Dude... Are You Stalking Me?

Disclaimer: Things I would do if I did own My Chemical Romance.

+ Go to Thailand and have a monk tattoo a tiger on my back
+ Buy a 76 Ford Mustang
+ Buy a Barnes and Nobel’s and use it as my personal library
+ Pay Lennie Kravitz to grow his hair back
+ Start my own publications company

And since none of these things have yet come to pass, I think it’s pretty obvious: They no mine. Don’t sue; it would only cause unnecessary unpleasantry and waste valuable time.

Chapter Six: The Band’s All Here -or- Kool-Aid and Serenades

[Beep beep beep]

“...mm..”

[Beep beep beep]

“...Mmmmm...”

[Beep beep be-]

“WHAT?!”

The boyish giggle at the other line did nothing to appease me as I cracked my eyes open at the ungodly hour of –I glanced at my clock– 12:15 PM on a Sunday. Okay, so it wasn’t that ungodly. But goddammit, it was Sunday! The one day a week I had zero responsibility. I didn’t appreciate someone ringing my cell phone off its proverbial hook before 3 PM.

“And hey to you too, sleeping beauty,” came a voice laden with barely suppressed laughter and I growled. I made a valiant effort of burrowing my face through my pillow and into my mattress, but failed as I knew I would.

“Gerard,” I gritted through my mouthful of pillow. “If someone’s not dead, dying or in a coma right now... you better pick a fuckin option, cuz there ain’t no way in hell you’re gettin away with this,”

“Oh, come on,” He was laughing openly now. Oh, how I longed to rip handful after handful of silky black hair from his head right then. “Cut the shit and get dressed, I’m coming to pick you up in a half hour.”

I screwed my eyes shut and rolled over to face the wall.

“No. No, you’re not. Because I’m going back to sleep, and refuse –refuse, Gerard!– to get up until three. Because it’s Sunday! The day of rest. And that’s exactly what I intend to do--”

“See you soon, Rita. Wear something nice!” Apparently he hadn’t heard a word I said, cuz a moment later I was listening to the annoying beep of a dropped call.

“.........”

“.........”

“........ GODDAMMIT!”

I stumbled out of bed and over to my closet. The mirror inside the door showed a tumble of blue and black curls where my head should have been, and a faded, worn Cheap Trick t-shirt above about three feet of toned legs. I grunted a greeting at my reflection before plunging head-long into my closet to find something “nice” that wouldn’t have me looking as if I was on my way to a funeral.

Finally I settled on a black tank top with a white Aerosmith logo, black straight-leg jeans, a studded leather belt and my matching wrist band. I got dressed as quickly as I could and found a pair of leather boots that weren’t too fucked up. I managed to brush the tangles from my hair without yanking too much of it out of my head and applied some brown eyeshadow and black liner before my bell rang. I ignored it a second while I pulled my hair into a high ponytail.

“Something missing,” I was looking in the mirror and didn’t realize what I’d forgotten until I turned my head. I’d left my ever-present skull earring on my night table. Quickly I retrieved it and screwed on the back (it was actually a horseshoe-shaped body piercing ring) and grabbed my steel cuff. I slipped it on my right wrist as I grabbed some lip gloss and a jacket and ran out the door.

I returned Gerard’s cheerful smile with a glare. He was leaning against an old black Honda with his hands in the pockets of his open black leather jacket. I’ll never understand that boy, wearing flimsy t-shirts and not bothering to close his jacket even in winter. I was prepared to bust his ear drums when I noticed what he was wearing. And stopped.

Fuck a duck, I thought. I was completely at a loss. How the fuck could this happen... we’re wearing the exact same thing! And we were. He was wearing a black shirt, black jeans and studded leather belt. My jacket wasn’t leather, but our boots seemed to match as well. He even had his hair in a ponytail, for shit’s sake!

“That’s it. I’m gonna change.”

I had just turned to go back into my building when Gerard ran forward and grabbed my hand.

“Hey, what--” He was still laughing, of course.

“There ain’t no fuckin way I’m goin anywhere in the same outfit as a guy!”

“Come on,” He was trying to pull me back to the car and to tell the truth while he was fast to catch me before I got back into the building, I was obviously the stronger one. “I think it looks good. Besides, there’s someone in the car I want you to meet, and we’re kinda late anyway.”

