The Rock Rollercoaster

6. Charlie Brown

Picture of Lyra over there ------------------------------>

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This was torture. Complete, utter torture. It had been two weeks since the audition for Kick the Crown. Two. Weeks.

My phone was constantly either in my hand or pocket - I was paranoid that I would miss the phone call and therefore lose all hope of joining the band. Now, in Amor Musicis, I realised that I was at breaking point.

"-and its been two weeks!" I finished, throwing my hands up in the air.

Tom sighed. "Well, its quite a big decision. They love their band, and they're on the brink of a major deal, Lyra. I suppose adding someone new so late is quite a big issue for them. Have patience."

I scowled. "I'm not good with patience, Tom."

"I'd noticed."

"But what do I do now? Before, I had Psychedelic Disadvantage to occupy me, even if it was stupid. But now... I just sit in my hotel room, waiting for the phone call, or come here and buy albums I don't have room for and try not to think about the phone call."

Tom shrugged. "Find something to keep you busy. You're still in the hotel, but you've been in New York a while now. Find somewhere to live for real."

I thought about it. "I suppose you're right. But... I don't want a house. I don't need anything too big or permanent."

"An apartment, then?"

I nodded. "Yeah. But I have no idea where to start."

Grinning, he said, "Check the House Sales section of the newspapers - you'll find something suitable. And then, you can have somewhere to actually call your own. How will you pay for it, though? You don't have a job."

I sighed. "I've been using a load of money I took from my Dad to pay for the hotel suite. But...Maybe, I'll get in with Kick the Crown, we'll get a record deal and I'll be earning millions a day?" I shook my head. "That's not what I want from music." I said. "I don't know."

Tom laughed. "You need to talk to your Dad."

I groaned. "Goody."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Shopping for an apartment was easier than I thought it ever would be. In a matter of minutes, I had scanned the Newspaper's House Sales section and circle one that suited me well in red marker pen.

It was small, but I didn't need anything big. It was cosy, just what I wanted. It was perfect. A living/dining area, small kitchen, one bedroom and a small room to be used for storage or anything useful like that. I rang the owners of the apartment and settled a time to check it out the next day, but I already knew that I would probably get the apartment.

The only problem now was money. I still had loads of the cash I had taken from my father - enough to rent out the apartment for a good few months. But that was guilty money. Although Dad obviously didn't miss it, I still felt uneasy when spending it. But should I try to get a job when I was waiting for Kick the Crown to tell me if I was in? If I did get the place in the band, I wouldn't want to be messed around with a job. But if I didn't get one because I was waiting for their answer and then found that I wasn't in the band, I might not get any opportunities.

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"-it's not huge, but for someone your age,-"

I grinned. "Its perfect."

Mrs Williams smiled. She was the middle-aged owner of the apartment. She looked kind of out of place among the plainess of the place; she wore cashmere cardigans and wore a string of pearls around her neck. Her husband played golf. It was pretty obvious that they were desperate to get out of the tiny apartment.