Teaching Miss Lovegood

Teaching Miss Lovegood

====================

Previously...

The last assignment was something that truly tested my soul and my faith.

It is a tale that I would never forget, but in the end, I walked away with a smile in my face. It was a progression from seriousness to happiness.

The legendary top black pop star of the 70's, the much known James Brown, hired me for one simple assignment. I was to escort him to a downtown hotel in Vegas. He had a paper to himself, clutching it all the time when we were riding all the way from the desert of Nevada in the sunset to downtown Vegas. Despite his age of hitting nearly 70, he still had much of his youth stored in him. He was one of a kind of cool models that you see in show business. Being cool means you're either somewhere in stardom or you're just an Average Joe.

Mister Brown was kind of a charismatic fellow. He had a lacquered hair-do and he wore spunky cowboy boots. He still exhibited the funny character of himself in stories that he told me during our ride to Vegas. He repeated his story from the day he made the choice of being an artist in 1955. He kept singing snippets from his greatest hits during his 40-year plus career. And recently, he told me of how he met the top Asian action star Jackie Chan during the shooting of The Tuxedo. He always hides his wrinkles on his face by wearing sunglasses from day to sunset. As we were approaching the outskirts of Vegas, he began to say something philosophical.

Darkness is death's ignorance and the devil's time.

I traded sunset for sunrise. That's what I did.

I thought that what Brown said didn't mean anything to me. But I've repeated his words in my mind. I had a hunch that Brown's statement would mean trouble. Then the signs of trouble kicked in. Mister Brown insisted that I follow him to see this mystery man. I didn't like this feeling, but, what the heck. My skin tingled for sometime, however I cannot refuse a client's request. That would be against my work ethic and the usual clause in a job contract as a driver for hire. But I decided not to follow my conscience and would rather stick to the book. I was wrong. I should have followed my instincts. Mister Brown was talking to the mysterious man in the room, asking him requests. That's weird, an old man requesting from a young.

Remember me?

I'm aging man; I need to renegotiate the contract.

Yes, but the aging process we didn't addressed it.

What contract was Mister Brown talking about? I had no idea for myself, really. Then the truth rolled over me. I was surprised to find out that I got entangled with the Devil himself. The Devil? Anti-thesis of God himself. The one who would oppose God. Does it ring any bells, people? The Devil was masquerading as late 70's rock star running around the room in the wheelchair. He was wearing a red spandex as one would see in a comic book superhero, and a red-colored wig. He, like Brown, exhibited some kind of cool in himself. He's also a fan of Brown. He was guarded by one guy, by the name of Bob. The room that he resides resembled more of a ballroom, disco style. He was quite firm with his condition - you don't run away from the Devil's deal.

That contract was your soul for fame and fortune.

Mister Brown knew that he sold his soul out for fame and fortune. But what you don't really know was that he was kind of a smart fellow. He knew how to turn things around in his favor. He argued that he couldn't do his trademark splits anymore. He added that the aging process has lessened his ability to perform as he did in the 70's. He was willing to risk himself and putting me on stake with a wager. What wager did he want? Simple - A drag race between me and Bob at Dawn. Dawn is actually a crossing spot in the desert whereby the long road from Vegas meets a railway crossing track. According to Brown, that was the spot where he met the Devil for the first time in November 1954. Brown took a huge gamble on the wager. He placed high stakes for this as if he was absolutely sure that he would win this wager off. If Brown wins, he gets another lifespan of 50 years. If the Devil wins, my soul belongs to the big man himself. That deal tingled me, but the Devil agreed to a wager. He seemed to love the winner-takes all concept. All the time he never fancy small winnings.

The car that the Devil rode on was called El Diablo - a modified Ford Mustang with a 3-tier nitro booster painted with spunky colors. You would see those colors in graffiti walls in the streets of Harlem. I've been to Harlem once, quite a long time before. Brown was riding in my car, a BMW Z4. Yes, the Z4 was one of a kind sports car, but the price is quite high, about 100,000 pounds. After the wager was made, we started to drag along the main road in Vegas. Throughout the race I never saw any signs of fear in Mister Brown. He was quite confident. He knew that I would win the drag race as if he has read my mind already. During the race, many girls, standing at the sidewalks, cheered on this drag strip race. But the real problem behind this would be the law. The cops would see the race as an illegal race and would try to stop us with every dirty tactic in their arsenal. That included setting up spike tracks on the road. Thankfully, that never happened. I could only conclude that the Devil really weaved his power to not have any cop see our race. The race was a lengthy one - it took six hours non-stop from Vegas to Dawn. I only had a glimpse of the biggest places in Vegas; you name it, Caesar's Palace, Riviera, and The Flamingo - a dream casino built by the L.A mobster Bugsy Siegel.

The real turning point of the race was towards the end. The sun shone up on the eastern horizon. We were locked in a neck-to-neck fight. It was dawn. From the east, a train was approaching the crossing with the race about only 600 meters remaining from the finishing line. The Devil was quite furious, he was trying to reach the finish line first by pestering Bob all the time to catch up with us and beat us to the finish line. Bob screwed himself as the El Diablo hit the dirt on the sharp left corner of the road leading towards the crossing. But J.B had the last laugh, and we were a few meters ahead of the crossing by the time the train crossed. Bob tried to stop the car when the train crossed, couldn't do it on time. And, so, the Devil's car ignited on fire, flipped over the air, exploding on impact.

