chickadee
New Yorker
Hi everyone! This is a new fic from me. It's set during the Joshua Tree tour in 1987. I'm too young to remember that first-hand, but this is fiction, after all, so I'm sure it won't matter much. Also, the only US city I've spent any time at all in is Boston, so when I move the action around you'll have to forgive any mistakes there, too. I'll do my best not to make any. If you like it, please leave a comment!
Disclaimer: U2 and all associated people don't belong to me - only my own characters do. This story is entirely fiction.
Love Rescue Me
Chapter 1
Beth folded her arms and tried not to meet the eyes of her boss as he paced up and down in front of his desk, speaking in his reedy voice to the assembled group of reporters and photographers. She already didn’t feel great, her head aching, and the thought of being picked on in front of all her colleagues wasn’t exactly an appealing prospect.
“We need the perfect story. Anything less is just not good enough.” Alex Winters pointed at nobody in particular in a gesture of emphasis, and then he stopped walking. “We’re a local paper, but that doesn’t mean our quality has to be low. So, I want everyone making more of an effort, right?” He paused to let the ripple of inaudible murmurs circulate the room. “Yes. And, to go with the perfect story, we need the perfect picture. I’m afraid the goods haven’t been delivered recently in that department. Have they, Elizabeth?”
The moment she’d been dreading. Beth wanted the floor to split in two and let her fall down the middle, but there was no such luck. Instead, she raised her head and tried to look nonchalant rather than hurt and embarrassed. She hated the way Alex would single her out as if she was the worst photographer in the world. It wasn’t as if she was stupid; she knew that her job was on the line and if she didn’t start giving the paper what it needed, she’d be fired quite soon. The situation wasn’t made any easier by this stupid ritual every week. Every week, her name mentioned in accusing tones. Every week, people staring at her, relieved someone was taking the pressure off them. Every week, Alex becoming more and more bitter about the fact Beth had ended their relationship.
“No, I guess not,” was what she said, because what else could she say?
“Indeed.” His stare was worthy of his surname, and he let it last a little longer than necessary before continuing in his rant. Beth couldn’t wait to be out of that poky office and around the corner at her favourite diner.
Fifteen minutes later, that was exactly where she was. Sitting at the counter, nursing a cup of strong coffee, Beth rested her chin in her hand and wondered where her life was going. Stuck in a small town at 23, in a job she’d been so excited to get a year ago but was now making her more and more depressed, with few friends and definitely no boyfriend… And she couldn’t afford to leave, because the paltry money she did earn went to finance her tiny but homely apartment. This just wasn’t the way things were supposed to turn out. The old Beth, the one with big dreams and fantastic ambitions, seemed like someone she used to know, a long time ago.
“Penny for your thoughts.” Jo, the waitress, slid another coffee across the counter to Beth and, along with it, a plate of pancakes.
“Oh, I didn’t ask for those,” Beth began, sitting up straighter, but Jo shook her head.
“I know you didn’t. On the house. You look so down I figured they might cheer you up, honey.” Jo’s bright pink lipstick curved into a smile, and Beth tried to reciprocate.
“Thanks.” She sighed. “Sorry. I was. Y’know. Just thinking.”
Jo nodded solemnly. “Thinking’ll do that to a person. I stay away from it, myself.”
Despite herself, Beth enjoyed the pancakes and she was grateful for the company.
“Jo, do you ever wonder where it all went wrong?”
Jo laughed. “Oh, honey, you’re far too young to be asking questions like that! You’ve your whole life ahead of you!”
It was the same thing people always said, and it never made Beth feel any better. She hadn’t a clue how to go about living that life when she felt so utterly stuck in where she was and who she was. What she needed, what she really needed, was a break. Something good had to happen soon, surely. There had to be an opportunity for her to prove that loser Alex wrong and show the world – or, at least her town – that she did have talent and she was in the right job.
Beth hadn’t realised she’d been speaking aloud until Jo patted her arm and smiled. “That’s the spirit, honey! You show ‘em what you’re made of!”
