Famous Most Wanted

Johnny dug his hands into the pockets of his thick winter coat and actually appeared a little nervous. He eyed every person they passed through the chunky, thick rimmed, fake glasses Taylor had made him put put on. The glass in them was plain glass and so he could see fine through them. He had a beanie hat pulled over his head, his black hair sticking out the bottom. He looked like the tortured artist type and, strangely enough, the tortured artist look suited him. Taylor wouldn't have been surprised if every look suited him.

But the disguise seemed to be working. Anyone who looked at Johnny merely looked away. He was glad to be out and about, but didn't like keeping a low profile. He didn't know how to. He was flamboyant and spontaneous and he never kept his mouth shut and he adored the attention. It didn't sit right with Johnny, being acknowledged and then dismissed all in the same second. That wasn't his life and it unnerved him to imagine that this was his new one.

'Do you eat salad?' Taylor asked. Johnny looked at her a moment and then looked at the bag of salad in her hand. She watched him expectantly as she waited for an answer. Johnny just shrugged and looked away. Taylor sighed and dropped the salad in the trolley.

'Okay, what's with the moody 4 year old act?'

'Oh so I'm 4 now? Last night I was 5,' grunted Johnny.

'You were the one who said you were 5,' frowned Taylor. 'What's your problem now. I thought you wanted to get out the house?'

'Well now I want to go back.'
Taylor smirked. 'oh I get it.'

'Get what?' Johnny glared at Taylor.

'You can't stand that people don't recognise you. That they aren't throwing themselves at your feet.'

'No!' Johnny retorted, before thinking about, agreeing in his own head and saying, 'I don't know how to be a normal guy, okay? I don't go fucking food shopping. I can't even if I wanted to. And I don't get ignored either.'

'Getting ignored isn't always a bad thing y'know?'

'How'd you figure that?'

'It's peaceful. People aren't always staring at you like you're a circus act, waiting for you to do something crazy.'

'Yeah? Well peaceful is boring,' he shot back.

'What's boring to you is everyday life to everyone else. How have you gotten so out of touch with the real world, Johnny?' she genuinely wondered. Johnny's glare faltered and he looked back at Taylor. He wondered himself.
They held each others eye a moment longer.

'I eat salad,' admitted Johnny in a small voice. Taylor smiled to herself. He wasn't so difficult. All he needed was someone to put him in his place once in a while. She thought it would be good for him to release some air from that over inflated head of his. Maybe she could even get him to appreciate the little things again . . . or maybe she could just do her job, stay professional and keep Johnny alive.

Nobody said anything about teaching him morals or trying to rewrite what was probably genetic in him. He was born to be a rock star and to never understand a way of life that was never meant to be his. He was never meant to be nobody.
Although, Taylor added in her head, he never would have been. He was always going to somebody to one person or another. Only now he was somebody to a lot of people. A hell of a lot of people.

He was Johnny Carolina. One of the most famous men in the world, currently.
How could he ever be expected to understand? Why should he? He didn't need to. And he probably never would.

***

Kool-Kevin returned to the rehearsal space in a fluster. He didn't care that the band were sat around the coffee table playing snap. He burst in and no one looked up from the game in fear of missing a pair.

'Has Johnny called since I've been out?' Kevin asked.

'Nope,' answered Curtis, slapping a card onto the pile. The game was moving quick.

'That's it,' said Kevin. 'I'm calling Miranda.'

'Snap!' shouted Tommy, slamming a hand onto the pile. Zach and Curtis sighed and appeared to focus harder on the cards as they were placed.

'Why you calling Miranda?' asked Zach. 'Johnny'll turn up. He always does.'
Miranda was Johnny's mother and a damn fine woman. She lived by the logic “you must make a mistake in order to learn from it” rather than the “learn from my mistakes” bullshit most parents feed their children. Johnny lived a fucked up childhood in order to live a, relatively, sensible adulthood. He'd had his moment with fights. He'd had his moment with drugs.

Miranda let him get away with terrible things and let him become a broken, beaten and miserable mess, knowing when he was done, he'd be a better man. Johnny would return home in this state and Miranda would look at him and simply say “you wont be doing that again will you?” Johnny would shake his head, a small, scared young man, and Miranda would stand aside and let him in.

He learned a lot from this logic and had become very street smart. Miranda wasn't an uncaring mother. She loved Johnny and was proud of him. It was almost as if she knew. Knew he'd become a star and allowed him to experiment with drugs while he was young so he wouldn't have the want to do them when he was famous. But no one's perfect, right? How was someone like Johnny, and with all that wealth, ever suppose to not take drugs at some point?
But Miranda knew Johnny was destined for great things. He was his father's son, after all.

Kool-Kevin looked at Zach as he listened to the dial tone.

'I wouldn't be too sure,' he muttered.

'Snap!' shouted Curtis.

'God damn it!' moaned Zach.

