The Young and Lost Club
017
Life without Brendon was boring.
There really was no other word for it. It was just boring. I went to work, I hung out with guys, I went to bed. Every day. The only exciting part of my day would be when Brendon (or Jon, or Ryan, or all three) would call and for the next half hour or so, I was completely enraptured by what they were up to, and hearing about their tour.
True to his word, Brendon called every day, without fail. While he was in Vegas for two weeks, it was pretty easy, but now that he was on tour, his calls often came at odd hours, occasionally he’d call at 1 in the morning, his voice all shot from singing all night, and sounding exhausted (or incredibly hyper, if he felt the show had gone well). And although we were making it work, I missed him so much, that every time we said good bye, I could feel my chest clench.
Luckily, I was almost as insanely busy as Brendon was. Max and I had been working overtime on the band. In the short span of 4 weeks, we had recorded an EP using some crappy computer program, but it turned out alright; at least it got our point across. We had been booking shows every night possible, and writing like crazy. On top of this, I was the only one working a full time job. So yes, I was exhausted.
Which may be why I agreed to perform at Pete Wentz’s birthday party.
A moment of insanity had to be the only reason I would ever agree to such a ridiculous and terrifying gig. Pete had called me while I was at work, and informed me he was throwing himself a birthday party at some ritzy club in L.A. and that all he really wanted was for our band to perform an hour set. He’d even offered to pay for our entire trip and hotel rooms. I had talked it over with the guys, and unsurprisingly, they were all excited and agreed immediately.
I was more hesitant. Pete was a celebrity, something I had long come to terms with, as I now (grudgingly) considered him a friend. But this meant that the guests at his party would also be celebrities: musicians, actors, probably an heiress or two, producers, executives. Hell, the place would be teeming with professionals in the music industry, and we…we were just some band from a minuscule town in Maryland. What if they laughed at us? What if we weren’t ready for this? What if, what if, what if?
I had shared this view with Taylor, and he had just shook his head at me, and called me the biggest pessimist he’d ever met, and told me to have faith in our own abilities.
But when had I ever had faith in anything?
The night before we left for L.A., I was sitting on my balcony, trying to cool off. It was late spring, and the city was sweltering. I didn’t want my air conditioning bill to sky rocket before summer even started, so I had thrown open all my windows in a desperate effort to cool off my apartment, but it was too hot and sticky, and no breeze to be found.
I was dozing off a little bit, the heat making me lethargic, when my cell phone rang. I picked it up without looking at who was calling. “Hello?”
“Hey kid.”
I was instantly awake. “Brendon!” I said happily. “How are you?”
“Not too bad, just finished up at the concert hall, heading to a hotel. How are you?”
I considered. “Hot,” I said finally. “It’s been humid and disgusting all day.”
He laughed. “L.A. is only going to be hotter, you know.”
I ignored that. “So how was the show?” I asked, leaning against the wall of my building and tucking my legs under me. “Best one yet?”
“Oh wow, it was so awesome,” he said excitedly. “The crowd was so intense and crowd surfed to everything…even to our cover of Karma Police.”
“I thought you hated Radiohead,” I teased him.
“Well, you basically worship them, so Ryan’s been letting me listen. They’re really awesome.”
“I wish I could have heard you sing that. I bet it sounded really cool.”
“I liked it, but Radiohead is hard to cover, I think it still needs worked on.” Brendon yawned.
“Sleepy?” I asked.
“A little. I’m looking forward to sleeping in a hotel…even if I’m rooming with Jon, cause he snores.”
“HEY!” I heard Jon yell in the background. “DON’T YOU TELL CLARK LIES ABOUT ME.”
Brendon laughed, and I smiled as I listened to some random shouts in the background; apparently Jon was now attempting to smother Ryan. God, I missed them. “So my beautiful girlfriend,” Brendon said, his words bringing me back to focus on him. “How excited are you for L.A.?”
I sighed. “I’m 50% excited, 50% terrified.”
“That’ll make it a good show. What songs are you playing?”
“Most of the basic ones we usually do…Airwave Novel,Pantheon,Architects of Modern Love…”
Brendon made a noise of longing. “I love that song,” he said. It was true, Brendon had been crazy about our songArchitects of Modern Love since he had seen us first perform it the day we had met. It was Max and mine’s baby, we had worked on that song for a solid year until we had finally decided it was perfect.
I laughed softly and then continued, “We also threw in a couple covers to keep it interesting. Taylor made this cover of Queen’sDon’t Stop Me Now.”
“Sounds awesome,” Brendon said earnestly. “I really wish we could be there.”