Buoyed by Jo’s encouragement and the sheer need to change her luck, Beth decided to return to the office after her break and grab her camera, the one she’d worked her ass off to earn enough money for while in college. She’d have to seek out the great photographs instead of waiting in a diner for things to get better. There had to be something, someone…
And then, as she rounded the corner onto the main street, she saw the notice she’d been unintentionally waiting for all her life. Pasted to a lamppost was the announcement that tomorrow and Thursday, U2 would be playing in Boston, an hour’s drive from where she lived.
Beth wasn’t stupid. Despite an upbringing that had left her an expert in no music other than extreme heavy metal and Christian gospel, she would have had to be on the moon to escape the fact that U2 was one of the world’s biggest bands. During her time on the paper she’d been exposed to a few gigs and usually went away thinking it had been noisy but lots of fun. She’d never been allowed to cover a concert by herself, given her relative inexperience coupled with the lack of big-name musicians in her neck of the woods, but now her opportunity had arrived. As she headed back to the office, her excitement really started to build. What if she scooped an exclusive interview together with never-before-seen shots of the band backstage? Then Alex would have to stop making a fool out of her and take her seriously, and her career would be on the up.
Beth was by her desk, hand on her camera, when the editor’s door opened and Alex stalked out, glaring at her as if she was responsible for all the world’s problems.
“What are you up to, Lizzie?” he demanded, crossing the room to stand beside her. She bristled at his use of that nickname – she hated it, and he used it to piss her off. “Actually thinking of doing some work?”
Beth picked up the camera and snapped the drawer shut, trying not to lose her cool. She could only win a fight with Alex if she kept a level head.
“Actually, yes,” she replied, as airily as possible. “I’m covering a story.”
Alex raised his eyebrows. Any stories being covered, he knew about, and it was obvious he hadn’t assigned Beth to one yet. “Really? And what story would that be?”
Beth tucked a strand of copper hair behind her ear. “The U2 concert. Tomorrow at the Boston Garden. Well, you must have heard of it, I…”
But Alex was laughing. “Heard of it? Lizzie, of course I’ve heard of it. What kind of reporter would I be if I hadn’t? And what kind of editor would I be if I hadn’t already sent someone out there to interview fans, report on preparation,” he glanced slyly at her, “take photographs of the venue?”
Beth stared at him, her heart sinking in her chest. “What? But I’m a photographer! And you know I’d love this chance! My live pictures are always good!” Her cool, it seemed, had evaporated completely, but she was past caring when the utter unfairness of it all was getting on top of her. He never gave her decent stories any more, not since she’d dumped him, and she was slowly being frozen out of the paper. She knew it, and he knew she knew it. They stood and eyed each other for long seconds, Beth’s mask of fury covering her upset, Alex smirking and looking down at her, waiting for her to crack.
“Such a shame,” he said, quietly. “All that talent gone to waste.”
Beth wanted desperately to slap him, but instead she turned on her heel and stormed out of the office, down the stairs and onto the street, where a few cars whizzed by in quick succession. She didn’t want to cry and let him get to her, yet tears seeped out of her eyes nevertheless. There was no way she could carry on like this. Something had to happen to get her out of this place, and fast.
“That concert is mine,” she muttered under her breath, slinging her camera over her shoulder and heading for home to plan how she was going to sneak into the venue and steal U2 for herself.
********************
Cara stepped off the bus, dragging her huge suitcase behind her, and took in the vast landscape that heralded her arrival in America. She’d never been before, but that hadn’t damped her enthusiasm for a brand new life away from the pressures and worries of home. It was in her nature to do the opposite of what her family wanted her to, so when her mum and dad had all but ordered her to get a proper job and contribute some income, she’d booked her flight to Boston that afternoon. Some people just weren’t designed to remain in one place their entire lives, and Cara knew she was one of them.
So here she was. Gazing down the street, she pulled her case and started to walk in the direction her heart told her was right. Naturally she hadn’t booked accommodation, but the presence in her purse of a good few hundred dollars meant she was sure of a bed for the first couple of nights at least. After that, her future was uncertain, but Cara liked it that way. She was sick of predicting what would happen to her next and sitting around in Dublin waiting for her life to change as if by magic. Only she could actually conjure the dream job and ideal husband she’d always dreamed of.
Once Cara had found a decent-looking hotel with vacancies (a more difficult task than she’d expected and one which had necessitated the walking of more than three blocks) she checked in, got settled in her room and at least opened her case, which was as far as she intended to go with unpacking tonight. What she wanted to do was explore her new surroundings and see if she couldn’t stumble into a job in the process.
