Fresh Blood.
Chapter Eight: Shawn Harrison
“How much longer is this going to take, Eric?”
It was six in the afternoon and the Misfits had been posing for pictures
for a good two hours by the time Pizzazz made her feelings heard, tossing
her hat down onto the floor to emphasise her point. “I’m bored with standing
around, I wanna do something!”
“Yeah. What’s the point in being done up like this if noone’s seeing us?”
Roxy added her bit, examining her reflection in one of the big full length
mirrors, and adjusting the strap of her green dress.
“The point is, my dear Roxy, that you’ll have a portfolio of very
impressive pictures which will be used for posters and other publicity to
spread your faces all over the United States.” Eric responded wearily from
his seat. “You’re fortunate enough to have the best in the business taking
your photographs, so for once would you stop your complaining? And stop fiddling
with your clothes, you look fine.”
“You watch your mouth, Eric.” Roxy warned. Eric rolled his eyes. Much more
of this he wasn’t sure he could stand, but the thought of the money he would
recoup from this fiery trio (if only he could learn to keep them under control!)
kept his mouth shut. The Misfits were the hottest new thing onstage – he
just wished that he didn’t have to deal with their personalities off-stage.
His gaze fell on Stormer, who was carefully re-fastening her pink hairtie
into her curly hair. At least she had been fairly cooperative, though it
had not escaped his notice that when Pizzazz had dared her to move his chair
from under him as he sat down, she had done it without a second’s hesitation.
Mindful of all he knew about Stormer’s naivety and gullibility, he realised
that the influence Pizzazz and Roxy had over her was far greater than he
himself had. They were bit by bit teaching her to be like them, and he wasn’t
sure he liked it. Two troublemakers were more than enough for one manager
to deal with.
Pizzazz pouted, scooping up her hat and replacing it on her head with a
sulky frown.
“I’m bored!” she repeated.
“Well, the more you complain, the longer it’ll take.” Eric snapped. “It’s
been a long day for all of us.”
“Miss Gabor, if you could come this way.” The photographer’s assistant
appeared at that moment, clipboard in hand, and, rolling her eyes, Pizzazz
stalked off after her, tossing her head to signify her displeasure.
Stormer sank down into an empty chair with a sigh. The others were right
– this was getting tedious and she was still tired from the flight. Mindful
of the fact they’d be flying back the next day she groaned inwardly. What
a life! And she’d not yet managed to find time to call her brother, either.
“I need an early night.” She murmured to herself. “But somehow I can’t
see me getting one. I’d lay odds that Pizzazz’ll find us some action tonight,
since Eric has no plans for us after dinner. I just hope she remembers to
drive on the right side of the road this time…if only she hadn’t insisted
on driving the car to the studio after lunch, I seriously thought she’d be
arrested! I wonder if there’s any chance she’ll let me drive? Or even Roxy...”
She glanced idly at her reflection. She liked this outfit and she also liked
the fact Starlight Music was footing the bill, for the prices had not been
cheap. All to do with promoting their image, she supposed. A slight smile
crossed her face. Somehow she had never imagined Roxy to be the dress-wearing
type, but somehow the green outfit, with its spaghetti straps and jagged
hem, suited her brashness. And Pizzazz…well, Pizzazz almost always found
a way to look glamorous and the outfit she was wearing now was no exception
to that rule.
“Least we get some new threads out of this waste of time.” Roxy dropped
down into the chair next to her, rolling her eyes. “What a drag this trip
is!”
“Well, we’ll have some time to ourselves tonight.” Stormer told her. Roxy
nodded.
“True.” She admitted. “Guess we’ll have to see what mischief we can make
then, huh? Need something to kill the boredom.”
“Um, right.” Stormer nodded slowly, resigning herself to the fact that
she wouldn’t see her brother that trip after all. “What do you have in mind?”
“Ah, I dunno.” Roxy shrugged. “Let’s see how the mood takes us.”
* * * * * * * * * * *
“Pizzazz, are you sure we should be here?”
Stormer jumped down from the backseat of the car, eying her surroundings
with a doubtful look. Pizzazz had decided that, once they’d gotten Eric out
of their hair, they should explore the London club scene, and as a result
they had wound up outside what could only be described as a ‘crummy’ joint.
Roxy grabbed her by the arm.
“Come on, Stormer, don’t wimp out on us now.” She warned. “We’re just soaking
up the nightlife, all right? No law against it. You wanna go back to the
States without having any fun?”
“No.” Stormer sighed. “I’m with you. I just thought…”
“Well, don’t think.” Pizzazz instructed, locking the car. “We’re gonna
add some spice to this seedy place, all right?”
