She's With The Band
Chapter 10;
Imelda soon found out that Jack was right about the hoards.Imelda was very nearly overwhelmed during the first half hour of the day. Vinny was God-knows-where, the boys were on the bus, the crew was finishing up the stage and she had no idea where her phone was.
Imelda whipped her head around when a door slammed on the bus. She looked over and grinned at the approaching figure of Vinny. He slumped over the grass and plopped down in the lawn chair as Imelda was pelted with dollar bills.
“Is it normal for one merch person to deal with this madness at a time?” Imelda gasped, tossing a green hoodie at an angry teenage girl.
“Nope. I wasn’t going to come out at all just to give you a taste of what it’s like around here, but Jack made me come out and make sure you weren’t dead,” Vinny replied before sipping a blue Monster.
“Ah. Well, I’m still conscious, so I guess that’s a good sign. You wanna start up another line, here, bub?” she suggested. Girls waiting for purchases began excitedly calling out Vinny’s name, begging for pictures.Vinny stood up and immediately began collecting the money and calling out orders.
“Medium black hoodie! Extra large tour shirt! Mel, your phone’s ringing!”
Imelda threw the merch at Vinny and was delighted to notice that the crowd was beginning to thin out. She pressed the talk button and sighed.
“Mae.”
“Hey babe. How’s the tour biz?” her best friend giggled before slurping down a Juicy Juice.
“Insane,” Imelda stated while handing Vinny the merch for the last few fans, “These girls are like rabid animals. However, the first sets are starting soon and ATL’s on the Hurley stage in twenty minutes.”
“You gonna watch?”
“Hopefully. If I have time.”
“So… have you seen him yet?” Mae giggled.
“Mae, I’m not looking. I haven’t seen the kid since we were in eighth grade! I’m not expecting anything. So how’s Darla?” Imelda asked,eager to change the subject.
“She’s excellent. Still. I didn’t think she would’ve lasted this long, but hell. That girl knows how to use her to-“
Imelda cut her off. “Mae! TMI!” she squealed, not wanting the details about Mae’s current fling.
Mae was famous in the D.C. area. She worked at a place called the Camelot Club, which was known as one of the most elite strip joint sin the city. Her stripper name was Dolores, which was her last name. She got paid extremely well and no one seemed to notice she was under aged (the fake ID didn’t hurt matters). Mae worked every Friday and Saturday night from eight to one. She met lots of boys and girls that she’d come home with. Her bisexuality never bothered Imelda until one day, in a drunken stupor, she had admitted having a small crush on her. Needless to say, with Imelda being straight as they come, this made her uncomfortable.
About a month previous, Mae brought a petite yellow-haired porcelain doll home with her one day by the name of Darla D’Onofrio. Imelda had always been very supportive and was delighted to meet her. But Mae had a way of being very explicit with the info about her newest “squeeze.”
“Alright, alright. But hey, I was thinking if this thing with her holds out I’d love to bring her to the D.C. stop. Would that be OK?”
“Maeryn, you don’t even have to ask! It would be more than OK! That would be a lot of fun. Hey, I gotta get over to the boys’ set, but I’ll call you later, yeah?”
“Yeah, babe. I’m taking James to work with me tonight, so I’ll give him a hug for you!”
Imelda grimaced. James was anything but innocent, but Imelda saw him as she wanted: the perfect, valedictorian who had been a constant friend since the very beginning. She hated when Mae brought James to work. It made her incredibly nervous, especially since Imelda refused to set so much as one neon orange-painted toe into Camelot.
“Please, for the love of Pete Wentz, keep a fucking eye on him! God knows I’ll end up being the one dragging him off to get the test for gonorrhea,” she mumbled. With another laugh from Mae, the line went dead and Imelda groaned.
“Hey Vegas, can I go to the set pleeeeeeeeease?” Imelda whined, throwing herself at Vinny’s feet and groping his grass-stained DCs.
“Yeah, go. The rush has been defeated. You done good, kid.High five!” he commanded, throwing his calloused hand into the air. Imelda slapped it with her own and sent a peace sign back to him as she went hurtling toward the Hurley stage, her All-Access Pass slapping against her sweaty-shirt.
