Bad Boy vs Millionaire
wouldn’t have been surprised if there were vermin around. The faint smell of vomit lingered in the room and the lights flickered in a way that would give you a headache after a while.
    “ How are things going with the tour?” Eric asked.
    I shrugged. The promotion people wanted to meet up to finalise things but I'd put them off. I wasn't sure if putting them off was the right thing to do. We sure as hell didn't want to miss out on the opportunity. I just wanted it to all work out. Why couldn’t people just play nice and just make the offer they wanted to make instead of all this negotiation and hassle? Then we could just walk in and sign on the dotted line. No fuss, no muss.
    A cheer went up for the end of the support band and some tinny Lou Reed played over the bar's PA. Time to get to work.
    The tiny band room got crowded as the guitarist and singer from the support band came in. They flopped in the corner and both opened beers.
    “ Nice set,” said Eric.
    The guitarist smiled at him. Why did I suddenly want to punch her in her ratty-looking face? A band of ice and malice wrapped around my heart but I had to run out and tape the set lists in place. At least I got to use gaffer tape. I'd gaffer tape that chick's legs shut so she'd stay away from my band.
    Walking onto the stage with the strips of paper under my arms, I looked out over the room. Sure, most people had headed away to the bar but I saw some of the Storm diehard fans staking their spot at the front of stage. I waved to a couple of them.
    “ Look at me, up here on stage,” I mouthed to them. Most of them wore various versions of the Storm t-shirts. I pretty much knew all of these guys but there were new faces too. Probably people I only knew from their internet names, like when someone has a cartoon avatar so you expect them to look like a cartoon in real life.
    “ Hey Angie, are you playing?” Greg, the Mohawk guy, yelled out.
    I shook my head.
    “ Saw you on the TV, Ange. You were great.”
    I smiled. Wow, I was like totally famous. Maybe I should start my own band sometime when I got a break from study.
    I ran off and got drinks to put on stage at the right spots.
    Eric waved for me to get off stage. Spud needed to load on his drum kit and then they'd be ready to start.
    I slipped into the front row, squirming my way into the line of people already packed tight.
    “ Hey, what do you think you're doing?” some chick behind me yelled. “We've been here all night.”
    Maybe I should've moved out of the way but Kris and Danielle, two of the most prolific posters on the Storm forum, put their arms around me.
    “ This is Angie. She can push in if she wants.”
    Hells, it's not like the chick couldn't see over my head anyway. I was barely as tall as the feedback speaker from down there.
    When Storm started playing, I forgot I was the stand-in manager, forgot these were the same guys I hung out with. It was like old times and I was a fan again with Jack Colt seducing me with his voice.
    I screamed and cried and linked arms with Kris and Danielle while we belted out the words to our favourite songs. If life stopped right there, I'd have been happy but it went by in an instant. I'd completely forgotten what I'd told them until they got to the last song.
    “ This one's for Angie,” Jack screamed. “Our stand-in manager, mother hen who has been looking after us all night.”
    He laughed and Eric stepped up to the microphone.
    “ You know, she did a fantastic job not just as stand-in manager but also as stand-in lead singer on our recent TV appearance. So I think it's only fair she get up on stage and sing with us tonight.”
    It's not often I'm lost for words but I could only stand there with my mouth open. Was this for real? Was I dreaming?
    “ Angie, Angie,” someone started chanting.
    Eric reached down and gave me his hand to pull me up on stage. I'm pretty sure as I climbed on stage, my skirt rode up giving everyone a flash of my undies. Why else

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