“Someone...” And that’s when I realized, I hadn’t met anyone that knew Gerard. Well, Lee did, but that doesn’t really count. And of course, the fact that he’d said we were late led me to believe he had a surprise for me. So, though it wasn’t something I usually do, I relented... mostly. “Fine,” I sighed and let him pull me back toward the car. “But if someone asks if we’re related when we get..” I blinked. “Wherever the fuck it is we’re going, I get to bitch-slap them.”

Gerard laughed and I smiled a little.

“If someone’s stupid enough to ask, I got next.”

So I let him lead me to the car, in stead of dragging him through my building, up to the fourth floor and into my apartment just so I could change my outfit. And I was glad I did.

***

Gerard smiled broadly as he led Rita back to the car. He knew he’d get her to come. She wasn’t vain, so the whole matching outfits thing wouldn’t bother her for long.

Besides, he thought and his smile grew. I think it’s cute.

He turned her so her back was facing the car.

“Don’t turn around ‘til I tell you,” he commanded and Rita heard either the trunk or a car door open. She stood with her arms crossed and listened carefully as paper rustled, a door closed and two pairs of foot falls approached her from behind.
“Okay, turn around.”

She obeyed, frowning slightly. And when she saw who Gerard had brought for her to meet, a grin spread across her countenance. He stood about an inch taller than Gerard with brown hair that was long in a shaggy kind of way. He had a strong jaw, fair skin and eyes that could have been hazel or light brown; they were hidden by a pair of large, square black-framed glasses. His build was long and thin. He wore a black t-shirt so faded it was almost grey, tight grey jeans and scuffed black leather boots.
“Rita, this is —-”

“He’s adorable!!” Rita exclaimed and reached forward to crush the poor boy in a hug. “Do I get to keep him?” She grinned expectantly, but all Gerard could seem to do is laugh. She smiled at the boy, who’s expression seemed to be caught between startled and amused. “Okay then, I think I’ll call you...Miguel!” She hugged him tighter. “My new li’l Miguelito!”

Gerard finally managed to catch his breath and control his laughter. He reached forward and attempted to extricate the boy from Rita’s grip. “Attempted” being the operative word.

“Actually, his name is Mikey. He’s my little brother, I told you about him.” He tugged on Mikey’s shoulder, but he was caught fast. “And you have to let him go now, Rita.”

She pouted and tightened her hold.

“Well it works out, cuz Miguel is Michael in Spanish.” She smiled at Mikey. “So I’ll still call you Miguelito; it means Mikey.” She pouted further in Gerard’s direction. “And no, I don’t wanna. He’s cute, I wanna keep him.”

“Well, I doubt my mom would be too happy with that.” He was grinning broadly, thoroughly amused with the situation. But he knew they were cutting it pretty damn close where time was concerned, so fun as it was, it had to end. “Come on, we’re late enough as it is. Unless you want to sit through a fuckin hour of bitching, we have to get going now.”

Rita continued to resist at first, but after a moment released her captive with a sigh. Mikey seemed a little rumpled, and had suffered a slight flush but was otherwise fine. He climbed into the back seat at his brother’s bidding, and Gerard prepared to open the door for Rita when she stopped him.

“What, no hug? You didn’t even say hi to me, and now you’re trying to shove me into a car and take me who-knows-where?”

He stared at her for a moment, then rolled his eyes and turned fully to oblige her. She hugged him tight, pressed her face into his neck...

“FUCK!” Gerard jumped back out of the embrace, right hand pressed to his neck. His eyes were wide with disbelief, but not without laughter. “You fucking bit me!”

Rita stuck her tongue out as she pulled her shades out of her hair and slipped them on.

“That’s what you get for waking me up, stalker man.”
Without further ado she climbed into the car, and they were on their way.
“Don’t think I don’t owe you for that,” Gerard warned, but he was smiling.

***

“I need more allowance,” Rita sang along with the car radio. “Rock the Casbah, rock the Casbah.”

“Wait, what?” Gerard laughed. He glanced at her from the driver’s seat to see the infamous eyebrow aloft. “What the fuck are you singing?”

“Rock the Casbah,” she answered tritely. “The only song by The Clash anyone seems to know.”

Gerard shook his head.

“No, I mean what were you singing? I mean, listen.” He gestured to the radio. “They’re obviously saying ‘Arnie got indicted.’”

