The Federation

I winced as Amy’s straightening iron clenched onto a stray lock of hair and tugged violently. Why had I agreed to let the mad hair woman fix up my hair for the concert? Maybe it was because we never got to hang out much anymore—Amy ran with the Avenged crowd, and that meant Jimmy. I figured it best if I continued to stay away from Jimmy. So, Carter was my sole companion now, most of the time, at least. I’d been more than willing to sacrifice my scalp to spend time with my best girlfriend.

“Well, one month down, eleven to go,” I sighed as Amy set down the torture device and picked up another.

“Yeah,” Amy agreed. “I kind of miss the Legion. Touring always seemed so adventurous before—but now it’s nothing compared to the Legion. It’s like baking cookies compared to going skydiving. It just isn’t the same.”

“I agree,” I said. “But yet, it’s nice to have a break where I’m not constantly on call, where my plans aren’t always disrupted by some mission. I do miss all our friends, though.”

“I wonder how Hayley is getting along,” Amy wondered out loud. “She wasn’t nearly as promising an agent as you turned out to be, but she seemed to be doing very well. Hopefully by the time we get back, she’ll have gone on some interesting missions to prove her worth.”

“Hello, ladies,” Carter greeted happily, ending that conversation as he bounded up the bus steps.

“Hey, Carter,” I greeted with a smile.

“I’ve come to wish you good luck, Ashy,” Carter answered, walking over to us. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my cheek.

“Good luck, Cartums!” I replied cheerfully. He grinned and reached up to tousle my hair, but stopped mid-reach at the scowl Amy sent his way. She waved the curling iron dangerously close to his bare arm, and Carter wisely retreated.

“I’ll see you later, then, Asher,” he said. I agreed, and then he was off the bus.

“He wants in your pants so bad,” Amy snickered as she went back to my hair.

“No,” I answered. “He’s a really sweet guy. He’s helping to fill the gap where Jimmy used to be.”

Amy paused before repeating, “Yeah...but he still wants in your pants.”

I grinned but winced as Amy’s latest torture device started tugging at my hair again.

~~~~~

In case you’ve never realized, there are a lot of hot lights focused on a stage. And if you’ve ever had your adrenaline racing, you’ll understand that you get really hot with all that liquid excitement coursing through your veins. Coupled together—the stage lights and the adrenaline, not to mention how much prancing around we do—rockstars get very, very sweaty while on stage. The first time, it feels pretty much gross. The second time, it’s still pretty gross but you can deal. By the five hundredth time, well, you’re so used to sweat you barely notice how sweaty you’ve gotten until you sit down and nearly fall off because you’re so slippery.

That’s why I chose, after every concert, to go change into something more comfortable and much less sweaty. If we planned to go partying that night because the concert went so fabulous, then I’d make sure to put on something just a wee bit more publicity-ready. Otherwise, I’d just change into my pajamas or something like that.

After the concert, which had been a great one, I walked towards the back door out of the concert venue. If I went out the front entrance, I risked getting stampeded by crazy, overeager fans wanting just one lock of my hair. The back entrance was a much safer choice since I valued my life.

As I walked past a custodial closet, the door slid open and an arm snaked out into my path. Agent Asher took over and I instantly went on the defensive, but before I could do much else except make the decision to go on the defensive, the hand grabbed the front of my shirt and dragged me into the closet, slamming the door shut behind me.

I prepared myself to start beating the heck out of the hand still grasping the front of my shirt, but the hand released me and withdrew. I heard a small click, and then light spilled across the small room. Jimmy stood about half a foot from me, looking grim and oddly serious. I scowled and whirled around to escape, but Jimmy’s arm closed around my waist and dragged me in a half circle so that he stood in my spot and I stood in his. For good measure, he gripped the doorknob behind him. Finding no escape, I crossed my arms and huffed out an impatient breath.

“Tell me what you want to say and let me get on my way,” I snapped. Over the past month, our relationship hadn’t worsened, nor had it improved. I found being stung by a hornet more thrilling than being trapped in a small custodial closet with Jimmy. It would be difficult, but I would figure out some way to decapitate him with a mop.

“I don’t trust Carter,” Jimmy said, taking his dear sweet time to probably piss me off further. “I think he’s gotten too close to you too fast, and I don’t think he wants to just be your friend.”

“What the hell are you going on about?” I snarled. “Carter is a sweet guy—more than I can say for you at the moment. He has nothing up his sleeve, and if he wants to be more than just friends, well, maybe the feeling is mutual!”

“I don’t mean that he has a crush on you,” Jimmy answered, rolling his eyes. I better figure out a way to decapitate him with a mop, and soon. Otherwise, his death will be long and torturous. “I mean that he’s become your friend for more than just friendship. He has some master plan or something. Befriending you is just a step in the process.”

“Have you spoken one word to him?” I demanded, wanting to know how Jimmy thought up these wrongful suspicions. He obviously knew nothing about Carter.

“No, but I have eyes,” Jimmy retorted.

“Carter wouldn’t do something like that,” I growled. “You know nothing about him. You are making wrongful assumptions. Stop pulling conclusions out of your ass and while you’re at it, stop being a bitch, because it’s getting really old and annoying. Carter is my friend, and I think you’re just jealous.”

“Jealous? Of that pansy? Right, Asher,” Jimmy agreed sarcastically. “Isn’t he gay?”

“No,” I hissed. “Let me out.”

“He’s gay, isn’t he? Is your new gay best friend? Do you two go out shopping for clothes and talk about boys together? Is that it, Asher?” Jimmy asked scathingly.

I reached up and pulled the string connected to the light. The light faded off, and I spun into a high roundhouse kick that caught Jimmy right where his neck joined his shoulder. I heard him stumble and fall against the shelves of supplies lining the closet. Several pails and bottles of cleaning solution fell off, rolling across the room to bump against my feet.

“Let me out,” I growled.

“You have hands, don’t you?” Jimmy snapped from somewhere to my left. I flicked the light back on and glared at him as he disentangled himself from the shelf of supplies. His neck was red where my shoe made contact.

“Bitch,” I muttered as I pulled open the door and stepped back out into the hallway.

“Skank,” I heard Jimmy mumble back as I continued my way out towards my tour bus.

What a whiny bitch.