“Yeah, me too,” I said, biting on my lip.
There was a brief silence. “I miss you,” Brendon said finally. “I miss you so much. Is that too clingy?”
I laughed. “No. Not at all. I miss you too.”
I could almost hear Brendon smiling, and this was confirmed when Jon and Spencer started cooing and making kissing noises. “Fuck off,” Brendon said to them with a laugh. “Sorry, Jon and Spencer are being assholes.”
“Could we expect anything less?” I said jokingly, and Brendon snickered. “Tell me more about your show,” I said. Brendon launched into a long story, talking about the Meet and Greet, and some of the crazy stalker chicks, some of the really awesome fans, about how Ryan and Spencer had gotten into a water fight before the show, about he had almost broken his leg the night before when Jon dared him to jump off the top of their bus last night.
And then we talked about me for a while. About my boring day at work, about Pete’s party tomorrow night, more about the set list and about the songs Max and I had been working on. After about an hour or so of talking, in which Brendon had finally gotten to his hotel room, and Jon had left to give him some privacy to talk to me, and I retreated to my bedroom, laying spread out on my bed trying not to overheat, Brendon started yawning. “I should let you go,” I murmured, almost half asleep myself.
“Yeah,” he said, yawning again. “But, Clark?”
“Yes?”
“Kick some ass tomorrow night.”
|||
“No. Fucking. Way.” Brian said, as we all stared open mouthed at the hotel room Pete had booked for us in L.A.
It was gorgeous, a pent house in one of the nicest hotels you could find in Los Angelos. Stylish, and modern, and reeking of luxury, not to mention the view. This was life like we’d never even witnessed before.
Taylor and I looked at each other and grinned, then shoved the other two out of the way running through the suite looking for the best bedroom.
“Mine!” We both screeched, diving for two king sized beds, with a flat screen T.V. and a large window showing off that gorgeous view.
“Mine, mine, mine!” Taylor sang, kicking off his shoes and then jumping on the bed.
“No fair!” Brian yelled looking in our room. “Their room is so much better!”
“Finders keepers-“
“Losers weepers!” Taylor and I chimed, now both of us jumping on the beds.
“You all suck.”
Max looked into our room and then shook his head. “I told you 5 cups of coffee was way too much.”
“Yeah but you also once told me that the boogie man lived in my closet, so you know I can’t trust you.” I said. Yes, Taylor and I had 5 cups of coffee each. Yes, we were extremely hyper. Yes we had to get up at 4 am to catch our flight, so yes, this was, in fact, totally justified.
Max rolled his eyes and then pulled out his phone. “Well I’m calling Pete, so we can figure out when we have sound check and all the other details.”
“Tell him thanks for the hotel room!” Taylor said, finally stopping with his jumping and laid down. “I’m tired.” He said, jutting out his lower lip and looking like a 7 year old child, instead of the 22 year old adult he was.
I flopped down on my bed and looked at him. “I’m anxious.”
“We’ll be fine.” Taylor assured me. I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Maybe,” he amended with a laugh. “Worst comes to worse though, we get to spend the night in this hotel room, and get drunk off the mini bar because Pete is paying.”
“Woop de doo.” I deadpanned, making Taylor laugh.
Max walked into the room again. “Okay, sound check is in 2 hours or so, Pete said he’s sending a car for us, so we should probably grab lunch before then, and then head to sound check, then maybe rehearse until the party starts and then we can-“
“Wanna go to the pool?” Taylor asked me, cutting Max off mid rant.
“Yup,” I agreed, jumping off the bed and opening my suitcase.
“I’m surrounded by idiots,” Max grumbled.
|||
Pete’s birthday party was being held in a well known club in downtown Los Angles. Our sound check had gone by smoothly, and I was feeling better about the whole show because clubs were clubs, no matter what coast they were on. In fact, this club was about the size of Saints back in New York, and we played our sound check and we sounded great.
We had gone and gotten dinner, and then back to our hotel to change. I had opted for my favorite dark blue mini that I usually wore when in doubt of what to wear for a show, along with a a pair of high heeled boots. The stage was a temporary one, as live bands didn’t usually play here, and they had thrown up a curtain so they could set up all our equipment without causing distractions to the party. We had stood behind the curtain and watched the club slowly start to fill up, and opted to stay there until after we had finished our set…we said it was so we could focus, but really it was because we were all too terrified to go out into the crowd and mingle with the celebrities that were slowly trickling in. “Is that Mark Hoppus?” Taylor practically shrieked, as he and I stood on the small stage and peaked out from behind the curtain. Max and Brian were supervising the set up of one of the synthesizers.