'Hello, Miranda?' Kevin asked. 'Yeah, it's Kevin, Johnny's manager . . yeah Kool-Kevin . . . you too. How have you been?' he asked, getting pleasantries out the way first. The band continued to slap playing cards onto the growing pile, only half conscious of what Kevin was saying. '. . well that's great, I'm happy for you . . listen, you haven't heard from Johnny recently have you? . . . no nothings the matter. Just can't get hold of him . . . I'll be sure to tell him when I speak to him . . . okay, yeah, you too. Bye now, bye.' He hung up the phone. 'Fuck sake!'

'Problem?' asked Tommy, still not looking up from the game.

'She hasn't heard from him all week . . . that's it I'm calling Grace.'

'Why are you so desperate to get a hold of Johnny? He always does this, remember? It's standard.'

'Yeah, but police tape wrapped all around his flat isn't.' That stopped the game. The three remaining members froze, mid-snap, and looked up at Kool-Kevin. Two seconds passed before they all asked questions at once.
Kevin held up a hand and they stopped.

'Hello, is that Grace?' asked Kevin into his phone. 'This is Kool-Kevin, Johnny's manager. I just wanted to ask, is Johnny there?' Kevin frowned as Grace used several choice words to describe Johnny.

'So he's not there?' Then several choice words to describe Kevin.
He eventually got off the phone to her and shrugged. 'He's not with Grace. I don't know where he could be.'

'He and Grace broke up a couple days ago,' piped up Curtis. 'He was down cause she wouldn't take him back after he dumped her and then he left the club and didn't even finish his beer. That was the last time I saw him.'

'Okay, has anyone seen him since the last gig?' Kool-Kevin asked. Everyone shook their heads.

'Really? No one? Are you shitting me?'

'We don't live in each others pockets, Kev,' commented Zach. 'And what's all this bullshit about police tape?'

'Like I said. There's police tape wrapped around his flat.'

'What kind of police tape?' asked Tommy.

'The only fucking kind of police tape!' said Kevin, feeling like he was talking to idiots. 'Do you guys even care? Johnny's missing! He's not answering his phone! The police have been to his flat! Nobodies heard from him in two days! You're dead! Was written across his bathroom mirror!'

'You went into a crime scene?' asked Curtis with surprise. Everyone stared at him and he shrugged.

'I'm calling the hospital,' announced Zach, standing and pulling out his mobile. 'See if he's been checked in at all.' He stepped out the room and Kevin pulled out his own phone again.

'I'm calling the police.'

'Mate, the police clearly already know, seeing they've found the time to stick tape all round his flat. I expect they know more than we do,' stated Curtis.

'I'm going to file a missing person report. We really don't have time for Johnny to go missing.' Kevin left the room also and Curtis and Tommy sat a moment in silence.

'Wanna know what I think's happened?' Tommy asked Curtis.

'What?'

'He's playing us. Cause you said we can do fine without him. He said we'll see and now he's disappeared. He's winding us up, I tell ya. He'll turn up tomorrow. You wait and see.'

***

Taylor stocked up the pantry with food while Johnny did his best to get a fire going. His attempts were made with a lot of cursing and muttering.

'C'mon. All men can make fires. You've been making fires since the stone ages. It's basic man skills 101,' called Taylor from the kitchen.

'Don't rub it in,' he called back. 'I'm getting there.'

'Seriously, Johnny, how hard is it when you have a lighter? It's not like you're rubbing sticks together.'

'It's not my incapability to light a fire. It's the woods incapability to catch light.' Taylor rolled her eyes and hid her hands in her sleeves. It was freezing in the mountain side cottage. She hovered near the kitchen table for lack of anywhere better to stand. There was nothing to do in the cottage.

'Yusss!' cheered Johnny when the wood caught. He stood and grinned at Taylor. 'See? Not just a pretty face, me.'

'Took you long enough,' she sighed.

'Don't be so fractious,' dismissed Johnny, walking to the window and looking out. 'Man, it's so friggin' cold 'ere.'

'I don't think the heatings working properly,' murmured Taylor as she glanced towards the radiator. Johnny turned round and looked at Taylor, folding his arms.

'Well then. While we're living together, we may as well get to know each other.' Johnny had a cheeky yet strangely charming glint in his eyes. Taylor shrugged, unaffected by his million pound smile.

'Okay then,' she agreed. 'How old are you Johnny Carolina?'

'23,' he answered straight away. 'My birthday's in a couple months. Hope to god I wont spend it in this dump.' He glanced about before looking back at Taylor.

'How 'bout you?'

'Same,' she nodded. 'Except I wont be 24 until November.'

'Why'd you become a cop?'
Taylor shrugged. 'Why does anyone become a cop? Some wasted attempt to try and make a difference. As it turns out, you've made more difference than me.'