And despite her attempts at breaking free from her old home, Cara was surprised to find the question she asked at reception was, “Do you know any good Irish pubs nearby?” Perhaps she needed comforts more than she’d realised, but whatever the reason, the man behind the desk pointed to a few recommendations, which she thanked him for, and then she was on her way, high-heels clacking across the shiny foyer floor as she left.
It was almost perfect. Her brand new start, no one around to bother her or cause her trouble – Cara couldn’t help smiling as she walked down the busy street towards the pub. She didn’t think anything could ruin her mood… until she crossed the road and came face-to-face with the last thing she wanted to see, the one thing she had, foolishly, forgotten about.
The huge poster stuck up beside the pub proclaimed the worst. Cara’s heart sank. U2 were coming to town.
********************
Beth had learned a few tricks during her time working for Alex. One was never to let a good opportunity slip away, no matter the cost. Armed with her camera, she was hovering outside the arena, hoping to catch a glimpse of the band soon. A few fans were nearby, and Beth had already taken advantage of their presence to ask questions, both professionally and off the record. Chances were someone there probably knew when U2 would be arriving, but no one had told her yet. It didn’t matter. She would wait hours if that was what it took to get what she was after: a proper exclusive photograph.
As time wore on, however, Beth started to realise she might never get that. There had been no sign of any band members and even the fans had abandoned their positions to go somewhere else. This called for decisive action. Alex had always criticised Beth for her so-called lack of awareness; he didn’t think she could think on her feet, something she’d contested hotly. Now, as she managed to sneak in a back entrance on the heels of a technical-looking man, Beth smirked and wondered what Alex would have to say if he saw her now, being spontaneous and –
Suddenly Beth heard voices and she stopped, ducking behind a vending machine. Peering out, she watched Bono and Larry Mullen Jr. talking, mere yards from where she was hiding. Perfect! Beth knelt on the floor and managed to arrange herself so that the camera wouldn’t be noticed, or at least not unless somebody was looking for it. Looking through the lens, she couldn’t help admiring the way the two men appeared, deep in conversation. They were both attractive, and Beth knew they’d make the ideal photograph for the newspaper. Alex would be forced to recognise her talent, and she’d finally be rewarded for her loyalty and hard work.
That was the plan, anyway.
Three or four clicks later, Beth wanted to leave before she got in trouble or better yet before her legs gave way beneath her, but neither Bono nor Larry seemed in a hurry to move. Beth sighed and shifted her body a little to get more comfortable…and accidentally smacked her head against the vending machine, which gave an echoing shudder.
“Hello? Who’s there?”
Shit. Beth’s head pounded as she thought about what to do, and realised they were going to find her. She placed the camera carefully right behind the machine, so it was well concealed, and struggled to her feet in time to see Larry Mullen Jr. advancing towards her.
“Who are you?”
Beth didn’t like him instantly. She wasn’t enamoured by his bluntness, and the fact he hadn’t even asked if she was okay despite the fact she was rubbing her head and grimacing.
“I’m… nobody,” she replied, because it was all she could think to say. “Sorry. I’m going.”
Bono had come up beside Larry and was staring at Beth, his eyes glittering as they locked onto hers. She felt uncomfortable and warm at the same time; at least he was smiling, which was more than Larry was willing to do.
“Did you hurt yourself?” Bono asked, and Beth nodded.
“Yeah. I was trying to get a drink and stumbled. I’m tired, y’see. Long hours.”
“Oh? What do you work as?”
“Waitress. We’re understaffed, so I get lots of shifts.” Beth was surprised at just how easy it was to think on her feet and lie, even to famous people. Alex would have been proud, but she didn’t much care for him at that moment. Bono was much more interesting.
“That’s a shame. Come with me, we’ll get you a drink and some ice for your head.” He offered her his arm; what else could she do but accept? Larry didn’t look impressed, folding his arms and following them like some sort of bodyguard, sighing heavily a couple of times. He made Beth feel like she wasn’t welcome, and in a way she agreed with him. After all, she had been trespassing and she wasn’t even telling these guys the truth. Larry was right to be suspicious. And yet, Beth’s conscience wasn’t as guilty as it should have been. Having Bono beside her was making everything a lot easier to handle.
