Disaster • Arctic Monkeys Fanfiction

[three]

Indi's POV

I just pulled a Fifty Shades in front of Alex Fucking Turner.

And I don't even like Fifty Shades of Grey.  Not publicly, at least.

On top of that, I'd just dropped the F-bomb in front of my boss.  Kelly's face was the only answer to my question that I needed. 

Yes.  I had definitely already fucked this up.

She looked like she was about say something to me (probably along the lines of "you're fired"), but Alex's laugh interrupted her before she could.

I froze.

"Brilliant entrance," he said between laughs.  "I've never seen anything more entertaining."

.....what?

Kelly apprehensively joined his laughter after a moment, her nervous eyes flicking between Alex and I.  The disapproval on her face slowly vanished.

She caught my eye and nodded down the hall.  My cue.

I cleared my throat awkwardly.  "I'll be interviewing you down the hall, Mr. Turner.  This way, please."

I led the way, and he followed, still laughing loudly.  I felt Kelly's eyes on us until we turned the corner toward the interview room.

The moment we were out of her sight, Alex's laugh ended abruptly.  I looked over my shoulder at him, confused.

"Your boss was two seconds from sacking you back there," he said to me, adjusting the sunglasses on his straight nose.  "You're welcome."

He sounded drunk.  Or maybe that was just his accent.  It was hard to tell.

"Thank you," I said.  What else could I say?  He had saved my ass.  

"Thank me by making this as quick and painless as possible," he said.  "I fucking hate interviews."

"Me too." That was something we could definitely agree on. 

"If you hate interviews, why do you work at a radio station?"

"If you hate interviews, why do you work in show business?" I challenged. 

"Because it isn't about the press and publicity.  It's about the music," he said, but then he went silent for a moment.  "Well, at least it used to be."

We made it to the interview room.  I opened the door for him, but he didn't go in immediately.  He stopped in front of the threshold and turned to look at me.

"Do me a favor," he said.  "And make this short.  I'll repay you, if you'd like."

"I don't want your money, Mr. Turner."

He gave me a look that immediately told me he wasn't talking about money. 

I raised an eyebrow.  "How then?"

A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.  "I'll show you around our tour bus.  Perhaps let you see where I sleep..."

He was trying to make a move on me.  As a favor to get what he wanted.

My nerves disintegrated.  In it's place, contempt. 

He thought he could give me a look and I would melt into his hands.  He thought I was some naive groupie that went weak in the knees for him.

Sure, I'd been nervous before because he was probably the most famous person we'd had in the studio since I'd started working here. 

But all of that was gone.  Now I could see him for what he was-- drunk and manipulative.  And if I'd learned anything at college so far, it was how to deal with those types of assholes. 

So I leaned into him, narrowing my eyes at the dark surfaces of his sunglasses. 

"Do me a favor," I said, lowering my voice.  "And stop flattering yourself."