“All right.” Stormer gave up, following her band-mates into the club. It
wasn’t as creepy on the inside as the outside suggested, with the one end
set up as a pseudo-diner, and up-tempo music was being provided by a band
set up on a stage at the far side. They were just finishing their number
as the Misfits entered and the lead singer, a stocky man with dark hair and
a good-looking face announced that the band was going to take a break. A
lot of the girls in the club were eagerly swarming around the stage in the
hope of getting a proper look at him, and Roxy rolled her eyes.
“Dweebs.” She decided. “C’mon, Stormer. Let’s find out where they serve
the food in this joint.”
“Food?” Stormer swallowed hard. Eating and Pizzazz’s driving did not go
together.
Pizzazz sauntered across to the stage, shoving people out of the way and
making her way up the steps. A security guard tried to bar her way but she
dispatched with him neatly, her eye on the band’s leading man. Casual flirting
was one of her hobbies, particularly with men that other women seemed so
keen to fawn over. She liked a challenge.
“You have a lot of style, handsome.” She purred up to him, and he turned,
registering her presence with some surprise.
“How did you get up here?” he demanded.
“Never mind that.” Pizzazz dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “How about
a drink, huh?”
“Sure, why not.” The singer offered her a grin. “Gonna tell me your name,
little lady, or do I have to guess?”
“They call me Pizzazz.” Pizzazz cooed. “And you’ll soon find out why. I’m
no little lady…not for anyone.” She linked arms with him, pulling him off
the stage. “What do they call you?”
“My name’s Shawn, Shawn Harrison.” The singer replied. “What brings you
to a place like this? Don’t get many American birds down here, as a rule.”
“I’m here, you could say, on business.” Pizzazz perched herself on a bar
stool, allowing him to buy her a drink.
“Oh? And what business would that be?” Shawn was intrigued.
“Much the same as your own.” Pizzazz replied carelessly. “I’m leader of
a band called the Misfits – and we’re the hottest thing to ever step out of
America.”
“You sing then?” Shawn asked. “What kind of songs?”
“If you’re good, maybe I’ll show you.” Pizzazz winked.
“Hey, lady, you’re sitting in my place.” A bulky guy in his thirties complained
at that moment.
“Got a problem, smart mouth?” Pizzazz demanded, glaring at the intruder.
Shawn got to his feet.
“Best find somewhere else to sit, friend.” He said in dangerously low tones.
“Go on, scarper, before you find my fist in your face.”
“But…” the man protested. Shawn glowered at him, waving the aforementioned
fist.
“I mean it. Go on, get lost!”
The man slunk away, giving it up as a bad job, and Pizzazz took a sip of
her drink, her expression thoughtful. Well, tonight’s catch was no wimp
– that was a good sign. Perhaps the night would be fun, after all. If nothing
else it would make up for the boredom of earlier in the day.
Across the club Roxy had demanded food of the bewildered staff, settling
herself down in a corner to eat and telling them to charge anything she ordered
to ‘a jerk called Eric Raymond’. Stormer was with her, doing her best not
to look at her companion’s food, since she was still feeling decidedly queasy.
It was something of a surprise when Pizzazz descended on them, Shawn in
tow, and told them to get up on stage.
“What, right now?” Stormer stared. Pizzazz looked impatient.
“Yes, right now!” she responded. “Come on! We’re going to give this
crummy little club a taste of how we do things. Roxy, quit stuffing your
face! There’s time enough for that later!”
Roxy flipped her forkful in the direction of her lead singer, who deftly
ducked out of the way, but after a few more coaxes and threats Pizzazz got
them both onstage, taking the microphone in her hand and shrieking for quiet.
She got it. All eyes turned towards the stage and Shawn leant up against
the bar to listen.
“Hello, London!” Pizzazz was clearly enjoying herself and she sent Shawn
a wink. “We’re the Misfits and we’re gonna show you how we rock and roll
in America! Hit it, girls!”
With a shrug at Roxy, Stormer did as she was bidden on the synthesiser
Shawn’s band-mate had left on the stage, and Roxy followed suit on guitar.
In the crowd, a girl with wild dark hair paused in her conversation to
glance up at the band, and a look of approval crossed her features.
“Finally, some decent music in this dump.” She observed. “Sure makes a
change.”
“They’re just some American band.” One of her companions, the guy shrugged
his shoulders. “What did they call themselves? The Misfits? Never ‘eard of
them.”
“You’ve never heard of anyone.” The other member of the trio, a girl with
wavy red hair who went by the name of Laura put in dryly. “You hadn’t heard
of Shawn ‘Arrison till we practically shoved his name down your throat.”