The moment I stopped the car, I felt a sigh of relief in me. I nearly lost my soul just because of one wager. A very dangerous wager. A satirical duel between me and the Devil. I was unhappy, and I decided to forego the payment for this job. In the end, I only dropped him at the point where he stood about 50 years ago. J.B was still smarting over his wager win against the Devil - he didn't even mind being asked to leave my car. He just waved to me and said goodbye. That has tested my faith - seriously. Briefly, it questioned my sanity. I wasn't angry of Mister Brown; I was just kind of unhappy with the charade. The moment the deal was done, I had enough of that already. I was out of it - with payment of course.

As I drove north, I took a look behind with the rear mirror. To my surprise, Brown became what he was physically 50 years ago. He no longer had the body size as he was when I first met him. The youth inside him reinvigorated, and still, J.B waved at me as the he faded from view. It reminded me of a certain young Michael Jackson in the early 1980's. Black in skin color could perform all sorts of twists and splits, except the Pepsi incident whereby he was nearly killed. Mister Brown, I hope you can last for another 50 years, again. I just wished that I could revisit, relive my youth again.

In the past few assignments, I have only failed once. That was in Mexico whereby the U.N called me up to pick up and send Time magazine renowned photographer Harvey Jacobs back in one piece safely. Mexico at that time was in a civil war. Jacobs wanted to show to the world of the brutality of the rebels there. He tried to run from a rebel settlement where he shot the photos. As he tried retreating back to the starting point, something alerted a rebel. The rebel fired wildly into the bushes. A stray of bullets hit him in the abdomen as he scrambled towards the point where I'd pick him up. As he lay wounded, he told me of those atrocities that those murderers and criminals would commit. We were at the edge of safety, but I was in sorrow when I found out that Jacobs didn't make it due to his gunshot wounds and a sudden shoot-out on the borderline. I felt a sense of anguish that we even managed to escape to the borders to New Mexico; I failed to bring Jacobs back alive. I could have done it faster but it was a pure stroke of bad luck that made that happened. I remembered Mrs. Jacobs being blind for so long; unable to see Harvey. She couldn't see him already. She could no longer hear his voice already. She couldn't even see me at all. It still remained in my memory for quite a long time.

There was an interesting side note about Jacobs after the Mexico incident. Investigations by the F.B.I revealed that there were several rebel agents tracking Jacobs before they caught up with his trail. Several people, including a private investigator, were found murdered, with the investigator killed in cold blood in a motel room. It turned out that the agents involved were vying for a piece of envelope containing photos taken by Jacobs himself. The point of interest was that in one of those photos - there was a mysterious number. No one knew what the number was actually. It could be a number on a soldier's dog-tags, it could be a phone number, or it could be a bank account number.

After the last one, the smile of James Brown made me laugh. That eventually erased that painful past in my memory. His songs like 'I Feel Good' breathed new life in me. I just started laughing from the point I dropped him at Dawn.

And I could not stop laughing all the way home.

But that was the past - a two month old story.

*********************************************

Present Day...

I went back to London after the last assignment, staying at my little apartment in White Hall. The money that I'd earned in the last seven jobs was more than enough to keep me awake and sane. But the amount of money gradually got lesser and lesser as a new day came. I just prayed that there was a phone call saying that my services are required urgently.

Thankfully, there was a phone call on a Wednesday afternoon. My cell phone rang for a number of times as I was in the bathroom. By the time I was done bathing, I picked up my phone and answered the call.

"Hello."

"Hello, are you the one called The Driver?" asked the male voice over the phone.

"Yeah, that's me speaking," I replied.

"Do you remember me?" he asked.

The voice sounded familiar. I remembered hearing his voice last year. It sounded familiar but I could not recall it as I was busy with jobs round the year.

"I don't think I remember your voice," That was a quick answer. But suddenly, something struck in my mind; a guy with a black suit standing in a garage got slapped in the face by the superstar. Then I tried to recall his voice, sounded familiar in one of the phone calls that I've received. Then I asked, "Wait a minute... are you Glenn? Madonna's manager?"

"Used to be, but after your job done, I dumped her. I left her and now I'm working freelance, for the time being. For now, I'm representing another superstar. Someone reaching new heights of stardom."

"Oh, really. Who's that?"

"Ha...ha," he laughed before continuing, "I can't tell you over the phone but why not you meet me at Shamrock's for a drink and talk at 7.00 p.m tonight? You know, every minute calling your cell phone costs me one pound."

"I'm only free after eight. I have to have my dinner first. Will it be alright after eight?" I asked.

"Sure no problem. So I'll see you there. When you're there, you should see me at the taproom. And, by the way, you'll be meeting someone with me," Glenn disengaged the phone call. I could only smile as I placed the phone on the table. I just sat down on the couch, trying to recollect my past encounter with Glenn and just starred up at the ceiling.

