where numbers had already dropped away as protestors having made their voices heard and headed home to bed.
“Can you do me a favor?” asked Clay.
Bill listened and nodded. He’d make it happen.
Chapter 12
The pounding of the music abated as the band exited the stage after their last song. It had been another spectacular performance by the world’s leading rock band. Tickets for the exclusive show at the Fox Pomona had sold out in less than a second, it was to be their most intimate tour date and a thank you to the venue for believing in them prior to their hitting it big. Only 1,700 lucky fans managed to get tickets for the Pomona gig. For the previous two years the band had exclusively performed multi-night stadium tours.
Of the 1,700 only 200 had secured an invite to the after show party, a number due to their corporate ties, another fifty selected apparently at random from the fans. However if anyone were to ever isolate the selected fifty, they’d find them to be amongst the most attractive of the attendees, all female, and in their late teens to early 20s. The band liked to get to know their female fans much better and the more intimate the better.
Zane Tate was the lead singer of the band and quite possibly the most famous and most recognized person in America. The band’s good boy image had ensured his face promoted at least one product in each of the major product sectors, whether it be Pepsi or Coca-Cola, Ford or General Motors. Whatever the sector, the major competitors knew that Zane would mean increased sales . Mothers and daughters loved him, while fathers and sons wanted to be him. America didn’t have a royal family, if they did, Zane would have been their one and only prince.
“We’re a bit concerned,” said Brian, the band’s head of security, as Zane led his band offstage.
Zane half listened as he walked, the good boy smiling image reserved for the public. In private, fame had consumed him, and his diva-esque tantrums and demands were a closely guarded secret. In short, whatever Zane wanted, Zane got.
“What now, Brian? Is there a fourteen-year-old girl in the crowd that loves me so much she wants to kill me?”
“No. There’s been some pretty nasty rioting across L.A. over the last few hours and it appears to be spreading. We’re thinking we should make a move now and abandon the balcony appearance.”
“Just do your fucking job. You get paid to keep me safe, not to tell me what to do.”
Brian hit the transmit button on his in-ear system and radioed to his team of ten security professionals. They looked after the band 24/7 and had been augmented by local security, stewards, and local law enforcement for the gig in Pomona. A number of scuffles had already been reported outside as fans queued to see the band in what was rumored to be an impromptu balcony gig for the thousands of fans who couldn’t get tickets. Brian didn’t like it although as Zane had made abundantly clear, Brian was paid to handle it, not like it.
Zane moved towards the rooftop terrace where the after show party was already underway. He had his eyes on one girl. He’d spotted her in the queue on the way in and had asked for her and her friends to receive some of the special invites. Brian followed him while the rest of the band broke off. Their squeaky clean image was not the façade Zane’s was. Two were in long-term relationships, while the fourth member was married. Behind closed doors Zane partied hard and the younger looking the groupie the better. Two very quiet out of court settlements had already saved him from facing statutory rape charges and had made two young women very wealthy.
Zane scanned the crowd from the doorway. He liked to see which girls he wanted before he entered. L.A. had some exceptionally beautiful girls, particularly the young, pre-plastic ones. There were over 300 people there, and his eyes focused on one. Older than his normal, but he had to have her. He had seen her
“Can you do me a favor?” asked Clay.
Bill listened and nodded. He’d make it happen.
Chapter 12
The pounding of the music abated as the band exited the stage after their last song. It had been another spectacular performance by the world’s leading rock band. Tickets for the exclusive show at the Fox Pomona had sold out in less than a second, it was to be their most intimate tour date and a thank you to the venue for believing in them prior to their hitting it big. Only 1,700 lucky fans managed to get tickets for the Pomona gig. For the previous two years the band had exclusively performed multi-night stadium tours.
Of the 1,700 only 200 had secured an invite to the after show party, a number due to their corporate ties, another fifty selected apparently at random from the fans. However if anyone were to ever isolate the selected fifty, they’d find them to be amongst the most attractive of the attendees, all female, and in their late teens to early 20s. The band liked to get to know their female fans much better and the more intimate the better.
Zane Tate was the lead singer of the band and quite possibly the most famous and most recognized person in America. The band’s good boy image had ensured his face promoted at least one product in each of the major product sectors, whether it be Pepsi or Coca-Cola, Ford or General Motors. Whatever the sector, the major competitors knew that Zane would mean increased sales . Mothers and daughters loved him, while fathers and sons wanted to be him. America didn’t have a royal family, if they did, Zane would have been their one and only prince.
“We’re a bit concerned,” said Brian, the band’s head of security, as Zane led his band offstage.
Zane half listened as he walked, the good boy smiling image reserved for the public. In private, fame had consumed him, and his diva-esque tantrums and demands were a closely guarded secret. In short, whatever Zane wanted, Zane got.
“What now, Brian? Is there a fourteen-year-old girl in the crowd that loves me so much she wants to kill me?”
“No. There’s been some pretty nasty rioting across L.A. over the last few hours and it appears to be spreading. We’re thinking we should make a move now and abandon the balcony appearance.”
“Just do your fucking job. You get paid to keep me safe, not to tell me what to do.”
Brian hit the transmit button on his in-ear system and radioed to his team of ten security professionals. They looked after the band 24/7 and had been augmented by local security, stewards, and local law enforcement for the gig in Pomona. A number of scuffles had already been reported outside as fans queued to see the band in what was rumored to be an impromptu balcony gig for the thousands of fans who couldn’t get tickets. Brian didn’t like it although as Zane had made abundantly clear, Brian was paid to handle it, not like it.
Zane moved towards the rooftop terrace where the after show party was already underway. He had his eyes on one girl. He’d spotted her in the queue on the way in and had asked for her and her friends to receive some of the special invites. Brian followed him while the rest of the band broke off. Their squeaky clean image was not the façade Zane’s was. Two were in long-term relationships, while the fourth member was married. Behind closed doors Zane partied hard and the younger looking the groupie the better. Two very quiet out of court settlements had already saved him from facing statutory rape charges and had made two young women very wealthy.
Zane scanned the crowd from the doorway. He liked to see which girls he wanted before he entered. L.A. had some exceptionally beautiful girls, particularly the young, pre-plastic ones. There were over 300 people there, and his eyes focused on one. Older than his normal, but he had to have her. He had seen her
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