The Staler

This morning began like any other morning. I left my house at 8:00am and walked a kilometre to the café for my usual breakfast of coffee and another coffee, the first a short black to wake me up, followed by a large flat white in a takeaway cup. This I sipped as I walked to my office and the day ahead.

I noticed her as I sat waiting for the flat white to arrive. She was just sitting there watching me, at least that's what it looked like, but then she could have been looking at one of the other customers. Who knows. Our eyes met briefly and she didn't look away, she just stared at me. She even allowed me to take a long look at her as I tried to place her among the thousands of women that I have met in my life. She was younger than me, but then everyone was younger than me, so I didn't have to stretch my memory back too far.

My second coffee arrived and I paid the girl at the counter, exchanging the usual banal banter that we spoke to each other each morning. When you see someone every day but don't get to know them, it's difficult to find something meaningful to say. As I reached the corner I took a quick glance back down the road and she was there, not fifty metres away from me. Who is she? What does she want with me?

My office door had a sign on it that read 'Daniel J Paterson, Artiste's Manager'. That's me, better known in a previous life as Danny Peyton, lead singer and guitarist of the famous rock & roll band The Freaks, an 80's pub rock band that had a couple of modest hits and lasted for the best part of eight years in the business before booze, drugs, girls and egos got in the way and we split. The others moved into other bands and other excesses before Freddie, our drummer, high as a kite on something that he'd bought from a dude at a gig, managed to demolish five cars before hitting a power pole and electrocuting himself when he touched a metal part of his wreck trying to get out. Stevie, the rhythm guitarist, is back in rehab in yet another attempt to kick the horse, while Suzie, our bass player and backup vocalist, married a lawyer and has a couple of kids and a life, which is more that I can say for the rest of us.

When the band folded I decided that the life of a touring rock band was not for me, and used my contacts in the industry to set myself up, in a small way at first, as a manager. In my first year I managed to have seven bands on my books. They were not all successful, but the successful ones made a comfortable income for me. I keep my overheads low by not employing anyone to answer the phone for me. I am the entire staff of Daniel J Paterson.

I spent the first two hours calling the previous night's venues to arrange payment for the gigs so that I could pay the bands, after deducting my cut. Most of the gigs were good at paying, my bands were popular and made money for them so they had no problem coughing up the money.

"Hi, it's Danny P, is Bryce available?" The person that answered the phone went off to fetch him. "Bryce, Danny P. How did it go last night?"

"I've been meaning to ring you about them Danny, I would like them to play here on a regular basis, headline even, how about it?"

"No can do mate, at least not for the next six weeks, their dance card is chockers (they're fully booked) but I'll have a chat to them to see if they're interested in a regular spot. They might go for it, but then again, you know how it is."

"Do your best mate."

"For you always, you know me."

I had one call to make that I was dreading, the Jack-offs, a new group that came to me to engage my professional services, were proving to be a bit of a head-ache. I had booked them into a pub a couple of weeks ago and they tanked big time. Their demo set had been good enough for me to book them to open for one of my other bands, but they needed work and they needed experience in front of a crowd. I took a punt on them delivering and went to their first gig. The venue manager was really pissed off and I had to discount his fee by fifty percent and promise him the Raiders for one gig at a discount, just to keep him on side. Last night they tanked again and I was going to have to do some creative grovelling to smooth things over, or I'd lose a regular customer. I was going to have to cut the Jack-offs from my list. Sometimes I think that singing is an easier way to make a living.

It had all started for me back in my Uni days. A couple of mates, Freddie, Stevie and Suzie were mucking around one Saturday afternoon, I had my guitar out and was struggling through my repertoire of three songs, Freddie was beating out the rhythm on a couple of paint cans while Stevie and Suzie were hamming it on air guitar. "We should do this." Suzie said.

"Do what?" I had just finished with a flourish.

"Start a band. I can play bass and I know that Stevie plays guitar pretty well, he at least knows more than three chords. What do you say?"

