Vogue

Arabella hated Phoenix. Ok that was a lie, she loved Arizona – It was Justin’s second home and Mai Island Grill was fucking amazing – but she hated the way the mid-morning sun beat down upon her as she made her way through the crowds at the Cricket Pavilion. She had just caught This Century’s set in the Babycake’s Tent and after a scant forty-five minutes outside of her air-conditioned bus, she could already feel a headache coming on – for a girl who came from the desert, she really couldn’t deal with the arid and dry humidity very well.

‘Found her...’ came a shout from behind Arabella as she was walking through the merch tents. She suddenly found herself encircled by a pair of hairy arms before they hauled her small frame over a shoulder. The sudden rush blurred her vision for a moment before Arabella found herself looking at a pair of upside-down JAGK booty shorts. ‘…Your passport’s expired Foreigner; I’m detaining you for the rest of the day – If you’re lucky, I’ll even make you my sex slave.’ The hideously exaggerated Southern accent giggled somewhere above her.

‘Fucking A Jack, what are you doing?’

‘That’s Officer Barakat to you, infidel. I’m under strict orders from my Sherriff, now shush or I’ll bring out the cuffs.’ He laughed as he started walking past the tents to the buses. Arabella shimmied herself into a more comfortable position to save herself being impaled by Jack’s bony shoulder and lifted her head around just in time to catch Jack nodding at his ‘Sherriff’.

‘Justin? Why am I being kidnapped?’ Her brother was sitting in a plastic deck chair at the back of the AP tent with a bottle of water in his hands.

‘Marie said I’d be emasculated if you turned up to the shoot sunburned! You have to stay indoors sis, because I kinda like my balls where they are!’ he shrugged. As Jack’s pace increased, Arabella heard a quite ‘So does Mindy!’ before her brother disappeared from view as her abductor turned a corner. Marie was out of her god damn mind, ‘she should know I don’t burn’ Arabella thought, but the prospect of air-conditioning, a comfy seat and an ice-cold drink was refreshing; even if she was being bullied into accepting it.

‘It’s going to be so fun Bella, we can watch Transformers and ogle Megan Fox’s bobbies together before painting each other fingernails and then dance around in our underwear to 3OH!3 – just like old times sistah!’ God help her.

***

All Time Low’s bus was surprisingly quite when Jack and Arabella finally reached it. ‘Al and Zack are doing an acoustic set and Rian? I don’t know, probably trying to find the closest Home Depot, but who cares about them? C’mon, Fox’s fine ass is calling’.

The movie was playing on the flat screen in the back lounge but Arabella wasn’t paying that much attention to it. Her head was resting against the cool leather of the couch; eye’s drifting shut as she mentally tried to organize her thoughts. Earlier that morning she had received a text message from a friend of hers in New York – apparently her ex-boyfriend was now hooking up with some Russian catalogue model all around town. Arabella wasn’t a pre-pubescent bitch, she didn’t care who her ex’s hooked up with – urges were urges and whoever scratched that itch the best was free game. The thing that had her unsettled was how much this event highlighted Arabella’s lack of female friends. Whilst she honestly didn’t care that the crappy D.J. was now shacking up with an equally crappy model, she was still a girl and the desire to dish the Goss to someone - who wouldn’t roll their eyes at the story – was definitely still there.

Arabella’s thought were interrupted as Jack shuffled in his seat before grabbing a pile of papers that had been lying on the couch and then turned his body to face her. Arabella raised her eyebrow’s questioningly at the guitarist when he cleared his throat and scratched his ear – a sign of nervousness she had picked up on over the years they had known each other.

‘So listen, I’ve been thinking…’ Arabella bit back her sarcastic reply as Jack’s voice turned serious, a tone she had heard only on a handful of occasions. Collecting her slumped body, Arabella mimicked Jack’s position and turned to face him on the lounge. ‘…my Mom made me go to all these doctors appointments when we had some downtime this month and there was this pamphlet at the centre about adoption and medical history and, well, it got me thinking and I think you should try to track down your biological parents.’ She was stunned. ‘To make sure you don’t have like, a hereditary disease or anything’ he tacked on.

Arabella wasn’t fooled – this wasn’t about her medical health. If anyone had been so enthusiastic about Arabella discovering her provenance, it was her best friend. Jack had been vocal once before about it when she was eighteen, but after she threw a sharp object at his head, he hadn’t mentioned it again. Jack continued to look at Arabella, no hint of a smile on either of their faces. His friend just sat there, looking blank. ‘An improvement from last time’ he thought, Arabella was older now – she could handle this. Jack looked down at the jumble of papers before continuing talking.

‘I ah, did a little bit of research and tracked down some reports from the orphanage in Tel Aviv. They only had local records from the Jewish community so I also got a number for this Palestinian underground refuge, a couple of hours west. They keep the names of women who inquire about abortions or rape and I was thinking that’d be a good place to st…’

‘Shut the fuck up’ her voice wasn’t loud, she wasn’t even screaming. Instead, her words trembled – with rage or sadness Jack didn’t know but nonetheless, her tone stopped him in his tracks. ‘What gives you the right to go digging through my past Jack? Who do you think you are? How long have been collecting this information, numbers? Names?…’

‘Not long, but I was doing it for your own good Bella. It’s healthy to ask questions, aren’t you the least bit curious about your biological family?’

‘‘For my own good?’’ She mimicked, the volume of her voice gradually rising. ‘You think it would be ‘healthy’ for me to track down the assholes that left me to die? Get it through your head Jack, I don’t want to meet them – they’re not my family. I already have one, and their not about to abandon me for anything. Whatever shit that hits the fan can be worked out – their not fucking cowards who dump their problems on other people!’ Arabella stumbled off of the couch and quickly made her way her way to the door until Jack’s voice stopped her.

‘I’m sorry – I just, I want you to be happy Arabella’

She turned. ‘I am happy, Jack. I’m happy not knowing’.

He nodded his head before balling up the papers in his hands. Jack aimed the scrunched mess at the small bin on the windowsill, before missing horribly. He smiled at the girl in front of him and outstretched his arms. ‘Hug for the hairiest motherfucker you know?’

Arabella fell into his arms. She felt terrible. Whilst the invasion of privacy wounded her deeply, Jack’s attempts to make her happy warmed her heart. He’d obviously spent hours making international phone calls and researching people and places only to get shot down in a matter of minutes, Arabella had to push her rage aside – he’d probably even forsaken a night of public intoxication for her. Why would she want to meet the people that left their own flesh and blood on public steps, when she was surrounded by these kinds of people – who did anything to make her smile, have a laugh and enjoy life? She was blessed, and she just wanted other people to see it that way too.

‘Come to South Padre this weekend? I’ll parade around in a bikini to make it up to you’ she mumbled her apology into his tee shirt. She felt the vibrations through his chest from his laughter.

‘Can’t babe, got publicity to do for the record, but if you take a couple of nudie photos in the sand; it’ll be like I was there in spirit’. And just like that, Jack was back. She lifted her head and looked into his smiling face.

‘So, you want to paint my nails first or yours?’