Number One Fan. Narrelle M Harris
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today,’ Tessa said between sips of her coffee, ‘and I’ve updated the website with all the new social media stuff. Twitter, Facebook–’
‘Myspace?’ suggested Milo, deadpan.
‘Hell no, that’s on the way out. You don’t want to associate your brand with that. It’s right down there in the prehistoric era with Geocities.’
Frank felt like he was 34 going on 90. ‘YouTube?’ he asked tentatively.
‘We can just link to the stuff from your record company, unless you want a separate channel for the Foundation?’
‘The fundraising songs are separate to the albums, so maybe a separate channel?’ said Milo.
‘No probs. I’ll fix it up this arvo.’
‘You’re worth your weight in coffee, Tessa.’
‘Proper Melbourne currency,’ she laughed.
‘Oh, and this was in the box,’ said Milo, handing her the slightly crumpled envelope from his pocket.
Tessa frowned at it. ‘We haven’t advertised the address yet, have we? Ah, look at this. Not a stamp, even. Someone’s dropped it off. Here.’ She gave the envelope back to him. Typed across the front of it was ‘FROM YOUR NUMBER ONE FAN’. The ink impressions were uneven, so it wasn’t just a computer font. It had been typed on an honest-to-god manual typewriter.
Milo jammed his thumb under the flap. Frank grabbed a letter opener for him instead. With a defiant grin, Milo tore the envelope raggedly open.
‘If I didn’t love you madly, I’d report you for cruel and unusual punishment,’ grumbled Frank.
Milo’s cheeky retort dried up as he unfolded a single sheet of paper. Stuck to its pages were letters snipped out from magazines. The result was ludicrously melodramatic and puzzling.
LOOKING FORWARD TO YOUR NEW DUET.
‘Ooookay.’
Tessa plucked the letter from Milo’s fingers.
‘That’s a weird kind of threat. Ominous yet supportive.’ She put it into Frank’s waiting hand, only for Frank to scrunch it up and lob it into the bin.
‘At least it’s not scones,’ said Milo, sipping his coffee.
‘What’s wrong with scones?’ asked Tessa.
‘My mum’s scones? Nothing,’ said Milo.’ Anonymous scones from people who call themselves your number one fan? Absolutely everything.’
‘So if anyone ever sends food, especially if you don’t know the source, bin it,’ Frank added.
‘Bin it?’
‘I don’t care how charmingly home made it looks. Put it in the bin and set it on fire. I’ve heard stories about “secret ingredients” that would curdle your blood.’
‘Ew. Fans are nuts.’
‘Some fans are nuts,’ Milo correct her. ‘99.99 percent of them are lovely–’
‘If a little earnest,’ added Frank, thinking of Lachie.
‘–and most of the .01 are just “ominously supportive”.’
‘It’s that last .001 per cent who shoot presidents to prove their love.’
‘Being famous is weird.’
‘Tell us about it.’
A tap on the door interrupted them.
‘If it’s a free pizza–’ began Milo.
‘Bin it, burn it.’ Tessa nodded as she opened the door to a tall young woman with the same Mediterranean skin tones as Frank and Milo.
‘Gabey!’ Milo said with a sunny grin, pulling her into the office. She would have been taller than him even in bare feet; in heels she towered over everyone in the room.
The woman initial reserve vanished at Milo’s greeting. She beamed and kissed Milo noisily on both cheeks. ‘Milaki!’
‘What does that mean again?’ asked Milo, returning the European double-kiss.
‘You’re her Little Apple,’ teased Frank.
Milo preened like it was the best compliment he’d had all week. Gabey kissed Frank’s cheeks too.
‘Gabey, this is Tessa Defar. She’s managing the Foundation’s office,’ said Frank. ‘Tessa, this is–‘
‘Gabriella Valli.’ Tessa was trying not to look too starstruck. ‘I love your music, Ms Valli. I was so happy to learn you were recording again, and with Frank!’
‘He’s the best,’ Gabey agreed, ‘and streets ahead of my last producer. He’s an exacting but just task master.’
‘And he brings coffee. Shall I get you one, Ms Valli?’
‘Gabey, please. And I’m fine for coffee, thank you.’
‘Gabey.’ The new Paolo Cruz Foundation office manager tamped down her delight, bringing her Professional Person game to the room. ‘Right, I’ll leave you all to it and do a bank run, unless you need anything?’
‘We’re all good,’ Frank said. ‘This is band business.’
‘The duet you guys are doing?’
‘Among other things.’
Frank lead the way to the quiet back room to discuss the finishing touches to Gabey’s new album and the duet’s inaugural public performance.
Tessa closed the main door on her way out.
If Gabey noticed or cared that Frank had left the adjoining door open, or left the seat nearest it free for Milo, she made no comment.
Chapter Two
‘So at Cherry Bar, after the duet we’ll announce Gabey’s launch at the Toff in Town.’ Frank scribbled a note into his journal in black, then clicked his four-colour pen to bullet-point in blue notes for the sound guy and roadie on the extra mic.
‘What about my rider?’ teased Milo.
Without skipping a beat, Frank clicked his pen to add a point in green. Jelly snakes for the sugar fiend guitarist.
Milo leaned back in his chair, impishly satisfied. He was stupidly fond of Frank’s lists. One of his favourite things in the whole wide world was watching Frank transcribing lists into his master journal with his four-colour pen, flicking the nibs down with the officious snap of the very organised. Black for the main entry; blue dots, green sub-points, red asterisks beside the time-sensitive items. Frank’s dedication to keeping their little ship sailing efficiently was occasionally crazy-making, but on the happy whole his patience and care were a soothing metronome; the solid framework for their lives.
Click. Frank’s thumb flicked the end of the pen. ‘Anything else?’ He caught Milo’s soft expression and the way his mouth dimpled in the corner. Frank flashed a puzzled but affectionate look back.
‘You two are adorable,’ observed Gabey.
‘What?’ Frank tried to look less soppy, more business-like.
Milo leaned over to kiss Frank’s cheek. ‘Y’hear that? Gabriella Valli thinks you’re adorable.’
‘I’m sure that’s what she looks for in a producer,’ said Frank, mock-dour.
‘It was at the top of my list,’ said Gabey. ‘Right after “prodigious talent” and just before “likes cats” and “doesn’t shout”.’
‘Three outa three,’ crowed Milo. ‘Good work, hot stuff!’ He snatched up Gabey’s hand and gallantly kissed it. ‘Did Danny The Prince make it into the