The Now or Never Kind

I knew that my life was getting beyond bizarre, and I could blame Warped Tour for it, among other things. I never ever would have believed that I would interrupt a meal—moreover, interrupt a sentence—to walk across a crowded restaurant and be excited enough to hug Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz. I probably would have been insulted if someone had suggested it in my first years of high school.

“Daddy Wentzabucks!” I greeted, squeakily. Pete rolled his eyes but pulled me into a hug anyway. “I heard you’re institutionalising yourself. Congratulations!”

Now he laughed and followed me back to our table. “Yes, Ange, I’m getting married,” he conceded, “Thanks for the support. Hey, guys.”

“Is it time to be surrounded by famous people already?” Beth asked musingly.

“What, we’re not good enough for you?” Matt challenged, pouting.

“…Nope!”

I rolled my eyes over to Pete, who was grinning. “Glad to see none of you have changed.” He gave me a once-over. “Personality-wise anyway.”

“Presents from my blonde Chicagoan lover,” I explained, idly digging the toe of my shoe into the carpet. I turned to the table. “Are we ready? Oh, the bill.”

“Already taken care of, princepessa,” Charlie said, standing just before everyone else. I smiled as he grabbed Aero’s hand to help him up and nearly laughed when I noticed that Jesse had done the same thing with Beth.

I looped my arm through Pete’s as we strolled down the block towards Angels & Kings. As much as I objected to being arm candy—to anyone, let alone an engaged bassist infamous for being a stage-whore—I did enjoy the scathing looks of jealousy I received from some girls in line. My bright grin seemed to just piss them off more.

Obviously Pete gathered some attention; it’s kind of hard for the famous owner of a popular bar not to. However I definitely heard the names of the guys and me a few times in the throng of noise. I rolled my eyes at Pete’s “They’re with me” to the bouncer. Being an entourage is fine, but where did I put my ego pin?

It was still relatively early in the evening, so the thumping music wasn’t quite deafening yet, but the hum of conversation made up for it. A hand caught mine as we began to head towards the raise DJ booth, and Beth tugged me back. “Let her not get mobbed yet, Wentz,” she advised, heading in the opposite direction. Beth grinned at me. “C’mon, I spotted some of your favourite people upstairs.”

Beth and I—trailed by my boys, I will note—didn’t even make it upstairs before running into Gabe Saporta and Alex Suarez, going to get drinks. “Penelope! The lady of the hour,” Gabe exclaimed in greeting over the din, giving me a hug. He grinned down at me. “So you’re legal now.”

“Don’t get any ideas, Saporta,” I said, pushing his shoulder with a smirk. “I just got here and I have to make it to graduation.”

“I keep forgetting you’re so young,” Alex said, shaking his head. “Whenever I see you, I feel like I’ve known you since high school or something.”

“Famous boys in high school. Scary thought,” Beth revelled. She pulled at my hand. “However, we have other people to dazzle with our good looks.”

I laughed, rolling my eyes as I followed her up the stairs. I was feeling good, between all my friends and all the looks I was getting from strangers—so good that I tossed a wink at a particularly cute surfer-looking boy I spotted looking at me. He grinned and I turned my attention to the table Beth and I were heading towards.

Grinning I strolled up and promptly sat myself down in a rather bony lap, looping an arm around my new seat’s neck. “Hey, Lamppost.”

“Angie!” several people around me yelled excitedly. I laughed as two long arms wrapped around me. “Hello, princess,” William greeted, kissing my cheek. “Happy Birthday.”

I waved to our new companions—among them members of The Academy Is…, Fall Out Boy, Cobra Starship, and other bands I vaguely recognised—and turned back to my other Chicagoan friend. “So Beckett… do I get a present?”

“The fact that I came all the way from Chicago for you isn’t enough?” he asked with a grin.

“Beth came from Chi-town.”

“Beth would use any excuse to get out of Illinois.” Beth clapped him over the head while others chuckled; Bill flashed an adorable smile at her. “I can think of a present I can give you.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “You do recall that I’m dating your labelmate, yes?” He shrugged, still grinning. “And that I can break you in half?”

“I don’t want to know what you’ve done to Ryan,” Joe laughed. I shook my head, grinning, as Gabe and Alex reappeared with drinks and some of the boys I’d arrived with. Beth, having nudged the Butcher out of his chair, stood and let Jesse sit before lounging in his lap.

Gabe took a sip from his glass and shot me an alluring grin. “Hey, Ange, can I have your first dance as an adult?”

