Knocking on the door at all seemed like something of a mute point with Dim glaring out at him, but Click did it anyway. Given the option of waiting in the pouring rain for somebody else to react would really be pointless, and Dim looked like he was practically frozen on the spot. Outside, Click had been taunted, abused, insulted and drenched through, and that was just in the last five minutes. The weight of the day had hit him like a freight train and, instead of being crushed, he was being thrown forwards by the momentum into places new and unexplored. He was angry. He had been treated horribly. Why wasn't that idiot answering the f--king door?
Ignorant of the polished surface, Click banged harder on the wooden surface, shaking the door in it's frame. The sounds of Julia's mockery, Danny's outright refusal and even the sight of Jerry's shamed and alcohol fuelled expressions were hiding just behind his eyelids, waiting to remind him of themselves every time he blinked. This wasn't fair; none of it was, and the thing behind this doorway was the cause of most of it. Dim was the one who had the chance to get up on stage every night. It was Dim who claimed to be the bandleader, and Dim who earned more money than everybody else combined. Dim had Emily night after night, and laughed about it in the morning. This man was disgusting.
These were the thoughts running through Click's mind when the door finally opened, and Dim leant out with a sneer to face him. What do you want? he asked, oddly level for the facial expression. I don't want to talk to you; you're not welcome.
Oh no, I'm not welcome in the big house owned by the rich boy. Now I have to stand outside, where I might get more than the piss wet through I already am. I'm trying to have some hope in the lump of cold crap you try to call a music career, Click all but shouted through the sounds of the pouring rain hitting the ground all around him. Dim seemed a little stunned by this outburst, but this only urged Click's words to come out faster. You know, I actually chose to work with you. I was given a list of people in this area that Cooper thought could benefit from the touch of a manager, and I chose you because I thought you looked like an easy job. There was a good chunk of money that came with it, and I made the mistake of thinking I might get some of that, but you got about sixty percent of it in the first bloody week. I bet you still don't even think of this as a bad thing either. You are absolutely-
Big words, but no big actions, is it? Dim shouted over him, using his considerable extra girth and height to his advantage. "It's not worth listening to you anymore. You just come up with a list of bulls--t reasons for me to-"
"Why are you always interrupting-"
This was an interruption that Click regretted. He saw the punch coming, but could do little more than clench his facial muscles together before it had landed and send him backwards into the mud because the tree in Dim's garden. The landing hurt. The punch hurt. Everything suddenly hurt.
It wasn't over though, despite Click being barely capable of seeing, let alone getting up. Dim advanced menacingly out into the harsh weather, cracking his knuckles and watching the slow stumbles of his target.
"Do you know how easy it would be to just leave all of this alone?" Dim shouted down. "It's not anything fancy. I get up and shout and scream for a living in a band named after me full of wastes of time. Why should I even try to hold on to it, but I still do because it's mine."
He felt pathetic to be rolling in the mud, but it was the only way for Click to get round on to his front. His eyes only showed his blurred images, and his entire body seemed to violently disagree with even the slightest motion. It was a horrible reminder of what had happened earlier in the day because of Julia and her incredibly talented big mouth. This memory steeled his resolve. To be hit would be something new for any day other than this one. Today had not only been different, it was literally one of the absolute lowest points of his entire career. He was fired. There was no two ways about it any more. He had lost and there was no reasoning with this man.
He managed to scramble to his feet with a simple notion in mind. He had nothing left to lose. Turning slowly to regard Dim, he looked over his singer for what he sincerely hoped would be the last time. It was no real shame that his eyes could barely focus.
"Well, Dim, you stupid f--ker," Click began, though his jaw screamed in disagreement with the action, "allow me to free you from this source of eternal misery that's been weighing down you and everybody else who has to follow on your strings. I'm sick of the tantrums, the lies and the rock star lifestyle. You are exactly nothing. You are as-"
"Shut your damned-"
"You're fired!" shouted Click, as loud as his body could possibly make itself. There was no decision, no thought process, and no consideration. It was a gut reaction, and one that Click didn't even think to reconsider at any point afterwards.
A rather large change came across Dim's face. Something that Click had never seen before appeared there, and it didn't budge either. It made him smile so much just to see even the smallest modicum of fear appear.
"You can't fire me from-"
"I can do whatever the hell I want," continued Click, throwing his everything into it again. "I'm the Manager. You've never accepted that, but I'm in charge here, not you. We can change the name, we can change the singer, and we'll probably have a hell of a lot more success without the walking time bomb that you are. You're useless. No, wait. You're worse than useless. There needs to be a new opposite of useful just to show how utterly detrimental you are to the lives of each and every person you've ever been near. You're fired."
Was this guilt that Click saw on Dim's face? It was something new, and something so utterly and completely satisfying. It was beautiful. He'd been waiting so long just for the chance to see it.
"You can't fire me," exclaimed Dim incredulously. He spat on the floor before continuing. "I am this band," he said, momentum beginning to build again. "I'm the most important part. I'm all the parts. I'm the one you're supposed to be getting ready to be signed. I'm the hero in this story."
"You're not a hero in any story, you're an obstacle to overcome, and it's time we overcome it."
"But you can't-"
"I can do whatever the hell I want. I can't make it any more clear. I'm in charge here."
For once, and strange as it was to see, Dim's lip was quivering ever so slightly. He was scared, and Click was loving every moment of it. He decided to press his advantage while he had it. "You're not the hero. Nobody is. Everybody is supposed to work together to reach a common goal, and you've been pitting people against each other."
A flash of lightning made him halt his words and shield his eyes. Less than a second later, the accompaniment of thunder came at them in full force, loud enough to rip the sky around them and make them both duck for cover just in case. Whatever rain had been threatening in the past couple of days had only been foreboding this particular storm. The winds were starting to become more and more violent now, and the sounds of thunder were moving closer and closer.
It was time to go.
"Well, what if I don't want to go?!" Dim shouted over the din. "What if I say f--k you and do what I want to do? You're wrong, and you know it. It's not up to you - nothing is up to you!"
Resuming his earlier march, Dim strode very quickly through the mud and weeds towards Click. The expressions which had been earning him Click's pity had vanished. Anger had not only flared, it had consumed, and Dim's palms were outstretched, reaching menacingly out for Click's throat.
As far as Click was concerned, there was no reason to stay here any longer. It was terrifying to even consider turning his back on an enraged Dim, but this is what he did, and he fled as quickly as he could back through the garden by the light of the door that had been left wide open. He could hear Dim behind him, screaming obscenities and squelching through the mud, but Click was lighter, faster and more desperate to escape. This was a situation where he actually had an advantage, and Click had every intention of using it.
He got into his car before he looked back and, thanks to a large amount of luck, Dim's weight had dragged him down face first into the mud where he had no choice but to squirm in the effort to get up. It was more than enough chance to pull his keys out of his pocket, start the car, and leave Dim rolling in the mud behind him.
This was not how Click had planned to have any of this go. Honestly, there had been precious little planning involved. He simply had not had enough time to prepare, and even less time when he wasn't so nervous that he could barely think at all. He had been left with no choice but to play it on whatever feeling had arrived in his head at the time. In the end, he'd fired the star of the show. In the process, he had also covered his car in mud, as well as his seating. It had gone wrong in an odd way that he hadn't quite foreseen.