Through the Light of the Bottle

“This is not happening,” Holly mutters under her breath, and out of my peripheral vision I see her turn around and walk to a secluded side of the parking lot. I sigh heavily as I turn back to the little miss sunshine in front of me.

“Although our last conference did not go…” Jane pauses, donning smile forged of cheer, “well.”

“Really, you think?” I feign shock as I try to swallow the laugh that’s about to escape from behind my lips.

She gives me a strained smile before continuing, “But I feel obligated to let you in-“

“Is it because I have a press badge saying I’m allowed to? Or are you just a modern day saint?”

Her jaw clenches before she nods curtly and turns around, whipping out a cell phone and walking briskly off into the air conditioned arena.

I roll my eyes at her retreating figure, before turning around, scanning the parking lot.

“Holly?” I walk slowly off to a group of buses, knowing fully whose buses they were.

“Shouldn’t you be spiking punch bowls at prom or something?” his voice carries across the distance as I get closer to the mixture of tour buses.

He steps out from the shadow of a large black bus, his tall, lanky form sauntering over towards me.

“Shouldn’t you be blowing Prince William or something?” I calmly retort, as I look into his eyes, the wild glint becoming apparent in his brown eyes.

“Our tour got canceled, personal issues with the band we were touring with,” he shrugs his shoulder, readjusting his sunglasses and glancing back at the bus behind him.

“Fascinating. Seriously, look into a book deal,” I take a step to the right to move around him, but he mimics my move.

“Don’t,” he loses the little humor that resided in his face, a serious shadow falling over his eyes.

“I’m just looking for-“

“Leave Gerard alone.”

I bite my lip, my throat closes up and I praise the lord when I see Holly’s red locks come bouncing towards me from across the parking lot.

I nod my head towards her, shaking my hair in my face as I start down towards her, waving off Mikey’s quiet, “Oh,”

“Hey, here’s some Junior Mints from the gas station. It was sweet, he-,” I grab the box she’s holding out towards me, whispering a “thank you,” as I fish for my keys in my pocket to unlock the company car I rented.

She looks at me hard for a minute, then over her shoulder, seeing Mikey’s figure jump up the steps to a giant black bus.

“Sweetie?” her voice is soft and cautious, as she opens her door and slides in.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I take a deep breath and tilt my head back slightly to force the tears back into my eyes, before opening the car door and settling down in the seats.

I put the key in the ignition, sitting there for a couple of minutes before starting the car with a loud rev of the engine.

“So, what are we doing?” Holly asks hesitantly, as we coast out of the parking lot and on to a city highway.

“Well, first, we’re dropping our stuff off at the hotel and then it’s back to the arena,” I sigh involuntary, shutting my eyes just long enough to ward off the headache threatening to form.

“Kate, I know something’s wrong, but you are driving,” Holly laughs from beside me, “Again, don’t know what you learned in Woodlawn, but generally, you need to open your eyes while driving.”

“Holly, you are just so witty!” I mock, grabbing the wheel with one hand, the free one slapping the side of her head.

“I try,” she laughs as she dodges my hand as I try to slap her again, “Oy! Concentrate on the road, woman!”

A smile spreads across my face as I realize how the next chain of events will unfold. I quickly swerve into the parking lot at the last minute, Holly’s form shooting across into my lap, letting out a short scream as she falls into a resting position.

“Emotional whore,” she grumbles with a smile present on her face nevertheless, as I push her head up and step out of the car.

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“Why am I here?” Holly asks earnestly, positioning herself on the end of the bed.

“Would you rather be in New York alone for three months?”

“Touché,” she smiles, “but what am I going to do?”

“Well, one of these is for you,” I take a press badge necklace from around my neck, throwing it towards the bed. “The plan was for you to finally have something to write about. Because I know how uninspiring New York City is, I mean, absolutely no artists-“

“Oh shut up, stop making fun of me!” she grabs a pillow from behind her and tosses it towards my form, only to hit the television to the right of me with a thud. “Damn,” she laughs, turning her attention back to the badge.

“You’re welcome, seriously, there’s no need to flood me with all the thank-yous,” I grab the pillow, throwing it back towards her.

“Question,” her head moves to the side as if on instinct, the pillow whizzes past her and to the headboard.

“Shoot,” I grab my cell phone from my bag and stuffing it in my pocket.

“Do I have to pretend I know you? I mean, that’s the last thing I need in between me and Jade, my connections with you…” she looks up, biting her lip to stop the grin from covering her face.

“Oh shut the fuck up,” I laugh, grabbing her hand and pulling her back out of the hotel room.

