Thread: Faithless

Woo everyone! Finally making the intro post for my first RP here!

The man who walked into the CEO's office was not a regular visitor to the softly furnished room but he had been called there today by the CEO's command. He walked up to the large desk of the imposing man and waited for his boss to acknowledge him. The CEO waited three minutes despite the fact that he had always been facing his employee,
"You are head of musical interests, correct?" the big man asked carefully as if speaking to a lower form of intelligence. The man nodded,
"For three years now sir." he said curtly and went back to waiting. The CEO clasped his hands together,
"And have any of our musical projects given us more than a no.2?" he asked bitterly and they both knew the answer,
"No sir." came the reply from the head of musical development. The CEO frowned,
"I am going to tell you now... if you don't get us one outstanding act you're fired! I don't care if you have to make a band or some pop star floozy, just get me back the millions that I invested in your sector!"
And with that he was dissmissed. The head of musical development sighed as he sat down behind his desk. His secretary walked in, concerned,
"Are you okay sir?" she asked timidly. The executive shook his head, "Well the research team have found some people they think would form a great rock band..."
"Gladice... we both know the guys in research don't know shit so why don't you tell me about these stars you've picked out." he smiled wanly and his secretary beamed,
"Well sir it's already under way. I've sent representatives out to try and bring them to us no matter what the cost!" she smiled again and turned on a nearby TV, switching it from MTV to something a bit heavier, "Kerrang! just made a list of the most popular people who have recently left successful bands... the top six according to Kerrang!"
She handed her boss the paperwork she had assembled,
"The songwriter Nathan Quinn has agreed to work with the band and our own Joy Tyler is best suited to manage the group. Each member of the band and of our management team is an expert in their chosen field sir." she stood back, waiting to hear her boss' response. The executive broke out into a massive grin,
"You've just saved me my job Gladice!" get jumped over his desk and hugged her, letting her blush a bit, "We'll send them away to... the manor house complex! There they won't be distracted and they can start cranking out albums until this department is known the world over!"
Gladice smiled at her boss,
"I'll make the arangements boss."


John was sat down in a comfortable chair but he was anything but comfortable at the moment. He was trying to stare at the label representative in front of him but she seemed to even be noting the movement of his eyes on her little clipboard. She looked up at him for the first time,
"Mr Baptise... why did you leave your old band? You enjoyed a lot of success." she said in a way that betrayed that she wasn't interested at all. John sighed quietly before explaining,
"Personal reasons. I didn't quite trust my bass player..."
"Because he slept with your long-time girlfriend." finished the interviewer in the same voice she had used before, thoroughly annoying the interviewee. She coughed slightly,
"And why have you asked to be the rhythem guitarist/ back up singer? Were you not both the lead guitarist and lead singer in your last band?" she said this in such a way that John was left with no doubt that she had actually pronounced the forwards slash. He shook his head slightly to clear it,
"I was bored of always being in the spotlight. Being a lead singer means that you take most of the media flak and being a lead guitarist means that you're actually just adding stuff onto the song, you're not really what makes it a song like a rythem guitarist is." he shuffled his feet noisily and the woman glared at him as if he'd just spat at the Pope. She shook her head,
"The label has already agreed. You are to be the band's rythem guitarist and back up singer. You will be picked up in two hours by a man named Steve and then you shall be driven to the secured manor house where you and your fellow band members will be comfide to until the completion of the first two albums." and with that she left, leaving a severely relieved John sitting in his comfortable chair.

Zandra fidgeted in her seat, as the interviewer sat down infront of her. Zandra breathed out, as the interviewer smiled,
"So, it says' here, that you left your last band after a dissagreement, care to elaborate?" Zandra nodded "I was the bass player, and well...I kinda walked in on our lead singer selling...stuff illegally" The interviewer nodded and glanced down at her clipboard,
"So, it say's here that you've applied for Bass/Lead singer, that's an interesting conbination?" Zandra smiled and nodded
"I've been playing double bass since i was little, but i like singing more, so yeah" The interviewer smiled, "Well, the lable has accepted you, as both, Have fun, There will be a car around to pick you up in about 2 hours i suggest packing your bags for good" Zandra beamed, and nodded as the interviewer got up and left.

