The Now or Never Kind

“I told you not to,” I laughed, leaning across the table to poke Didi’s head.

She blindly waved her hand, trying to swat me away, and languidly lifted her head. “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, stealing a swig of my coffee. “I prefer to drive at night, though. Less idiots on the road.”

“Less, but not zero,” Beth added.

“That’s tr—hey!”

At our table outside a trendy little restaurant, there were three young women with red-based hair. The newest edition had gone against my advice and driven through the night from her apartment just outside New York City to the sprawling suburbs of Chicago. She’d called after driving around Beth’s neighbourhood for twenty minutes to ask if the house was white or blue, she couldn’t remember.

We’d let her sleep the rest of the day (and night) before we made plans to parade our sexy asses around town. Our first and current stop was brunchfast (since none of us remembered to eat before we left). Didi had asked what we’d been up to since she saw us last, and in a miracle of quick reflexes I caught the glint in Beth’s eye and spouted quickly, “Taire ou je me ruine vos chaussures.”

I think it was the shock of me speaking French that shut her up more than the threat of ruined shoes. I mentally thanked Jesse for his inability to speak English when he’s half asleep and Matt for his obsession with pristine footwear.

From there I kind of spaced out, thinking about the guys and wondering what they were doing at that moment. I missed them; we’d never been apart without communication for more than a day since before I joined the band. And more than one of us had abandonment issues.

Then there was my latest predicament. But in a way, I really didn’t want to think about that.

“Hey, Pen,” Didi said, catching my attention. “I think that woman’s checking you out.”

Without thinking I turned to look and immediately knew whom she meant. The woman in question had black hair, which she covered with a crocheted hat, and dressed like an indie kid if they’d grown up a few years. She saw me looking at her and a smile immediately brightened her face.

“Angie! I thought it was you,” she said, walking over to the table. “The braids threw me off.” I scrambled to my feet and hugged her; Beth and Didi looked on, puzzled. “Mattie didn’t tell me you were in the area.”

“Uh—”

“Mattie?” Didi repeated, trying not to laugh.

I adjusted my hat, suddenly nervous. “Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “Guys, this is Vivienne Merlott. Matt’s older sister.” Beth’s eyes widened. Beth gets it, I sing-songed in my head, as my companions waved. Didi doesn’t get it. “Viv, this is Didi and Beth.”

“He told me about you,” Vivienne said, smiling at Beth. My counterpart blinked, and the eldest of the group chuckled. Fuck, she even laughs like Matt. “It’s hard to say if he’s scared shitless or head over heels for you.”

“Let’s hope it’s the former,” she said, relaxing a little.

Viv smiled and turned back to me. “When did you get in?”

“A few days ago,” I replied, shoving my hands in my back pockets. “Kind of an impromptu adventure. We’re going shopping today since some of us forgot some things.”

“It’s not my fault!” Didi protested. “Barakat stole the jacket that I accidentally left at Saporta’s!”

She laughed. “Always fun. I should call Matt and tell him to head over; he hasn’t stopped talking about you since he flew in.”

I think all three of us blanched before exchanging anxious looks. How is it we’d managed to go to the one place where we’d get caught and hauled back home? I must have the worst karma ever. “I don’t know about that,” Beth said, wincing.

Viv tilted her head at her, confused. “You shouldn’t bother Sundance to come all the way from Arlington Heights,” I covered, waving my hand. “I mean, he sees us all the time anyway.”

She looked between the three of us with narrow hazel eyes—Beth and I were pretty good at acting, but I think Didi’s mild befuddlement gave away our ruse. “…He doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

…Shit.

I do not need another person who can tell when I’m lying.

“No, he doesn’t,” I admitted. “And I can’t say why, but it’d probably be better if you didn’t mention—”

“Say no more,” Vivienne interrupted, holding up a hand in understanding. “He won’t hear it from me.” She smiled at us all. “Nice to meet you both. See ya, Pen.”

“Bye, Vivienne.”

I waited until she was out of sight, lost amongst the shoppers and passers-by, before collapsing into my chair again. After a moment I pulled my hat over my face. “Bitchass,” I enunciated, “Motherfucker.”

Didi snickered into her drink, and Beth had just finished rolling her eyes when I fixed my hat on my head. I shrugged. It couldn’t be helped. Coincidences happened, and Viv gave her word that she wouldn’t tell. And I could trust her; you kind of have to trust the word of someone from a formerly-Mafia family. Otherwise you usually ended up with unpleasant side effects.

