Sheet Music - A Rock 'n' Roll Love Story

“That’s what you’re really mad at, isn’t it?”  Annie screamed back at him, but Michael paid no attention.  He was too focused on finding a solution.

“Son-of-a-bitch!  You’re screwed.  After those pictures hit the music rags, and they will, the promoters will have no choice but to disqualify your band!  Not to mention, I won’t be able to see you again in public until this contest is done!  Do you understand that?”

Annie wiped the tears from her cheeks, stood up and adjusted her clothing.  Then she walked defiantly toward the door.  “Then I’ll make it easy for you, Michael, and disappear.  Now, you won’t have to worry about seeing me publicly or privately ever again!”

“You can’t go out there until Bull clears the hall for us.”

“Oh yeah, watch me,” she glared into his eyes, pulling the door open.  “I'm through playing games with you.  It's over.  Do you understand that?” she hissed, stabbing him in the chest with an index finger.  “To hell with the contest and to hell with you!”  A second later she was in the hallway and gone from his sight.

“Annie, come on, don’t go!” Michael called after her.  Then Bull filled the doorway frame with his enormous body.  “How nice of you to come,” Michael spat.

Bull put his large hands onto his hips and snarled back at Michael.  “What the hell are you doing down here?  You’re supposed to be in the press room with the rest of your God-damned band!”

“Never mind what I’m doing.  Did you get the cameras?”

“No!  Do you see anyone out here in the hall?”  Bull growled.

“Shit, they’re probably already back at their studio’s editing them,” Michael groaned.

“Do I want to know what’s on the film?” Bull asked.

“Use your imagination,” he replied loudly, pulling on his shirt.  Then he stormed from the room and headed back to the press room to find Brian.

The room was still brimming with people when Michael strode back in.  He caught Buzz by the arm first and spun him around.

“Where’s Annie?” he asked.

“She said she was going home.  I heard her say something about not feeling well.”

“How did she plan on getting there?” Michael questioned, his voice bordering on rage.

“Jesus, Mike, calm down!  She’s in good hands.  Sammy offered to give her a ride.”

“I bet he did!”

Michael turned on his heels to find Brian.  It didn’t take long.  He was happily and seductively sandwiched between two beautiful women, while another took their photograph.  Ignoring the women, Michael stepped in and separated Brian, as if prying apart mating dogs from one another.

“What the hell?  I was having fun,” Brian protested.

“We’ve got a little problem,” Michael blurted.

“What kind of problem?” Brian asked, suddenly interested in the topic.

Michael pushed the hair off his face.  “Annie and I just got caught in the dressing room by a couple of photographers.  I recognized one of them as LJ from Rolling Stone magazine.”

Brian’s eyes grew wide then narrowed in anger.  He grabbed Michael by the arm and pulled him into the hallway for privacy.  “Just so I have all the facts straight,” he whispered.  “Am I to understand that you and Annie were screwing in the dressing room while photographers snapped away at their leisure?”

“No, not exactly .  But in another five minutes we probably would have been.”

“Jesus!  What the hell were you thinking?” Brian shook his head in disgust.  “Why didn't you lock the door, or better yet, why'd you bring her there in the first place?”  Brian threw his hands up in the air.  “I told you this would happen!  Hell, I even told her this would happen!  Damn it!  We're going to need damage control now!  Go give Arnold a call,” he ordered, and trudged back into the press room, leaving Michael behind in the empty hall.  “And this is your problem, not mine.”