Glenn has been a manager for seven years already. This guy has no backbone at all. But he was paid not to have one. He already worked as a manager for the top of the world superstar Madonna for the last three years. However, all the time he got whacked, slapped and insulted by her. It was nothing to do with his mistake. Instead, it was her arrogance due to stardom that made Glenn furious within. She was obsessed with perfection and doing everything in her way. No one questions her, not even her bodyguards. Even though he treated her fair and square just like any other celebrity would, she mistreated him the other way round as if she would command her slaves. It's just some kind of reward that you would never expect after a hard day's work. He just pretended to be happy and played along the plan. In his inner self, he wasn't happy. He never got the lion's share of rewards. Sometimes, he would be a bit skimpy, talking to other girls instead of tending to her needs. That was why he always got flamed by that sissy superstar.

That's where I came in for Glenn. It was a one day afternoon job. The task was simple: just take her around the city, play until time is up and drop her at the place she would be going, that's it. Job payment was for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the day - a mediocre sum of 1500 pounds for the day's job. That amount was good enough for me to dine in an exclusive restaurant somewhere around London. Not on that day, but anytime after that job. In the end, Glenn was happy, to see Madonna get embarrassed by showbiz journalists. A few days later, most magazines and articles had a picture of her getting laid on the floor with her pants get urinated on from her wild ride in my car. That was a public embarrassment for her.

I used to remember that she was anxious to come out of the car

For now, I could only treat myself over a cup of coffee while waiting until my dinner time at 6.30 p.m.

**********************************

Dinner at Chili's Bar was quite delicious, yet slow provided if you always mind its consistent food quality. Almost everyday, this place would be packed with people of all types, particularly the working people. Most of them would rather be here for their dinner before going back to their homes. That place is always the one place I would go for my dinner during weekends. I would have dinner elsewhere for my weekdays. Each dinner at there would only cost about 10 pounds inclusive of drinks. While enjoying the food there, I always get to enjoy my favorite English Premier League taped football matches. But for today - I just had a quick meal before crossing over to Shamrock's for the meet with Glenn. Having the meal there took about an hour - a usual waiting period for me.

Shamrock's Bar was a tight place, with its tables and seats extended outside its main doors. On each side of its interior there were two circular stairs leading upstairs and the washrooms. There are lights that flicker the floors and walls of the main room from its source in the ceiling. The place was buzzed with conversations of all the people occupying the bar. The beat of the techno music did little to affect the atmosphere of the bar.

Glenn was already there at the tap counter, with a glass of beer next to him. To his left was a man, a 20-something year old man. The man was round-faced but with a normal hair-do. He had a slight hunch on the back, his head bowing down. However, he stood at 5ft 9in and exhibited some confidence at me. The real problem with this guy was that he's accident prone. As he moved his hand, his glass of water tilted and water spilled over the counter. Silently, he cursed himself for being careless.

"How're you doing now, kid?" asked Glenn as he approached me, extending his hand for a shake.

"Oh, fine. Still better." I replied, shaking Glenn's hand. His right hand was placed on my shoulder and he motioned me to my seat. On the way, he called out the barman in the counter and said, "A glass of Carlsberg for my friend here."

Silently, the barman nodded and filled a glass of beer from the dispenser next to the sink and then placing the glass on the counter, next to where Glenn was seated. We both took our seats there. Glenn faced me and introduced the man next to him.

"This here is Mr. Longbottom. Neville Longbottom. He's my associate and he's representing the star that I've mentioned. And you'll be in contact with him for your next job...should you choose to accept it that is." Glenn extended his hand of gesture, pointing at that round-faced man and gave a wry, wicked smile at me. It's just like what some enigmatic people would do. I always remember that actor Greg Kinnear would give a cunning wry smile at people he would talk to in the movies.

"You haven't mention who that superstar is, Glenn. Who?"

Neville veered his head at me and, before Glenn could answer, Neville jumped in. He was a bit nervous, but managed to come out with a reluctant smile, "Err...hi, there. Good to meet you."

"Hello, Neville. You're the manager of that superstar?" I shook his hands. They were cold, probably because he had been in there for a longer time than I had.

"Err. Yes." Neville managed an apologetic grin. He was quite nervous.

"Who's that star that you've represented?" I asked Glenn.

Neville pulled out an envelope from his jacket. He opened the yellow-colored envelope and took a size 6R photo of the superstar. The picture was a head-shot of the superstar mentioned. I couldn't see the picture accurately because of the low-level of the lights in the bar's interior. The lights here are quite dim, a mixture of yellow and orange. But I managed to have a good look of the superstar's hair. Pure blonde, with its length barely touching her shoulders. She had the tendency to chew bubble gums, read the Quibbler upside down and even wears a necklace of Butterbeer bottle caps - as shown in the second photo.

"Pardon me, Mister. This superstar's name here is Luna. Luna Lovegood," said Neville, still sniffing his nose. He took out another photo with the same superstar. The third photo was a full-body shot of the superstar except that she's wearing a robe. Black was the primary color of the robe and blue on the stripes of the robes. On the robe's pocket, on the chest, an emblem was encrusted. That was something that I've not seen before when driving for celebrities. I thought they would were something like a fashion dress or something.