“There’s an incredibly lewd undertone in tha’,” Sean pointed out in amusement, leaning against the booth.

“Undertone?” Jesse repeated incredulously.

I smirked up at the singer, still comfortably in William’s lap. “Down, boy.” I ruffled Bill’s hair as I stood and sauntered past Gabe. “Save it for the dance floor.”

I can think of dozens of dance styles, as well as some interesting metaphors, but if I had to come up with a word for Gabe Saporta and I on the dance floor, it would probably be “risqué.” We both were way too good with our hips. Don’t get me wrong: it wasn’t just the normal boring grinding have-sex-through-your-clothes dancing you usually see in clubs. No, we’re more fun than that. The semi-scandalised looks on the surrounding couples’ faces just made my grin grow.

Gods forbid two people actually be able to dance.

I leaned back into his chest to hear his words, pointing out the girl bent all the way over (skirt shoved up, I might add) in front of a guy, both of whom were sneering at us. I could only laugh and twirl around, hair flying as I dipped back, swinging from Gabe’s grasp on my hips upwards. He grinned down at me when I stopped against his chest. “I should dance with you more often,” he shouted over the music.

Soon I felt a tap on my shoulder. Before I could turn, a voice said in my ear, “Wouldn’t it suck if the cops arrested you for being underage in a club on your birthday?”

A wide grin overtook me and I spun around. “Jack!” I shrieked, launching myself at him. I heard him laugh as we stumbled into the solid wall of people, who all glared at us. I pulled back and beamed at him. “I missed you!”

“You did?” Jack asked, confused. “I mean, of course you did!”

I laughed, and then the music over the PA changed to Muse’s “Supermassive Black Hole”. My grin widened. “Dance with me!” I dictated, tugging him by the hand, already feeling the music move me.

After dancing with Jack came dancing with Aero, who then traded me with Beth for his boyfriend, and despite her protest, Matt managed to pull me away after that. Then there was Alex Gaskarth, who seemed mildly disgruntled for half a moment that Jack had gotten to me first, some random cute guy, who slipped me his number, and Alex Suarez, who for the record is a phenomenal dance partner.

More than an hour passed before I realised I was dying of thirst, so I wormed my way out of the crowded floor to the bar, where the super-cute bartender was kind enough to not charge me. I had the suspicious feeling that a certain entrepreneur had informed the staff to give me free (non-alcoholic) drinks.

Well, I guess that’s yet another perk of knowing famous people.

I returned upstairs with my bottle of water and leaned against the balcony railing, overlooking the buzzing room. No one else was really around, except one girl at a table in the corner, who seemed to be humming into her beer. I smiled slightly, trying to pick out the faces and tops of heads that I could recognise. No one seemed to notice me, which wasn’t unusual or unwelcome; despite being a singer, I couldn’t take having so much attention for a long time.

“Hey.” Sipping my water, I turned my head to find the girl from the table standing beside me. She probably could have passed for that trendy Boho look, though her jeans looked more genuinely Bohemian. I couldn’t tell exactly what colour her hair was; maybe purple or red or maroon—clubs are dimly lit so everyone looks sexier—but I liked how it was hacked shorter on the left side. “I know you.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” I replied, smiling politely. We hadn’t played many shows in New York City when we came though, and the only time anyone would have remembered us was a tiny venue playing for less than a dozen people.

“Yeah, I do,” she insisted, setting her mostly-empty bottle of Guinness on the ledge beside me. “You’re Angie. Or Penelope.” Grand, I thought to myself, This is just what I need: getting recognised across the country on my birthday. “Shawn told me about you.”

“Listen, I—” I stopped and blinked at her. Aside from noting the very slight accent—English or Irish, I decided—I decided this was the first time someone knowing me because of someone else. “Shawn? As in Harris? How do you know him?”

The girl, as of yet unnamed, laughed. “Know him? Fuck, that bitch owes me eight bucks.”

I burst out laughing, finding it perfectly plausible that Shawn would owe a fan money. Shaking my head, I suddenly had a thought. “Oh Christ, what did he say about me?” I asked, dreading what might be the answer.

“We were talking about Warped Tour last year,” she explained, glancing out onto the crowd, “He said you guys wrote a song together, but you hadn’t put it out yet.” She grinned. “He said basically you were a female version of him and I kicked him and said that was a cop out.”

I chuckled, sipping my water. “I’m flattered, but yeah, that’s a cop out. Even though that's what I aspire to be. As for the song, we’re working on a new record. Should be out fall or winter.”

