She's With The Band
Chapter 27;
When Imelda calmed down and came to, she heard yelling and running footsteps coming closer.
“Shit! Pretend to be really, really drunk!” Imelda insisted harshly, quickly standing up and covering her puke with dirt (A/N: sorry, that’s so gross, but necessary) and wiping her mouth.
“What? No! Mellon, what’s wrong?!” Jack whined, throwing his arms around her. It took all of Imelda’s emotional(and physical, Jack’s heavy) strength to slide out of his arms in time to put on the act.
“What the hell happened?” Matt screamed when he saw the damage to the van. Jack shot a look at Imelda and smiled drunkenly.
“Woops!” he giggled. Imelda just laughed and put her arms around her fakely-intoxicated boyfriend.
“He was singing Quiet Riot and accidentally chucked the beer bottle microphone through the window. But we can fix it! Look!” She held up a crushed Heineken bottle and smirked.
She also snatched safety pins and a red ATL merch shirt off the booth and pinned the shirt in the place of the window.
She shrugged. “Better than nothing.”
Matt sighed and shook his head he walked past Jack to inspect the patch job. “You,” he warned, pointing his index finger directly between Jack’s dark eyes, “are paying for this with your own dough. Got it?” Jack laughed and saluted him, stumbling back into Imelda’s twig-like arms.
As the boys made their way back to the party, Alex stared at Imelda, a rare, stern look crossing his face. Then he looked at his best friend and spoke.
“Help her.”
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Alex left abruptly and Jack slammed the door of the van closed and gritted his teeth. Imelda sat quietly on the ground, quiet tears flooding her dark eyes. Jack sat in front of her and stared into her eyes.
In that moment, Imelda revealed herself in a way she hadn’t ever before. Her wall was crushed and in a few short breaths, she told Jack everything. The incident. The aftermath. The dreams. The entire secret of Imelda’s life told in two minutes. And Jack listened to everything, calmly and rationally mapping it out in his head.
He spent the next minute and a half nodding quietly. Suddenly, he looked up to see his beautiful girlfriend and observed her in silence.
Her eyes were dark and solemn like always, but they seemed to have a new sort of fullness in them as if she found a missing piece. He knew it took a lot out of her to let him know what she’d been carrying around with her for years. He also put the smaller things together in his head- she puked because she was sick, she told Hayley and Cassadee because she was beginning to lose it, she was skinny and rather “undeveloped” because she didn’t have her period and she could never have children. Ever.
So that silly vision Jack had of the little boy with dark brown hair, onyx eyes and a tall, gangly frame with his mother’s attitude and his father’s twisted humor was completely unrealistic?
Unfortunately.
So it hit Jack immediately that Alex was completely and utterly right. He had to help her. He had to give her some sort of stability in her rocking chair of a life. He needed to give her what she needed to badly- him.
Jack glanced up from Imelda’s slender white hands to her face. “Imelda, will you marry me?”
“Shit! Pretend to be really, really drunk!” Imelda insisted harshly, quickly standing up and covering her puke with dirt (A/N: sorry, that’s so gross, but necessary) and wiping her mouth.
“What? No! Mellon, what’s wrong?!” Jack whined, throwing his arms around her. It took all of Imelda’s emotional(and physical, Jack’s heavy) strength to slide out of his arms in time to put on the act.
“What the hell happened?” Matt screamed when he saw the damage to the van. Jack shot a look at Imelda and smiled drunkenly.
“Woops!” he giggled. Imelda just laughed and put her arms around her fakely-intoxicated boyfriend.
“He was singing Quiet Riot and accidentally chucked the beer bottle microphone through the window. But we can fix it! Look!” She held up a crushed Heineken bottle and smirked.
She also snatched safety pins and a red ATL merch shirt off the booth and pinned the shirt in the place of the window.
She shrugged. “Better than nothing.”
Matt sighed and shook his head he walked past Jack to inspect the patch job. “You,” he warned, pointing his index finger directly between Jack’s dark eyes, “are paying for this with your own dough. Got it?” Jack laughed and saluted him, stumbling back into Imelda’s twig-like arms.
As the boys made their way back to the party, Alex stared at Imelda, a rare, stern look crossing his face. Then he looked at his best friend and spoke.
“Help her.”
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Alex left abruptly and Jack slammed the door of the van closed and gritted his teeth. Imelda sat quietly on the ground, quiet tears flooding her dark eyes. Jack sat in front of her and stared into her eyes.
In that moment, Imelda revealed herself in a way she hadn’t ever before. Her wall was crushed and in a few short breaths, she told Jack everything. The incident. The aftermath. The dreams. The entire secret of Imelda’s life told in two minutes. And Jack listened to everything, calmly and rationally mapping it out in his head.
He spent the next minute and a half nodding quietly. Suddenly, he looked up to see his beautiful girlfriend and observed her in silence.
Her eyes were dark and solemn like always, but they seemed to have a new sort of fullness in them as if she found a missing piece. He knew it took a lot out of her to let him know what she’d been carrying around with her for years. He also put the smaller things together in his head- she puked because she was sick, she told Hayley and Cassadee because she was beginning to lose it, she was skinny and rather “undeveloped” because she didn’t have her period and she could never have children. Ever.
So that silly vision Jack had of the little boy with dark brown hair, onyx eyes and a tall, gangly frame with his mother’s attitude and his father’s twisted humor was completely unrealistic?
Unfortunately.
So it hit Jack immediately that Alex was completely and utterly right. He had to help her. He had to give her some sort of stability in her rocking chair of a life. He needed to give her what she needed to badly- him.
Jack glanced up from Imelda’s slender white hands to her face. “Imelda, will you marry me?”