The Now or Never Kind

~Beth~

I find it fascinating that for all the admittances and declarations and proclamations of introversion—contradictive, yes, but generally we just want people to leave us the fuck alone—Angie dearest and I still managed to end up back at Gabe’s apartment. With people in tow, no less, namely Didi and William. And what were we doing, you ask, three musicians, a merch girl, and a… whatever Didi was?

We were watching television. Lost, as a matter of fact. Apparently Gabe and Bill—Gabilliam? Scary—had been behind, coincidentally at the same point, and decided now was a fantastic time to catch up. Of course, I had already seen it and was threatening laughingly to give away all the details and plot-twists, and neither Didi nor Angie watched TV. But sadly the writing was gripping. Somewhat.

“I’m so fucking confused,” Angie said, watching the screen with her head tilted to the side. She was sitting between me and Beckett on the couch, leaning forward on her elbows and trying to following the plot. Poor thing could master complex in half a second, but give her something for simpletons and she was gone.

“Ssssh!” the boys hissed. She glared at both of them sullenly, and I chuckled into my book. Didi, sitting on the floor facing away from the TV, eyed them all, shook her head, and returned to her puzzle. It was one of those nifty 3-dimentional ones, supposed to be a castle or something.

Angie fell back against the couch with a sigh before sitting back up and putting three pieces into place. Didi looked down at where the pieces had been and up at Angie. “Hey!”

“Ssssssssssshhh!”

“Oh, shut up,” I told them, “It’s on DVD for Christ’s sakes.”

After a few minutes I realised that I heard another voice from those on the television. It sounded oddly familiar. I put a thumb in my book to keep my page and stared at the young woman beside me, who seemed not to have noticed that her phone was playing a strange version of Nelly Fertado’s “Maneater.” She did, however, have a good sense of paranoia and knowing when people were looking at her, so she soon turned and looked at me expectantly. Then she looked down at her pocket. “Oh.”

I snorted, realising that it was Urie’s voice singing, and returned to my novel as Angie picked up. “Ciao, Aromi,” she greeted boredly, slouching beside me. Gabe frowned at her, rolling his eyes and turning back to the TV when she flipped two fingers up at him. “Non ti dico.”… “Guardo la televisione.”

“Penelope,” William pleaded, whining.

Not looking away from the wall, Pen rang her fingers through his hair idly. I sunk into my seat, hoping no one saw me roll my eyes. Those two had no idea how extensively clueless they were.

Suddenly Angie sat forward, hand falling away from that beautiful head of hair. I glanced at her from the corner of my eye, seeing the other do the same, though more outright. Her mouth worked, but no sound came out; then she got up, whispering in Italian, and walked out of the apartment.

“I hate when she does that,” Gabe muttered, settling into his armchair and turning back to the television.

The episode ended before the apartment door opened again. It did so very quietly, and closed just as quietly, and I don’t think anyway but me noticed that Angie had returned until she slumped back into her seat, sending both Bill and me bouncing. I shut my book. She slouched so far down into the couch that my shoulder was higher than the top of her head.

“Well?” Thank God for people who will ask questions so I don’t have to. I didn’t think it’d be Didi though.

Pen took a deep breath and let it out. “That was my manager,” she grumbled, glaring at the television, “With some delightful news for me.”

“Um… someone signed the wrong piece of paper and your next tour’s been cancelled?” Gabe guessed.

She arched an eyebrow at him darkly. “Don’t jinx it. There’s still two weeks until we meet up… somewhere with the Audition.” Angie rubbed her right eye tiredly. “They know where we are. Or at least Matt does.”

My head snapped around. “Say he what now?” I demanded.

My Californian love groaned in despair and threw herself across Beckett’s lap. Gabe scoffed and went into the kitchen. Odd, I thought as he looked down at her, laughing slightly, She doesn’t usually throw herself on guys for something so…. Wait, never mind. This is far from trivial. “Matt, being the obnoxious little jetsetter he is, recognised the park we had our little song and dance session in, and apparently he left this morning.”

I frowned after a moment. “He just left?”

“It’s Matt,” Bill reminded, playing with Angie’s hair. “He’s always been kind of protective. And impulsive.”

“So… what?” Didi asked, confused. “So he knows where you are. You know it was going to happened eventually. Or you’d head back to San Francisco for the tour.”

“Ah,” Angie said, holding up a deductive finger, “But you forget, foreign indie child who’s never met my band… Matthew Lawrie… is an idiot. He’s going to do something. The question is if I can figure it out before he does it.”

I set my book aside and leaned on the arm of the couch. “I guess that means we’re going somewhere else.”

“Why are you running away now?” Gabe asked, strolling back into the room with an energy drink.

