Teen Romantic Comedy: IN DEVELOPMENT
“Da, there’s a man at the door. He’s wearin’ a suit.” She glanced back at his crumpled outfit. “Sort of.”
“If he’s from the bank, give him a kicking,” Rory said, his voice bouncing down the stairs.
She leant against the doorframe.
“Are ya from the bank?”
“You know I heard that, right? No, I’m from Sony BMG.” Kenneth said.
“Da,” she shouted, “is Sunny Beam Energy a bank or collector?”
“What the … what are you talking about?” There was a loud crackle as an instrument was unplugged. Rory descended from the second story.
Kenneth gasped. “You’re Rory Lachlan.”
Rory looked him up and down. “It depends.”
“Of course. Daphne Lachlan. Daughter of Rory Lachlan.”
“You from that show ‘Who do ya think you are?’ I told them before I wasn’t interested. We live a quiet life here, and that’s the way I like it.”
“This is totally an OMG moment for me. You were my idol. Your Berlin sessions changed my life.”
“Changed my life, too.” He let out a low chuckle, then stopped when he saw his daughter’s expression. “Wait. Before ya get all Fatal Attraction on me, who is this Sunny Beam—”
“Sony. Sony BMG. The label.”
“Jesus, Daph, were you wearing earplugs? How can you mishear … never mind. What does the mighty Sony want from me?”
“Ah. Er. Well, it’s actually … Daphne we want.”
“We’ve got a special project. We’re putting together three young—”
“No way. We’re not interested.” He slammed the door, fuming.
“Da, what are ya doing?” Daphne cried. She grabbed his arm. “Sony came to our door. They want me.”
“So does that ponce Billy from number fifteen, but he ain’t getting his mits on ya either.”
“But it’s Sony. Don’t ya want to hear what they’ve got to say—do you mean Billy Thurstone?”
“You can’t trust these labels. Trust me. I’ve seen it and been it all. It is not how it looks. Yeah, Thurstone. He’s always in a uniform, looking neat.”
“I thought he was going to play rugby.”
“Apparently not. He’s joined the Man. Air Force, Navy Force or something. And don’t you dare think of seeing him. I’ve seen that look in your eye before. He’s a full fourteen months older than you, and that’s a cradle snatcher in my book.”
“Da, you cannot tell me who I can or cannot see. You do this every time. You were the same with Ryan.”
“Ryan. Ryan! Let me tell you something about Ryan. He played a Les Paul. Now I like to think I’m as open-minded as the next man, but I’m not having my daughter fraternising with the enemy.”
“Da, it was never about the guitar. The guitar doesn’t define you. You define the guitar. That’s what you said.”
“Well, you can say anything out of context. But I never meant it about a Les Paul. Good grief there has to be standards. And that is the end of the subject. And you can get back up stairs and practice your Frijian scales.”
“How appropriate,” she shouted as she ran up the stairs.
“And you’re not joining … whoever … Sony either. Christ, he’ll still be waiting outside.”