Curt was sitting on the stairs leading up to his office, in front of him stood a nervous looking label representative. The shop was loud today, the sounds of clippers, chatter and punk music all competed to be heard over the ruckus. The young label rep was looking side to side staring at all the tattoos, piercings and wild styles of dress juxtaposed to her tailored suit.
“Mr O’Reily, do you have anywhere quieter where we could talk?” she asked.
“Sorry someone is being tattooed in the office, besides whatever you have to say you can say in front of my people,” he replied in a thick Boston accent.
She took her clipboard from under her arm and quickly glanced at it, taking a pen from her purse she said, “Let’s begin then.”
“Hey, every buddy shut up for a minute ok!?” Curt yelled over the noise, which instantly died to a murmur.
Realizing everyone was now listening she cleared her through timidly and began, “So, Mr. O’Reily,” the use of his last name produced snickers from the small crowd, she continued, “why did you leave your last band?”
“I didn’t leave, we’re talking a leave of absence,” he answered coolly.
“May I ask why?”
“Two of me three band mates are upstate, and the cops won’t let us play shows for the time be’in.”
“Oh, um, you mean in Lowell or Haverhill or something?”
With that statement the crowd burst in to hysterics, Curt himself laughed heartily.
“No, I mean they’re banged time, in the Zone, behind bars!”
Blushing she replied, “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be they’re a couple of focks and they deserve what they got! But then again don’t we all?” with that he broke into another laugh, the crowd joining in.
Now very uncomfortable the label rep waited for the crowd to settle down then questioned, “So what role will you play in the band?”
“Well probably the same one I play in most situations, the douche bag!”
With this the crowd erupted to new heights, the label rep leaned into Curt and told him when he would be getting picked up the next day and ran out of the parlor.

Jazzmine dialled her mother’s number as she walked out of her class. “Hey mom!”

“Hi, honey! How are you doing?”

"You won't believe me!. I just got a call from a music rep. They want to interview me!"

“Oh! How exciting!” Her mother commented cheerfully.

“I know!” She replied with a hint of excitment.

“When is the interview?"

Jazzmine paused, she retrieved the small piece of paper from her pocket. The hand writing was rushed and hard to read. But then again, could you afford to take your time with a music rep.

"In 15 minutes." She replied.

"Oh thats goo... WHAT! JAzzmine Erika Perth you have classes. You can't afford to leave half way during the day, what about your education."

Rolling her eyes, Jazzmine closed the phone and out it in her pocket.

"Bye mum." She whispered to herself, almost relieved that she wouldn't hear from her for awhile.

Sighing, Jazzmine camly walked down the large stone steps leading from her school's entrance to the road. No body never seemed to care about Jazzmine leaving, they just accepted that if they left her go, she would be out there bothering someone, rather then making comments at how they were teaching.

"Blue Coffee." Jazzmine whispered as she read the words. Thats were the music rep was going to meet her. She didn't have the details, but if a music rep was intrested she had to take that chance.

Blue coffee was a small cafe, it was on the other side of the point, near the upscale side of town, where a few schoolmates of Jazzmine’s used to live. She took a left turn at an intersection and turned into the parking lot of the building.

Business wasn't exactly bomming inside, but had she really cared? Yawning, Jazzmine took a seat near the window, watching a red car pull in. She wasn't good with car names, but it was expensive enough. A women with long black hair got out, her clothes matched her car. A short red dress with a black belt, her high heels made a sound when they hit the cafe's floor.

"Jazzmine Perth?" She asked with a raised eyebrow, studying her for a moment, Jazzmine nodded.

"Lets get right to it shall we?" The women didn't wait for an answer, instead she pulled out a small notebook from her bag along with a pen. "On the phone, I didn't get to explain much. Truth is, I'm supposed to interview you. You know, the works and that."

The women exhaled heavily.

"But I can't be bothered. Yes or no. You want to become part of this project?"

"Yeah, of course, but..." Jazzmine was curious she wanted to know more, but the women cut her off.

"But nothing. Get in the car, we'l drive by your place, get that mother to sign a perrmission slip, get your stuff, and get out of this dump."

Fine then.

Jazzmine nodded, and followed the women outside to the car.