“Shh-oh my fucking God. I think that’s P. Diddy,” I hissed.
“Isn’t it just Diddy now?”
“Sean Combs?”
“Mr. Rapstar dude?”
“Just call him Diddy, I think.”
Taylor and I both jumped, Taylor almost falling through the stage curtain and out into the crowd.
“Jesus Christ, Wentz!” I snapped. “Don’t do that!”
Pete just stood there and laughed. “What on earth are you two doing anyways?” He said finally.
“Crowd watching,” Taylor said.
Pete laughed again. “Why are you all back here instead of out there having fun?”
I shrugged. “We’re a little nervous,” Taylor admitted to him.
“Nah, don’t be,” Pete said. “You all will be fine, I know it. And even if you aren’t it’ll all be over in a little less than an hour.”
Taylor and I looked at each other and we both took a deep breath and exhaled at the same time, causing us both to grin.
“I just wanted to wish you luck and tell you to break a leg, and that if you’re going to puke, please do so in the next 15 minutes and not on stage.”
“Gee thanks, Wentz.” I said smirking at him.
He grinned down at me, and then rustled my hair affectionately. “I’ll see you afterwards, alright? I’ll buy you all a round of drinks.”
“It’s an open bar,” Taylor pointed out.
“Even better then,” Pete said with a laugh. Max and Brian had now wandered over and were talking with Pete. The three boys looked nervous, but also excited. I wasn’t even sure how I was feeling.
I peeked through the curtain again, and my nerves peaked again. “I have to pee.” I said.
“We go on in 15 minutes!” Max exclaimed.
“Well I have to go!” I snapped. “I’ll be back.” And with that, I slipped down the side stairs of the stage and out into the crowd.
Five minutes later, I was becoming incredibly frustrated. It seemed the Women’s bathroom was nowhere to be found, while I had found at least three Men’s bathrooms. The crowd was now so thick, that I had to shove through, and because I was shorter than all of there tall celebrities, I was having a difficult time. I had just spotted a door that had the potential to be a bathroom, and shoved hard when I felt a splash of liquid go down my side. “Watch where you’re going!” someone snapped, just as I went, “Shit! Fuck! I’m sorry!”
The person looked down at me. He was rather handsome, tall and skinny, with this great mop of light brown hair and large brown eyes, and his beer had spilled all down his t-shirt and black vest. He was still scowling slightly, and then as his eyes roamed my face and then slightly lower to the top of my form fitting dress, he immediately started smirking.
I rolled my eyes, which he didn’t seem to notice as we was too transfixed by my breasts, and then asked sharply, “Are you alright?”
“Oh.” He said breaking out of his reverie and looking back at my face; his voice was lovely and deep. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
There was a small gap in the crowd and I could see the door clearly if I stood on the tips of my toes.
“Are you looking for someone?” He asked.
“Something, not someone,” I corrected. The door was yet another men’s bathroom. “Goddamn it.” I swore. I looked at the guy again, and this time, I was glad to see his eyes hadn’t roamed from my face. “I don’t suppose you know where I could find a bathroom?”
He cleared his throat. “Uh, I think there’s a men’s one right there.” He pointed to the door I had just looked at.
“Yeah, well, unfortunately I don’t have a dick,” I said sourly.
He laughed loudly at that, but I was annoyed and getting desperate. I could not play a set on a full bladder, I just couldn’t. “It’s not funny!” I whined. I checked my phone. “Fuck,” I moaned. “I have to be on stage in like 5 minutes…” I looked up at him hopefully. “Want to help a girl out?” I asked him.
“Help?” He said, raising his eyebrows.
I grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him to outside the door. “Stand here. Don’t let perverts in.” I said, which made him laugh again, and then Unceremoniously flung open the door. “Hide your dicks,” I yelled. “A girl’s coming in.”
In less than a minute I had finished and walked out of the bathroom to see the guy I had basically dragged to my rescue still standing outside, leaning casually on the wall, calmly holding up at least three guys who wanted inside. “Thank you so much,” I said. “I really appreciate it.”
“That was the fastest piss I’ve ever seen,” He said, grinning down at me.
“Yeah well, you go pee in a girls room, we’ll see how fast you go.”
“I’d probably take my time, actually.” He said grinning again.
“I laughed. “I’m sure. Anyway, thank you, you’re my hero and all that, Mr. umm…”
“Alex Gaskarth.” He said, holding out his hand.
His name sounded familiar, and I looked at him again, trying to figure out where he was from. “Should I know you?” I asked finally.