“Well, I’m a bloke – I’m hardly going to make a fuss about whoever you
birds are fawning over.” The guy, Stuart retorted. The girl with the dark
hair rolled her eyes.
“Oh, give it a rest, you two.” She scolded. “An’ not all of us ‘fawn’,
Stuart.”
“Well, true.” Stuart admitted, sending his companion a grin. “I ‘ave to
admit I can’t imagine you fawning over anyone.”
“They do have a good beat, these Misfits.” Laura glanced up at the stage.
“Wild look, too. And great to dance to. I wonder if they’ve released any
records here?”
“Doubt it. They’re yanks.” The dark-haired girl fingered a lock of her
ebony hair absently. “And we ain’t heard their name before tonight. This
is all probably some publicity venture.”
“There must be a lot of opportunity in the States to make it big, then.”
Stuart put in. “Imagine coming all the way to England just to play a sleazy
London club! They must be loaded!”
“Sounds like a bit of all right to me.” The dark girl remarked, a thoughtful
look on her face. Laura glanced at her.
“What are you planning now, Sheila?” she asked.
“I don’t know…yet.” Her black-haired friend responded. “But…it just occurred
to me that I wouldn’t mind a shot at the big time over in the good old US
of A. Especially if there’s a bunch of dosh to be made there.”
“How are you going to do that?” Stuart demanded. “Grow wings and fly across
the atlantic? Plane tickets don’t come cheap.”
“Like I don’t know that.” Sheila snapped. “Took me blinkin’ well long enough
to save enough money for my ruddy saxophone. Don’t talk to me about plane
tickets.”
“He has a point, though.” Laura observed. “You can’t walk to America.”
“No…but there are other ways.” Sheila responded, and a look her companions
recognised all too well as her planning look entered her dark eyes. “Look
‘ere, you two. You remember that group of weirdos that were calling round
our place the day before yesterday?”
“What group?” Stuart frowned.
“Those creeps with the long hair and bad taste in music?” Laura pulled
a face. “Yeah, I remember. What about them?”
“Well, they came asking after me sax playing, and I was going to turn ‘em
down. Not the kind of gig I was looking for, if you catch my drift.” Sheila
rested her chin on her hands, considering. “But I remember that leader –
what’s his name? Sayin’ that they had plans to get to America and play the
club scene there. It ain’t ideal, but it’d be a start.”
“You’re going to take them up on their offer?” Laura looked taken aback.
“What group?” Stuart repeated.
“Oh, get in the real world, Stuart. The Tinkerbillys.” Laura rolled her
eyes. “What a name…Sheila, you’re seriously thinking about joining a group
with a name like that?”
“Like I said, it’s not ideal.” Sheila shrugged. “But they ‘ave quite a
followin’ down our end and I reckon I could make more cash than I do now.
If I play me cards right I could be quids in, and on the way to something
bigger and better.” She grinned. “It’ll take a bit of work to get things
in place, but then, if it works out ‘ow I want it, it’ll be worth it.”
“Well, good luck to you. It’s not a career move I’d make.” Laura grimaced.
“Since when is tootling a sax on street corners an’ waiting tables in a
nothing café a career?” Sheila retorted. “Far as I can tell, love,
the only way is up!”
“She’s got a point.” Stuart nodded, clearly not following the girls’ conversation
but feeling he ought to make a contribution. Sheila glanced at him and rolled
her eyes.
“It wasn’t quite ‘ow I planned my life to turn out, shall we say.” She
said. “If bein’ a Tinkerbilly is the way to get out of it, then I’m all
for it. I’m sick to death of London, of my parents and of all of this. I
want to do things with my life, whatever you two have planned for yourselves.
I need to be…to be a new me. Recreate meself. And at least I’d get to play
me sax regular, like.”
“You gonna let ‘em give you one of their naff stage names, then?” Laura
demanded. “I couldn’t believe it when that drummer guy introduced himself
as Bongo. I mean, what was ‘e thinking when he chose that?”
“The lot of them are insane.” Sheila grinned. “Nah. I’ll choose me own
stage name. Been wantin’ to drop Sheila anyway – it ain’t a pretty name,
however you look at it. And who gives a damn about a nobody called Sheila
Burns? Don’t exactly shout stardom or success, does it?” She tucked her hair
behind her ear. “I’d been givin’ it some thought anyway. Since I have so
much of the black thing goin’ on, I thought I’d go along with the theme.
Black hair, black sax, black clothes, black name.”
“I’m lost.” Stuart looked confused.
“So what’s new, duckie?” Sheila smirked. “What I mean is that I oughta
‘ave a name that matches me whole image.”
“What do you have in mind?” Laura looked interested.
“Well…” Sheila paused for effect, then, “How about…Jetta?”