I tried reaching the third photo with my hands. But before I could touch the photos, Neville's hand came down on me; he hit my hand quite hard. I yelped in pain and all he said was "Don't touch that. That's high quality official publicity photos. If you hold that longer, you'll spoil the picture's quality!"

Since when was he quality minded? In the past, no one had ever scolded me for having to touch a photo to take a look. But this guy, he was a kind of sensitive fellow.

"Frankly, kid, F.Y.I. (for your information) Neville's the superstar's manager cum boyfriend, not me. I'm just trying to help him out to get familiar of managing someone within a different world, within our surroundings. The... what was the word you mentioned earlier again, Neville?" Glenn turned to face Neville and asked him.

"Muggle surroundings. M-U-G-G-L-E." he said slowly.

I gasped in surprise and asked, "What's a Muggle? That's a strange word to me. I never heard about it in a dictionary."

Neville inched closer to me and explained it in confidence, "Muggle means non-wizarding folk. I'm, for an instance, a part of wizard folk." He opened his jacket and showed a short thin wooden stick at his side pocket and pointed with his finger. "That's a wand, a tool that we use to summon magic. But we can't do it here in the public - it's against our wizarding law. Don't worry; I won't do that to you, except if I feel threatened of course."

I turned back at Glenn and asked, "Do you really accept his fact, Glenn? I seem to be confused by his explanation."

"There's truth in the boy's eyes. He may be scared, nervous, but it's true. I don't even mind his nervousness or even his constant head not looking directly at me. Anyway, I do take this word you know. You see his face? He doesn't know, err... he couldn't try to bluff us. Magic does fascinate me, kid. Living in the magical community is something different from what both of us live here."

"Okay, so what's his problem? What kind of help he's trying to ask me as a driver?" I asked. I was still trying to make some sense out of Glenn's explanation of Neville.

"This kid wanted to do something that he feels isn't directly pointed to him if this thing's pulled out. This is where you come in. You are the cleaner," said Glenn. He paused for a moment, sneezing by turning his face at another direction before continuing, "No, 'cleaner' is more appropriate hitman's jargon. Err... you're the fixer, problem solver. He needs some help."

I sighed before replying, "You must be watching hitman movies, right, Glenn? How come this girl in the photo is wearing some weirdo robes? I was expecting something else, like a nightgown or something. Don't forget, I'm not your hitman or a cleaner. That's not my profession." I commented that to Glenn.

Before Glenn could answer, Neville came out with an answer. "She's a wizard, too. Just like me. You might ask why there isn't any popularity in your world, but in our world she's achieved a high status and reputation. She's just like The Singing Sorceress, Celestine Warbeck. I tried to get some help from the Weasley twins, but they're unavailable. If the twins were available, Glenn and I wouldn't be talking to you now."

"Why does she want to perform in our side? Muggle side, that is," I asked

Neville sighed before replying, "Well, she's seems to be bored there. The wizarding community doesn't have much of a population that your community does. So she complained to me that she wants to try out here." He chuckled for a moment before continuing, "She has been pestering me for the last few weeks - asking me to get something to help her perform here. After all, she got bitten by the 'fascination of Muggles' bug by the Weasley twins too."

"Who were the Weasley twins?" I asked.

"You don't really know about them. All I can tell you is that they're master pranksters. But they are doing their own business of selling joke gadgets and they don't really have time for this," said Neville with a smirk on his face.

"How did he know about both of us?" I asked Glenn.

"He's resourceful you know. When young, he wasn't that confident but by the time he was 15, he gained some kind of confidence in himself. We had a very lengthy chat on the day he met me. That's about six months ago."

"I read a magazine with an interview with Glenn the day after you carried that other blonde superstar. I was wondering if it's possible to do that, you know. So I went searching for Glenn. I even asked every magazine agency in London. One of them gave me his number and here I am. Glenn told me about his plan to hire you to help him teaching err...Madonna is it? I was thinking if you can do the same thing for Luna."

"Don't you think that you're insulting your girlfriend if she finds out that you're behind this whole mess sooner or later?" I asked Neville.

"Glenn can cover things for me. He's a smart talker, a motor-mouth kind of guy and I have some trust in him." He grinned. I turned around and Glenn gave a devilish grin. He nodded his head at me and Neville.

I was listening attentively to Neville while gulping down the Carlsberg beer from my glass. So, it turned out that the job Neville was asking me to do is just the same thing that Glenn asked me a few years ago. Just driving her around the town and drop her at the point. I had second thoughts of refusing the job, but somehow both Glenn and Neville read my expression of thought on my face first. I was about to say no to them when Glenn suddenly came out with a remark.

"I know what you're thinking. You must be kind of unhappy of the amount I paid you for the job I asked you to do. You want more, right? I suggest you rethink your idea," said Glenn with a smirk in his face before he gulped an amount of beer from his glass. He replaced the glass on the counter and continued, "Both of us are preparing to offer more than the latter. This time, you get to name the price. Deal?"

"Name the price, eh? What's the starting value?" I asked Glenn, with my hand massaging my bearded chin.

"Well, Neville talked to me earlier and eventually we agreed to offer you a starting price of 3000 pounds. That's double the amount I paid you for the last time," he replied.