"We can give it a try, but on one condition."

"What's that? Freddie asked, giving me a drum roll ahead of my answer.

"If, after a couple of months we suck, we give it up."

"No dramas. But let's face it, if we aren't any better than that mob that played at the Royal last week we deserve to give it up. Could you believe that they got paid for that crap?"

We started just doing covers of other pub bands stuff until we had a repertoire of a dozen songs that we felt good about. Let's face it, we were never going to be anywhere as good as Chisel (Cold Chisel) or Ackerdacker, (AC/DC) but we were confident that we could make it on the pub circuit. The next thing was a name and image. We eventually settled on a semi-Goth image to go with the Freaks name and started to look for our first gig. It turned out to be at a Uni party to celebrate something obscure, and we were a hit. It could have been because most of the audience were, as students usually are on these occasions, either drunk or off their faces on any one of the chemicals that circulated that night, but who cares, the word got around that we were good.

Our confidence boosted by our success, we auditioned for a support gig at the Crown and got it. "Shit, do you know what this means?" Suzie asked us after we'd been told that we had the gig.

"What?" Freddie asked through a mouthful of hamburger.

"We are going to have to practise, because if we fuck up we can kiss our career good-bye before it has even started."

So we practised, and we were good enough to get a standing ovation from the crowd, as well as words of praise from the lead singer of the Sphincters as they went on after we'd cleared our crap from the stage.

It was onwards and upwards from there. We gradually built a following of people who would come and see us no matter where we played. Life was good, we made enough from our gigs that we didn't need to look for work. We had all dropped out of Uni to concentrate on our music careers. The upside for Stevie and Freddie was an never ending stream of young girls willing to open their legs. Suzie and I had an understanding that if nothing else was available, we'd have each other. This relationship developed to the point that we both stopped looking. While I stopped looking, if I was presented with a sure thing, I could rely on Suzie to quietly slip away and let me enjoy myself, it was that sort of deal. I did the same for her, this wasn't very often, and she professed to have no regrets with this setup.

The cracks began to appear because of Freddie. He was becoming unreliable at rehearsals, and a couple of times he was late for a gig. We held a group meeting at which he promised that he would lift his game. This lasted for a month or two before his spectacular relapse. He rocked up for a gig so far off his face that he was lucky to get his arse onto his stool, let alone hit the skins with any regularity or rhythm. We had to cancel, and our next meeting resulted in us telling him that he was finished.

The Freaks were no more. Stevie went off to another band and Suzie and I worked together for a while as a duo act with limited success. We were living together, to save money we told ourselves and anyone who asked, and we were lovers looking for something that wasn't there, a long term commitment.

Suzie started seeing this lawyer, and it came as no surprise when she told me that she was going to marry him. Our farewell fuck was almost enough for her to change her mind, but I told her to go to her lawyer and have a good life, one that I was not able to provide for her. We parted as the best of friends and get together occasionally to relive the glory days. I even like her husband Theo and love her kids who look on me as an uncle.

I decided to use my contacts in the industry to set up my own management business. I started small and soon had a reputation of being able to find good bands and give them the start that they needed to get on in the industry. This got to the point that the guys where I booked bands would point young musos in my direction if they didn't have management when they auditioned. It was a good arrangement for all parties, they got a regular supply of good acts that were just starting out and came cheap, and as they improved and moved up to headline status, the gig venue made more money from them, the bands made more money per gig, and my percentage was higher.

My love life changed dramatically following Suzie's move to another guy. For a while there I'd fuck anything that didn't have a dick between his legs, and for a while I scored whenever I wanted it. Being in the music industry had its perks after all. Being young-ish and the manager of some of the best pub rock bands meant that I was at gigs most nights of the week and was certain to pick any of the girls that hung around backstage after the gig, after all there was always more than enough for the band members.

I must point out at this juncture, that I always took precautions, and while I didn't buy my condoms in bulk, I always had one handy just in case.

