Head Over Feet
By Seabreeze
Chapter One
A/N: Ok, I've been running this story through my head for at least like 3 years. I think I'm finally gonna make a serious effort to get it all out into Microsoft Word so I can hopefully post it on read and review! Your feedback is our lifeblood. Thanks
Disclaimer: Nope. Still not delusional enough to think I own these characters.
It took Sango a long time to wake up that morning.
Granted, she had expected this, and thus had set her alarm for an hour and a half before she needed to get up.
She was dressed and ready to go ten minutes early, as planned, smartly wearing gray slacks with a matching vest over a crisp white collared blouse. Her vest was lined with pink silk, and around her head a ribbon of the same color.
She checked her hair and makeup in the mirror – both done very simply with a touch of the latest style - grabbed her purse, a clipboard, and a set of keys, and walked out of the hotel room door. She stopped at the door next to her own and knocked.
"Time to get up," she said loudly into the door. She waited for a response, and when none came, knocked again, this time, harder. "Miroku. Wake up. Don't make me break down the door. You know I will. You've got a big day ahead of you."
This time, she heard movement inside the room, and waited patiently until the door opened to reveal a half-naked, tousled young man.
"Mornin', sunshine," he said by way of his usual morning greeting for her. He gave her a silly grin as she glared at him.
"The limo leaves in 20 minutes," she said, crossing her arms. "You haven't even showered yet."
"Sorry. Late night." He said, winking suggestively at her. She peeked over his shoulder to see a blonde lump in the covers in his bed. She fought a strong urge to roll her eyes dramatically.
"Indeed." She said boredly. "Get back in there and get ready. If you're not showered and dressed within 15 minutes, I'm dragging you out anyways."
"You got it, dollface." He said with another wink, chucking her under the chin before disappearing behind the door. She scowled and leaned against the wall by his door and waited, taking in her surroundings. Though it was so ridiculously early in the morning, the hotel hallway was brightly lit and boasted cheerful golds, greens, and navy blues. Sango scowled – it was fine, for any other time of the day. After five minutes the door opened and the blonde Sango had seen in Miroku's bed, barely dressed and as tousled as he had been, came out sheepishly. Sango glared at the girl as she walked away, and continued to wait.
One minute before she had to drag him out of his room, he appeared in the doorway, as ready to go as she was.
"Don't call me dollface," she said sharply as they walked down the hallway together. "I'm your manager, not your groupie."
"Oh, but you could be both!" Miroku said, as if she had a great opportunity and was missing out on it. She stared straight ahead and seethed.
"Don't test me this morning," she bristled. He laughed and gave her a slight nudge with his elbow.
"Cheer up, Sango. It's going to be a good day, I can just feel it."
"Yeah," she said. "For you."
The limo arrived at the city's largest record store early, but not early enough to beat the most dedicated of fans.
"No matter what we do, we can't beat them," Sango commented dryly, watching as hordes of girls caught sight of the limo and began to scream and jump up and down wildly.
"Nobody can beat my fans," Miroku replied, smoothing his hair in his reflection in the window.
"Huh," Sango said, rolling her eyes. There were worse things a megastar could be – crazy, a drug addict, a pedophile, in major debt, rehab, or even jail. But in her experience, even the best of people came out of Hollywood with some sort of attitude problem – in Miroku's case, vanity and lecherousness. Miroku was attractive, and unfortunately he was very aware of that fact and ready to use it to garner as much female attention as he could. It was a little pathetic, when she thought about it, but it worked every time nonetheless.
It took some sneaky maneuvering, five security guards, and an angry Sango to get Miroku safely inside the back of the record store, but they somehow managed it. It seemed that the second he had stepped foot into the building, it filled with the sound of excited fans banging on the windows.
"I don't know if I can take this for the next half hour," Sango groaned, rubbing her temples as the store employees set the store up for the day's big event.
