Vogue

Arabella honestly thought she missed her calling in life; being a merch bitch. She’d always been an ace tee shirt folder, Vito and Aaron taking advantage of her skills when they became lazy. And today, it seemed like Vinny Vegas was benefiting from her generosity – whilst she was folding boxes of tees, he was sitting on a lawn chair, holding a pack of frozen peas to his face. She had found him like that early this morning and originally assumed he was attempting to stay cool in the Indiana heat, but that theory was dashed when he removed the bag and showed her a swollen, yellow-greenish bruised eye.

‘Never call Nick Thompson a ‘cheat’ at poker.'

Gates had yet to open, so she had been hanging tees and hoodies around the tent when a voice interrupted the comfortable silence between her and Vinny.

‘You dirty, fucking whore’ Jack’s voice whispered into her ear. Arabella’s thoughts immediately flew to Sunday night’s, still unknown, activities in the back of ATL’s bus but when Jack started laughing and continued, she started to breathe again. ‘I can’t believe you would steal your best friend’s, nay, brother’s alcohol when he was passed out. And laid on a table no less? What the fuck Belly Baby, I could have been raped!’ He was smiling throughout his entire rant, but his arms still flew around his lanky body, punctuating his mock anger.

‘Can’t rape the willing Barakat.’ Vinny piped up from his chair. It was a humorous sight to see; the Italian boy holding a rapidly melting bag of food to his face whilst his other hand attempted to fold a shirt. Taking pity on his friend, Jack sat on the table in front of Vinny, and started to, horribly, organize the merch.

‘True that. And rough is better...’ Jack nodded, completely serious; he looked as if he was talking about the weather, not his sexual preferences. Arabella tuned out his and Vinny’s conversation when it turned to the pros and cons of top v. bottom and the consequences of using Rogaine as lube. But when her name popped up, she turned away from her display and towards the two boys. ‘So Bella, even though you’re a thieving cunt, I got you a present.’

‘Really? Why, it’s not my birthday for a couple of weeks.’ Jack rolled his eyes, since when did he need an occasion to give a gift to his third (his mom and sister where typical Lebanese matriarchs) favourite girl? Marky had mentioned Arabella’s fit about pencils yesterday on the phone, so when a Wal Mart popped up during their transit, Jack had gone looking for art supplies whilst the boys stocked up on noodles and Vitamin Water.

‘Um, because I won’t be able to do a JAGK 3.0 if you’ve killed Marky in a freak, pencil stabbing, eye gouging accident. There’s a box of PG goodies on your bunk courtesy of Matt’s wallet.’ She was heartened by his thoughtful-ness, if there hadn’t been such platonic feelings between her and Jack, Arabella swore he would have been her knight in shining armor. Abandoning her display, she squeezed into the space between his legs and hugged the guitarist, who had his arms tightly wrapped around her.

‘I love you Jack’.

‘Jack loves Bella also, because she is Arab.’

Arabella had her face buried in Jack’s chest but she heard the low rumblings of conversation behind her; Vinny must have guilted in another victim.

‘Bro, your eye’s still looking fucking nasty. You need to put some makeup on that shit.’

If Jack noticed Arabella’s body go stiff, he didn’t say anything. She hadn’t seen Alex since the night in Dallas, and just hearing his voice as he talked with Vegas had her blushing. She was embarrassed; not necessarily by her actions, more by the fact that she couldn’t remember said actions. She had tried everything to recall the end of her night with Alex and yet, she was still unsure what really went down; and asking Alex if they had kissed was something she really didn’t want to have to do. Staying face first in Jack’s arms seemed like a pretty good avoidance option at the moment, but as the singer acknowledged both her and Jack, Arabella realized she had to face him; making a scene would only alert others.

Arabella kept her arms around Jack, only turning her face towards Alex. Jack and Vinny had begun talking again, leaving Alex – in his beanie, sleep shirt and basketball shorts – standing alone awkwardly. Whilst he was inwardly attempting to gauge Arabella’s reaction to his appearance at the tent, he nonetheless smiled boyishly at her and waved, Arabella smiled back. ‘That’s a good sign, right?’ If Alex had greeted her normally, then she hadn’t done anything stupid – maybe the near kiss was just that, near. Seeing her positive greeting, Alex knew things were cool between them, and started walking over to the hugging mass on the table.

‘Bella Samich!’

***

Alex and Jack hadn’t stuck around long after gates opened, something she was alright with. Whilst conversation flowed between her and Alex, something held Arabella back from enjoying herself; she was curious and she knew she wouldn’t feel a hundred per cent comfortable again, until she uncovered the truth of that Sunday night. ’Definitely going to have to look into meditation..

On a more superficial level, another reason for her joy when the boys left, was the dissipation of the crowds that had flocked towards the young males. Arabella was suspicious of ATL fan’s; it seemed like all the dedicated kids had inbuilt radar’s that could detect the boy’s whereabouts at any second. Impatient fans waiting for merch she could deal with, impatient fans trying to flirt with guys obviously not interested, not so much.

From a young age, Arabella learned that boys in bands had extreme panty-dropping, cherry-popping abilities; she remembered being sixteen and watching her brothers’ first serious gig – amazed and disgusted by the praise they had been doused in from the opposite sex. Whilst the appeal of boys in bands obviously affected her, Arabella didn’t get why young girls practically threw themselves at musicians just because they were ‘hot’ and ‘famous’ and she certainly didn’t appreciate being grilled by prepubescent’s about how well she knew All Time Low, if she’d share Zack’s number and if her and Jack would make babies.