“Not running away!” Angie snapped, twisting around to point a finger at him. “Strategic retreat!”

He rolled his eyes and took a swig from the can. “Whatever. Why are you leaving and where are you going?”

I raised my head to look at Angie, who flopped back into the lap of Bill, who looked mildly worried, as did Didi, who was glancing at me. Suddenly Angie sat up, eyes glinting. We looked at each other for a long moment. I sighed, already not looking forward to explaining this. “Chi-town,” we both said.

The great thing about travelling light—and we were travelling amazingly light on this excursion—is that it doesn’t take hours to pack. In fact, Angie had barely taken anything out of her duffel bag and was ready to leave in ten minutes; unfortunately for her, I liked to make myself comfortable in hotel rooms.

We took a cab to the airport the next day at quarter to seven, Angie dozing on my shoulder as we pulled up to the terminal. I found it a bit odd that Beckett offered to come to the airport with us and moved all our luggage from the trunk of the cab. I mean, the boy was a twig; I was shocked my bag didn’t send him toppling over.

But we redheads—I still mostly thought of myself as blonde, but I was adjusting—sat around the terminal until our flight was called; neither Pen nor I were really morning people, so mostly we just sat at our gate, blinking sleepily at nothing and talking very seldom. At once point my companion snickered to herself and raised her head. “Why do I get the feeling your dad isn’t going to be pleased with us appearing again?” she said.

I snorted, cuddling further into my hoodie; actually I think it might’ve been one of the ones I stole from Jesse. Oh well, mine now! “You should be worried if he’s pleased that we’re back,” I replied. “Then you should run far… far away.” She gulped.

“Ma’am?” one of the stewardesses said after us as Angie and I walked towards our seats. “You’ve been upgraded to first class.”

We looked at each other. Accidents happen, I suppose. “You can have it,” I said with a shrug.

“No way,” she protested, nudging me back towards the front of the plane. “You are far more used to first class. I can’t stand people waiting on me hand and foot.”

I gave her a serious look, which Angie combated with the confident smile that said there was no way she was backing down. The stewardess looked up between us in annoyance and intimidation. We are rather frightening individuals when we disagree. I sighed and dragged myself back. “Fine.” Maybe I shouldn’t have encouraged her for so long to grow a spine; it made things harder for me.

~Angie~

The idea that there were a hundred different ways we could all die in taking off for some reason never quite left my head, even with all the travelling I did, so mostly I spent take-off chewing my gum, staring at the back of the seat in front of me, and clutching the armrests.

I generally like airplanes. Sure, the seats are cramped, the help is annoying, the movies are shite, and the company can be annoying as Britney Spears played at twice the volume and speed as it normally is. Actually, I have no idea why I like airplanes. Usually I got the window seat, which may have something to do with it, and the middle-aged businessman I was seated beside was nice enough—or pedophile-creepy enough—to switch seats with me.

Definitely creepy, since he spent most of the take-off flirting with the woman in the short skirt across the aisle. I missed neither of them when they went off to the bathroom, undoubtedly to join the mile-high club. I didn’t see the appeal; those bathrooms were uncomfortable alone.

Being of mostly-sound mind and unreasonably-high standards when it came to company, I put on my headphones after switching seats and fully ignored the person sitting next to me until his seat was vacant. By that time I had pulled out a thick novel and split my absorption between it and my music playing in my head.

I didn’t look up when someone sat down beside me about an hour into the flight; what did I care that the sleaze had gotten his jollies off? I did however care that a bud got pulled out of my ear, and I barely got annoyed before a voice spoke in my ear. “Hey, princess.” My head snapped around to find William in the seat beside me; I half-stood up to glance around the plane, and he chuckled. "Don't look so shocked."

"I'm not shocked," I said, sitting back down and shutting my book. "I'm mildly surprised that there wasn't a single one of your fans on this flight to give you away. Apparently I presumed you more famous than you actually are."

"What are you listening to?" he asked, bringing the bud to his ear.

"Between The Trees. What are you doing on this plane?"

"Flying." I raised my eyebrows and gave him a 'Duh' look. Bill smiled. "I thought it was time I head back home before Warped."

I nodded distrustfully and switched off my iPod, producing a sad face. "I think you decided at such an opportune time because Beth and I are going to Chicago."

"Well, aren't we self-centred." I stuck my tongue out at him, crossing my legs at the knee. He imitated my position, laughing, and folded his hands in his lap. "Though the convenience of being home and keeping an eye on you at the same time is kind of hard to ignore." I rolled my eyes and head over to look at him. William smiled at his hands. "And no, I am not keeping an eye on you because Aromi or Gabe or your mom asked me to."

"...The prospect of you even talking to my mother scares the ever-loving shit of out me, Lamppost," I informed him.