Rita laughed. “No way that’s what they’re saying.” She turned to look at Mikey, silent in the back seat. “What do you think they’re saying, Miguelito?”

Mikey smiled a little and shrugged.

“I don’t know, it sounds kinda like they’re saying ‘Sharif doesn’t like it.’”

Gerard and Rita looked at each other, then turned back to look out the windshield.

“No way that’s what they’re saying,” Gerard said quickly.

“Nope,” Rita agreed.

Mikey laughed outright.

***

After the short debate about the lyrics of “Rock the Casbah,” the ice was effectively broken. Although he was still silent more often than not, Mikey was much more vocal in the conversation, which included (but was not limited to) a debate about whether cheese doodles were better puffed, or crunchy.

“The puffed ones suck! They don’t have the same flavor as the crunchy ones.”

“Oh please, they taste exactly the same. BUT! The crunchy ones come in those tiny-ass bags, so even though you’re paying the same quarter you get less.”

Rita had a good point going, Gerard had to admit. But he wasn’t willing to lose the debate, thus admitting that the sissy cheese doodles were superior. So he did it. He pulled out his trump card, the “Fifth Ace” as he so aptly called it; a last-ditch effort so obvious, it was hilarious in its sheer depth of pitifulness.

“Okay, but there’s one thing you haven’t put into account. And Mikey, back me up on this,” he said, his pale face serious. Rita raised her eyebrow, intrigued. Somehow, she knew this would be something she could use against him for as long as weeks to come. “Crunchy cheese doodles are always better... because they look like little clubs.”

Rita blinked, then stared at Gerard’s profile until he was forced to look around at her. Mikey was laughing his ass off in the back seat. Gerard’s eyes were wide with innocense as he divided his gaze between Rita and the road.

“...Clubs. That’s your argument. That they look like... clubs?”

She was dumbfounded as she stared wide-eyed at the man beside her.

“Yeah! You know, like Bam-bam carries in The Flintstones?”

Rita continued to stare at her friend, and after two minutes Gerard thought that perhaps she’d forgotten how to talk... and blink. Finally she did blink, and life seemed to pour back into her still form.

“You know what... if you don’t either revoke that comment, or say something within the next six seconds that at least makes some kind of sense... I’m gonna have to bite you again.”

She said it calmly, but her eyes screamed ‘FREAK!’ Gerard laughed loudly, but it was cut off abruptly when he realized her expression hadn’t changed.

“You have four seconds left.”

His smile slowly shrunk and became nervous as Mikey leaned forward to see if Rita would make good on her threat.

“You’re not serious,” he laughed. The expression on the girl’s face was anything but comforting.

“Two seconds.”

“Rita, I’m fucking driving! Do you want to get us killed?”

He was thoroughly nervous now. The threat in Rita’s eyes darkened them nearly to black, and he could tell by her posture she was getting ready to launch herself at his unprotected throat.
“Miguelito, you might wanna lean back in case he resists,” Rita advised as she licked her lips and reached down to unbuckle her seatbelt.

“No. No! No fucking biting the driver!” Gerard protested desperately, and his eyes were focused more on his seemingly-vampiric companion than on the road.

“I warned you,” she sighed as she shook her head regretfully, and prepared to lunge... when her eyes fell upon the sign they had just passed.

Now Entering: Newark, New Jersey

Rita froze in mid-leap, mouth agape and eyes round. Slowly she backed into her seat again. She blinked once. Twice. And a stricken expression spread across her face like fire.

“Stop the car.”

“What?” Mikey, who had been disappointed at Rita’s failure to follow through, looked at her curiously. Gerard stared at her for a moment before her words registered.

“Rita, what are you--”

“I said stop the car.”

“And then what,” He was looking at her strangely out of the corner of his eye. His expression consisted of a mixture of amusement, curiosity, and dubious wonder.

“And then I walk my ass back to Brooklyn, if I have to,” she blurted. Her tan cheeks were slightly darkened with a flush and her eyes were so wide it looked as though she had no lids.

“What the fuck,” Gerard and Mikey laughed in tandem. “What are you talking about?” Gerard was smiling a slight, puzzled smile and Rita’s expression evolved to shocked.

“This,” She flailed her arms about spastically. “Is Jersey!” She stared at him as though waiting for him to understand.

“Yeah. And?” He was grinning now, and Rita’s face seemed to glow with frustration.

“And I can’t be seen here!!” She pounded her fists against her legs to empathize her point.