"Not only that, my friend, I also would like to give you something you'd never see in your world. This," added Neville. He took something from his pocket and showed me a coin. The coin was slightly larger than a thumb. It was gold in color and and thicker than a normal 50 pence coin. It has some sort of a creature engraved onto the coin. Neville then continued, "This is a Galleon, a coin from the wizarding world. If you're to pull out a job of pranking Luna, you get to have this. That will be a bonus - a token of our gratitude.

He leaned forward at me and squeaked at my left ear, "Don't tell anyone else about this okay? We don't want further troubles of us being spotted by your kind. Please?"

"Alright, alright." I sighed. Glenn was just watching at us then he added and winked at me, "I'll keep that in secret. Trust me."

I studied and glanced at both of their faces, trying to decide my next course of action. Both of them were looking intensely at me, as if they were willing to waste time awaiting my choice. I felt that the job was just a rehash like another Madonna's job. But the superstar that I saw in the picture was slightly different in terms of lifestyle. Having been so used to the magical culture, I would say that she needed some extra tour of our culture, the Muggle culture, as Neville would say. Then again, Neville was kind of unhappy of how Luna would treat him as a slave. Perhaps giving her a rough service would teach her the real meaning of arrogance. Maybe she's not familiar with riding in a car.

In movies that I've watched, I've seen wizards or witches going around in broomsticks or even teleporting from one place to another. I've seen some kids playing computer games featuring swords and sorcery whereby they can steer their characters into teleports to move to another part of the world. At first I thought that it was just pure fiction, but, with the presence of Neville here, Glenn and I had a wild impression that there's such thing as magical broomsticks or teleportation gimmicks that allow a person to move to and fro.

Eventually, I took my notepad and a pen out from the pocket of my trousers and opened up to a new page, ready to write the job description and the conditions that might be agreed upon. I faced both of them and asked, "Okay, what would I need to do?"

Glenn was the first one to respond. "The job's simple, you take the girl around the town, show her the sights. You can pull any car stunt you want, but make sure you give a rough service impression. It will be on Friday," remarked Glenn.

"That's it?" I asked as I scribbled some notes onto the paper of the notepad.

"Neville's the one to fill up the details. But here's some little more stuff here. The pick up point will be at the garage in Langsdon Street," he replied.

Neville pulled out the street map of London from the yellow envelope and unfurled it on the tap counter table. Then he circled a spot with an S on it on the map with a red marker and said," Like Glenn said, this is the pick up point - Langsdon Street. Luna is to perform in a concert at Royal Albert Hall at 3.00 p.m, so you should be at the garage at 1.30 p.m," he said and circled the landmark with another red circle with an F on it.

"Royal Albert Hall, be at Langsdon Street garage at 1.30 p.m. Don't worry about the directions, I know the way." I mumbled while writing down the details.

Neville then continued, "She will be escorted by a number of big bodyguards - the same one that Glenn used in managing his clients. You might see one of the familiar faces whom you encountered before. When you leave the garage at 2.00 p.m., two bodyguards will follow you in a black Toyota Cruiser as for safety reasons. You just pretend that you'll be waiting for someone else. She will go into your vehicle eventually. When you're out in the main street, Glenn will be calling you to check on her. There may be some people, wizarding people dressed in Muggle clothes, waiting outside the garage. But they'd think that Luna's in the Cruiser." He placed his hand on my shoulder, winked at me and gave me a smirk before adding, "You have to be patient with her for a short while though, she's kind of a fussy fellow. Most people don't know, but I do. I've been staying with her for five years already and I know how she behaves."

I wrote the details down there. After finishing writing, I called the barman for a lighter. He passed me the lighter and I placed it on the table. Then Glenn asked me, "So what would be the payment conditions?"

"Okay, baseline would be 3000 pounds; I would be using a BMW M5 Sedan, late 2001 model that would be at 2000 pounds. 1000 pounds for drinks and fuel, one break before start of job. That would be 6000 pounds - 4 times the amount, Glenn. Covers breakfast, lunch and dinner for one week plus, at least. Agreed?"

Neville looked at Glenn and then at me. At the same time, both of them replied, "Deal."

I took the lighter and burned up the small sheet of paper that I've wrote. As the paper burns, I hurriedly place it on an ashtray. Neville was astonished and asked me, "Why did you that?"

I smirked at Neville and replied, "It's my way of saying that's the contract, and I'll get it done. It's my work habit, really. What? You want it to be upheld by which court, The Hague?"

I got up from my seat, finishing the remaining amount of beer. I bidded good day to them, and then we shook hands together again and with Glenn. Glenn's still in contact with Neville. I didn't really ask him how long he was going to be in association with Neville. That was something I ought to know but forgotten. Just when I was about to make my move towards the exit, Neville stopped me with a pat on my shoulder and said, "I'll meet you on Friday at the garage. I'll let you know any changes there, right?"

"Yeah, sure."

*************************************************

All I did on Thursday was nothing but wander around Mayfair for the whole day from noon till evening. I didn't even bother to drive my car out from my place. Instead I just went around the roads leading to Royal Albert Hall either by walking or taking a cab. I tried to learn every shortcut and path to there in memory.

