The Consequence
for always, forever
The venue in Los Angeles was boiling. The entire room stank of sweat and stewing alcohol. Security men at the front of the stage were handing out ice cold water bottles left, right and centre. The air conditioning had been on the blink for days. No one had thought to get it fixed before tonight. So, the room was left to over heat. Kids were being taken backstage, fed water and given ice wrapped in flannels to hold against their clammy foreheads. The summery dress code was a must for tonight’s show. Cardigans had been discarded at the back of the room, left to be trampled on and never retrieved at the end of the night. People were fanning themselves with hands and leaflets that had been handed out outside. At this point, excitement had been killed with the intensity of the heat, and everyone just wanted the night to be over.
Ashley Anders was part of this large group of people. She sat on an amp backstage, her long brown hair pulled up in a ponytail that bounced at the back of her head. She wore a look of pure disgust, as crew members walked past her, grunting under the weight of equipment and the humidity. She inhaled deeply, only taking in moisture.
“I’m so sure we’re going to suffocate. If I die, can someone please make sure my Chanel bag goes to a good home?” She asked, fanning herself with a copy of Vogue.
Justin Richards scoffed, pushing his guitar around to his back. He brought himself to his feet and shook his head. “Unbelievable, Ash. Really, I think you out-did yourself in the drama queen stakes.”
“I don’t need your comments, Richards, really.”
Justin scowled at her and exchanged a questioning glance with Nick Santino, who was sitting beside his friend, taking slow swigs from a bottle of icy water. The pair shrugged and hoped Eric would appear very soon, so they wouldn’t have to deal with Ashley for much longer.
“Why are you even going ahead with this? I mean, it’s baking, we’re all going to suffocate, and no one even cares anymore. There’s really no point. Half of those sweaty kids will probably leave before you’re even halfway through your set.”
“Ashley, no one forced you to come into the building. We all said you could stay in the van, or you could go and explore the city, get some food, see a movie, anything. We’re going ahead with this show because we have no time to reschedule it, and we don’t want to let these kids down. I know that really doesn’t mean much to you, but it does to us, and when you’re on our tour, dating our bassist, it’s shit you have to deal with. So get the fuck over it and shut up, or get out of my sight,” Justin’s tone was flat, brimming with poison. He glared at Ashley.
She glared back. “Well, Justin, I came out on this tour to spend time with Eric, since whenever we get any alone time, one of you seems to storm in and steam roll over me to get to him. It’s pathetic.”
“You’re pathetic.”
“Now, now children, play nice,” Nick frowned at the both of them, as Ashley rolled her eyes and picked up her magazine.
Justin scowled at his friend, sitting himself back down and folding his arms. “I can’t believe you,” he hissed.
“Hey, hey, the party’s here!” Eric Halvorsen was always one to make an entrance. He walked over to them, brimming with confidence. Flanking him were John O’Callaghan and Andrew Cook. Both of them seemed much smaller than Eric, his presence had blossomed since he’d been with Ashley. And his band mates and best friends thought that was the only good thing to have come out of their relationship.
“Hi baby,” Ashley smiled, sickeningly, jumping up from the amp, discarding her magazine on the floor. She walked over to Eric and pulled him into a deep kiss.
John wrinkled his nose. “Nice.” He walked over to the amp Ashley had been sitting on, picking up the magazine and looking at the article she had been reading. “Oh must have’s for this season. Shame purple isn’t my colour.” He grinned as Ashley whipped round and snatched the magazine from him.
“Shame you won’t be in then, O’Callaghan.”
Justin rolled his eyes, as on stage the lights dimmed and the music stopped over the PA. The impatient crowd began to scream, louder and louder. All the band picked up instruments and walked into the dark abyss of the stage. The lights burst out, casting glows over each band member, and without introductions they launched into their first song.
Ashley watched from the side lines, occasionally. She immersed herself in the shallow articles in her magazine. She glanced at her watch every few minutes, willing the deafening noise and Nick’s sickly voice to decease. She ran a hand through her short brown hair and glanced out at the crowd. Teenage girls were crushed in the front row, against the barrier, each one reaching out for Nick or Eric. They screamed and cried, clapped and sung along with every word.
It wasn’t until halfway through that Ashley’s undivided attention would be on A Rocket To The Moon. She had been in the middle of an article about denim, when the mention of her name brought her out of the fashion world and back into the sweaty club. She looked up to see Eric looking at her, expectantly.
“Could you come out here?” He asked into a microphone.