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The cold air slaps my warming face as I step into the arena. I stick my hands awkwardly in my jeans pockets, feigning a nonchalant attitude as I make my way to the middle of the enormous room. Roadies and techs scramble around me, weaving in and out of my path with arms full of instruments or amps. I notice a reporter with photographer in tow, chatting with their manager, Brian, on the left side of the room.

He notices my moving form as I near the stage, casting a warning glance in my direction before the reporter yanks his attention back to her. His eyes shoot nervously back towards me and I pretend not to notice as I stare in awe at the stage and background being assembled.

“You must be Kate,” my attention falls to a girl with dirty blonde hair, grasping a guitar, plucking absentmindedly at the strings.

My eyebrows furrow and she laughs at my facial expression, “Sorry, that must have sounded creepy, but Brian is casting you these ridiculously worried glances, so I could only assume.”

“Wait, but how...”

“Oh, Jane would not shut up about you for a week,” she rolls her eyes, bending her ear down to listen the “A” string. “We,” she nods her head to the dozens of people running around, “can’t decide whether to give you medal for pissing her off so, or hurt you for making her even more annoying.”

A small smile falls on my lips, out of the corner of my eye, I see Brian break away from the interview.

“Oh, I’m Gen by the way. Or Genie, or Gee…” she makes a small wave with her free hand as she sets the guitar back in its case.

“Genevieve!” I hear a high shrill voice from behind me.

“Or that,” she sighs heavily, rolling her eyes, “Yes Jane?”

“Frank needs some extra strings in the back room, could you be a dear and help him out,” she offers a sickly smile, shooing Gen off across the arena.

“Ms Monahan!” she clasps her hands together, acknowledging my presence, “you investigating for those reports that you’re doing?”

“Oh of course, I think it’s a good move in our company’s direction, informing the students that drinking and driving is not acceptable,” I recite the speech that I’ve practiced for days, feigning a smile accompanied with a small sincere nod of my head.

“How noble of you,” Brian’s voice leaks sarcasm as his hand grips my shoulder. “Would you come with me, Kate?”

“Of course, Brian. It was so nice talking to you again Jane,” I smirk, before being led off by Brian through a back door near the side of the stage.

Hand still gripping my shoulder, he leads me down a small off white hallway, almost opening a door, before turning towards me.

“Fix him,” his voice is hard and sharp, but a hint of desperation lies deep underneath the shield.

“What are you talking about?” But before he can answer my question, he throws open the door, nodding for me to go inside. I take a few steps before I hear him shut the door behind me, his footsteps disappearing down the hallway.

“So, yes, if you could make that call for me and set up that meeting for tomorrow morning,” his soft voice leads me to his form on the couch, a girl standing above him, confusion written on her face. His eyes stray slightly from her, falling on me briefly.

“What the hell are you talking about?” she looks at him and follows his gaze, “Or, is the girl you were saying I needed to act like you were extremely busy in front of?”

“God Jay…” his head falls backwards, landing on the cushions of the couch.

“Oh don’t ‘god jay,’” me, she tosses a pillow towards him, landing it on his chest, “and seriously, you’re being overdramatic and making it ten times worse,”

“Go, Jay!”

“Do you want a coffee to?” her attention turns to me, “Little princess over here is ordering three lattes…”

“GO!” he yells desperately from the couch.

“Oh quiet,” she laughs, grabbing a set of keys from the table and walking towards the door, “seriously, I get assigned to this one. No, I couldn’t be Ray’s personal assistant; I get the moody Way brothers. ”

He groans from the couch. She throws open the door, sticking her tongue out at him as she closes it loudly.

“LOVE YOU GEE!” I hear her yell echo down the hall, laughter filling the empty spaces.

“So,” I speak up after a minute of silence.

“What are you doing here?” his head lifts up, but his eyes focus on the coffee table before him.

“Writing an in depth report for the consumers about your little tour,” I move hesitantly to a chair that sits adjacent to the couch, “my friend is a free lance writer, so she’s covering you guys,”

“Holly?” his eyes fill with recognition.

“Jesus, how do you know her already?” I ask, shock taking over my tone.

“I chatted with her yesterday. She bought you some candy or something…” his voice is soft and distant; his fingers trace figure eights on the armrest of the couch. “Seemed nice.”

“She keeps me sane,” I smile lightly as his eyes finally find mine, a small smile threatening to spread on his lips.

“So this is all for the consumers, informing the people?” his eyebrow raises slightly, a smirk replacing the smile.

“Oh, stop making me say it, you know why I’m still here.”

“Good,” he stands up, grabbing his sketch pad from the table and moving towards the door, “I would have been sorely disappointed if you just gave up.”

“Wait, Gerard-“ the words I’ve been meaning to say for weeks bring themselves into a coherent sentence, waiting to come out, but the door is already shut and he is gone from sight.