* * * * * * * * * * *
"Well, so what did you think?"
Pizzazz stepped gracefully down from the stage, winking at Shawn coquettishly.
"Do you think we got what it takes, Shawn?"
"I don't see why not, love." Shawn returned the smile with one of his own.
"Say, I don't suppose you 'ave some time free on your 'ands, 'eh? Since
we're both in the same business we might be able to swap a few names, give
each other a helpin' hand, if you get my drift...but it's noisy here and
crowded too. The boys and me have one more set to do, then I'm free...what
say we go take a spin about town and chat, hm?"
"Sounds interesting." Pizzazz smiled, "All right. But don't keep me waiting
long...I'm not a patient girl."
"Don't worry, sweets, it won't take a second." Shawn responded with a grin
of his own.
"Well, someone hit lucky." Roxy came up behind Pizzazz as Shawn returned
to the stage for the last part of his band's set. Pizzazz turned, eying Roxy
in irritation.
"So what? What's it to you? Not my fault if he has good taste in music!"
"Hah." Roxy snorted. "Yeah, I'm sure it's your music he's attracted to,
and all."
Pizzazz raised an eyebrow.
"You better be careful what you're saying." she warned. "I can get nasty
here and now, you know, no matter whether we're in the same band or not.
You and I, we don't come from the same world and you better get used to how
things move around me."
"Yeah, yeah." Roxy rolled her eyes, adding silently to herself 'fast and
in the other direction.' Well, when you're done flirtin', Stormer and I
will be checking the joint out to see if we can make a little mischief before
we get outta here. Okay?"
"Whatever." Pizzazz gave a dismissive gesture. "Shawn and I have plans
when he's done playing...so I might be late back here. You kiddies can wait
up if you want...but I wouldn't count on what time I'll return."
"We'll see." Roxy looked thoughtfully at Pizzazz, then shrugged. "Anyway,
I'm bored with this. See you, Pizzazz...don't stay out too late now, will
you?" This last in a decidedly impudent tone of voice which left the singer
inwardly fuming. But Roxy was gone and there was nothing she could do about
it.
"Stormer?" Roxy called out, pushing her way through the crowds of people.
"Oh, where the heck are you now, you stupid..."
"Hey, watch where you're goin', will ya?" Sheila glared at the guitarist.
"You can't walk through us, you know."
"Oh, get outta my way." Roxy snapped, shoving Sheila roughly aside as she
spotted Stormer by the far wall.
"Ruddy yanks." Sheila muttered as she watched Roxy disappear into the milling
people. "Do one song an' they think they own the whole blinkin' club!"
"You okay?" Laura asked. Sheila nodded, brushing herself down.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Come on, let's get out of this hole, huh? I got some serious
thinking to do!"
* * ** * * * * * * *
“I’m beat.” Roxy groaned, pushing open the door of the
hotel. “It’s two o clock in the morning. Two o clock! And we’ve got to be
ready to leave this place by eleven!”
“Quit moaning, it was fun.” Pizzazz snapped. “And we shut the crowd up
all right. Now come on! If we play our cards right darling Eric need never
know a thing.”
"I'm sure darling Eric would go outta his head if he knew what kinda fun
you've been having, taking off across London with some guy." Roxy shot Pizzazz
a glance. Pizzazz snorted.
"If you got it, flaunt it." She snapped back. "You're just jealous, Roxy...you
don't have it."
"Well, I don't want it, to be honest." Roxy rolled her eyes. "Anyway, relax...Eric's
too dumb to think we've been out causing trouble when we got a flight tomorrow!"
“I hope you’re right.” Stormer murmured as they reached their floor. She
didn’t fancy another scolding from an irate manager, and like Roxy, she
was exhausted. Nor was she looking forward to the flight home…it meant another
ten hours trapped with a bored Roxy and sulky Pizzazz. Not to mention the
fact that she’d not managed to get any time to talk to her brother.
“Why, he doesn’t even know about the Misfits yet.” She realised as she
let herself into her room. “I guess I’ll have to try and call him when we
get back tomorrow, if he’s about. But for now, I gotta crash.” She fastened
the door, slipping into her nightgown and sliding beneath the covers. “That’s
better. I hope things aren’t always as hectic as this!”
Chapter One: Mary
Phillips
Chapter Two: Enter
Roxy
Chapter Three: Developments
Chapter Four: Birth Of A Star
Chapter Five: Eric Raymond
Chapter Six: Outta My Way!
Chapter Seven: London
Chapter Eight:
Shawn Harrison
Chapter Nine: The Tinkerbillys
Chapter Ten: Jerrica
Chapter Eleven:
Only The Beginning