Although we’d initially avoided heading into the metropolis, we ended up going anyway since Didi—and Beth and I, since we both decided we needed some new clothes as well—couldn’t find a jacket to replace the one she’d lost. Naturally we couldn’t just go to one place; we had to shop around and use our magic to find excellent (and in my case kind of bizarre) additions to wardrobe.

I was sitting outside the dressing rooms in some department store,looking at the pictures in reading a really boring fashion magazine, while my friends were trying things on. I smiled to myself hearing them calling back and forth to each other and swapping. Occasionally I glanced around at the other shoppers, mostly women, milling around and talking quietly, if at all.

Didi came out at one point, wandered for a few minutes, and returned with an armful of jeans. I arched an eyebrow at her over the magazine. She sighed. “I forgot to mention that this is my only pair of jeans.”

“Why?” I asked patiently. She muttered something, smiling sheepishly, and I leaned forward. “Sorry?”

“Because Alex stole my other good pair!” Didi groaned. I burst out laughing, and she would have swatted me if she’d had a free hand. “Very funny. It’s not my fault if I dress awesomely! Like you’ve never gotten your jeans stolen by a guy.”

“Nope!” I grinned after her disbelieving expression. “Look at the guys I hang around. Do you really think any of them have hips enough to fit my jeans?”

She squinted at the ceiling, looking pensively for a moment. “Urie might,” she said, heading back into the dressing room.

I rolled my eyes and sunk lower into the squishy boyfriend-in-waiting couch. As unfair as it was to Bren, Spencer, and Jon, I really didn’t want to think about anything having to do with my recent ex-boyfriend. It did, however, remind me that I hadn’t talked to those weirdoes in ages, so I shot a text to Brendon and Spencer saying hi and another to Jon asking if he was home or in Nevada.

When I put my phone back into my front pocket and dourly returned to my magazine, I noticed that two people appeared to be arguing nearby. Trying to be subtle, I eased myself up to peer over the racks. A tall, wiry young man, whose black t-shirt-sleeve just barely covered the large collection of tattoos on the arm I could see, was facing a short, squat woman with an ID tag around her neck; the woman’s face had an amusing combination of confusion, disgust, and fear.

“The men’s jeans are over there,” she said, pointing to the far side of the store.

“I’m aware of that,” he said, overly patient. He adjusted the pile of jeans over his shoulder. “But I don’t want men’s jeans. I want these jeans.”

I chuckled to myself, shaking my head, and settled back into my seat. No matter how progressive any place claimed to be, I’d found, there were always a few people who couldn’t handle the idea of guys wearing women’s jeans. I thought they should wise up; there were those who looked damn good in them. Some even better than a lot of women.

That reminded me. I needed to call Bill. Once I decided, that is. Which I hadn’t.

“Look, it’s not like I’m asking to use the women’s dressing room,” the guy argued, sounding reasonably more annoyed. “Though you have absolutely no guarantee that your assumption that I’m male is correct.” I snorted and imagined the woman paling. There was no way that wasn’t a guy; he was built like Matt, and even I wouldn’t deny Matt was masculine.

The woman sputtered uselessly, and I glanced up when someone walked out of the door beside me. Beth leaned against the wall, blatantly watching the exchange amused, and Didi stole the mag from my hands. “I would be sad if that was female,” Beth said, shaking her head. “I would have to question my sexuality. And my gender.”

Beth and I each ended up with a new pair of jeans—I was guilted (and complimented) into them, honestly—and Didi got her replacement jacket. I didn’t point out that the likelihood of stealing it back was pretty high, but I guess it didn’t really matter all that much. It was more about the hanging out and having something to do than the actual acquisition of retail.

The guy with the women’s jeans appeared behind us in line as Beth paid for her purchase. I didn’t look back at him, since I was sorting through the jar of pens and other useless last-minute crap they had at the counter, but Didi smiled at him. He made some comment about closed-minded people and how commonplace girlpants were where he was from; she laughed and suggested he shop elsewhere then.

It occurred to me about half an hour later that I’d caught sight of the guy again; he’d been in almost every store we hit, idling picking through racks. “I think he’s following us,” Beth said, peering at him over her shoulder as she held up a shirt. “Creeper.”