John had had time to run back to his apartment and pack his bags before the car arrived outside the club he'd been interviewed at. He watched as the big car pulled up in front of him. It was a stretch hummer limo. He whistled as a short man, dressed in a little uniform, got out and took his bags and two guitars to the boot of the car. He smiled when the driver tried to open one of the back doors and opened it himself,
"I may be a rock star but I'm not that self important. You just stick to driving..." he turned his hand to indicate that he was stuck. The driver smiled,
"Steve. I like what you're doing with your hair." he sniggered and John hit him lightly on the head,
"I only agreed to dye it white when my ex asked me to. Though she wasn't my ex at the time." he smiled anyway and got inside.
The interior was just as the exterior had hyped it up to be. It was all leather with only enough leather spared to show the fridge and TVs. He whistled, "I'm gunna get this all the time?"
He heard Steve laugh,
"Yeah but it won't just be you remember." he warned and got in the driver's seat, "We may have to pick up some others so be patient yeah?"
John laughed,
"Take as much time as you like..." he took a miniture whiskey bottle from the fridge, "As long as this booze is free."
Steve laughed,
"You're a funny guy John."
"What? I was serious that last time..."

Zandra was running around like mad, she'd already took her three basses outside (Double Bass, Electric Double Bass, and bass guitar) and her and her mother we're frantically packing things into bags. When they were all packed she had about 2 minutes until her lift would get here. She turned to her mum and smiled hugging her tightly, then the same to her dad, "Bye, love you two" she said as a strech hummer limo pulled up infront of her, before she could say anything a the driver got out and walked up grabbing her double bass first, making sure to be carefully with it, "Umm, would you like a hand with that uhh..." The driver shook his head and smiled "Steve. No miss i'll be right" Zandra nodded and swiftly walked up to the hummer pulling the door open and climbing in turning to wave to her parents before before shutting the door.

There was only one other in teh limo, she smiled at him as she took a seat. "Nice hair" she said quietly.

John shook his head, grinning,
"Everyone got to remind me about that?" he chuckled and turned to look at the new arrival, "I'm John. Nice to meet you."
He raised a small bottle of whiskey,
"Steve says the drinks are free and that means they need to be drunk. Help yourself miss..."

"Zandra-leigh" she said smiling, but shook her head at the bottle of Whiskey, "I don't drink" she said quietly.

John chuckled,
"I don't normally but being picked up by a new label is something to celebrate I suppose Zandra." he looked at his own whiskey before putting it away, "What do they want you to do in the band then Zandra?"

Zandra laughted "I'm the lead singer and bass player" she grinned "And yourself?"

Joy was sucking down a decaf Frapiciono (doctors orders: no caffeine) at the local Starbucks. She smiled automatically as an annoying paparazzi took her photo. Across form her, the interviewer taped his pen nervously. "Ms. Tyler--"
"Ms. Tyler is my mother. Call me Joy," she smiled again.
"We were wondering if you would be interested in managing another band."
Joy stared at him with one eye. "It better not be some pop band filled with tone-def premadonas. I want something exciting."
The interviewer smiled, "It's a rock band. The members will be some of the biggest names in the business."
"A rock band! Count me in!" Joy said standing up. "When can we leave?"
"Uh right now if you want to...."
"Hurry up! Let's go!" she said already standing up with her Gucci purse in hand.

Robbie slouched slightly in the chair, as the label rep began the interview.

"Mr. McIvor, I've heard that you were the lead guitarist for three very successful metal bands. Why did you leave the music scene?" she asked, trying not to sound like that it was a crime for him to have done so in the first place.

"I thought I would take a break for a while and start my solo career. It didn't work out as well as I planned, so I thought to myself "What the hell, the people miss the Ivor, I need to come back and give 'em some more great riffs and solos to listen to love."

"Alright. And about the alleged drug use during your time with Nine O'Clock News, Mr. McIvor?" Robbie knew what he would tell her; he'd told reporters the same thing many times over, and they still came back, asking for him to tell them the truth.

"Listen love, I took one puff of pot during our European tour. The drummer gave it to me. You should go and talk to him about; he is the one booked into rehab, not me."

"Okay then, Mr. McIvor, here's some more allegations about being an alcoholic and the "Breakwater Incident" during '02." the interviewer said, getting even more personal.

"Alcoholic? Sure I drank, but only screwdrivers. I need 'em to keep me up for the gigs love. Breakwater? Punching that bottle-throwing idiot with my fists? he deserved it... I had to make 'im stop, otherwise we wouldn't have been able to go on." Robbie said.

"Okay then Mr. McIvor, thanks for your time and your honesty. There's a limo waiting outside for you. Thank you again for your time." the interviewer said, as she left him.

Robbie walked out, and down a block to his apartment, packed a bag with clothes and other things, then ran back, and he got there just in time to see a limo pulling up. He opened the door and settled himself down in one of the seats. He found he was sitting next to a bloke with white hair. Stiffling a laugh, he shut the door and spoke up.