“I don’t know, should you?”
“Probably,” I said with a shrug. “I feel like this entire room is filled with people I should know but I don’t. I’m probably busting some major ego. Are you a celebrity? It seems like you are, you talk like you’re famous.”
He tilted his head at me, a shadow of a smile on his face. “Are you fucking with me?”
“Absolutely not. Why?”
“Oh. It’s just that’s a line in one of our songs.” He said, looking slightly disappointed.
“That’s code for, I should know you.” I said with a laugh. I looked over towards the stage, and saw Brian practically yelling at me to get my ass over there. “Shit, I really do have to go though. Thanks again, Mr. Celebrity. Alex Gaskarth, right? Maybe I’ll Google you. ” I smiled at him, and waved goodbye, but he was too busy laughing to return the gesture.
|||
Pete had been right all along, I thought in wonder, as I stood on stage, covered in a thin layer of sweat, looking at the screaming audience in front of us. We had just killed, no, murdered this show, and we were all in a state of shock.
Everyone except Max. If it hadn’t been for Max, we would have been stiff and uncomfortable, but he led us all into our easy stage banter, and charmed the crowd to cover for Taylor, Brian and mine’s awkwardness at seeing what must be the upper crust of the music industry cheering for us. “Thank you all so much! It’s been a lot of fun!” He yelled into the microphone, causing the cheers to escalate again. He grinned and then waved, and then had to yank me off stage because I was in too much awe to realize that we had to leave the stage area. As soon as we were all in the wings, everything suddenly clicked: we had just done the best show of our lives for one of the most important shows of our lives. And that’s when I started screaming and jumping up and down and hugging them all. There was only a split second pause, and then Taylor, Brian and Max all joined in too, until we were a screaming, high on adrenaline, insanely happy cluster-fuck of a band.
|||
We had calmed down enough to find a table and order ourselves a round of drinks, and then the congratulations started pouring in; guests and friends of Pete Wentz were practically falling over themselves, telling us how great we were, asking if we had an EP out yet, asking if we were signed (the latter of which resulting in a small mountain of business cards piling up on the table in front of us), or if we had a website.
Pete had also walked over, with his wife Ashlee, both of whom were well on their way to being drunk, and told us he loved us all. Ashlee had been absolutely wonderful and I liked her a lot, even thought I usually disliked girls, and when I asked if her she minded that her husband had a major crush on me, she had responded, without batting an eye, that she didn’t because she had a major crush on Brendon Urie herself. “We’re dating, you know, Brendon and I,” I said, having yet another drink. Hey, the bar was open, and we had reason to celebrate.
“Ohmygod.” She said. “We’re going to be swingers, okay?”
Which had caused us both to dissolve into giggles, and then order more drinks.
About an hour after we had finished our set, someone tapped me on the shoulder, “Well hello there, mystery girl.”
I spun around to see Alex Gas…oh what the fuck was his name?, grinning widely at me, accompanied by a tall kid with black hair and a large nose.
“Oh!” I said, smiling at him. “Guys this is uh, Alex…”
Alex laughed. “Gaskarth,” he filled in for me. “And this is my friend Jack Barakat.”
“From All Time Low?” Brian asked. I hit myself in the forehead. Of course, All Time Low. How could I have forgotten that? Brian and Max had very closely followed their career because they had only live about 45 minutes away from us and had hit the big times. They were an inspiration to them.
Alex nodded, and within seconds, they were sitting with us around the table, while Max, Brian, Alex and Jack gushed about how much they loved each other’s bands.
The guy named Jack was sitting on my right. “You’re hot.” He informed me.
“You have a large nose.” I said back.
“Well you know what they say, the larger the nose…” He smiled, trailing off.
“What? The larger the ego?” I said, grinning back at him.
“Let’s get married.” He said, his face dead serious.
I couldn’t even tell if he was joking and I just stared at him a long moment before he burst out laughing, and I did as well.
Alex looked over at us. “What’s going on over here?” He asked, nudging Jack in the side.
“I’m going to marry…oh shit, what’s your name?”
“Clark.”
“Clark. I’m going to marry Clark.” Jack said.
Alex caught my eye, and gave me that smirk of his. I could already tell it was his trademark. “Well, let’s get a round of drinks for the happy couple.”
After that, the night became a happy blur.
There really was no other word for it. It was just boring. I went to work, I hung out with guys, I went to bed. Every day. The only exciting part of my day would be when Brendon (or Jon, or Ryan, or all three) would call and for the next half hour or so, I was completely enraptured by what they were up to, and hearing about their tour.