“Pre-emptively following us?” I asked in slight scepticism. There was no doubt he had a great profile; I just wished I could catch the rest of his face.

“If I were a guy and found three chicks as hot as us,” Didi said seriously, “I’d follow them too.”

I coughed loudly and somehow the word stalker! came out. But we were having fun, possibly stalking aside. We made the obligatory look around in Hot Topic, just to see if they had anything interesting or worth laughing at. Didi found one of the Penny Dreadful shirts that the four of us had designed and sold to the company, and Beth got a picture of us holding it up with big shit-eating grins on our faces. What could I say? We were easily entertained. I’m pretty sure I blushed bright red when my lovely wonderful friends convinced the guy behind the counter to put on our album though.

The three of us immediately spilt up in the bookstore, each heading for our separate guilty pleasure. Didi scoped out the music magazines, I headed for the CD section, and I’m not sure where Beth went, but I’m pretty sure she ended up in the “beach read” section.

Coughsmutcough.

Because I like to have my attention trained on a few things at once, I glanced around the store every few seconds, making little mental notes on people for potential songs. Once again, I caught sight of the tall, dark-haired guy who bought the jeans—now dancing with the free-listen headphones on. I smiled, watching him turn and shimmy and get himself tangled up in the cord.

Cold dread filled up my chest when he turned and I saw his face. “Oh sweet fuck,” I said, ducking before his eyes could slide over me. I quickly crawled out of his line of sight andsprinted walked as calmly as I could the other side of the store.

I’d just spent a few hours checking out Matt.

As in Matt Lawrie. As in Sundance. As in thefirst guy I lusted over drummer in my band.

We were so getting out of here. Unfortunately when I found the rack of music and entertainment magazines, Didi was nowhere to be seen. I let out a frustrated noise, making for my phone, when I noticed that my band’s name was emblazoned on a shiny booklet. Album and band review. I couldn’t help but pick up the magazine and flip through it.

“Excuse me.” My eyes widened at the page and did not look up as Matt reached across me and picked up the same publication that was shaking slightly in my hands. He flipped through it and found the article about us. I could only stand there, eyes focused intently on nothing. What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?

I carefully shut the magazine, put it down, and tired to make an easy escape. Only Matt, in true accidentally-a-bastard fashion, shifted back onto his other foot and knocked into me. “Oh, I’m sorr…” Unfortunately when he turned to apologise, we locked eyes and from there the whole operation was fucked.

There was a long moment that he just stared at me, probably making himself believe that yes, it was me, and I could only stare back, scared stiff—it’s a joke, you see—that he was going to kill me. I certainly saw how he had the right to. For this reason, I flinched when he moved and went “EEK!” very loudly when he picked me up.

Matt was laughing as he spun me around in circles, and he only let me down for a second before he pulled my head with both hands and planted a short, hard kiss on my lips. And then we were back to crushing my ribs.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he said, still holding me firmly in his grip. “You have no idea how fucking worried I was about you, Rhiannon Banannon.” The brilliant smile on his face would reduce most girls (and guys) to jellies. “Remind me never to play hide and seek with you.” I couldn’t help laughing at his dumb joke, and that made him laugh and spin me around again.

“The fuck did I miss?” Matt didn’t bother putting me down as we both looked to the owner of the voice. Didi and Beth were standing at the end of the row of shelves, the latter with the same horrified look I must have had.

Then the bastard practically dropped me to walk carefully up to Beth. He looked… remorseful? “I know it’s useless to apologise, though I am unspeakably sorry for my idiotic assumption, so I’m going to give you a free shot. And then once I recover I’m probably going to hug you like I did Angie.”

We all looked at his like he was nuts. Which he was, but usually not daft enough to willingly endure bodily harm. Beth opened and shut her mouth a few times before she could manage anything. “I’ll go a little easier if you don’t hug me,” she bargained.

Matt thought for a moment and then nodded. “Fair enough.”

And then Beth caught him right in the diaphragm, doubling him over out of breath. I winced but stopped myself from helping him up. Didi tapped his shoulder. “Still alive?” He wheezed, nodding. “Good!” She beamed. “Onward!”

He straightened up and fixed—i.e. messed up—his hair. “Hey, by the way,” he said, giving her a friendly grin. “Matt. I think we’ve met.”

“Didi.”

“My doe?”