To say that I never thought of marriage and settling down to a life of normalcy would not be true. There were times when a girl caused me to think along those lines, but it never lasted, either she couldn't get her head around me and my lifestyle, or I'd get cold feet and find an excuse to make the break.

I shook my head slowly in an attempt to drag myself back into the present. I got up from my desk and left the office to walk to my favourite café for lunch. As I sat picking my way through a perfectly adequate chicken focaccia and salad and the inevitable coffee, the first of two, the second again a take-away, I looked out the window and there she was again. I stifled the urge to go to her and ask her what the fuck she was doing following me around, choosing instead to ignore her, again.

Back to the office to make a couple of calls to tonight's venues and then off to the recording studio to sit in on the Hornbags (an all girl metal band) new album session. "How's it going?" I asked Bruno the recording engineer.

"It's cool, we've got three tracks down, but they're having problems with this one, something just isn't working."

"What seems to be the problem, is it the lyrics?" I asked, hoping that it wasn't because I'd written it for them.

"No, it's not that. On paper it has hit written all over it, it's just that the girls, there's something about the way that they attack it." He reached for the microphone. "Okay girls break's over. Let's have another go at it."

The girls grabbed their instruments and Wendy, the lead guitarist counted them in. It was obvious from the first bar what the problem was. I drew my finger over my throat to signal to Bruno to stop the take.

I walked into the studio and stood looking from one to the other. "Right, I don't know what's going on between you four, but unless you can sort it out you're going nowhere. I've invested too much time and money on you to let it go down the gurgler, but if you don't lift your game I'll walk away from you and you'll never work again. So what's it to be, lift your arse, or kiss fame and fortune good-bye?"

They looked at each other for about thirty seconds before Brigitte, the bass player spoke up. "It's fucking Wendy, she can't keep her legs together."

"You're just jealous because you fancied him and I got in first."

"Bullshit! We've been sleeping together for three weeks and you have to go and tell him that I've been cheating on him just so you can fuck him, and then you rub my nose in it by telling me all about it."

"If you were any good he never would have fucked me."

"Well, for your information, he told me that you were that sloppy that he didn't feel a thing. You had to blow him to make him come, he never would have made it in your cunt."

"Girls, enough!" I had to stop this before it went any further. "Okay, you have to make a decision here, whether you can resolve this and get on with your careers, or let this fuck everything up. What's it to be?"

"I can get by without fucking your Rob, there are plenty more dicks in the sea." Aren't mixed metaphors wonderful?

"Okay, for the sake of the band, you're forgiven this time, but if ever I find you poaching on my men again I'll superglue your cunt flaps together."

A sort of peace settled over them and we got back to the recording session. After a couple of attempts they managed to get the track down to Theo's satisfaction. He still had a little mixing to do on it before he would finally lay it down on the CD. Us managers really earn our keep.

I made my way back to the office, stopping for yet another coffee on the way. She was there again. This time I took a closer look at her, trying to see if there was anything at all familiar about her that would allow me to place her in my past memories. No, nothing. She was an attractive woman in her thirties, give or take a few years, so that ruled out someone that I have fucked in the past, she was much too young for that. I dismissed the possibility of her being the product of a previous indiscretion, due to the fact that I always took appropriate precautions, even if the girl told me that she was on the pill and safe.

Very few of those girls that I met and fucked during my rock & roll days ever backed up for a second go, apart from Suzie that was, so it was unlikely that any of them had formed an attraction for me, and while I might have been open to a long term relationship with some of them, I had ruled that out as being counter-productive, given we were on the road most of the time and this was not conducive to a lasting relationship.

The rest of my day was spent on the phone to forward book bands. This was a time consuming operation co-ordinating availability with venue, preference with availability. Some venues wanted first call on certain bands and this didn't always coincide with the bands schedule so it became something of a juggling act.