You don't walk into a place you don't know how to walk out of. That's a rule that the CIA would teach the agents. That philosophy does help many people. It covers people's skin. It saves many people's asses. Including mine.

*************************************************

It's Friday afternoon.

Well, as according to the plan, I was already at a garage in Langsdon Street. Neville was there, waving at me. Then there was the big Japanese bodyguard, bald, tall and well built. If I am not mistaken, his name was just Ken. He also waved at me as a hello gesture. I didn't come out from the car, but Neville approached the driver's window. I lowered the window and Neville popped out and asked, "You know the plan?"

"Yeah, just wait until she comes into the car, right?"

"That's good. We just play along with the plan. After you leave, I'll give Glenn a call. I'll just pretend and get pushed around by her." He looked at the watch at his left wrist. The clock was exactly at 2.00 p.m. Then he looked at me and said, "She should be coming anytime now."

"Anything else?" I asked.

"How dare you act so high and mighty!" blasted Neville.

"Enough speeches Longbottom. You've already had your turn," I chuckled.

The first thing you would notice physically about this woman is her eyes. Bright blue eyes. Its eyes are rare because they are usually covered up but if you do it's worth it. The next thing you would notice is her hands; strong, powerful, yet feminine, hands. But the real heart stopper that the woman had in the galaxy of talents is her voice - her billion dollar voice. She was a legend in her own making. She'd achieved great heights that few would recall. She'd rivaled in her world after Celestine. But with one exception.

She's a complete coward.

A woman with blonde hair reaching her shoulders was wearing sunglasses and was riding down in the elevator with two big muscle-bound Japanese bodyguards guarding both sides. She wore a dark black leather suit with black hand gloves. She also wore a bright blue color pants with high-heel shoes. On top of her leather suit, she wore a black coat top from neck to toe. Etched on the back of her coat, were the letters, 'SUPERSTAR'. In addition, she wore a necklace of Butterbeer bottle caps. She took out her sunglasses and wiped them clean with a piece of dampened cloth in a strong yet fluid motion. Something made her cough. She coughed out for a while before the elevator doors opened.

As she stepped out of the elevator, the two bodyguards followed her towards the limo at the garage entrance. Another two bodyguards, European fellows, followed behind the three of them. They moved among the rows of cars and finally stopped at the last limo. Judging from Neville's description, the woman must have been Luna Lovegood, the next wizard singing sensation in the making. The bodyguards and Luna stopped near the black limo and my car. She looked around, trying to find Neville. Ken saw Neville talking to one of Luna's female assistants at the far end corner of the garage. He whispered to Luna about something. Suddenly, she screamed his name in a very loud voice.

"NEVILLE!"

Luna was standing with her hands held at her waist. Neville heard her voice. He excused himself from one of her assistants. He turned at her and raised his hand, "Right here darling!" He dashed over to Luna.

"Son, get over here!" yelled Luna but not looking at Neville.

Neville rushed in. He clapped his hands in the air and pointed both of his fingers at Luna and said, "Neville's flying in. Neville's flying in to say that you are the best."

Luna took out her hand gloves and sneered at him, "Idiot! You're such a moron! This is NOT what I paid you for!" she slapped Neville in the face with her gloves. The bodyguards did not look at Neville. Neville flinched to his right when slapped by her.

"Alright," he mumbled. The bodyguards followed Luna and Ken bumped him off, hitting his arm. He patted briefly at the other bodyguard and raised his fist in excitement. He was kind of excited really. He tried to impress her by showing his hand motions, swaying his hands around and said, "Not a problem, dear. We'll work it out, okay?"

Luna walked briskly to the black limo. The chauffeur opened the limo's side door. Luna was carrying her makeup bag. She paused briefly before entering the limo, but yelled furiously, her hands trembling.

"Coffee! I WANT MY COFFEE!"

A female assistant approached her and handed a cup of coffee before moving away. She held it in her free hand. Neville was to her left, having followed her. Luna turned to Neville and sneered again at him, saying, "It better not be cold!"

Neville clasped his hands, and assured her in a very low voice, "It's hot, dear, piped with cream."

Luna wanted to enter the limo but after Neville assured her of a coffee; she turned around, glanced at him briefly before turning her attention at my car. She felt that she was too black in color and commented, "I'm so black!" She walked away from the limo, the bodyguards following her. Neville rushed and opened the car's side door to let her in. Luna got into her seat, and looked at Neville, screaming, "Take the Knight Bus!" before slamming the door shut. She moved to the middle of the back seat.

Seeing her in the car seat, Neville joked and played punching with Ken and his countryman bodyguard. Those fellows could not contain their laughter and could only smile back at Neville. On the other hand, Luna placed her coffee cup between her upper legs, sighed for a moment looking at Glenn before facing me. I could only pay attention to what she's doing with the rear mirror. She couldn't see my twinkling green eyes.

"This will do. Take me to the venue."

"I'm sorry. I'm booked for someone else," I replied, taking care not to look at Luna.

"Yeah, right. Just take me to the venue," she rasped, looking at me.

"What venue?" I asked.

She shook her head before replying in an impatient manner, "I'm gracing this armpit of the town for one night. You also think that I'm going to know this venue at downtown London? You're sadly mistaken. You're the driver! You are supposed to know!"