He gave me a smirk that made my stomach twist. "It should," he confirmed sinisterly. Then he cracked up, probably at the most-likely-horrified look on my face. "C'mon, Ange, you think your parents have never looked at your address book or at your friends online?"

"No," I argued calmly, "I know they have, but only because they didn't trust me in high school and if anything they trust me less now that I'm out and about in the world." I rolled my eyes, sinking slightly in my seat; unfortunately because the seats were so tight, my knees were now pressed up against the seat in front of me. "Let's not talk about my parents. Not exactly my favourite subject. How are your siblings?"

William and I continued making conversation, as usual talking about whatever happened to come to mind. At one point, in the middle of a story Bill was telling, the man who's seat he was sitting in came back and just stared. I glanced up and it didn't register what the matter was until he had cleared his throat several times.

Bill started when he turned and there was a man right next to him. My smile slid when the man snapped, "You're in my seat." I arched an eyebrow at him and said very professionally that he was interrupting a conversation and that there were plenty of other seats, including an entire row beside us. The man blinked at my unchanging expression and slowly sat in one of the seats down the row. I smiled at my friend, who was trying hard not to laugh.

But another thing, which I found interesting, was that we were entirely comfortable with not talking, as easy if not more as conversation. It wasn't surprising in the least—both of us were highly introverted—but it was... interesting. That was the only word I could think of for it. There were a scarce few people with whom I didn't feel the need to make conversation. Sean, Beth, Matt, Jesse, Didi (though we still had plenty to talk about)... that was pretty much it.

“You know what I like about you?” William said out of the blue.

Ah, I thought to myself, pausing in reading, Rhetorical questions. The man knows how to get my attention. “My charming wit and sparkling conversational skill?” I asked lightly, not looking up at him.

“Well, yeah, but not what I mean right now.”

“My nice long legs and awesome rack?”

There was a pause, and I kept myself from smiling. “…Are you trying to make me laugh or make me uncomfortable? Because you’re doing neither,” he remarked.

I stuck my bookmark in the page and gave his (semi-)serious face a slight smile. “Because you do think I have nice legs and a killer rack or because you don’t?” My eyes flickered past him at the woman and the man on her other side leaning around her staring at us. “It’s a legitimate question!” They frowned slightly and went back to their business; Bill was laughing under his breath. “You didn’t answer the question.”

“Nor will I." I pouted briefly, and he pushed my lower lip back in with his index finger. "Do you want to keep guessing or can I tell you?”

“I’m guessing incorrectly on purpose to see if you’re willing to admit to the things I’m guessing,” I explained matter-of-factly.

“…What?”

“Nothing. Go on and tell me.”

William narrowed his eyes, and I simply smiled. He frowned in thought for a moment before giving a sigh. "I don't remember what I was going to say," he admitted, settling back into his seat. I laughed and, shaking my head, opened my book again.

I could tell that he was thinking about it in the few minutes I continued reading because he kept shifting and sighed in aggravation. Bill hated forgetting things as much as I did. Eventually, I decided to be kind and put the poor boy out of his misery, so I put my book away and looked at him patiently. "You were going to name one of the doubtlessly numerous things you like about me," I declared.

He smiled. "I know," he said pleasantly. "I was just waiting for you to cave in."

The expression dropped off my face. "You bastard," I laughed as he chuckled to himself. "That's something I would do."

"Exactly." Bill made a heart with his hands and kept smiling until I sighed in defeat. "But back to the point—"

"Ladies and gentlemen, we will shortly be beginning our descent..."

I groaned as we listened to the pilot yammer on about getting to our seats. William smiled and ruffled my hair before getting up and sauntering away. I hopped up onto the chair and called after him, "Hoface!"

He laughed and turned around to cock his head at me. "I love you too!" he called back cheekily. I glowered at his retreating back before sitting in my seat. The man who's actual seat was beside me sat cautiously, eying me nervously. I put my headphones back on and shut my eyes, going back to ignoring him.

Beth was standing just outside the plane door, telling the steward that she wasn't going to move because her friend was just behind her, when I walked off the plane. Grinning, I linked arms with her and kissed her cheek. "Aww, you waited," I cooed. "You're so sweet, love."

She snickered at his bemused expression as we sauntered away. "You enjoy making everyone think we're lesbians, don't you?" she accused.

I gave a shrug. "I like to shake things up, and 'things' includes very straight-laced people's definition of what is normal and socially acceptable. Meaning I'll kiss whomever I bally-well please, thank you!" We both laughed when the little boy walking in front of us asked his mother what a lesbian was.