True to his word, Brendon called every day, without fail. While he was in Vegas for two weeks, it was pretty easy, but now that he was on tour, his calls often came at odd hours, occasionally he’d call at 1 in the morning, his voice all shot from singing all night, and sounding exhausted (or incredibly hyper, if he felt the show had gone well). And although we were making it work, I missed him so much, that every time we said good bye, I could feel my chest clench.
Luckily, I was almost as insanely busy as Brendon was. Max and I had been working overtime on the band. In the short span of 4 weeks, we had recorded an EP using some crappy computer program, but it turned out alright; at least it got our point across. We had been booking shows every night possible, and writing like crazy. On top of this, I was the only one working a full time job. So yes, I was exhausted.
Which may be why I agreed to perform at Pete Wentz’s birthday party.
A moment of insanity had to be the only reason I would ever agree to such a ridiculous and terrifying gig. Pete had called me while I was at work, and informed me he was throwing himself a birthday party at some ritzy club in L.A. and that all he really wanted was for our band to perform an hour set. He’d even offered to pay for our entire trip and hotel rooms. I had talked it over with the guys, and unsurprisingly, they were all excited and agreed immediately.
I was more hesitant. Pete was a celebrity, something I had long come to terms with, as I now (grudgingly) considered him a friend. But this meant that the guests at his party would also be celebrities: musicians, actors, probably an heiress or two, producers, executives. Hell, the place would be teeming with professionals in the music industry, and we…we were just some band from a minuscule town in Maryland. What if they laughed at us? What if we weren’t ready for this? What if, what if, what if?
I had shared this view with Taylor, and he had just shook his head at me, and called me the biggest pessimist he’d ever met, and told me to have faith in our own abilities.
But when had I ever had faith in anything?
The night before we left for L.A., I was sitting on my balcony, trying to cool off. It was late spring, and the city was sweltering. I didn’t want my air conditioning bill to sky rocket before summer even started, so I had thrown open all my windows in a desperate effort to cool off my apartment, but it was too hot and sticky, and no breeze to be found.
I was dozing off a little bit, the heat making me lethargic, when my cell phone rang. I picked it up without looking at who was calling. “Hello?”
“Hey kid.”
I was instantly awake. “Brendon!” I said happily. “How are you?”
“Not too bad, just finished up at the concert hall, heading to a hotel. How are you?”
I considered. “Hot,” I said finally. “It’s been humid and disgusting all day.”
He laughed. “L.A. is only going to be hotter, you know.”
I ignored that. “So how was the show?” I asked, leaning against the wall of my building and tucking my legs under me. “Best one yet?”
“Oh wow, it was so awesome,” he said excitedly. “The crowd was so intense and crowd surfed to everything…even to our cover of Karma Police.”
“I thought you hated Radiohead,” I teased him.
“Well, you basically worship them, so Ryan’s been letting me listen. They’re really awesome.”
“I wish I could have heard you sing that. I bet it sounded really cool.”
“I liked it, but Radiohead is hard to cover, I think it still needs worked on.” Brendon yawned.
“Sleepy?” I asked.
“A little. I’m looking forward to sleeping in a hotel…even if I’m rooming with Jon, cause he snores.”
“HEY!” I heard Jon yell in the background. “DON’T YOU TELL CLARK LIES ABOUT ME.”
Brendon laughed, and I smiled as I listened to some random shouts in the background; apparently Jon was now attempting to smother Ryan. God, I missed them. “So my beautiful girlfriend,” Brendon said, his words bringing me back to focus on him. “How excited are you for L.A.?”
I sighed. “I’m 50% excited, 50% terrified.”
“That’ll make it a good show. What songs are you playing?”
“Most of the basic ones we usually do…Airwave Novel,Pantheon,Architects of Modern Love…”
Brendon made a noise of longing. “I love that song,” he said. It was true, Brendon had been crazy about our songArchitects of Modern Love since he had seen us first perform it the day we had met. It was Max and mine’s baby, we had worked on that song for a solid year until we had finally decided it was perfect.
I laughed softly and then continued, “We also threw in a couple covers to keep it interesting. Taylor made this cover of Queen’sDon’t Stop Me Now.”
“Sounds awesome,” Brendon said earnestly. “I really wish we could be there.”
“Yeah, me too,” I said, biting on my lip.
There was a brief silence. “I miss you,” Brendon said finally. “I miss you so much. Is that too clingy?”
I laughed. “No. Not at all. I miss you too.”
