Vengeance Banks In

“You love it,” he kissed my cheek seeing as he couldn’t kiss my head because of Synyster’s hat. “You enjoy the show?”

“It was great, loved how red you got when you got tattled on about the fainting part,” I poked his right cheek and allowed him to giggle loudly and then cover his mouth. I waited until he was done, but before I commented back on his girlie laugh, I turned to Matt and touched his neck. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Just a little rusty, I about lost my voice in the last song,” he patted my shoulder and smiled reassuringly before he went off towards a big line of fans, when they seen him they screamed louder than I’ve ever heard.

“What are you guys doing now?” I questioned Zacky as he leaned on my shoulder, he was exhausted—that’s what happened when he got out of shape and snacked on Cheetos all day. Serves him right.

“Meet and greet, it might take awhile so—“ Zacky looked around for a minute before he pointed off in the distance towards a bench off by the venue. “Go over there, take this—“ he handed over his Ipod which he must have stuffed in his pocket before the gig and then patted my arm again. “I’ll talk to you when we get done, go listen to some tunes.”

“Have fun, don’t get attacked,” I hopped up and kissed his cheek before I took off towards the bench. When I sat down I put the earbuds in my ears and pushed the on button, waiting for it to pull up the list of music. Most of his tunes were unfamiliar but I found a couple that I could listen to without flinching and getting a headache afterwards, like My Chemical Romance was on their with one of my favorites, Teenagers. I was just past the Ray Toro solo when I felt a presence beside me, I always had that good insight thing about me and I could tell when people were around and about to scare me. I thought it was Zacky rushing over to tell me not to go through his picture file (I would have said to late anyway…) but I snuck a glance anyway and was surprised to see a petite brunette staring at me with wide, wondering eyes. “Hi?”

“I’m Danielle Weston, I work for Avenged Sevenfold—I’m the merch girl and I saw you with the guys, my curiosity got the best of me and I was wondering and if its to personal forget I asked but are you dating one of them or something?” she scrunched up her face as a smile made a way to her oddly blemish free face.

“No,” I laughed and paused the song and took both earbuds out. “I’m Johnny Christ’s step-daughter; I’m on tour with them so I can get to know his friends and get to know him better. It’s not to personal, just a question.”

“Your Briony Seward then?” her face lit up as she bounced twice and cupped her chin in both hands and as leaned forward on her elbows that sat on her knees. “It’s so nice to meet you; I’ve heard a bunch about you.”

“You have?” both of my eyebrows raised and made the fedora hat on my head slid up, probably showing my bandage.

“Rumors, from co-works who have heard of you from the guys and the news about that—“weakly she pointed to my head. “How are you feeling by the way?”

“Sore,” I chuckled and rubbed the side of my face. “And a little loopy, but other than that I feel fine. Mental exhaustion and a headache from the concert, but just peachy, how are you feeling?”

“Hot from the merch booth and my feet are sore but—I shouldn’t complain, you are the one with stitches and bolts in your head,” she paused to look at me with shock fading her facial expressions. “Oh god, I feel horrible!”

“Danielle, I’m fine—I don’t have bolts in my head either, where did you hear that?” I raised one lone eyebrow and stared at her dumbfounded.

“Rumors,” Danielle explained simply as she leaned back against the bench. “So how old are you?”

“Seventeen, I turn eighteen in a two months,” I had to add it, made me feel better to know I was actually getting close to the adult line even though I’ve been classified as one by family and friends for years. “And you?”

“Nineteen,” she smiled proudly and flickered her honey brown orbs towards the long line. “Wow, your friends are about to be killed by a pack of giggling fans.”

“They’ll live,” I shrugged it off and talked to her the rest of the wait, until she had to leave thirty minutes before the meet and greet ended, she had to help put everything away for the next concert. I had just turned on the Ipod again and was listening to The Used, lunacy fringe when someone plopped down beside me rather harshly. I looked up rapidly and grinned when I seen Synyster sprawled out with a look of exhaustion covering his face, he lifted his feet and laid them across my lap as I turned off the music and waited for him to talk, when he didn’t, I did. “You dying there, Synny?”

“You have got to stop calling me that,” he took a deep breath and let it out heavily. “Today was good, its been forever since I’ve played a live show.”

“Its been like, six months,” I murmured, I had known Johnny for about—hell I don’t even remember, I knew he was in a band and mom was dating him, she was depressed every time he left, but it hadn’t been that long ago.

“For someone who plays the guitar like I—“ Synyster arrogantly pointed to himself. “Six months is forever and eternity to boot.”

“Well excuse me, master,” I rolled my eyes and leaned back. “Thanks for the hat by the way. Did you know people are saying I have bolts in my head?”

“I’ve heard it once or twice,” he nudged his head in the direction of where the thinning line of the meet and greet table was. “And something between the lines of a metal plate and you had a huge infection and half your head is missing—I could be messing it up a little though.”

“Amazing,” I sighed and shook my head, some people could just make shit up—its amazing what they could think of—I wasn’t pissed just slightly bummed out that I couldn’t make up shit like that. “Did you have fun?”

“As always, little chick,” he smiled brightly and placed his hat down on his face. “Anyone asks, I’m not Synyster Gates, or Brian Haner, I’m a bum named James Airedale, got it short shit?”

“I got it if you stop calling me short shit, that’s Johnny’s nickname, not mine,” I stated firmly and handed him my jacket so he could cover up his attire.

“Like father, like daughter,” he murmured before he was gone from consciousness. I watched him sleep for a long while, fending off some overzealous teenagers who asked Oh my Gawd! Is that Synyster Gates from Avenged Sevenfold? and I would have to tell them. No, this is James Airedale, my uncle who is a look-alike roadie.