Both Mikey and Gerard were staring at her now, and Rita suddenly felt completely lost.

“What the fuck are you talking about,” Gerard had slowed the car to a crawl as he drove through the streets of Newark so he could stare at his friend without getting them wrecked. Mikey’s eyes were large behind the thick lenses of his glasses, but he was nonetheless amused.

“I’m from New York!” Rita exclaimed. “If anyone sees me here, they’ll... fuckin... revoke my citizenship!”

For a moment there was silence. Then Gerard and Mikey erupted into laughter so intense Gerard was forced to pull over until the spate was past. After what seemed like hours the brothers calmed.

“Rita,” Gerard gasped, still laughing. “Will you marry me?”

Rita sat with her arms crossed, staring out the passenger’s window. When her friend spoke she looked over at him, eyes narrowed and very maturely stuck out her tongue.

“Boba,” she muttered.

Gerard simply grinned and restarted the car. They only drove for a few more minutes before he stopped in front of a medium-sized white house and let the engine die.

“Alright, everyone the fuck out!” Gerard enthused as he climbed out the driver’s side. When Mikey was beside him and Rita had yet to exit, he walked around and opened the door for her. “That means you too, Rita Hayworth.”

“Nope.”

He crouched down so that he was looking up at her, though it didn’t do much good; she had her head turned to the opposite side so that all he could really see was her long, long hair. When she refused to look at him he did what he knew would catch her attention. He pulled her hair.

“Ah–! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

He smiled up at her and tugged on her ponytail again, if a bit more gently.

“Come on. We’re late, remember.”

She huffed and continued to sulk. Gerard’s smile widened.

She looks so fuckin cute like that, he thought as he watched her pout. When she didn’t reply he took her right hand in both of his and tugged it. She looked at him, but was still pouting.

“Come on, I have a surprise for you! I wouldn’t have brought you all the way out here if it wasn’t for something special.” He looked into her eyes sincerely, hopefully. “Please?”
Rita frowned slightly, seeming to consider whether or not to spend her time camped out in the car. Finally she sighed and nodded. Gerard held the door for her and slammed it as she walked around the car to the front of the house. She stretched and fought a yawn. Gerard walked up next to her, Mikey on her other side. She glanced at the latter, then raised an eyebrow at the former as she slipped her shades back on. Gerard followed suit.

“What?”

Rita smirked.

“Rita Hayworth?”

Gerard grinned as he rapped on the door.

“Yeah, you know, Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption?”

She shook her head and laughed lightly as the door opened.

“You are an interesting one, mijito,” she murmured.

At the door was a guy who seemed to be about Gerard’s age, though he was a good bit taller, about six feet. He had somewhat longish curly hair, which seemed to be a cross between red and blond. He was wearing a tight black t-shirt and thoroughly patched jeans. He smiled when he saw Gerard and Mikey, and gave Rita a friendly nod.

“Took long enough,” he said in a soft voice that belied his height. “Frank’s been bitching about you being late for the past twenty minutes.”

“Just what I need,” Gerard sighed and urged Rita inside with a gentle hand on her lower back. As soon as they were inside, Rita knew it was a party. But before she had the chance to be uncomfortable she looked around at all the friendly, smiling faces. There weren’t more than twenty people there, and they all seemed to be close friends.

Gerard led her through the house into the living room, and she was pleasantly surprised to see drums, amps, guitars and microphones set up.

“There’s gonna be a band playing here?” she asked, excited despite herself. Gerard smiled down at her and positioned her so that she was just about ten feet in front of the main mic.

“Something like that,” he answered cryptically. With a quick gesture for her to wait, he disappeared into the crowd. Perhaps five minutes later he reemerged with Mikey, the guy with the curly hair, a short guy with black hair wearing a black t-shirt and ripped black jeans, and a tallish guy with brown hair and a goatee, also wearing a black shirt. Gerard winked as he passed her, and Mikey gave a small grin and a thumbs up. As Rita watched Gerard, sans jacket and shades, took his place behind the main mic as Mikey moved to pick up a red and white bass. The guy with the curly hair picked up a brown and black guitar to Gerard’s right, and the short guy with the black hair picked up a white guitar to his left. The guy with the goatee moved behind the drum set and looked to Gerard, who nodded. He grinned hugely at Rita and tipped her an obvious wink as he positioned the mic to his height.