I could almost hear Brendon smiling, and this was confirmed when Jon and Spencer started cooing and making kissing noises. “Fuck off,” Brendon said to them with a laugh. “Sorry, Jon and Spencer are being assholes.”
“Could we expect anything less?” I said jokingly, and Brendon snickered. “Tell me more about your show,” I said. Brendon launched into a long story, talking about the Meet and Greet, and some of the crazy stalker chicks, some of the really awesome fans, about how Ryan and Spencer had gotten into a water fight before the show, about he had almost broken his leg the night before when Jon dared him to jump off the top of their bus last night.
And then we talked about me for a while. About my boring day at work, about Pete’s party tomorrow night, more about the set list and about the songs Max and I had been working on. After about an hour or so of talking, in which Brendon had finally gotten to his hotel room, and Jon had left to give him some privacy to talk to me, and I retreated to my bedroom, laying spread out on my bed trying not to overheat, Brendon started yawning. “I should let you go,” I murmured, almost half asleep myself.
“Yeah,” he said, yawning again. “But, Clark?”
“Yes?”
“Kick some ass tomorrow night.”
|||
“No. Fucking. Way.” Brian said, as we all stared open mouthed at the hotel room Pete had booked for us in L.A.
It was gorgeous, a pent house in one of the nicest hotels you could find in Los Angelos. Stylish, and modern, and reeking of luxury, not to mention the view. This was life like we’d never even witnessed before.
Taylor and I looked at each other and grinned, then shoved the other two out of the way running through the suite looking for the best bedroom.
“Mine!” We both screeched, diving for two king sized beds, with a flat screen T.V. and a large window showing off that gorgeous view.
“Mine, mine, mine!” Taylor sang, kicking off his shoes and then jumping on the bed.
“No fair!” Brian yelled looking in our room. “Their room is so much better!”
“Finders keepers-“
“Losers weepers!” Taylor and I chimed, now both of us jumping on the beds.
“You all suck.”
Max looked into our room and then shook his head. “I told you 5 cups of coffee was way too much.”
“Yeah but you also once told me that the boogie man lived in my closet, so you know I can’t trust you.” I said. Yes, Taylor and I had 5 cups of coffee each. Yes, we were extremely hyper. Yes we had to get up at 4 am to catch our flight, so yes, this was, in fact, totally justified.
Max rolled his eyes and then pulled out his phone. “Well I’m calling Pete, so we can figure out when we have sound check and all the other details.”
“Tell him thanks for the hotel room!” Taylor said, finally stopping with his jumping and laid down. “I’m tired.” He said, jutting out his lower lip and looking like a 7 year old child, instead of the 22 year old adult he was.
I flopped down on my bed and looked at him. “I’m anxious.”
“We’ll be fine.” Taylor assured me. I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Maybe,” he amended with a laugh. “Worst comes to worse though, we get to spend the night in this hotel room, and get drunk off the mini bar because Pete is paying.”
“Woop de doo.” I deadpanned, making Taylor laugh.
Max walked into the room again. “Okay, sound check is in 2 hours or so, Pete said he’s sending a car for us, so we should probably grab lunch before then, and then head to sound check, then maybe rehearse until the party starts and then we can-“
“Wanna go to the pool?” Taylor asked me, cutting Max off mid rant.
“Yup,” I agreed, jumping off the bed and opening my suitcase.
“I’m surrounded by idiots,” Max grumbled.
|||
Pete’s birthday party was being held in a well known club in downtown Los Angles. Our sound check had gone by smoothly, and I was feeling better about the whole show because clubs were clubs, no matter what coast they were on. In fact, this club was about the size of Saints back in New York, and we played our sound check and we sounded great.
We had gone and gotten dinner, and then back to our hotel to change. I had opted for my favorite dark blue mini that I usually wore when in doubt of what to wear for a show, along with a a pair of high heeled boots. The stage was a temporary one, as live bands didn’t usually play here, and they had thrown up a curtain so they could set up all our equipment without causing distractions to the party. We had stood behind the curtain and watched the club slowly start to fill up, and opted to stay there until after we had finished our set…we said it was so we could focus, but really it was because we were all too terrified to go out into the crowd and mingle with the celebrities that were slowly trickling in. “Is that Mark Hoppus?” Taylor practically shrieked, as he and I stood on the small stage and peaked out from behind the curtain. Max and Brian were supervising the set up of one of the synthesizers.
“Shh-oh my fucking God. I think that’s P. Diddy,” I hissed.
“Isn’t it just Diddy now?”
“Sean Combs?”
“Mr. Rapstar dude?”
“Just call him Diddy, I think.”