"Bloody hell mate, looks like you've seen a ghost. Oh, and I'm Robbie McIvor, the best lead guitarist to come out of Britain." he said, as he held out a hand to the stranger.

Curt hadn't slept all night, maybe because he spent the first half with his friends trying to drown him with a bottle, then the second half he spent frantically ripping apart his apartment. He didn't know why but his stomach was churning, he' already thrown up most of the alcohol but he couldn't kick this anxious feeling. The car was coming at 8am to pick him up, then he realized, he car was taking him to the airport. Ahhhhhhhh FOCK he thought. I can't do it, I can't....Yes I can, I have to...Maybe be are right maybe I'm selling out and shouldn't do this, no, I need some thing to do, I'm bored as fuck here. But flying!? Jesus who do they think I am? Curt's mind was racing, he had started to sweat and his breathing was erratic. He circled his small apartment like a whirling dervish, grabbing this and that, only to throw it somewhere else. Ok, let's get this under control. He dropped to his knees and grabbed a military style duffel bag from under the bed, then he walked over to his wardrobe and began looking in it. Curt started shoving many random pieces of clothing into, seemingly with no thought involved. However, within a couple minutes he had filled the bag and it appeared he had everything he needed. Ok, now to wait. Curt walked over to the fridge and removed a beer. Time to kill the nerves, though this was only a temporary fix he had to do something to pass the time.

As 8 approached Curt grabbed his bag, brought it downstairs and left it on the stairs. He then ran back up to his apartment and came back down with two guitar cases, his babies. As he arrived back on the stoop of this building a black Lincoln Towncar arrived, he was greeted by a suit who helped him with his things, he silently got into the back and sank into the plush leather seats. Curt head pounded like a bass drum, the after effects of a good night he thought, leaning his head against the glass he watched the familiar sites pass by, and said a prayer for Boston.

Upon arriving at the airport Curt developed a severe case of the shakes and began to sweat. Check-in and security was like a motion picture before his eyes, he was scared shitless. Simply being guided from one place to the next following the orders of airport security he had finally arrived, face to face with his worst nightmare, gate 3A. It wasn't the gate itself he was afraid of but everything after. Fuck fear he thought and walked forth. He gave his ticket to the flight attendant, she was hot and he made a mental note.

"Thanks...Beth," he said, reading her name tag.

The next thing he knew he was seated next to another faceless suit in first class. Th suit looked at him with disgust when he ordered a whiskey on the rocks before the flight had even left. By his sixth the plane was taxiing and Curt was sleeping like a baby.

He was roused in an empty airplane, he had arrived, and grinned at how easy it all was. Jesus, if I knew alcohol solved every problem I would have started drinking earlier he thought with a smile. Still feeling the effects of the whiskey he stumbled off the plane, onto the tarmac and to his gear. To his surprise a massive Hummer limo was waiting at the arrivals exit, a third suit beside it, Curt O'Reily sign in hand.

After depositing his gear in the trunk Curt hopped into the limo (more like half jumped and half fell into [albeit gracefully]). He was greeted by a limo full of inquisitive faces.

"Uhh, you be muh new bandmates eh?" He asked, slightly slurred.

Oh, and I'm Robbie McIvor, the best lead guitarist to come out of Britain.

John laughed,
"I may have to disagree there mate. I spent a good five years introducing metal to Sweeden as a lead guitarist and lead singer. And to top it off I was born in Cambridge. You've got some competition for your title mate." he smiled and ran his hand through his hair, "And this will change colour more times than Axel Rose has been late for a concert."

And yourself?

"Back to my earlier conversation with Zandra here... I'd normally be challenging you for lead singer but I've decided to become a rythem guitarist and back up singer." He smiled and chucked a whiskey bottle at Robbie, "Drink up man. We're rockstars again and that's what we do."
The car had stopped and another person jumped in, a punk from the look of him and he was drunk.

Uhh, you be muh new bandmates eh?

John grinned,
"Finally! We have someone who isn't afraid to drink!" he cackled a little, the excitment getting to him. He threw a minature whiskey to the new comer, "One more for the road mate?"

"Finally! We have someone who isn't afraid to drink!" he cackled a little, the excitment getting to him. He threw a minature whiskey to the new comer, "One more for the road mate?"

Fumbling the bottle Curt responded, "Aye guilty as charged!" He then proceeded to shoot it back.

"Well now that my whistle has been met, I man wet, who might you be?" He asked the white haired character, ignoring the rest for the time being. The man did give him a drink after all.