"Of course you can," Miroku replied. "Just pretend that each minute that passes, you make another hundred bucks,"
"I'd rather be broke," she retorted, but pushed herself away from the wall to help the employees anyways. "Please put your jacket on, you look ridiculous." She added. Miroku, in worn jeans and a wife beater, looked down on himself.
"What's wrong with this? It shows off my shoulders and my arms." He said. Sango had to refrain from doing something dramatic like slapping him across the face.
"Could you be any more vain?" she snapped, irritated.
"Hey, it's not for me, it's for the fans." He replied with a grin, knowing he was irking her.
"I don't give a crap. Put your jacket on."
"Come on, Sango, think about the – "
"Girls love a little mystery, Miroku." She cut him off. "Jacket. Now." As far as she was concerned, the conversation was over. She took a box of his latest album from an employee and began to set up the cds on a table near the center of the store.
"Aww. You're just trying to keep my wonderful physique to yourself, I get it. Ok, I'll put my jacket on. For you." He winked, but she wasn't paying attention to him.
"Whatever gets you to do what I want," she said under her breath. A nearby male employee snickered, and moments later Miroku appeared, dark denim jacket and all.
"Thank you," Sango sung smugly. Miroku grinned and tipped an imaginary hat to her.
"Anything for you, darlin'," he drawled.
Within twenty minutes, the noise outside the record store had become substantially louder, and the banging on the windows more frantic.
"They're going to bust them right in," muttered the manager before sending two of the security guards outside for crowd control. The noise immediately subsided, and Sango heaved a huge sigh of relief.
"Ok, let's get this thing rolling. Miroku, I need you behind the main table. I want 4 security guards there, too – two in front and two behind. We probably need a couple to hold the line and a couple outside so they don't start banging on the windows again," Sango called out. "Remember, no one touches Miroku without his ok, and not for longer than 10 seconds, max." she turned to Miroku, who was currently patting his hair down and making sure it was in exactly the right spot. "Are you ready?" she asked.
"Are you?" he shot back with a grin. Sango collapsed into the chair next to his.
"Barely," she said. "The screaming's what gets me. You're one guy, I mean, you're a human. You put your pants on one leg at a time, like everybody else in the world. Why do they have to scream?"
"Now, now, Sango, try to be understanding. As if my looks and my charm aren't enough, I'm a musical genius. My music touches these people's hearts and souls. You of all people should know their mania personally."
"Don't forget your humility," Sango added with false shock. "It's the one thing that drove me to be your manager,"
"Where would I be without you to remind me how great I am?" he teased back. Sango rolled her eyes.
"Still, each time I make your introduction, it becomes harder and harder not to preface it with the threat that those who scream will be escorted to the back of the line."
At that moment, the clock reached 7 am, the doors opened, and pandemonium ensued. Screaming (to Sango's delight) female fans streamed in the store, barely contained to the line the security guards and the rope barriers. Miroku was beaming when Sango saw him out of the corner of her eye; he was soaking up the energy and the attention of his fans like a sponge. Once the maximum number of fans had crammed themselves into the line in the record store (there was still a long line outside of the record store, wrapping around the busy street corner), the manager gave Sango a nod that meant her microphone was on, and she could begin introducing Miroku whenever she was ready. She stood and the front of the line hushed as she raised the microphone to her lips.
"Excuse me," she said loudly and clearly. "Excuse me. My name is Sango Taijiya, and I am here today to welcome all of you to the release of Miroku's brand new album, Through the Storm! Miroku and the owners of Jidai Record Store would appreciate it if you would wait calmly, patiently, and quietly in line until you reach the table. At the right side of the table you will be able to purchase Through the Storm, as well as posters, t-shirts, and other memorabilia to be signed by Miroku himself! Shikon Record Company and Jidai Record Store hope you enjoy your visit with Miroku, and more importantly, the new album!"
The crowd went wild and immediately burst into loud and excited chatter. Sango groaned softly and plopped back into her seat as the mass of fans descended upon the comparatively small table. It was going to be a long day.
A/N: ok, what'd you think? I know it wasn't explosively exciting or anything, but I'm just setting the stage, so to speak...