Taylor and I both jumped, Taylor almost falling through the stage curtain and out into the crowd.
“Jesus Christ, Wentz!” I snapped. “Don’t do that!”
Pete just stood there and laughed. “What on earth are you two doing anyways?” He said finally.
“Crowd watching,” Taylor said.
Pete laughed again. “Why are you all back here instead of out there having fun?”
I shrugged. “We’re a little nervous,” Taylor admitted to him.
“Nah, don’t be,” Pete said. “You all will be fine, I know it. And even if you aren’t it’ll all be over in a little less than an hour.”
Taylor and I looked at each other and we both took a deep breath and exhaled at the same time, causing us both to grin.
“I just wanted to wish you luck and tell you to break a leg, and that if you’re going to puke, please do so in the next 15 minutes and not on stage.”
“Gee thanks, Wentz.” I said smirking at him.
He grinned down at me, and then rustled my hair affectionately. “I’ll see you afterwards, alright? I’ll buy you all a round of drinks.”
“It’s an open bar,” Taylor pointed out.
“Even better then,” Pete said with a laugh. Max and Brian had now wandered over and were talking with Pete. The three boys looked nervous, but also excited. I wasn’t even sure how I was feeling.
I peeked through the curtain again, and my nerves peaked again. “I have to pee.” I said.
“We go on in 15 minutes!” Max exclaimed.
“Well I have to go!” I snapped. “I’ll be back.” And with that, I slipped down the side stairs of the stage and out into the crowd.
Five minutes later, I was becoming incredibly frustrated. It seemed the Women’s bathroom was nowhere to be found, while I had found at least three Men’s bathrooms. The crowd was now so thick, that I had to shove through, and because I was shorter than all of there tall celebrities, I was having a difficult time. I had just spotted a door that had the potential to be a bathroom, and shoved hard when I felt a splash of liquid go down my side. “Watch where you’re going!” someone snapped, just as I went, “Shit! Fuck! I’m sorry!”
The person looked down at me. He was rather handsome, tall and skinny, with this great mop of light brown hair and large brown eyes, and his beer had spilled all down his t-shirt and black vest. He was still scowling slightly, and then as his eyes roamed my face and then slightly lower to the top of my form fitting dress, he immediately started smirking.
I rolled my eyes, which he didn’t seem to notice as we was too transfixed by my breasts, and then asked sharply, “Are you alright?”
“Oh.” He said breaking out of his reverie and looking back at my face; his voice was lovely and deep. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
There was a small gap in the crowd and I could see the door clearly if I stood on the tips of my toes.
“Are you looking for someone?” He asked.
“Something, not someone,” I corrected. The door was yet another men’s bathroom. “Goddamn it.” I swore. I looked at the guy again, and this time, I was glad to see his eyes hadn’t roamed from my face. “I don’t suppose you know where I could find a bathroom?”
He cleared his throat. “Uh, I think there’s a men’s one right there.” He pointed to the door I had just looked at.
“Yeah, well, unfortunately I don’t have a dick,” I said sourly.
He laughed loudly at that, but I was annoyed and getting desperate. I could not play a set on a full bladder, I just couldn’t. “It’s not funny!” I whined. I checked my phone. “Fuck,” I moaned. “I have to be on stage in like 5 minutes…” I looked up at him hopefully. “Want to help a girl out?” I asked him.
“Help?” He said, raising his eyebrows.
I grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him to outside the door. “Stand here. Don’t let perverts in.” I said, which made him laugh again, and then Unceremoniously flung open the door. “Hide your dicks,” I yelled. “A girl’s coming in.”
In less than a minute I had finished and walked out of the bathroom to see the guy I had basically dragged to my rescue still standing outside, leaning casually on the wall, calmly holding up at least three guys who wanted inside. “Thank you so much,” I said. “I really appreciate it.”
“That was the fastest piss I’ve ever seen,” He said, grinning down at me.
“Yeah well, you go pee in a girls room, we’ll see how fast you go.”
“I’d probably take my time, actually.” He said grinning again.
“I laughed. “I’m sure. Anyway, thank you, you’re my hero and all that, Mr. umm…”
“Alex Gaskarth.” He said, holding out his hand.
His name sounded familiar, and I looked at him again, trying to figure out where he was from. “Should I know you?” I asked finally.
“I don’t know, should you?”
“Probably,” I said with a shrug. “I feel like this entire room is filled with people I should know but I don’t. I’m probably busting some major ego. Are you a celebrity? It seems like you are, you talk like you’re famous.”
He tilted his head at me, a shadow of a smile on his face. “Are you fucking with me?”
