Guilty Feet Have Got No Rhythm

The next day, we were up before the sun had even risen, heading to the pre-packed car that would take us to the location of the first tour date. The park was so crowded, full of people setting up tents, fences, stages, and food stands. There were tour buses everywhere, as well as thousands of posters.

Claudia and I quickly set up our booth, before grabbing the stacks of posters that would advertise both her designs and me. I took one side of the park, while she took the other, rushing to set them up before the gates opened at eleven.

I was halfway through my stack when I slammed into someone, falling straight onto my ass. The flyers flew everywhere, settling on the ground with ease.

“Oh, shit,” I groaned, crawling on my hands and knees to get them all. “Oh, shit, shit, shit!”

“Here,” the man muttered, collecting them as well. He thrust them into my arms, and I looked up, grateful.

“Thanks,” I smiled, only to be met with a ferocious glare. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

“Bitch,” he snarled, turning on his foot and storming off, purposefully stomping on one of the poster.

“What the…Oh yeah? Well right back at you, dickhead!” I shouted, angry. I finished collecting the papers and stood, ignoring the questioning and shocked stares. “Oh get over it, I swore, so what?” I muttered, storming back to the merch tent.

By the time I was back at the tent, Claudia had finished putting everything together and was relaxing in a beach chair, a cold soda in her hand.

“Here, I stole one for you,” she said as she chucked the can at me. I caught it with ease and popped the tab, gulping it down like a beached fished.

“You are amazing,” I gasped once the pain of the fizz had subsided. “You won’t believe what happened to me! This asshole just slammed into me and called me—”

“John! Hey, JohnOh!” Claudia shouted, jumping to her feet. A gangly boy turned towards her, grinning once he noticed her. He jogged over to the booth and pulled her into a tight hug.

“Hey, Lorry, thought I’d never see you again!” he smirked as soon as they had pulled away. “Are you excited for tour?”

“Oh yeah, a summer out in the sun selling to annoying teens, so much fun,” she replied sarcastically. “Anyways, so we have the new shirts out and they’re all ready for selling.”

“Claudia, you are amazing,” he grinned. “So, I heard this rumor that you actually brought along Holly Williams to be your model. How in hell did you pull that off?”

“It wasn’t all that easy,” I giggled, waving so as to let myself be known.

“Holy Jesus!” the man swore, jumping at least ten feet in the air. He turned to me, his green eyes widening in shock as he attempted to stammer out coherent sentences. “Y-you’re H-H-Holly Williams!”

“Hi there.” I stood up, extending my hand for him to shake. “And you are…?”

He stared at my extended hand and gulped nervously before licking his lips. “I would tell you, but I think I just forgot my name. Oh! I’m John, John O’Callaghan, ma’am!”

“There’s no need to call her ma’am, O’Callaghan,” Claudia barked. “Hey, Holly, go to the bus, I think I left the FTSK shirts in the trunk.”

“I, uh, the what shirts?” I asked, confused.

“FTSK!” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “Can’t you just go get them? Please?”

“Um, sure, I can do that…”

I stood carefully and walked past the two, cheeks burning. Obviously, Claudia didn’t want me there, and I could take a hint. Stalking to the bus, I tugged my sunglasses from my pocket and forced them onto my nose, muttering curses. By the time I had reached the tour bus, I had run out of curse words and was left inventing my own.

“Jumping Jehovah’s witnesses,” I muttered, opening the latch to the boxes of merch. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” I dug through the shirts, looking for whatever Claudia wanted and growing extremely frustrated in the process. “WHAT THE FUCK IS A FTSK?”

“That would stand for Forever The Sickest Kids,” someone drawled from behind me.

Jumping, I slammed my head on the latch, cursing like a sailor. “Oh, whoa, watch your head…”

I climbed out of the section, fighting back curses and tears as I rubbed my head, seeing stars. Hands grabbed my shoulders to help steady me as I wobbled on my feet. I slowly dropped my hands form my head and stared up into the gorgeous green eyes of Mr. O’Callaghan himself.

“Hey, you alright?” he asked, peering into my eyes. ‘That looks like it hurt.”

“It does, like a bitch,” I muttered, squinting from the sun. Sighing, I turned back to the bus and kept searching for the shirts. “You said it stood for something sick, right?”

“Forever the Sickest Kids,” he nodded. “I think the box you’re looking for is right there.” I stuck my head into the one he pointed at, and groaned. He was right, it had been under my nose the entire time.

“I’m not going to survive this,” I moaned, dropping to my butt. “This tour is going to be the death of me!”

“Hey, relax,” John grinned, dragging the box out from the trunk. “Everyone has trouble their first time on Warped. I mean, it must be extra hard on you, not having servants and everything to do your work.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, staring up at him like he was insane.

“Y’know…” he prompted, before sighing. “Look, don’t lie about it, okay? I get it, you’re filthy rich and you want to seem normal, but we all—”

“I live in a crappy apartment in New York with three other girls, where I have to climb five flights of stairs because there’s no elevator. I have no doorman, no maid, nothing. If I want something done, I do it myself,” I snarled, bending over and taking the box off the ground. "Next time, don’t judge me before you get to know me!”

Storming past him, I muttered more curses under my breath, fed up with everything.

“Hey, wait a second,” John called, grabbing my arm. I turned to look at him, cheeks burning in embarrassment and anger. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant it like—”

“You meant I’m a spoiled rich girl who’s had everything handed to her and now needs to work for herself,” I hissed. “Whatever, I need to get back to Claudia.”

“Holly, wait,” John sighed, running to step in front of me. “Okay, how do I say this without coming off creepy? I…I’m so frickin’ nervous talking to you that I’m screwing up everything I want to say. I don’t think you’re spoiled, I don’t think you’re snobby, and I don’t think you’re too far over your head. I actually think you’re going to make it, because I can tell you’re like this kick ass person that will totally be able to take on anything, okay?”

I stared at him like he was crazy, reeling from what he told me. He noticed my expression, and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Let me make it up to you,” he bargained. “When does Claudia let you off the hook?”

“Honestly, at this point, never,” I sighed, staring out at the non-gated park. “Why?”

“Well, we’re performing at two o’clock, and I’d love for you to come watch us perform, and then maybe I could show you around the park.”

“John, are you hitting on me?”

“What? No! No, I’m trying to be nice,” he stuttered, looking horrified. “Not that I wouldn’t want to, I mean, you’re gorgeous, but I’m—I mean, there’s a…what I’m trying to say is—”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” I rolled my eyes with a smile. “I’d love to come see you guys play. But you’ll have to do the asking from Claudia, I have doubts that she’s going to let me go easily.”

“Alright, fine,” John smirked. “If I get you off work, will you willing succumb yourself to an afternoon of Warped Tour antics and insanity?”

After a minute’s pause, I shifted the box in my arms to shake his hand properly. “Yes, I will willing succumb myself to an afternoon of Warped tour antics and insanity."