It was dark when I left, the cab that I'd called arrived on time (a new experience for me) to take me to the Royal to hear a new band that they'd hired to open for the Bushpigs, a heavy metal country rock band who didn't give a shit if the wife left as long as she didn't kick the dog on the way out. I arrived just as the MC was introducing them. "Ladies and gentlemen, and the rest of you shit heads, fresh from a sell out concert in a phone box at Blacktown, I give you the band with the longest name of all time, let's give it up for, We don't give a shit if you hate us, as long as you buy our records!"

The lights went up to reveal a grunge band consisting of the usual, lead and rhythm guitar, bass, drums with the addition of a three piece brass section. From the very first chord it was obvious that these guys were good. The lead guitarist and singer was a wispy girl, all black leather pants and jacket over a black lace top that hid nothing, and she had a set of tits to die for, but from the time she began to sing it was only the die-hard pervs that noticed them.

I went back stage while the Bushpigs were on and introduced myself to them. "You guys were great, I'm Danny P, and I manage the Bushpigs and a whole bunch of other pub bands. I was wondering, do you guys have a management team working for you?"

"Not for us as a band, but each of us have individual managers." The lead singer said.

"How is that?" I'd never heard anything like this before.

"We are all professional musicians and we set up this band as something to do that would ground us in the real world. We all play in a symphony orchestra, and while most players drift into chamber music ensembles or trios and quartets, we decided to go down this path. I play violin, Steph there plays the cello," she indicated the bass player, "Julie plays viola, Bryan is a percussionist and the brass section play a variety of instruments from trumpet to trombone, you name it and they can play it. I'm Re, short for Rhiannon."

"Next question. Do you want me to manage this side of your careers?"

"We'll think about it, I can't see our managers wanting to get involved in something like this, this is as far from the world of classical music as you can get."

I handed her my card. "When you decide, give me a call and we'll sit down and work something out." I left them to their decision making process and went out to listen to the Bushpigs. She was there talking to a guy, a glass of beer in front of her. She glanced at me and then looked away.

I saw a couple of musos who had dropped into the gig, so I went over to have a chat. "What do you think of the other band?" Sammy from the Descendants asked.

"An unusual concept, classical musicians into grunge rock, but it worked."

"Are you going to manage them?" He looked at me. "You've already pitched them, haven't you?"

"Yes. I've left them to make the decision, but I hope that I get them on board, they could have a spectacular future in this genre."

"Listen to him, genre." Phil the drummer said.

I stuck around until the end of the set before heading home. I didn't look back so I don't know whether she followed me. I hadn't realised how much her being there bugged me until I'd been tossing and turning in bed for at least an hour and getting no closer to sleep. If this kept up I'd have to make an appointment to see my doctor and get something to put me to sleep. On the other hand, I could always find out what it was that she wanted.

She was there again in the morning. I look straight at her as I ordered my usual coffee, and when I caught her eye I half smiled at her. She looked away as if she was embarrassed about being caught out stalking me. Coffee in hand I walked towards her on my way to the front door. She looked away from me. Maybe she wasn't stalking me, maybe this was a total coincidence that she just happened to be there whenever I looked.

I sat at my desk drawing up a management proposal for the group from last night. I needed to be prepared for their phone call when it arrived.

Lunch happened between then and when. It was after three when my phone shattered my attempts at placing the woman. It s difficult remembering my past, not so much that I took drugs or was always drunk, it was more that life was a blur of the same stuff day after day, to the point where it all seemed to blend into an out of focus blob of nothing.

I can't say that I picked up the phone and answered it because I have reluctantly dragged myself into the 21st century and bought myself a smartphone. It took time to convince this bit of fancy technology that I was smart enough to use it. I waved a finger in the general direction of the flat screen and this voice said, in response to my greeting, "Hello, Danny it's Re."

"Hi, what can I do for you?"

"I need to talk to you about a management deal. When can we meet?"

"No time like the present, how soon can you get to my office?"

"Thirty seven and a half seconds." She was still talking when my door opened. She was wearing the same outfit that she wore to the gig last night, and yes, my eyes were drawn to her tits.