Too Many Rock Stars

By: Candy J. Starr

"That is exactly what I don't need. I need peace and quiet. You are the enemy of sleep, you have already proven that."

I walked off without looking back. It was stupid that I had to hang around the bar all night and, if the boss didn't like it, screw him. I needed to sleep.

As I tried to get comfortable though, the weird feeling of Razer's hand on my shoulder seemed to haunt me. It had been a surprisingly tender touch, not the kind of thing I'd expected from him. Despite what Carlie said that though, I didn't trust that guy. He had no impulse control.

And this new guy, Alex. The way he'd wrapped me in his arms. It'd been like a dream.

Not that either of them was in the running for my affections.

Chapter 4 VIOLET

I'd just finalised the roster for the next month and was about to post it online when the boss man, Chuck, came into my office.

He sat on the shonky sofa but didn't say anything. That was pretty unusual for Chuck. Normally he talked my ear off in the most annoying way possible. Chuck suffered from a short man complex – and probably a lot of other complexes as well – always acting like he had something to prove but never channelling that into anything productive.

I chewed on my nail, waiting for him to start but he just kept staring ahead.

Then he looked up as though he wanted to say something. I focused on him but no words came out. He just hung his head again.

Okay, it was becoming really uncomfortable. I glanced over at the paperwork on my desk, wondering if I should ignore him and keep working or if I should just wait for him to get started.

Actually, he did look a bit ashen in the face and that pulse in his neck was a worry. I hoped he wasn't about to have a heart attack in my office. Chuck was a total jerk but I'd much rather him alive than as a corpse on my sofa.

What would be so hard for him to discuss with me anyway? I was pretty sure I'd not done anything wrong recently. Well, nothing he'd find out about. And anyway, he'd never had an issue talking about stuff like that before.

He ran his hand through his hair and slowly raised his head.

"I've got some pretty shit news," he said.

"What's up?"

Knowing Chuck, this was all for dramatic effect and he was just going to bitch about some minor bit of shit going down. Like how the bar staff gave away too many free drinks or that some band nicked something from back stage. I don't even know why he came to me about that kind of stuff. I was the band booker, not the bar manager. My responsibility started and ended with the bands. I guess if they were pinching stuff from the club, I had some responsibility but not over the rest of it.

"I saw my accountant yesterday. There's been a huge fuck up with the taxes. I'm in debt. In big debt."

Chuck gulped.

"So? You can pay it off, right?"

All this fuss because he had to pay some taxes. His tax problems weren't my concern. I hoped he didn't want a loan because he should seriously know better than to ask that with what he paid me.

“It’s not that simple…”

“Huh?” Then, the words sunk in. This wasn’t just about him. “How does this affect the club?”

He didn't answer. I had no idea what Chuck's finances were like but he drove a pretty swish car and never seemed to worry about throwing money around on useless things like bimbos and flashy suits.

He shook his head and didn't look at me again.

I shuffled to the edge of my seat. "Chuck, this is the part where you reassure me that everything will okay."

"I'm not sure I can do that, Violet. I'm not sure..."

Hell, he was a mess. His hands shook and he'd gone even whiter. What would happen if Chuck went broke? Shit, would he sell the club? He couldn't sell the club. That was not possible. Surely he was just stressed because he'd have to cut back on his stupid expenses.

"You can sell your car. That's got to be worth a bit."

He scowled. "I don't own that. It's leased. Through the business."

Wow, you could do that? I had no idea how these things worked. I had no idea about the financial workings of the club at all. All I knew was booking bands. I bet those bimbos were leased too.

"Is the club going to survive? Should I be looking for another job?"

This was too big for me to comprehend. That throbbing neck vein seemed to have transferred from Chuck to me, like he'd handed me his burden. But I didn't want it.

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