her out of that starchy white blouse and I'm sure we could muster a little compatibility.' Grit curled the corner of his mouth up in a smile, eyes narrowed. He locked eyes with mine, fiercely piercing blue orbs that were steadfast and confident. I didn't look away. Nor did I blush at his churlish, infantile comment.


'I'm not rising to your immature drivel, Mr Keller. I'm here because I've written seven top ten songs just this year....'


'Oh whoopidy doo.'


'....Some of the biggest bands on earth consult with me.'


'She's really good guys.' Interrupted Patrick. 'I know you've always done everything in-house, but Charlotte really is the best.'


'Charlotte.' Sniggered Grit, raising an eyebrow and once again, holding my gaze. 'One of those posh girl names like....'


'Elizabeth.' Neil chuckled.


'Or Anne Marie.' Xavier sniggered.


'I don't have to be here.' I informed them, curtly. 'Gellar asked for me personally, since some of you are months from bankruptcy.'


'What!?' It was Neil who spoke up now, and he narrowed his eyes at me. Honestly. If looks could kill. 'Who told you that?'


'Peter did.' Patrick jumped in. 'He's been trying to tell you guys for months to slow it down but nobody wants to listen to the accountant, do they.' He rubbed the bridge of his nose. 'Jeff you have a couple of endorsements. The rest of the band? They'll be in hot water come year end.'


'Bull shit.' Johnny spat, running his hand over his bright orange Mohican. 'Fucking bull shit.'


'You want to see the accounts?' Patrick offered, 'Charlotte is a life line. She can save you. Have I ever steered you boys wrong before?'


'What happens if we say no to Geller's demands?' Neil asked, green eyes flitting between me and Patrick.


'If you say no, then the tour ends tomorrow. You guys are instantly dropped from the label and all financial support ceases.'


'Just like that.' Johnny murmured.


'Just like that.' Patrick echoed.


'Then we'll finance ourselves.' Grit piped up, jaw clenched, eyes determined. 'We'll plough whatever money we have left into running the tour and making the new album. We'll make it the best fucking album since The Beatles' Revolver.'


'And promoting it? And traveling? And what about your staff?' Patrick said with such exasperation that I felt it too. 'The band is almost bankrupt. You don't have the liquidated assets to do that!'


'Hes right.' Neil murmured. 'And I'll add something else into the mix. If we can't sort this out, then I'm quitting.'


Well that was a surprise.


He stormed out of the room. I hadn't expected him to be quite so dramatic, if anyone was known for storming out it was Grit. Or Johnny. Patrick went after him, leaving me in the coldest room I'd ever sat in. Cold, because the band shot me the iciest looks I'd ever received. As if I was responsible for their eventual financial demise.


'Are you fucking Gellar?' Grit accused, and the thought was so ludicrous that I laughed. But he persisted. 'Well are you?'


'You're accusing me of sleeping with a record executive.'


'Why else would you be here, with us? We're fucking music royalty.'


'Yeah, I think you need to calm your little ego there Mr Keller. Michael Jackson, music royalty, Elvis Presley, music royalty. Frank Sinatra, music royalty. Do you get where I'm going with this? And no, I haven't slept with anyone to be here. I was asked to be here.'


'By who? Who made this happen?!'


'Patrick came to me first. And then Gellar.'


'Patricks a fucking traitor.' Xavier spat. 'He wants us to sell out and let some little woman called Charlotte take the reins?' He gave me a sideways glance. 'No offense mate.'


'None taken.' I responded, with the same sarcasm he doled out. 'But you wouldn't be selling out. I've followed you guys for years. I have every one of your albums. I know your sound.'


'So now she's pitching to us. Bless her heart' Grit said, with so much sarcasm it was almost palpable. 'You want us to sign something for you sweetie? How about those 34c's that you're hiding under that hoity toity shirt?'


'Have it your way boys.' I grabbed my brief case from underneath the table and came to standing. 'Good luck.'


I walked past the three remaining band members, and as I passed Grit I felt fingers pinch my butt cheek through my pencil skirt. Those fingers pinched so hard that I dropped my brief case. I knew exactly who it was, and what he hoped would come of the situation. Right now he thought I was walking away, and he'd be the one to get that last laugh. As I scurried away red cheeked he'd high five his Neanderthal friends and guffaw while he boasted about getting rid of the woman gate crashing his little fantasy world and giving him a dose of reality. But that wasn't happening. I let my brief case fall well away from my grasp, knowing I was now too far out off reach for him to get to me.


He'd have to stand up. If my instincts were right, he'd be standing up right now. I didn't turn around. Walking towards my beaten brown leather case, I bent down, slowly. Sniggering sounded behind me. This was all too easy. As Grit Keller came up behind me, I used the skills I'd learnt as a young teen eager to keep herself safe living in one of the capitals less savoury neighborhoods. I spun around, lightning fast reflexes far superior to the sluggish whiskey addled Keller. Bringing my knee up, I crushed it into his Crown Jewels, watching him fold like a pack of cards.


'Good bye.' I said, brightly, giving them my biggest I-don't-give-a-fuck smile, before exiting the room.