I could only look at her and gave her an indirect smile. Suddenly the front side passenger door opened and Ken entered into the car. He told me to drive to Royal Albert Hall. Just before he could take his seat, Luna interrupted and asked, "WE?" She turned and sneered at me, saying, "Listen, my bone from the neck up driver friend. I suggest you put your foot down and next time do your homework."

"Okay."

Just I was about to start up the car, Ken moved another inch closer to take his seat in the car. She stopped him and asked, "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm coming with you, ma'm," said Ken

Instead of saying 'Okay, come in', she shooed him off, screaming, "Then get on to the roof and hold on tight. OUT! OUT!"

"I'll follow from behind," said Ken pointing his finger to the black Cruiser, backing out from the car.

"Good idea, tough guy," she mumbled as Ken slammed the door shut. Then she turned to me and asked, "What are you waiting for? Let's get out of here before he gets into the car." She then screamed at me, saying, "I DON'T WANT HIM FOLLOWING ME!"

"Okay." That's what I said before I started the car's engine. Behind the car, I saw Ken entering the cruiser, get into the vehicle and tell the driver, "Don't lose him."

Two members of the security opened the main door of the garage. As Neville said there would be, numerous fans of Luna were waiting outside, screaming for her attention with security guards controlling the crowd and the traffic of Langsdon Street. As we were about to leave the garage, Luna drifted off to lie her head at the bottom of the seat, possibly trying not to give herself away to the attention of her fans. The fans thought that she would be in the black Cruiser. They crowded at every corner of the cruiser, trying to get a good look of their idol. From behind of my car, we saw a red-haired guy with a big poster raised on both of his hands with the words on the poster saying 'WE WANT LUNA'. She turned around, and muttered one name under her breath.

"Ron."

****************************************

By the time we reached the end of Langsdon Street, she got up from her bottom of the backseat. There was a traffic jam and I could only move bit by bit and slowly through the traffic. She sighed for a moment, glanced at behind and asked me, "Why are we going so slowly?"

"Excuse me?" I asked looking at the rear mirror.

"Are you deaf as well as stupid? Why are we going so slowly? People are waiting for me," insulted Luna.

"One moment. I don't want to put you in danger."

"Doesn't matter to me, smart ass!" she replied and glanced again behind the street. The Cruiser was struggling to move out of the garage but eventually security managed to control the crowd surrounding the garage. The Cruiser finally managed to move out of the crowd. She turned back and said, "It's a shame that your driving isn't as smart as your mouth. I thought I told you that I don't want that car following me, huh?"

I did not pay attention to her ramblings; instead I paid attention to the road. Luna took out her makeup bag, unzipped it and commented, "That's the smartest answer you could muster you smartie pants!"

Suddenly my cell phone rang and I picked up the call. She was mimicking my lip movement, but did not say anything.

"If you'll excuse me for a second. Hello?"

"Hey, kid. Is she doing alright? Did she try to 'hex' you off? Did she try to cast some kind of spell?" It turned out that the voice on the phone was Glenn, as planned on Wednesday.

"Yeah, she's fine. I'll take care of her. She didn't hex me though," I chuckled.

Glenn assured me something. "No rush. Show her the sights and give her everything that both Neville and I paid you for; breakfast, lunch and dinner. Kid, show her that this ride is not like riding on a broomstick."

"Should be there on time," I replied before ending that call.

Luna was holding a pocket-sized mirror. She leaned forward and said, "If you keep your eyes on the road instead of my need you might get somewhere."

I looked at her and smiled, "Let me see what I can do."

All the time I could never see her rare eyes. She was wearing sunglasses. There was a traffic light in front of us. She took out the lipstick from her makeup back, applying it on her lips while looking at the pocket mirror. I freed the gear on the car, waiting for the traffic lights to go green.

It's 2.25 p.m. And here we go!

The traffic light turned green. I started with the first gear and put the foot down on the accelerator. The back tires screeched so hard that smoke came out from the tires before the car built up speed up to 80 km/h and sped down Langsdon Street. I never paid attention to Luna behind me. She got thrown back and swiveled left and right as the car passed through the other cars on the left and right. Up ahead to the right was Hughes Street, the second street whereby I must go through to reach Royal Albert Hall. Before I made a sharp drift to the right, I told Luna at the back, "Just hold on tight, my dear. We're taking a sharp right turn."

I got my head checked

By a jumbo jet

It wasn't easy

But nothing is no

The drift that I made was one of the best that I've ever made. The car drifted about 135 degrees but only touched a bit of the outer lane of the road. Luna was trying to hold tight but, instead, slapped me on the shoulders screaming, "Stop this thing! Put me down now!" Her makeup bag got spilled open, with her cosmetics scattered all over the backseat. She tried to block my view by covering my eyes with her hands, but I shifted to the fourth gear fast. She got knocked back at the seat and I swiveled left and right to make another sharp drift to Cecil Lane. Luna was hurled left and right, and was powerless to keep herself still for the ride. I could only smile for I had withstood, so far, the car's impact from sharp turns and cornering. But not Luna. She was clinging to the backseat, trying to hold on while watching the back.