Didi laughed. “The one and only!”

I pushed Matt aside and hugged her protectively. “My doe,” I corrected. “Fuck off.”

“Technically,” she said in my ear, “I’m Shawn’s doe, but for the moment, I’ll be yours.” She sent me a wink, and I laughed, both at that and at the Oh My God Not Another One look Matt was now wearing.

“But Shawn will do whatever I say, so…”

“Anyway!” he interrupted, herding us all out of the magazine section. “Let’s go to lunch.”

Beth raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s half-past two, Sundance,” she pointed out.

“…Late lunch. I’ll drive.” I missed his stupid grin and his stupid face and his stupid… stupidity. I did not, however, miss how he sometimes made me stupid. “I want this mag though.” He shot me a wink. “It’s got a good shot of Butch Cassidy and Penelope.”

“Sundance and Butch Cassidy,” Didi mused as we walked to the register. She tilted her head at us. “Didn’t you say the other guy in your band was named Jesse? So you’re Butch Cassidy, Jesse James, and the Sundance Kid?”

Matt and I looked at each other. “See, this is why we import people,” I said. “None of us ever even thought of Jesse James.”

I have no idea why Matt decided to drive into Chicago—he knew better than I did what traffic was like—but I was thankful for the car’s air conditioner. It was early June; it should not be this hot! Luckily he knew me well enough to keep all the windows shut and blast the AC as we crawled through the busy streets.

“So you know that you’re going to tell me everything, right?” he said, glancing over at me in the passenger seat.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re more of a gossip than I am.”

“To be fair,” Beth put in from behind me, “That’s not really hard. You have about as much interest in other peoples goings-on as a hermit.”

We’d gotten to the chosen food purveyor—tacos, delighting both Matt and Didi—by the time I was even nearing the point in the story where we got to Illinois. Luckily I had Beth to intercede and interrupt when Matt got antsy and I forgot (or omitted) details.

I’d wanted to skip the getting plastered and making out with Jack part… and the date with Alex… and getting drunk with the Matches a day or two before we shipped out. Actually there were a lot of things I did on the trip to New York that Matt or the guys should not know about. But Beth kind ofjabbed coddled the details out of me.

He did find most of our antics hilarious though, especially the dressing people up unlike themselves and teasing paparazzi; it would have made an excellent webisode. “We definitely have to get some people together and do something soon,” Matt said, munching his taco.

“Running around your old stomping grounds?” I asked, watching amused as Beth performed an autopsy on her food. “Sounds like fun. So long as I have an umbrella and someone to faint on when the heat gets to me.”

He smiled curiously at me. “Not to be cynical—that’s your job, babe—or beat a dead horse—excuse the phrase, Beth—but I’m surprised you’re so pleasant. I half-expected you to knock me out and run away.”

I gave him a smirk. “That can still be arranged, Matthew darling,” I said, saccharine-sweet.

“Well, aren’t you sassy?” Beth laughed, leaning into my shoulder.

“Really. I’ve only seen you this geared up when you’re getting laid regularly.” I blinked, inadvertently dropping my fork, as he and the other girls chuckled. “I mean, if you’ve been like this the whole time, the guys must have had an easy time.”

Didi giggled maniacally. “No, only one of them had an easy time,” she corrected, grinning at me. “Though it was well-rewarded in the end.” My eyes widened further as she winked.

“Well, that depends on your definition of ‘easy’,” Beth mused over the awkward silence.

Matt stared at me unblinkingly. I winced down at my plate. Cockdammit, I swore to myself, avoiding looking at him. Fuckbastard. “Okay, okay,” he said, waving his hands. He tilted my chin up and smiled condescendingly. “So long as it wasn’t Saporta, I won’t hold it against you.”

“What is everyone’s bag against Gabe?!” I demanded vociferously. He choked on the bite he’d just taken and coughed and sputtered until his eyes watered.

Meanwhile, Didi was snickering. “Yeah, right,” she said. “Ange’s got morals. And standards.” We exchanged winks. “Think skinnier.”

Matt took a smaller bite and chewed carefully, thinking; soon his face lit up into a knowing grin. “…I had the feeling you’d warm up to Alex eventually,” he said with misplaced smugness. “I mean, he was all over you on Warped last year…”

Beth scoffed, shaking her head. “You really suck at this.”