Imelda whipped her head around when a door slammed on the bus. She looked over and grinned at the approaching figure of Vinny. He slumped over the grass and plopped down in the lawn chair as Imelda was pelted with dollar bills.
“Is it normal for one merch person to deal with this madness at a time?” Imelda gasped, tossing a green hoodie at an angry teenage girl.
“Nope. I wasn’t going to come out at all just to give you a taste of what it’s like around here, but Jack made me come out and make sure you weren’t dead,” Vinny replied before sipping a blue Monster.
“Ah. Well, I’m still conscious, so I guess that’s a good sign. You wanna start up another line, here, bub?” she suggested. Girls waiting for purchases began excitedly calling out Vinny’s name, begging for pictures.Vinny stood up and immediately began collecting the money and calling out orders.
“Medium black hoodie! Extra large tour shirt! Mel, your phone’s ringing!”
Imelda threw the merch at Vinny and was delighted to notice that the crowd was beginning to thin out. She pressed the talk button and sighed.
“Mae.”
“Hey babe. How’s the tour biz?” her best friend giggled before slurping down a Juicy Juice.
“Insane,” Imelda stated while handing Vinny the merch for the last few fans, “These girls are like rabid animals. However, the first sets are starting soon and ATL’s on the Hurley stage in twenty minutes.”
“You gonna watch?”
“Hopefully. If I have time.”
“So… have you seen him yet?” Mae giggled.
“Mae, I’m not looking. I haven’t seen the kid since we were in eighth grade! I’m not expecting anything. So how’s Darla?” Imelda asked,eager to change the subject.
“She’s excellent. Still. I didn’t think she would’ve lasted this long, but hell. That girl knows how to use her to-“
Imelda cut her off. “Mae! TMI!” she squealed, not wanting the details about Mae’s current fling.
Mae was famous in the D.C. area. She worked at a place called the Camelot Club, which was known as one of the most elite strip joint sin the city. Her stripper name was Dolores, which was her last name. She got paid extremely well and no one seemed to notice she was under aged (the fake ID didn’t hurt matters). Mae worked every Friday and Saturday night from eight to one. She met lots of boys and girls that she’d come home with. Her bisexuality never bothered Imelda until one day, in a drunken stupor, she had admitted having a small crush on her. Needless to say, with Imelda being straight as they come, this made her uncomfortable.
About a month previous, Mae brought a petite yellow-haired porcelain doll home with her one day by the name of Darla D’Onofrio. Imelda had always been very supportive and was delighted to meet her. But Mae had a way of being very explicit with the info about her newest “squeeze.”
“Alright, alright. But hey, I was thinking if this thing with her holds out I’d love to bring her to the D.C. stop. Would that be OK?”
“Maeryn, you don’t even have to ask! It would be more than OK! That would be a lot of fun. Hey, I gotta get over to the boys’ set, but I’ll call you later, yeah?”
“Yeah, babe. I’m taking James to work with me tonight, so I’ll give him a hug for you!”
Imelda grimaced. James was anything but innocent, but Imelda saw him as she wanted: the perfect, valedictorian who had been a constant friend since the very beginning. She hated when Mae brought James to work. It made her incredibly nervous, especially since Imelda refused to set so much as one neon orange-painted toe into Camelot.
“Please, for the love of Pete Wentz, keep a fucking eye on him! God knows I’ll end up being the one dragging him off to get the test for gonorrhea,” she mumbled. With another laugh from Mae, the line went dead and Imelda groaned.
“Hey Vegas, can I go to the set pleeeeeeeeease?” Imelda whined, throwing herself at Vinny’s feet and groping his grass-stained DCs.
“Yeah, go. The rush has been defeated. You done good, kid.High five!” he commanded, throwing his calloused hand into the air. Imelda slapped it with her own and sent a peace sign back to him as she went hurtling toward the Hurley stage, her All-Access Pass slapping against her sweaty-shirt.