Your Makeup on My Pillow Is Proof

Gerard swore as the couple hundred pieces of paper scattered around the stage. Why him? All of his songs, his notes, his music... everywhere. This'd take hours. Hours he didn't have. The band was warming up and their new guitarist was expected any minute.
And he'd just dropped their life all over the stage.

He fell to his knees and began gathering it. He'd organize it tonight, just get what they need now.
The needed Sharpest Lives, because it was popular and it needed more practice, they needed his random notes for his song yet untitled... Heaven Help Us?

"Hello?"

Gerard's head shot up. That voice...
Why was it here?
Peeking from behind the drum set, he could see Frank, but knew Frank couldn't see him.

"Hello?" Frank jogged up the steps of the stage, a guitar slung over his back. "I'm Frank Iero. I'm here for the guitarist gig..." Frank's hand were in his pockets, nervously fingering various items.

"Hey! I'm Mikey, you talked to me on the phone. That's Bob..." Bob looked up from a pad of paper and waved slightly, going back to his work. "...And that's Ray..." Ray nodded his head, his 'fro bobbing with him. "... and Gee is around here somewhere..." Mikey looked around but couldn't spot him.

Frank went pale at the name. "G-Gee?" He coughed slightly on the name, his skin going icy. What the hell are the chances?!

"Yeah. Gee. His real name's Gerard. But uh, Gee is easier to scream across a room. Observe." Mikey cleared his throat dramtically.
"GEE!" He hollered, closing his eyes as he screamed.

"Yeah." Came a feeble yip-sound from behind the drums. Gerard stood up, clutching handfuls of papers and notes. "I'm Gerard. Nice to meet you." Gerard's teeth were clenched as he spoke.

"Yeah..." Frank said oddly. Should he play along? "I'm Frank Iero. Nice to meet you too. So... you sing?" Frank said nervously. How come highschool never taught you what to do in this situation. Sure, he knew what to do when the building was on fire. But this?

"Well, I have to organize these backstage... I'll uh..." Gerard scuffled backstage, papers in hand.

Well wasn't this lovely.
His whore was now his guitarist.
Right after he got dumped by a whore.
And now he had to organize his life, also known as his notes and lyrics, backstage while his whore frolicked with his band.

Just lovely.