City of Angels

stop that girl

Rain sprinkles the street below, heavy clouds hang over the city, grumbling with effort as they scrape past the buildings.
Sophie debates leaving the hotel.
Would she bump into Nikki in the lobby if she did? She shouldn't risk it.

She picks up the TV remote and sits in front of the set, a plate stacked with fruit decorated crêpes next to her. They aren't the fine dining experience she'd like, but it'll have to do.
Sophie browses through the channels. Most of the shows are Los Angeles garbage. People trying to claw their way to stardom on some exploitative series that promises five minutes of fame.

Finally, something pinches her interest. Music.
Now, Sophie thinks, would be a good time to brush up on the modern artists. She has a lot of catching up to do.
The noise slamming through the TV surprises Sophie. It's angry, urgent, punchy.
Men in black and red studded outfits bash their instruments and glower at the camera.
Sophie wants to laugh at the dramatics, but she's a little thrilled by the alienness of it all. The clothes underneath their uniforms are shredded and messy, their hair big and crazy, and their makeup odd but pleasingly so.

"Well now I'm supercharged
"Might just explode in your face
"I'm black, I'm black, I'm black
"And I'm primed with hate," spits the platinum blond front man, as if directly threatening Sophie.
Sophie wonders where she's seen that bright hair before.

"Damn it."
Again? For the second time, she realises who these angry, dressed up boys are.
She glances at the records laying on the floor next to her bed. Amongst them is Mötley Crüe's.
And there they are, right in front of her.
There's Nikki, swinging a bass with a sneer. So the confidence he displays now reflects right back into his personal life, too. His attitude is so similar, he'd be unmistakable to his fans if they ran into him.
What now?
She can't even watch tv without being assaulted by reminders of Nikki. And now she finds that his band writes songs that she actually likes? She doesn't want to relate to them in any way or give them any credit whatsoever.
She has to get out, away from any area Nikki might be. She leaves without bothering to put on anything eye catching, abandoning her breakfast.
She exits the hotel wearing relaxed jeans and a cotton shirt, looking for something to keep her occupied.

As soon as she alights on the street, the noise almost deafens her. Above the clamor, someone is shouting.
"Hey! Girl!"
Sophie glances over her shoulder.
"Yes, YOU!"

An elderly man appears from the bustle, striding forward with an angry intent. Her face loses its colour when she realises who it is.
"Mr Bonetti!" She pastes on a dazzling smile.
He does not return it.
"Where the fuck is my car, girl? You stole from me!"
Sophie rolls her eyes internally, dropping the smile. She's sure he can afford a new one. Besides, she didn't take it. She simply provided the opportunity to someone else.
"Oh no! It went missing?" She feigns concern.

He grabs Sophie's arm roughly, fat fingers digging into her skin just above her elbow.
"Where did you take it? You work in a group, eh? Thief?"

Sophie doesn't like being grabbed, but she ignores it to continue with her act.
"I'm sorry that happened, but I can promise with my whole heart, Mr Bonetti. I didn't touch your car!"
She widens innocent eyes.

"Where did you go then? You leave, I look outside, my car is gone. You take it, no?"
Sophie shakes her head.

"I'd never! I left because... I was nervous." She plays shy now, leaning in and whispering "This is embarrassing, but... I'm a virgin, Mr. Bonetti."
His wide face flushes beetroot red.
"Oh. I see."
"I left the keys on the welcome mat and someone must have taken them. I'm so sorry, Mr. Bonetti. Please, please forgive me!"
Sophie's eyes shimmer with tears as she makes herself look as small and breakable as possible.
"Oh, don't cry. Don't cry, petal. I can buy new one, don't cry."
That's what she thought.
Sophie throws her arms around his thick neck and sobs with relief.