“Have a seat in there.” Bono directed Beth to a small room, where she sat on a chair and had to restrain herself from asking journalistic-type questions. This was the kind of situation that would net her good money if she could make use of it, but how could she when she was here under false pretences?
Larry glared at her as if she was a criminal. “Where do you work, then?”
He would make a good detective, Beth mused, before answering, “Jo’s Diner. 50s themed. And no, we don’t have to wear rollerskates.” She waited for a smile to crack across Larry’s stony expression, but none came. Instead, he turned around and walked away without a word.
He was quite right, of course. She shouldn’t be here. He could tell she was lying, because she wasn’t very good at it. That was partly why Alex had never considered her as an actual journalist, because he’d known she wouldn’t be able to make stuff up. Photography was simpler, he’d explained when they were still together, since everything in a picture was the truth. Beth didn’t agree with that, and was well aware that photos could lie just as well as words. It depended which way you looked at it.
Gripped by the realisation that a Big Lie was in her system, Beth got up and headed back the way Bono had brought her, back to the vending machine where she picked up her camera and started for the door. Only an Irish accent made her stop, and she had to be quick to push the camera inside her jacket and turn so that the bulge wouldn’t be visible.
Bono was hurrying towards her, holding out a polystyrene cup. “Where are you going? I brought you some tea. Anyone would think I’m a waitress, too.” He winked at her, and Beth laughed, captivated by the way his long dark hair framed his face. He looked like someone wild and exciting, someone who would believe in her. It was that which made her want to be honest, and she couldn’t let that happen.
“I have to get home. Thank you for the tea. I’m late.” She offered him a smile before opening the door and stepping out into the chilly evening air.
“You didn’t even tell me your name,” Bono said, stepping out after her. “Or why you came here.”
Beth was already walking when she answered one of his questions. “My name’s Beth,” she called out, raising her foam cup to him as she hurried out of the car park and onto the main road. She probably shouldn’t have said even that much, but he was owed a name at least. He must have thought her odd, but that wasn’t the thing to dwell on now. Beth clutched her camera, her ticket to a fortune, and almost ran back to the office in her happiness.
To be continued...
Disclaimer: U2 and all associated people don't belong to me - only my own characters do. This story is entirely fiction.
Love Rescue Me
Chapter 1
Beth folded her arms and tried not to meet the eyes of her boss as he paced up and down in front of his desk, speaking in his reedy voice to the assembled group of reporters and photographers. She already didn’t feel great, her head aching, and the thought of being picked on in front of all her colleagues wasn’t exactly an appealing prospect.
“We need the perfect story. Anything less is just not good enough.” Alex Winters pointed at nobody in particular in a gesture of emphasis, and then he stopped walking. “We’re a local paper, but that doesn’t mean our quality has to be low. So, I want everyone making more of an effort, right?” He paused to let the ripple of inaudible murmurs circulate the room. “Yes. And, to go with the perfect story, we need the perfect picture. I’m afraid the goods haven’t been delivered recently in that department. Have they, Elizabeth?”
The moment she’d been dreading. Beth wanted the floor to split in two and let her fall down the middle, but there was no such luck. Instead, she raised her head and tried to look nonchalant rather than hurt and embarrassed. She hated the way Alex would single her out as if she was the worst photographer in the world. It wasn’t as if she was stupid; she knew that her job was on the line and if she didn’t start giving the paper what it needed, she’d be fired quite soon. The situation wasn’t made any easier by this stupid ritual every week. Every week, her name mentioned in accusing tones. Every week, people staring at her, relieved someone was taking the pressure off them. Every week, Alex becoming more and more bitter about the fact Beth had ended their relationship.
“No, I guess not,” was what she said, because what else could she say?
“Indeed.” His stare was worthy of his surname, and he let it last a little longer than necessary before continuing in his rant. Beth couldn’t wait to be out of that poky office and around the corner at her favourite diner.
Fifteen minutes later, that was exactly where she was. Sitting at the counter, nursing a cup of strong coffee, Beth rested her chin in her hand and wondered where her life was going. Stuck in a small town at 23, in a job she’d been so excited to get a year ago but was now making her more and more depressed, with few friends and definitely no boyfriend… And she couldn’t afford to leave, because the paltry money she did earn went to finance her tiny but homely apartment. This just wasn’t the way things were supposed to turn out. The old Beth, the one with big dreams and fantastic ambitions, seemed like someone she used to know, a long time ago.