“Hey everybody, thanks for comin today,” He spoke cheerfully as he swept the room with his eyes. “As you know, this party I’m throwin ain’t just for the pot and the booze; why don’t you all put your hands together for our guest of honor. Rita!”

Her eyes widened and she glanced nervously around her as applause erupted. Some people whistled and a couple slapped her companionably on the back as she stared at her friend with wide eyes.

No way, she thought, and had time to muse that that was a phrase she seemed to use a lot since Gerard came into her life. He threw this party for me?

He smiled down at her again as he nodded at his “band,” and they launched into the opening of a song Rita knew all too well.

“No way,” she whispered, and she was grinning.

“This one’s for you, babe,” Gerard said, and started singing.

“I want you to want me.
I need you to need me.
I love you to love me,
I’m beggin’ you to beg me.

I want you to want me.
I need you to need me.
I love you to love me.

Shine up the buckle shoes,
Put on a brand new shirt...”

Rita couldn’t believe it. He was singing one of her favorite songs, had in fact memorized every word, just so he could drag her out of bed and shlep her all the way to New Jersey so he could sing it to her. And he sounded amazing. The black-haired guy and the guy with the curly hair sang backup into their mic’s as they wailed on their guitars. She pulled her shades off and placed them on her head so she could look into Gerard’s eyes while she sang along.

“Didn’t I, didn’t I, didn’t I see you cryin’,
Oh, didn’t I, didn’t I, didn’t I see you cryin’...”
Rita sang along happily. She couldn’t believe he had learned every word. There were some parts of the song she couldn’t understand, and she’d been listening to it her entire life. But he never missed one word, and seemed for all the world to have been singing the song for years before that day.

She watched him perform with an amazed smile as she sang the last verse.

“I want you to want me.
I need you to need me.
I love you to love me,
I’m beggin’ you to beg me.

I want you to want me.
I want you to want me.
I want you to want me.
I want you to want me!”

They played the descent with a bit more of a flourish than Cheap Trick had, but it suited their style. Rita whooped excitedly as Gerard grinned at her and rushed forward to hug him. Their mingled laughter was amplified by the mic and the other guests applauded anew.

“You are crazy!” she laughed into his neck, and he pulled back to smile down at her.

“Does that mean you liked it?” he asked hopefully. She could think of no words to express her feelings, so Rita once again hugged Gerard tightly and planted a kiss on his jaw. She beamed up into his bright eyes and Gerard laughed gently. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He seemed suddenly to remember their audience and, one arm still around his friend, grabbed the mic.

“Give it up for Rita Martinez!”

And they did. Rita hugged Gerard tightly as the other party goers whooped and hollered, and he cued his band to start up the next song. He lifted his friend’s chin so she was looking into his shifting hazel-green eyes.

“Sing the next one with me?”

She gave him what her friends called her “shit-kicker grin” and winked.

“Of course, just don’t blame me if I burst your friends’ eardrums.”

He laughed and turned to address his band. When they were ready he whispered the song into Rita’s ear, and she smiled, pleasantly surprised. They started playing, and without further ado, the duo launched into their song.

“When the night is come,
and the land is dark,” Gerard started then cued Rita to take the next part. “And the moon is the only light we’ll see.”

“No I won’t be afraid,” Rita sang, a bit nervous at first. “No, I won’t be afraid,
just as long as you stand, stand by me.
Stand by me.”

They looked at each other with identical grins, and sang together.

“So darlin, darlin, stand by me!
Oh, stand by me.
Oh stand, stand by me.
Stand by me.”

Gerard took the mic again. It was strange, how there seemed to be no one in the room but he and Rita; his eyes never left hers.

“If the sky that we look upon,
should tumble and fall.
Or the mountains should crumble into the sea.”

Rita seemed to be lost. The only things of substance were the music, and Gerard’s eyes. She didn’t even fully realize she was singing, though Gerard held the mic to her lips.

“I won’t cry, I won’t cry.
No, I won’t shed a tear.
Just as long as you stand, stand by me.”

They didn’t know what it was, but their feelings were plain. Whatever tentative friendship they had enjoyed within the last two weeks of their acquaintance, they were true friends now. That would never change. Together they sang, together they promised. And it was right. It was meant.

“And darlin, darlin stand by me!
Oh, stand by me
Oh stand now, stand by me,
Stand by me...”

-------------------------