Molly Moon & the Monster Music by Georgia Byng Page A

goes up to seventy-five percent. I’m not going to sign myself away like the boys did, Mr. Proila. That would be stupid of me. I’d rather make it alone than do that.” Molly leaned toward Mr. Proila. “And believe me, Mr. Proila, I really do have what it takes to make it alone.”
    Mr. Proila couldn’t help admiring Molly’s chutzpah. “Oh yes? Then why do you need me at all?”
    â€œBecause of course it will be less effort for me if you are my manager. And that is why you are getting half of the money I make.”
    Mr. Proila nodded. “You’re a piece of work, ain’tcha?” He stirred his cocktail and took a sip. “An’ I like that. But if you do manage the three million profit in a month, it’s fairer if we split it seventy/thirty. I’ll deserve that for the things I’m gonnado to put you on the map. You should give me that extra five percent.”
    â€œWhat for—protection money?” Molly said. “You think I’m scared of you, Mr. Proila?”
    Mr. Proila studied the young girl beside him. He had never come across a child so calculating, so ambitious, so fearless, and so heartless. He liked her. If her talent was as truly special as the audience in the Tokyo Dome had thought, she was a genius product that was going to make him a fortune.
    â€œSo you’re not afraid of me. You’re hard as nails. No, Miss Moon, the extra five percent isn’t protection money, it’s just for goodwill.”
    Molly nodded. “I see.” She slipped her hand into her pocket and stroked her coin. She didn’t care what this silly little man was saying to her. He was as scary to her as a snake without venom. With one zap of her hypnotic eyes she could get him to do whatever she wanted anytime she pleased. In the grand scheme of things the five percent he wanted would be irrelevant. Anyway, eventually she’d send him packing. Mr. Proila had no idea what lay ahead, she thought. Once she had no more use for him, she’d probably hypnotize him so that he ended up playing the pennywhistle on the streets.
    â€œOK,” Molly said. “When I hit the big time, seventy percent for me, thirty for you.”
    Mr. Proila offered his hand to Molly. “Sounds like a deal.”
    Molly took his hand and they shook. Then she raised her glass. “Here’s to me!”

Fifteen
    W hen Rocky arrived in Tokyo, the others were still out at the concert. Miss Shonyo let him in.
    He now sat on one of the pea beanbags, having a cup of tea with the old grandmother. Sobo had taken an immediate liking to her dark, good-looking guest.
    When Rocky mentioned Molly’s name, the old woman’s expression grew stormy. She tutted and clicked her tongue. She shook her head at Rocky with such concern that Rocky wondered whether Molly was in the hospital or, worse still, dead.
    â€œMolly OK?” Rocky asked.
    â€œMolly blam, blam, blam,” replied the grandmother, miming playing a guitar. Then she shook her head again.
    Rocky frowned. Molly was definitely in trouble of some sort.
    Suddenly the apartment door burst open and Petula came running in, skidding across the floor to take a flying leap into Rocky’s lap. She licked his face enthusiastically.
    â€œRocky, you’re here!” Gerry rushed in and jumped onto Rocky as well. “Isn’t Tokyo cool? Meet Chokichi and Toka and Hiroyuki. You’re going toreally like them!”
    Rocky smiled at the three brothers. “Thanks for having me to stay,” he said. He tried to judge the Japanese boys. Were they the reason Molly was in trouble? Rocky had met a few hypnotists. So, suspicious of the boys, he was on his guard.
    â€œWhere’s Molly? And how is she? Is she OK, Gerry?”
    â€œShe’s very good at music,” Gerry replied. “She’s really got into her music.”
    Rocky thought that this was an odd response, but before he could say