“Penny for your thoughts.” Jo, the waitress, slid another coffee across the counter to Beth and, along with it, a plate of pancakes.
“Oh, I didn’t ask for those,” Beth began, sitting up straighter, but Jo shook her head.
“I know you didn’t. On the house. You look so down I figured they might cheer you up, honey.” Jo’s bright pink lipstick curved into a smile, and Beth tried to reciprocate.
“Thanks.” She sighed. “Sorry. I was. Y’know. Just thinking.”
Jo nodded solemnly. “Thinking’ll do that to a person. I stay away from it, myself.”
Despite herself, Beth enjoyed the pancakes and she was grateful for the company.
“Jo, do you ever wonder where it all went wrong?”
Jo laughed. “Oh, honey, you’re far too young to be asking questions like that! You’ve your whole life ahead of you!”
It was the same thing people always said, and it never made Beth feel any better. She hadn’t a clue how to go about living that life when she felt so utterly stuck in where she was and who she was. What she needed, what she really needed, was a break. Something good had to happen soon, surely. There had to be an opportunity for her to prove that loser Alex wrong and show the world – or, at least her town – that she did have talent and she was in the right job.
Beth hadn’t realised she’d been speaking aloud until Jo patted her arm and smiled. “That’s the spirit, honey! You show ‘em what you’re made of!”
Buoyed by Jo’s encouragement and the sheer need to change her luck, Beth decided to return to the office after her break and grab her camera, the one she’d worked her ass off to earn enough money for while in college. She’d have to seek out the great photographs instead of waiting in a diner for things to get better. There had to be something, someone…
And then, as she rounded the corner onto the main street, she saw the notice she’d been unintentionally waiting for all her life. Pasted to a lamppost was the announcement that tomorrow and Thursday, U2 would be playing in Boston, an hour’s drive from where she lived.
Beth wasn’t stupid. Despite an upbringing that had left her an expert in no music other than extreme heavy metal and Christian gospel, she would have had to be on the moon to escape the fact that U2 was one of the world’s biggest bands. During her time on the paper she’d been exposed to a few gigs and usually went away thinking it had been noisy but lots of fun. She’d never been allowed to cover a concert by herself, given her relative inexperience coupled with the lack of big-name musicians in her neck of the woods, but now her opportunity had arrived. As she headed back to the office, her excitement really started to build. What if she scooped an exclusive interview together with never-before-seen shots of the band backstage? Then Alex would have to stop making a fool out of her and take her seriously, and her career would be on the up.
Beth was by her desk, hand on her camera, when the editor’s door opened and Alex stalked out, glaring at her as if she was responsible for all the world’s problems.
“What are you up to, Lizzie?” he demanded, crossing the room to stand beside her. She bristled at his use of that nickname – she hated it, and he used it to piss her off. “Actually thinking of doing some work?”
Beth picked up the camera and snapped the drawer shut, trying not to lose her cool. She could only win a fight with Alex if she kept a level head.
“Actually, yes,” she replied, as airily as possible. “I’m covering a story.”
Alex raised his eyebrows. Any stories being covered, he knew about, and it was obvious he hadn’t assigned Beth to one yet. “Really? And what story would that be?”
Beth tucked a strand of copper hair behind her ear. “The U2 concert. Tomorrow at the Boston Garden. Well, you must have heard of it, I…”
But Alex was laughing. “Heard of it? Lizzie, of course I’ve heard of it. What kind of reporter would I be if I hadn’t? And what kind of editor would I be if I hadn’t already sent someone out there to interview fans, report on preparation,” he glanced slyly at her, “take photographs of the venue?”
Beth stared at him, her heart sinking in her chest. “What? But I’m a photographer! And you know I’d love this chance! My live pictures are always good!” Her cool, it seemed, had evaporated completely, but she was past caring when the utter unfairness of it all was getting on top of her. He never gave her decent stories any more, not since she’d dumped him, and she was slowly being frozen out of the paper. She knew it, and he knew she knew it. They stood and eyed each other for long seconds, Beth’s mask of fury covering her upset, Alex smirking and looking down at her, waiting for her to crack.