'But for different reasons,' he pointed out, turning intellectual in a second. 'The differences I've made are commercial. The tight fisted, money grabbing businessmen are only in it for their own pocket. They want profit and I can give them profit. The second I stop producing profit is the second they take away my right to make a difference. Y'see?'
Taylor was surprised by his honesty. 'Honestly? I like money, who doesn't? But money was never why I got into this. I'd do a thousand gigs for free if it meant I could just carry on doing what I love.'

'So why don't you?' Taylor asked, intrigued.

'Cause then the man ain't getting his profit, is he?' He flashed that champion grin of his again. 'We're all just cattle in this business . . so I guess that makes me prime rib.'

'How did you get into the music business?' Taylor asked and leant against the kitchen table. Johnny shrugged.

'Kevin, my manager, asked me if I wanted to be.'

'And that was it?' Taylor raised her eyebrows.

'He saw me, a drunk mess, high on fuck knows what, perform at a little open mic night thing at this club I practically lived in. He snapped me up before anyone else could I guess. He saw something in me I didn't even see in myself. I had my guitar, sang a couple of Stones numbers and, honestly? I was so out of it I don't even remember it happening. I'm telling you the same story Kev told me.' Johnny smiled faintly, fondly. 'Then I sort of woke up one day and I was famous and everyone loved me. A little disturbing to be honest.' Taylor laughed.

'What Stones songs did you sing?' she asked.

'Errrrrm . . . Brown sugar? Satisfaction and Gimme Shelter. That one's my favourite.' Taylor smiled and nodded, feeling oddly comfortable around Johnny, despite the wide gap between the two.

'They're good ones.'

'No way are you a Rolling Stones fan,' scoffed Johnny.

'Yes way,' contridicted Taylor. 'I like Jumpin' Jack Flash and Sympathy For The Devil best.'

'Pleased to meet you, hope you guessed myyyy naaame!' sang Johnny, winning a laugh from Taylor. She'd never met anyone so forward and, well . . fearless.

'Can't say I know that one,' Johnny shrugged nonchalantly, frowning lightly. Taylor rolled her eyes and Johnny smiled.

'Bet you never thought you'd be babysitting a rock star,' he said.

'I prefer the term, bodyguard.'

'I used to have a bodyguard,' mused Johnny, rubbing his stubbly chin. 'When we had our first tour in America years ago. A mountain of a bloke called Raul. He was Puerto Rican. Massive guy. Fucking terrifying to look at but he was a big gay bear really. Cried at the drop of a hat. Real sentimental bloke.' Taylor smiled. Johnny straightened up. 'Course we could never tell him he was a total pussy cause he'd grind our bones to make his bread.' Taylor laughed and so did Johnny. He may have been a narcissistic arsehole, but he was genuinely funny.

'Okay,' began Taylor. 'Here's a question for you. What's your real name?'

'Johnny is my real name,' he said evasively.

'Okay, what's your real surname, if we must be specific.' Johnny averted his eyes.

'I think that's enough question time for one evening. We have to savour these things y'see? We'll run out of things to talk about by the end of this. I think I'm going to have a shower.' Johnny made for the stairs and Taylor frowned. Why wouldn't he answer her question? She didn't buy any of the 'savouring' crap he was selling her.
What was so terrible about his real name that he'd bail? Who was he? Who was Johnny Carolina really?

***

Back in London, in the rehearsal studio, Zach entered the room and exhaled. He shook his head.

'No luck. Johnny hasn't been checked in or out the hospital within the last 48 hours.' Kool-Kevin came back in the studio. He didn't look happy.

'It's a fucking joke!' he complained. 'They say they can't start a search for another 24 hours as I couldn't give them a definite time he disappeared. But if none of us have seen him for two days then what does it matter? He's Johnny Carolina for fuck sake.'

'Sounds like an excuse to me,' said Curtis, leaning back in the leather arm chair.

'You think the cops know something?' asked Tommy.

'Well, yes, clearly seeing they stuck their tape around his house.' Everyone exchanged glances. Curtis was right.
Johnny was missing and the cops already knew about it. Maybe even knew why. They weren't in a hurry to find him either.

'This is bad guys,' said Curtis in a low voice. Kool-Kevin bit his lip, not feeling very cool right now. He had to hold this together, but how?

'It's a conspiracy ain't it?' quizzed Zach aggressively, hands on his hips. 'They fucking know what's happened to him, I'm telling you. And they wont tell us.'

'Johnny's gone,' said Tommy in a airy voice, making the situation feel even more dream like. He looked up at everyone. 'He's really gone.'

'How long can we keep this hush?' asked Zach, eyes on Kevin. He rubbed his round face and shrugged. 'The tour's in three days. The interview with Keith Poeman in one. I reckon we can keep this quiet for two. That is until the record company crack down on all our necks.'

'They're gonna wanna know, Kev,' reasoned Tommy. Kevin looked at the boys and sighed.

'Two days,' he said.