Wonderland // McFly

Who the Hell is She?

November 2004

Life wasn't supposed to be this complicated for me. I was the kind of person who planned out her whole life. But look at me now, seventeen, partially changing my identity and getting a job for some boy band.

This is only a temporary thing, of course. I don't want my whole life to revolve around the media. I just need something to give me some good money until I'm eighteen and can get a real job.

I hadn't gone to school in forever. I don't even really know what it's like. I wish I did, but then again, there's a lot of things in this world I wish I knew about.

I walked through the slush that filled the November ground and knocked on the door. A tall brunette man answered the door.

"I'm guessing you're Lilly?" He smiled.

"Yes." I said.

"I'm Fletch. Come on in."

We walked through his unbelievably large and beautiful house.

"Can I interest you in some tea?" He asks.

"I'm alright thank you." I say, when we stop in the kitchen.

"Your resume says that you've never particularly worked with celebrities, but that you have been in management and you are a hard worker." He says.

"Yes." I say. I need this job.

"And you're twenty?" He asks.

No.

"Yes." I say.

"Can I see your driver's license?" He asks. I nod my head and dig into my purse, sure to pull out the fake ID. I hand it to him. "Well, you check out." He says, handing my ID back. I take a breath. "Twenty is pretty young, but lucky for you, tour starts too soon. You're hired." He says.

"Thank you so much." I smile.

"You'll be working as a co-manager for the boys." He says.

"Boys?" I ask.

"Yes. The band McFly. Have you heard of them? There album hit number one over the summer." He said.

"Um...I haven't really." I say. He turns and opens a cupboard with lots of CDs and hands me one. On the cover are four boys all on wooden posts in odd poses and the top reads: Room on the Third Floor.

"When do I start?" I ask, putting the CD in my bag.

"Tomorrow the boys have a rehearsal down the road." He takes out a piece of paper and scribbles an address on it, then hands it to me. "Be there at eight and you can meet them then."

"Um...what about...pay?" I ask.

"Probably about two hundred a week, give or take. Does that work?" He asks.

"Yes, definitely." I said.

"Perfect." Fletch says.

Perfect Indeed

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