Kind of a Bad Time

Chapter 1

Anton sat at a table by himself, one of those that was just outside the cafe, complete with umbrella and wooden chairs, that was set on the cobblestone. Marien Platz was, if not too crowded, still Anton's favorite plaza of the Alt Stadt of Munich even if it was the most visited by tourists. Ever since he was small he loved this place, with the typical old buildings and the beautiful Rathaus that was just so customary but held some special excitement that the tourists brought to it, and though most indigenous people shied away from tourist attractions such as this, it still held some sort of speciality to Anton. He drank a beer relaxing at his table, watching the people, specifically a girl who sat against the wall of the Rathaus playing guitar.

He had to be careful, because it seemed to good to be true, but she had a fantastic voice and sang American songs without a terrible accent. At the moment, Anton didn't quite trust his ears because it seemed a bit too much of a coincidence that he found a perfect singer while grabbing a beer and putting null effort into it, and so he was patiently relaxing and listening to her.

She was about the age of 18, dressed in a wind breaker and sweatpants and some dirty moccasins, her hair, obviously untouched by any heat, thrown over to one side of her head in frizzy waves. She played her acoustic guitar without the case open or a hat in front of her, which meant she wasn't asking for tips.

Anton stayed, listening to her, until she stopped her playing, sat still, staring at nothing, and then started to put her guitar away. He quickly jumped out of his seat, threw money on the table, and moved toward her. "Hallo."

She looked up at him. "Hallo."

"Ja, hi, sorry, this must be unexpected. I just wanted to say that I've been sitting over there at that cafe, listening to you, of course, drinking a beer, you know, just relaxing, and I wanted to tell you you have an outstanding voice. And great playing talent, too, of course."

She gave a small smile. "Dankesehr."

"What's your name?"

"Erica."

"Well, Erica, have you ever thought of singing professionally?"

She laughed slightly while snapping her guitar case shut and standing up. "No, not really."

"Here, let me take that," Anton said, quickly picking up the guitar. "Well I have a very interesting proposition for you. It happens to be I'm a manager by profession, and I'm really impressed by you. You're voice is magnificent, and it has that special thing to it that you can't find anywhere else. I'd be open to the idea of listening to more of you, and perhaps to hiring you. See, I have the perfect pairing in mind--"

"Danke, aber no, I can't." She took back her guitar firmly.

"You can't. Are you in uni?" She had started walking, and now Anton was trailing with her.

"No."

"Well, Erin, I'm perfectly serious about this opportunity. I'm almost one hundred percent sure you're what I want."

"I'm sorry."

Anton could sense she was becoming uncomfortable, and so he stopped following her. "I understand. My name's Anton Schulz if you change your mind." She didn't reply, but walked briskly away.

Her refusal was frustrating, but as Anton cleared his thoughts, he reminded himself there were thousands of good singers in Germany alone. All he needed was some girl with a decent voice. She just had to be skinny, not even pretty, because stage lights washed out faces anyway. And it wasn't like her face was going on the cover of the record. Though he preferred a hot coworker over an unattractive one, and that girl with the guitar wasn't too attractive, with a Roman nose smack in her face and no makeup whatsoever, not even to blur out her freckles. So she wasn't even his best option.