“Absolutely not. Why?”
“Oh. It’s just that’s a line in one of our songs.” He said, looking slightly disappointed.
“That’s code for, I should know you.” I said with a laugh. I looked over towards the stage, and saw Brian practically yelling at me to get my ass over there. “Shit, I really do have to go though. Thanks again, Mr. Celebrity. Alex Gaskarth, right? Maybe I’ll Google you. ” I smiled at him, and waved goodbye, but he was too busy laughing to return the gesture.
|||
Pete had been right all along, I thought in wonder, as I stood on stage, covered in a thin layer of sweat, looking at the screaming audience in front of us. We had just killed, no, murdered this show, and we were all in a state of shock.
Everyone except Max. If it hadn’t been for Max, we would have been stiff and uncomfortable, but he led us all into our easy stage banter, and charmed the crowd to cover for Taylor, Brian and mine’s awkwardness at seeing what must be the upper crust of the music industry cheering for us. “Thank you all so much! It’s been a lot of fun!” He yelled into the microphone, causing the cheers to escalate again. He grinned and then waved, and then had to yank me off stage because I was in too much awe to realize that we had to leave the stage area. As soon as we were all in the wings, everything suddenly clicked: we had just done the best show of our lives for one of the most important shows of our lives. And that’s when I started screaming and jumping up and down and hugging them all. There was only a split second pause, and then Taylor, Brian and Max all joined in too, until we were a screaming, high on adrenaline, insanely happy cluster-fuck of a band.
|||
We had calmed down enough to find a table and order ourselves a round of drinks, and then the congratulations started pouring in; guests and friends of Pete Wentz were practically falling over themselves, telling us how great we were, asking if we had an EP out yet, asking if we were signed (the latter of which resulting in a small mountain of business cards piling up on the table in front of us), or if we had a website.
Pete had also walked over, with his wife Ashlee, both of whom were well on their way to being drunk, and told us he loved us all. Ashlee had been absolutely wonderful and I liked her a lot, even thought I usually disliked girls, and when I asked if her she minded that her husband had a major crush on me, she had responded, without batting an eye, that she didn’t because she had a major crush on Brendon Urie herself. “We’re dating, you know, Brendon and I,” I said, having yet another drink. Hey, the bar was open, and we had reason to celebrate.
“Ohmygod.” She said. “We’re going to be swingers, okay?”
Which had caused us both to dissolve into giggles, and then order more drinks.
About an hour after we had finished our set, someone tapped me on the shoulder, “Well hello there, mystery girl.”
I spun around to see Alex Gas…oh what the fuck was his name?, grinning widely at me, accompanied by a tall kid with black hair and a large nose.
“Oh!” I said, smiling at him. “Guys this is uh, Alex…”
Alex laughed. “Gaskarth,” he filled in for me. “And this is my friend Jack Barakat.”
“From All Time Low?” Brian asked. I hit myself in the forehead. Of course, All Time Low. How could I have forgotten that? Brian and Max had very closely followed their career because they had only live about 45 minutes away from us and had hit the big times. They were an inspiration to them.
Alex nodded, and within seconds, they were sitting with us around the table, while Max, Brian, Alex and Jack gushed about how much they loved each other’s bands.
The guy named Jack was sitting on my right. “You’re hot.” He informed me.
“You have a large nose.” I said back.
“Well you know what they say, the larger the nose…” He smiled, trailing off.
“What? The larger the ego?” I said, grinning back at him.
“Let’s get married.” He said, his face dead serious.
I couldn’t even tell if he was joking and I just stared at him a long moment before he burst out laughing, and I did as well.
Alex looked over at us. “What’s going on over here?” He asked, nudging Jack in the side.
“I’m going to marry…oh shit, what’s your name?”
“Clark.”
“Clark. I’m going to marry Clark.” Jack said.
Alex caught my eye, and gave me that smirk of his. I could already tell it was his trademark. “Well, let’s get a round of drinks for the happy couple.”
After that, the night became a happy blur.
♠ ♠ ♠
So um...hi.I'M SO SORRY. THIS HAS TAKEN FOREVER AND I'M REALLY REALLY SORRY.
I have NOT abandoned this story, my life has just been really hectic and crazy and BLEGH, and I hope you all haven't abandoned this story, because now that it is summer, I fully intend to update this story pretty often.
I love you all, and I would love some comments. Even if they are like "YOU TOTALLY SUCK. I HATE YOU." or even if you call me nasty names like a Cottonheadedninnymuggins.
Next update will be this week. I PROMISE : )
Please comment!
Love,
Sophie