“…I’m sorry, I’m an idiot.” She held out her hand. “I’m Deirdre, but you can call me Didi.”

“D-d-d-Didi, my doe?” I quoted, laughing slightly.

Didi shook her head, chuckling. “Funny, Shawn says the same thing.”

“I’m sure he does, the smug bastard.”

“And here I was thinking I was the only one who called him that.”

I pulled out my phone, laughing. “I like you,” I declared, “And something tells me that having a friend in New York would make this weekend even better.” Didi nodded and retrieved her phone. We exchanged numbers and she told me about herself. She was born in London and had spent most of her life moving around: Ireland, Tennessee, Iowa, Denver, San Francisco… I was more than slightly jealous when she told me she’d been the Matches’ merch girl for a while.

We both looked down onto the crowd as the music faded out and people made indignant noises. And then they cheered because Pete Wentz was standing at the DJ booth with a microphone. “How’s everyone doing tonight?” he called, grinning. More cheers, and my suspicion meter went off the charts. “This is going to sound weird, but is anyone standing next to a tall, stunning redhead wearing a black shirt?”

Didi looked at me curiously as the crowd hummed curiously. I rolled my eyes. “Like hell am I going down there,” I said, leaning on the railing. “He’ll probably sing to me.”

“What, is it your birthday or something?” I nodded. Didi grinned and leaned over the railing. “Hey! I’m standing next to her! Up here!” I jumped, whirling to stare at her as hundreds of eyes turned to us. She waved her arms, pointing at me. “Penelope’s right here!”

I glowered flatly at her. “And like all the friends I like, you have a huge cruel streak.” She beamed toothily as Alex (Gaskarth, not Suarez), Gabe, and Zack appeared at the top of the stairs; Beth pushed her way between them and took my arm. “Darling, I’ve made another friend. This is Didi; she’s just as vindictive as you and I.”

Beth looked intrigued while the boys guided—coughpushedcough—me downstairs. My arms looped through Zack’s and Gabe’s, I tried to smile at the multiple people staring at me, though it was hard between the jealous stares and, um… fascinated leers.

Don’t ogle me. I might be legal, but that doesn’t mean I’ve lost my standards.

Still, I found myself up on the stage, standing beside Pete with his arm around me; I opted to look at him, rather than the crowd of people wondering what the hell was happening. “This here’s Penelope,” Pete told the room, grinning at me. “And today is special because today… she’s legal!”

People cheered. Apparently they were glad it wouldn’t be statutory. Or they misunderstood and assumed they could buy me drinks. Grinning wearily I leaned towards the mic, but could only laugh when a yell rose up: “She’s hot!” I rolled my eyes and said, “She also has a battalion of tall, possessive musician boys, so don’t get any ideas.”

“How about we all sing happy birthday?” Pete suggested, screwing up my hair.

In retaliation I made his hair stand straight up, and beamed when he glared at me. “And try to ignore them if you’re standing next to a singer in a band,” I suggested.

One very off-key version of happy birthday later, in which Pete managed to fix a rhinestone tiara into my hair, the room cheered and I asked if I could disappear again. “I think not.” Pete stepped back and glanced at the next song on the mix. He grinned wickedly. “A little bird told me that you can drop it like it’s hot.” Guys hollered, and I shot Pete my No Look. “Who wants to see Angie dance?”

I think even some girls screamed for that. I shook my head, taking the microphone from Pete. “You don’t want to see me dance,” I said. “It’s my birthday, and I want to see you sexy bitches dancing.” I started to go behind the table with the DJ, but paused and grinned. “Oh, and it’s ladies’ choice.”

I tossed the mic back to Pete and scrolled through the iTunes library. Grinning, I pointed to a song questioningly and the DJ nodded. Hopping back next to Pete, I scanned the crowd as the song playing before faded back in. I squinted at the bar for a moment before smirking and extending my arm, pointing.

“Guys, we have a winner,” Pete said as I sauntered off the stage. “Look out, Red’s on the prowl. And she bites.” I flipped him off over my shoulder, rolling my eyes amused.

He was sipping his drink when I strolled up, and brown eyes flashed opened when I tugged his hand. “C’mere, Bilvy,” I called, heading onto the floor.

“Hey, whoa,” he laughed, standing his ground, “Let me finish my drink first.”

I pouted and sighed histrionically. “I supposed I’ll just have to find some random New Yorker babe. Gee, I hope he plays nice.”

Bill rolled his eyes. “One day I’ll find a way to push your buttons,” he grumbled, walking past and pulling me along.