What made me fall over laughing—literally; I had to sit down—was the reaction William had when we walked over to him. Well, I should elaborate: he was taking a picture with two girls when we saw him, and when I passed him, I might have swatted him on the ass, and he definitely made a high-pitched almost-girly noise of surprise. And then Beth and I kept walking, and then I fell over laughing.

Beth rolled her eyes at me, both because I found his reaction hysterical and because of what I’d done to produce such an effect, and went over to stand by him instead of me. Oh, that hurts, darling, I thought sarcastically, pulling myself together. I sighed merrily and heaved myself up to stroll over; Bill, still rather pink, overtly glared at me over his sunglasses and I beamed toothily.

“Is this your girlfriend?” one of the girls asked, indicating Beth leaning on him.

She arched an eyebrow at her and then smiled. “No, no,” she said contritely. Beth smirked and pointed at me. “She is.”

Both William and I stared at her, and then glanced at each other and looked away uncomfortably. At the time, the “news” article on Buzznet had been amusing, but since then we’d each individually found more of the same questioning gossip.

Luckily the girls had to greet their families coming off another plane, so we could rip ourselves away. “That was mean,” I muttered, poking her side as we walked.

Beth squeaked and pushed Bill between us. “Hey, poke the chew-toy, not me!”

He looked sceptical. “Chew-toy?”

“Long story, don’t ask,” I said quickly before Beth could explain.

“It’s probably best I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “So do you two have a ride back to yours?”

“Daddy’s sending a car,” Beth said with exaggerated perkiness and enthusiasm before sticking out her tongue. “Apparently cabs aren’t good enough for his little girl.”

“So I’m guessing you didn’t tell him what we drove around in on tour,” I supposed, smirking slightly at her. My eyes switched up to Bill. “How about you, Lamppost?”

He nodded, glancing around. “Adam should be somewhere around here. Ah, there he is.” Beth and I followed our friend over to a young man in dunks and a Bulls jersey trying to both look inconspicuous and easily evident.

Adam Siska grinned when he spotted us. “Hey, you brought presents,” he joked, clapping Bill on the arm. Beth rolled her eyes, but hugged him anyway.

Then he and I practically tackled each other. “Oof! Hey, Sisky,” I laughed, trying to keep a hold on my bag. “Long time no see.”

“And I believe this is where we part ways,” Bill said dramatically, looking appropriately sombre. Beth arched an eyebrow at him dubiously before he shrugged, cracking a smile. “For now.”

“So, see you in about three hours?” she guessed, tugging him into a hug.

I smiled into Bill’s shirt as he lightly kissed the top of my head. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” He winked at the both of us, and he and Adam walked towards the parking lot.

Beth turned to me, eying me distrustfully. “Why did he kiss you? He disappeared about halfway through the flight. He went to sit with you, didn’t he?”

“Why, Beth,” I said in mock surprise, heading towards the pick-up area, “If I didn’t know better, I would say were suspicious of something going on between young Mister Beckett and myself.” I grinned. “You don’t happen to read things on the internet, do you?” She flicked my ear as a car pulled up in front of us, and my hand flew to the side of my head. “Ow! Shit, that really does hurt.”

“My god, Lawrie was right about something,” she chuckled.

She hadn’t been kidding when she said her father was sending a car; soon we were sitting in the back of a black town car, one my grandfather would have ridden in often. I leaned my head onto Beth’s shoulder and listened to her tell me the plan of what I should and shouldn’t say; nothing about Jesse or my boys, nothing about us getting drunk, much less with guys around, nothing about sleeping in Gabe’s guestroom, nothing about the times we’d wandered off on our own.

It didn’t take too long to get from O’Hare to Elmhurst, one of the many suburbs of Chicago, but that could have been because I wasn’t paying attention. It still kind of bothered me—paranoid little thing that I was—that I didn’t know exactly where we were, but it always did; when we were on the road, I was the one who always had the map in my lap, marking every exit and freeway and rest stop we passed.

“Ah, Miss Di Costello,” the doorman greeted as we dragged our bags in. “I’ll alert your father you and Miss Callaghan have arrived.”

Okay, I thought, That scares me. “Oh, there’s no need for that,” Beth said, waving him away and pulling me towards the stairs. “We’ve had a long flight, and we should—”

“Freshen up before I have a word with you,” a deep voice finished. I swallowed involuntarily; Jesse told me about his dealing with Beth’s father, but honestly I was afraid of him even without that. Paul Di Costello smiled almost grimly at us trying to retreat. “Hello, Elisabeth. Good to see you, Rhiannon.”

I smiled and nodded my head respectfully. “Likewise, sir,” I said calmly. “You are correct though; Beth and I need to make ourselves presentable. You know how draining airports can be.” And with that I turned and walked, at as normal a pace as I could, up the stairs beside Beth, both of us trying not to follow her whispered exclamation of “Run!”