“Such a shame,” he said, quietly. “All that talent gone to waste.”
Beth wanted desperately to slap him, but instead she turned on her heel and stormed out of the office, down the stairs and onto the street, where a few cars whizzed by in quick succession. She didn’t want to cry and let him get to her, yet tears seeped out of her eyes nevertheless. There was no way she could carry on like this. Something had to happen to get her out of this place, and fast.
“That concert is mine,” she muttered under her breath, slinging her camera over her shoulder and heading for home to plan how she was going to sneak into the venue and steal U2 for herself.
********************
Cara stepped off the bus, dragging her huge suitcase behind her, and took in the vast landscape that heralded her arrival in America. She’d never been before, but that hadn’t damped her enthusiasm for a brand new life away from the pressures and worries of home. It was in her nature to do the opposite of what her family wanted her to, so when her mum and dad had all but ordered her to get a proper job and contribute some income, she’d booked her flight to Boston that afternoon. Some people just weren’t designed to remain in one place their entire lives, and Cara knew she was one of them.
So here she was. Gazing down the street, she pulled her case and started to walk in the direction her heart told her was right. Naturally she hadn’t booked accommodation, but the presence in her purse of a good few hundred dollars meant she was sure of a bed for the first couple of nights at least. After that, her future was uncertain, but Cara liked it that way. She was sick of predicting what would happen to her next and sitting around in Dublin waiting for her life to change as if by magic. Only she could actually conjure the dream job and ideal husband she’d always dreamed of.
Once Cara had found a decent-looking hotel with vacancies (a more difficult task than she’d expected and one which had necessitated the walking of more than three blocks) she checked in, got settled in her room and at least opened her case, which was as far as she intended to go with unpacking tonight. What she wanted to do was explore her new surroundings and see if she couldn’t stumble into a job in the process.
And despite her attempts at breaking free from her old home, Cara was surprised to find the question she asked at reception was, “Do you know any good Irish pubs nearby?” Perhaps she needed comforts more than she’d realised, but whatever the reason, the man behind the desk pointed to a few recommendations, which she thanked him for, and then she was on her way, high-heels clacking across the shiny foyer floor as she left.
It was almost perfect. Her brand new start, no one around to bother her or cause her trouble – Cara couldn’t help smiling as she walked down the busy street towards the pub. She didn’t think anything could ruin her mood… until she crossed the road and came face-to-face with the last thing she wanted to see, the one thing she had, foolishly, forgotten about.
The huge poster stuck up beside the pub proclaimed the worst. Cara’s heart sank. U2 were coming to town.
********************
Beth had learned a few tricks during her time working for Alex. One was never to let a good opportunity slip away, no matter the cost. Armed with her camera, she was hovering outside the arena, hoping to catch a glimpse of the band soon. A few fans were nearby, and Beth had already taken advantage of their presence to ask questions, both professionally and off the record. Chances were someone there probably knew when U2 would be arriving, but no one had told her yet. It didn’t matter. She would wait hours if that was what it took to get what she was after: a proper exclusive photograph.
As time wore on, however, Beth started to realise she might never get that. There had been no sign of any band members and even the fans had abandoned their positions to go somewhere else. This called for decisive action. Alex had always criticised Beth for her so-called lack of awareness; he didn’t think she could think on her feet, something she’d contested hotly. Now, as she managed to sneak in a back entrance on the heels of a technical-looking man, Beth smirked and wondered what Alex would have to say if he saw her now, being spontaneous and –
Suddenly Beth heard voices and she stopped, ducking behind a vending machine. Peering out, she watched Bono and Larry Mullen Jr. talking, mere yards from where she was hiding. Perfect! Beth knelt on the floor and managed to arrange herself so that the camera wouldn’t be noticed, or at least not unless somebody was looking for it. Looking through the lens, she couldn’t help admiring the way the two men appeared, deep in conversation. They were both attractive, and Beth knew they’d make the ideal photograph for the newspaper. Alex would be forced to recognise her talent, and she’d finally be rewarded for her loyalty and hard work.
That was the plan, anyway.