Whoo hoo!

Well I feel heavy metal

Whoo hoo!

And I'm pins and I'm needles

The black Cruiser with Ken in it managed to follow us. I tried to shake off their trail by turning into Cecil Lane. Up ahead to the left was a small opening with big trash bin on one side. I went up a little before jamming up the brakes, engaged the handbrake and made a very sharp turn that allowed me to reverse into the small gap. That bought me some time before the Cruiser could follow us into the lane. Too bad for Luna, for her coffee cup got spilled onto her pants. She couldn't hold on tight to her seat as she got knocked back at the left side door.

Whoo hoo!

Well I lie and I'm easy

All of the time and I'm never sure of why I need you

After checking around to ensure that no one was looking at us, I stopped the car, freeing up the gear and waited for the Cruiser to pass by the lane with bated breath. Luna was down to the count - she got hit on the floor mat. She struggled to get up, only her left hand touching the compartment as she slowly did so. I checked the surroundings ahead and Ken's Cruiser didn't pass by. I assumed that they got lost.

Pleased to meet ya

I got my head done

When I was young

It's not my problem

It's not my problem

"Looks like we lost them, dear."

2.40 p.m.

Suddenly, in a blink of an eye, the Cruiser passed by Cecil Lane. But it did not see us in a small lane off the main road. Luna was sluggish, still trying to compose herself. She was trying to get up and get herself composed. I turned to her and said, "Let's try again."

Whoo hoo!

Well I feel heavy metal

Whoo hoo!

And I'm pins and I'm needles

Whoo hoo!

Too bad for her. When the wheels screeched and the car moved forward, she got flung backwards and we chased after the Cruiser. Ken and his driver were slowing down, trying to look around for our whereabouts. Too bad they didn't even see the incoming car - my car coming from the back. Even though the road was double-lined, I overtook the Cruiser. Ken saw me but I didn't smile - I just winked at him. The car kept speeding, and I made a swift U-turn. Suddenly, Luna tried to close my eyes with a hand, but a gear change and a sudden drag prevented her, and she got flung backwards again. The other driver struggled to make a turn and tried to make chase. Once I'd made my u-turn, I sped the car up and moved towards exit to financial district. The car bumped into the ramp heading uphill, but I did not slow down. As the speedometer hit 100 km/h, I felt the car hitting up as if it was crossing a big gap like a foldable drawbridge. I just gasped in shock. In reality, there was no drawbridge on that street.

Well I lie and I'm easy

All of the time and I'm never sure of why I need you

Pleased to meet ya

Yeah, yeah

Yeah, yeah

Yeah, yeah

Oh ya!

When the car hit the lower ramp, Luna was clinging on to the safety belt in the backseats. The car streaked past the water puddles. As we made our way out of the Financial section of London, she was swung left and right once more. Drifts were made as I steered the car left and right out of the way to Royal Albert Hall

2.50 p.m.

I just only turned back to see how Luna was reacting to this wild charade. I even scared her when I just let go of the wheel, with cars crossing the junction dangerously and other ones honking their horns left and right into a small lane. The last junction up ahead leads directly into a street that runs along Royal Albert Hall to the right. I slowed down. Luna was groaning, still shaking around. I turned to her, while jamming the car and the hand brakes and told her something.

"Well, we got you here. And on time too!"

The car drifted one more time, in an attempt to squeeze into the small gap among the cars lined up at the main archway leading to the Hall. Screeches from the brakes were heard by reporters waiting outside the entrance. Luna was impatient, her hand on the side door lever. When the car stopped, the locks disengaged. The door opened and Luna flung backwards onto the red carpet. She recoiled, and the reporters were looking at her as though they thought that she was a guest. Those media men wearing green wristbands just stared at her. But suddenly, they gasped as they suddenly recognized Luna. Meanwhile, Luna was looking at them and suddenly shifted her attention to her bottom.

Her blue pants got wet.

She gasped in horror and the other reporters were also doing the same upon seeing her pants getting urinated. Even Colin Creevey, a reporter from the wizard paper Daily Prophet, was shell-shocked. Suddenly, the reporters turned at her and took photos of her still lying on the ground. She couldn't escape the embarrassment. She got up and ran into the entrance, still embarrassed.

From far I could see her, imagining Neville would be happy to see me dish out some kind of rough treatment at her. I could not contain the humor and managed a smile on my face.

It's 3.00 p.m.

********************************************

Two days later, there was an envelope mailed to me at my apartment. Inside there was a newspaper called 'The Daily Prophet', whereby the front page has a animated photo of Luna caught in the picture with a big letterhead 'SUPERSTAR EMBARASSMENT' The article was written by the photographer too; Colin Creevey. Along with the newspaper, there was a check of the job payment issued by Glenn. But the most important thing that I saw was a small note written by Neville.

Good job out there. Luna's got embarrassed. She walked in and cried into me. She got tuned up already. No more of that ego she had before. You must have scared her up bad. I told her that if she happens to do that again, I would get her some similar service like what you pulled up that day.

Hope to see you and work with you again.

Neville

I just laughed out loud - and left with a handsome paycheck.

***********FIN*******************************