“Think taller,” Didi prompted, wholly amused by this game. I personally hated the Guess-Who-Angie-Slept-With game. “…And skinnier still.”

He made a what-the-fuck? face at us. “What? Skinnier than Gaskarth? The only ones skinnier than him are Jesse, Jack, and…” His mouth fell open, and I rolled my eyes. Slow on the uptake. “Holy shit, you fucked Bilvy?!”

My head dropped to the table so hard that I saw spots of light when my forehead bounced off the plane. “Ow!” Even though both Didi and Beth burst out laughing, they still gave me hugs. “Fuuuuck.” I rubbed my forehead and glared at Matt. “A little louder, dipshit.”

He at least had the grace to look a little sheepish. “Sorry,” he muttered, wincing. “But seriously, you and Bill…?” I nodded, still rubbing my head. Think about something other than pain. “How was it?”

Didi sputtered while Beth gaped and I simply blinked at him. “Why do you want to know?” Didi asked incredulously.

Matt shrugged. “Curiosity. I’d be asking the same thing of him, if it makes you feel better.”

“It doesn’t,” I informed him, sipping my drink. “And please don’t.”

“Anyway, you didn’t—” He cut himself off and pulled his vibrating Sidekick from his pocket; glancing at the ID, he grinned. “Oh, this’ll be fun.” Matt put it on speaker and down between us. “Sup, Trill?”

Beth almost edged away from the thing, and I squeezed her hand. “Dude, Sundance!” Jesse’s voice said frenetically. “Vivienne just called me. Angie and Beth are in Chicago!”

Matt and I exchanged amused looks. “No way,” he said, feigning disbelief. I leaned to his ear and whispered, Your sister sucks. He snickered. “Did she say where?”

“She said she ran into them and some other chick with an accent and purple hair at a café in Elmhurst. I think they were going shopping.”

“I hate to say this, man,” Matt said, chuckling, “But you’re a little late for a warning.”

“What?” Jesse asked, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Maaaaaaatt,” I whined, voice jumping an octave. “Get off the phooooone!”

Jesse didn’t say anything for a moment, in which we all covered our laughter. “Did you put me on speakerphone, you asshole? Why the hell would you even pick up if you’re hooking up with someone?”

“’Oo’s tha’?” Didi called over the phone, thickening her brogue. “’E sounds cute.”

I laughed as Jesse started to yell at Matt about priorities and slung an arm around Beth, who was half-glaring at Didi. Matt was about to fall out of his chair laughing. Guess I should fill him in, I decided. I pointed at the phone and Matt nodded, grinning.

“Jesse?” I asked in my high, whiny voice.

“Um, yeah?”

“Jesse… Christopher?”

“…Yeah. Who is this?”

I smiled, crossing my arms on the table. “Jesse Brandon Jude Christopher, does my voice sound familiar?” He pause, trying to decipher, while the other laughed. “Think back to prank phone calls to your ex-girlfriend Michelle.” The silence stretched and I let my head flop down onto my arms before raising it and dropping the voice. “Good god, Trill, you’re as bad as Matt.”

“…I love you too, Pen,” he said sourly. “Seriously, what the fuck?”

“Needed some time away, darling,” I explained easily. “You know how it goes. New York was nice; the boys and Didi—the ‘other chick with an accent and purple hair’ as you say—say hi.”

“’Ello, Jesse,” Didi greeted, leaning over the table.

“Hey, Di.” Jesse cleared his throat awkwardly. “Is, um, Beth… there?”

We all looked at each other, then looked at Beth. She shook her head and got up, heading for the bathroom. “No, sugar, she’s not,” I said as evenly as possible. “Bathroom.” Technically not lying.

“Oh.” Long pause. “Well, I guess you’re okay, then, right?” I hummed agreement. “Kay. We’ll talk about it when you get back. I’mma go tell Sean.”

“We’ll be back in a few days,” Matt said, picking the phone up off the table. “See ya, man.”

“Later, kids.”

Beth sat down a few second after Matt stashed his phone away in his jeans. “Can we go home now?” she asked. “I seriously need a nap. And then some ranting.”

“You’ll have to rant to our lovely Londoner,” he said as we got up. I raise an eyebrow as he wrapped me in a tight hug. “I’m stealing my redhead.”

“Who said she was yours?” Didi challenged, smirking.

He smiled. “I’ll show you the tattoos sometime.”