Three or four clicks later, Beth wanted to leave before she got in trouble or better yet before her legs gave way beneath her, but neither Bono nor Larry seemed in a hurry to move. Beth sighed and shifted her body a little to get more comfortable…and accidentally smacked her head against the vending machine, which gave an echoing shudder.
“Hello? Who’s there?”
Shit. Beth’s head pounded as she thought about what to do, and realised they were going to find her. She placed the camera carefully right behind the machine, so it was well concealed, and struggled to her feet in time to see Larry Mullen Jr. advancing towards her.
“Who are you?”
Beth didn’t like him instantly. She wasn’t enamoured by his bluntness, and the fact he hadn’t even asked if she was okay despite the fact she was rubbing her head and grimacing.
“I’m… nobody,” she replied, because it was all she could think to say. “Sorry. I’m going.”
Bono had come up beside Larry and was staring at Beth, his eyes glittering as they locked onto hers. She felt uncomfortable and warm at the same time; at least he was smiling, which was more than Larry was willing to do.
“Did you hurt yourself?” Bono asked, and Beth nodded.
“Yeah. I was trying to get a drink and stumbled. I’m tired, y’see. Long hours.”
“Oh? What do you work as?”
“Waitress. We’re understaffed, so I get lots of shifts.” Beth was surprised at just how easy it was to think on her feet and lie, even to famous people. Alex would have been proud, but she didn’t much care for him at that moment. Bono was much more interesting.
“That’s a shame. Come with me, we’ll get you a drink and some ice for your head.” He offered her his arm; what else could she do but accept? Larry didn’t look impressed, folding his arms and following them like some sort of bodyguard, sighing heavily a couple of times. He made Beth feel like she wasn’t welcome, and in a way she agreed with him. After all, she had been trespassing and she wasn’t even telling these guys the truth. Larry was right to be suspicious. And yet, Beth’s conscience wasn’t as guilty as it should have been. Having Bono beside her was making everything a lot easier to handle.
“Have a seat in there.” Bono directed Beth to a small room, where she sat on a chair and had to restrain herself from asking journalistic-type questions. This was the kind of situation that would net her good money if she could make use of it, but how could she when she was here under false pretences?
Larry glared at her as if she was a criminal. “Where do you work, then?”
He would make a good detective, Beth mused, before answering, “Jo’s Diner. 50s themed. And no, we don’t have to wear rollerskates.” She waited for a smile to crack across Larry’s stony expression, but none came. Instead, he turned around and walked away without a word.
He was quite right, of course. She shouldn’t be here. He could tell she was lying, because she wasn’t very good at it. That was partly why Alex had never considered her as an actual journalist, because he’d known she wouldn’t be able to make stuff up. Photography was simpler, he’d explained when they were still together, since everything in a picture was the truth. Beth didn’t agree with that, and was well aware that photos could lie just as well as words. It depended which way you looked at it.
Gripped by the realisation that a Big Lie was in her system, Beth got up and headed back the way Bono had brought her, back to the vending machine where she picked up her camera and started for the door. Only an Irish accent made her stop, and she had to be quick to push the camera inside her jacket and turn so that the bulge wouldn’t be visible.
Bono was hurrying towards her, holding out a polystyrene cup. “Where are you going? I brought you some tea. Anyone would think I’m a waitress, too.” He winked at her, and Beth laughed, captivated by the way his long dark hair framed his face. He looked like someone wild and exciting, someone who would believe in her. It was that which made her want to be honest, and she couldn’t let that happen.
“I have to get home. Thank you for the tea. I’m late.” She offered him a smile before opening the door and stepping out into the chilly evening air.
“You didn’t even tell me your name,” Bono said, stepping out after her. “Or why you came here.”
Beth was already walking when she answered one of his questions. “My name’s Beth,” she called out, raising her foam cup to him as she hurried out of the car park and onto the main road. She probably shouldn’t have said even that much, but he was owed a name at least. He must have thought her odd, but that wasn’t the thing to dwell on now. Beth clutched her camera, her ticket to a fortune, and almost ran back to the office in her happiness.
To be continued...
That was really good!! I'm looking forward to reading more. I loved your description of Larry coming over to her....omg that brought back memories!! You really do crap yourself when he comes walking over to you - trust me!! 
I really like this..bono being so gullible haha