He wrapped his free arm around me, hand holding onto my hip, as my selection—Sean Paul’s “Temperature”, I’ll have you know—came on. Don’t hate; I’m allowed to like music outside of my genre. And I love dancing, though I hardly qualify most of what happens in clubs dancing.

“Was what Pete said true?” Bill yelled over the music, over-enunciating to be understood.

“Yeah,” I called back, “But he wanted to put on ‘My Humps’ and there is no way in hell I’m showing off my moves to that song.”

He laughed and took a sip of his drink. Biting my lip slightly, I body-rolled and snaked my hand through the hair over the back of his head. William’s hand tightened momentarily. “You wanna share?” I asked, leaning my head back against his shoulder.

“Do you remember the last time you were here? I’m not being your enabler tonight, princess. Too many guys who’d take advantage of you.”

“Like the ones we know wouldn’t?” He chuckled, the sound of it in my ear sending a shiver down my spine. I can be such a terrible girlfriend when I’m surrounded by my friends in the industry.

After our usual teasing and flirty banter—odd considering I hated him the first time I met him—I decided I was thirsty again, so I left my lanky friend and headed back to the bar. Maybe I’d go find Didi and Beth again and check that they hadn’t murdered each other; people as similar as the three of us either become best friends or worst enemies.

I almost choked on my water when I was suddenly yanked sideways and landed against a chest. I blinked wide eyes and was only a little reassured to see that it was Gaskarth I was pressed up against. “Hi there, birthday girl,” he said with a smile. “How’s your night been?”

“Pretty good so far,” I replied, easing back slightly as his hands slid down my hips.

“Better now that I’m here?” His grin turned sly, and I laughed, sliding my hand over his shoulder. “Know what I think? I think you missed me.”

I smirked at him, and let no one say that I couldn’t combat Alex Gaskarth when he was thinking he was slick. “I did miss you. Until I remembered what an enormous ego you have.”

“That’s not that the only thing about me that’s enormous,” Alex said in my ear.

I rolled my eyes as his hair brushed against my cheek. “Don’t kid yourself. If your smirk gets any bigger, your head’s going to… fall off.” Something very strange was happening in the area of my neck. Something wet and tingly, and wet, tingly, and Alex did not go together in my universe. “Alex, what are you doing?”

“C’mon, Ange,” he goaded, nibbling at my ear.

“No c’mon,” I said, pushing him away and staring at him incredulously. “How fucking drunk are you?”

Alex frowned disparagingly. “I haven’t been drinking that much. I saw you with Saporta and Beckett and—”

“And what, Alex? You thought since I was dancing with some friends that I would be willing to cheat on my boyfriend with you? I didn’t think you were that stupid.”

“To be fair, watching you and Gabe was like softcore,” Alex laughed. I arched an eyebrow at him, crossing my arms. He rolled his eyes. “It’s a joke.”

“It isn't funny,” I informed him. My irritation turned to frustration. “Fuck, Alex. Now I feel like everyone thinks I’m a slut!”

Which I did. To me the interaction between me and Gabe and Bill and the other friends I flirted with was wholly innocent. We were just screwing around, mostly because the guys were highly oversexed—or undersexed, depending on how you looked at it. But I loved Ryan, and he was the only one.

I found Beth and Didi sitting at a table, laughing, during my haze of rationalising and worrying. They both turned more serious when I smiled weakly. A second later, Alex collapsed onto my shoulder. “Shit, you move fast,” he breathed. Beth rolled her eyes. “At least let me buy you a drink so I don’t completely ruin your birthday.”

“Don’t do it,” Didi advised.

“I will not let either of us forget his talk of roofies,” Beth declared.

I looked down at Alex, batting big brown eyes at me, and smiled. “Sorry, kid,” I said. “Go find yourself another girl to bother.”

“You’re the only girl I want to annoy the hell out of,” he cooed, laughing.

Beth pulled me down beside her as I laughed. “Like I haven’t heard that before, but now is girl-time and I’m pretty sure you don’t want to be around for that.”

Alex pulled a face. “Blech. Hell no. Later, babes.”

I turned to my companions as he wandered away and smiled. "Any suggestions on how to improve my mood?" I asked, leaning into my hand. "I've gotten it into my paranoid little brain that people think I'm a harlot for dancing suggestively."

Didi tilted her head at me. "You do remind me of Shawn."

"Hardly," Beth said, snickering and leaning onto my shoulder. "While my darling Red has her ostentatious moments, no one is as flamboyant as the Harris creature."

I grinned. "You've met Matt Lawrie, haven't you?"