‘God, how do you deal with those kind of kids?’ As the day progressed, Vinny got back into the swing of his job but with his eye still looking like gangrene, he insisted Arabella serve whilst he fetch. An obnoxious girl in a bikini had just left the tent after harassing Arabella about signing times; when she realized Arabella couldn’t give her an exact time, the girl had dished out shit ranging from Arabella’s “skanky” shorts to her “street-hooker” style.

‘Well, I don’t have great tits so chicks don’t feel intimidated that I’m macking on their idols. Normally I just get offered all kinds of sexual shit instead.’ he laughed as he returned to his lawn chair. The crowd around the merch tent had dramatically decreased in the last ten minutes as Arabella realized ATL where just about to take main stage.

‘Go take lunch, Bella. Matt’s going to come help after the set so thank you, but I’m letting you free; you’ve officially graduated from the ‘Vegas School of Business’.’ Arabella looked exhausted, and not just from her morning working. Vinny noticed her messy hair and tired eyes – it looked as if she had been up all night.

‘You sure? I don’t mind…’ at the shake of his head she didn’t protest any more – truth was she was dying for some air conditioning and nutrition. ‘Thanks Vinny, call me if you need anything.’

***

She had almost reached Rocket’s bus when her cell rang. Her and Vinny got along great, but she didn’t realize how dependant the guy had become on her company. However, it was another Italian on the other end of the call.

‘Ari Darling, how’s my favourite model?’ Arabella became anxious; Marie had a habit of interrupting her holiday.

‘Marie, this better not be about work.’

‘It’s not sweetheart; honestly I’m calling to see how you are. Ok well that’s a lie, it is semi about work, NO WAIT, don’t hang up Arabella!’ She had to admit, her agent knew her too well. ‘I’ve been contacted by someone, someone big. This is major Ari, a huge deal – so exciting I can’t tell you over the phone. I’m coming to see you.’

‘Wait, what?’ Her stiletto-wearing-wrap-dress-loving-forty-year-old-blonde-bombshell agent at sweaty, dirty, packed Warped Tour?

‘Tomorrow in Pittsburg, I’ve booked us a day at the Omni William Penn Hotel Spa – you, me, champagne and facials; it’ll be the perfect place to discuss, accept and then celebrate this proposal. You in?’

Arabella really wanted to say no – she was on tour, supposed to be spending quality family time with her brother. But as she caught sight of her ragged reflection on the side of a bus she reconsidered her answer. She was a wreck. Arabella really wanted some rejuvenation time – away from the humidity, dust and sweat. Away from whining kids and pervy, hairless teens. And Arabella really wanted away from boys – a day with an actual female, a little girl talk and some pampering sounded amazing. Hell, it sounded like fucking paradise.

‘Can you send a car at nine?’

***

‘So baby sis, who are you pissed off at in The Maine?' Justin slipped down next to her in the Catering Tent. Arabella had been sitting alone in the large dining area at one of the tables, spread out around her where small pieces of parchment and a box of oil pastels that, just as Jack had promised, where on her bunk when she returned to the bus that afternoon. She looked up at her brother questioningly before diverting her attention back to the square she was working on.

‘I don’t know what your talking about J-Bo, I’m not angry at anyone’ It was the truth, she certainly didn’t have a vendetta against anyone in the band. Avoiding them because she was still unsure who the ‘real’ John was, that was a different story.

‘Bullshit Bells, Pat was crying to me today that he hasn’t seen or even talked to you since South Padre, the other guys too.’ Whilst Justin tried to make light of the situation, he had to admit he was worried. He’d been five-and-a-half when his parents brought Arabella home from the orphanage; his mom was cradling her tiny, emancipated form, and even though she was nearly three, she could have easily passed for younger. Since then, Justin had vowed everyday of his life to look after Arabella, from other people, her self, from anyone – she was his little sister, it was his job to protect her. And as she sat alone in the tent, smudging oils with her fingers, Justin was thinking the worst; but if someone had hurt her, he’d know his sister would come before any of the boys, no matter how much he thought of them as brothers.

‘Chill J, the guys are amazing; they haven’t done anything wrong. I just need some alone time, Kirch blocks my creative thoughts’ She laughed, she knew where Justin’s thoughts immediately went whenever he thought there was a problem, he was an amazing brother; overprotective, but amazing.

‘Ok, but promise you’ll come catch their set with me in an hour? I think Pat really will start crying unless you show up soon’.

***

At six that evening, Arabella found her self side of stage with her brother as The Maine energetically rocked out. Justin had been right, the younger Kirch brother was absolutely ecstatic that the ‘prodigal daughter’ had returned; when Pat had caught sight of her, he had skipped a beat in his drumming to wave cutely at her. Bouncing her leg to the song, she couldn’t help but observed John as he was singing. Whilst he was dancing about, flirting and smiling at the girls in the front rows, a part of him looked reserved. He was showing only what he wanted, a carefully constructed image he was comfortable with the rest of the world seeing. Arabella knew he was holding back and came to the revelation that he hid a lot of who he was – from fans, friends and probably even himself. It was his shy nature, his layered personality; Justin knew more about him than her, but Halvo probably knew more than the two combined. It was a part of who John was; she’d have to accept that in time, he would reveal more.

Mentally, Arabella slipped John back into the folder he had always occupied. Her decision was solidified when he shifted his position on stage, caught her eye and smiled – genuinely. John O’Callaghan might have been hiding a lot of secrets, but he wasn’t hiding how happy he was that she was there.