She glanced at John, who simply shrugged at her. Dropping the magazine on the floor, she cautiously stepped over snaking wires and tape, making her way out on stage, to a few dull cheers. It was true that she wasn’t particularly liked amongst the fans. Internet forums and websites had dubbed her a bitch and various other high school remarks. She was hated. Truly despised amongst fans, who all claimed Eric could do better, offering themselves up instead.
She watched Eric take her hand in his and lower himself onto the floor. He bent down on one knee and Ashley felt her stomach drop. This wasn’t what she wanted. She liked Eric, yes, but their relationship was built on pure lust not love, and the fact her celebrity status was growing, she was more like a parasite than a girlfriend, feeding off his ever growing fame, desperate for more.
“Ash, sweetie, we’ve been together for what seems like eternity to me. You really are the love of my life, and I know it’s not been years or anything like that, but I know that I really love you. And I couldn’t imagine loving anyone else in the same way. So Ashley, in front of all these people, will you marry me?”
NO!
She stuttered, looking around at the wide eyed crowd. Some girls had pure poison in the looks they handed to her on a silver platter. She looked up to see Nick standing there, looking puzzled and Justin, shaking his head, mouthing the word that she so desperately wanted to say.
“Yes,” she nodded her head. Eric pulled a ring out of his pocket and placed it onto the correct finger a wide smile adorning his face. He pulled her into a hug and kissed the side of her head, before setting her free and allowing her to walk off stage. Humiliation over.
She looked at John. “What the hell did I just do?”
Ashley Anders was part of this large group of people. She sat on an amp backstage, her long brown hair pulled up in a ponytail that bounced at the back of her head. She wore a look of pure disgust, as crew members walked past her, grunting under the weight of equipment and the humidity. She inhaled deeply, only taking in moisture.
“I’m so sure we’re going to suffocate. If I die, can someone please make sure my Chanel bag goes to a good home?” She asked, fanning herself with a copy of Vogue.
Justin Richards scoffed, pushing his guitar around to his back. He brought himself to his feet and shook his head. “Unbelievable, Ash. Really, I think you out-did yourself in the drama queen stakes.”
“I don’t need your comments, Richards, really.”
Justin scowled at her and exchanged a questioning glance with Nick Santino, who was sitting beside his friend, taking slow swigs from a bottle of icy water. The pair shrugged and hoped Eric would appear very soon, so they wouldn’t have to deal with Ashley for much longer.
“Why are you even going ahead with this? I mean, it’s baking, we’re all going to suffocate, and no one even cares anymore. There’s really no point. Half of those sweaty kids will probably leave before you’re even halfway through your set.”
“Ashley, no one forced you to come into the building. We all said you could stay in the van, or you could go and explore the city, get some food, see a movie, anything. We’re going ahead with this show because we have no time to reschedule it, and we don’t want to let these kids down. I know that really doesn’t mean much to you, but it does to us, and when you’re on our tour, dating our bassist, it’s shit you have to deal with. So get the fuck over it and shut up, or get out of my sight,” Justin’s tone was flat, brimming with poison. He glared at Ashley.
She glared back. “Well, Justin, I came out on this tour to spend time with Eric, since whenever we get any alone time, one of you seems to storm in and steam roll over me to get to him. It’s pathetic.”
“You’re pathetic.”
“Now, now children, play nice,” Nick frowned at the both of them, as Ashley rolled her eyes and picked up her magazine.
Justin scowled at his friend, sitting himself back down and folding his arms. “I can’t believe you,” he hissed.
“Hey, hey, the party’s here!” Eric Halvorsen was always one to make an entrance. He walked over to them, brimming with confidence. Flanking him were John O’Callaghan and Andrew Cook. Both of them seemed much smaller than Eric, his presence had blossomed since he’d been with Ashley. And his band mates and best friends thought that was the only good thing to have come out of their relationship.
“Hi baby,” Ashley smiled, sickeningly, jumping up from the amp, discarding her magazine on the floor. She walked over to Eric and pulled him into a deep kiss.
John wrinkled his nose. “Nice.” He walked over to the amp Ashley had been sitting on, picking up the magazine and looking at the article she had been reading. “Oh must have’s for this season. Shame purple isn’t my colour.” He grinned as Ashley whipped round and snatched the magazine from him.
“Shame you won’t be in then, O’Callaghan.”
Justin rolled his eyes, as on stage the lights dimmed and the music stopped over the PA. The impatient crowd began to scream, louder and louder. All the band picked up instruments and walked into the dark abyss of the stage. The lights burst out, casting glows over each band member, and without introductions they launched into their first song.
Ashley watched from the side lines, occasionally. She immersed herself in the shallow articles in her magazine. She glanced at her watch every few minutes, willing the deafening noise and Nick’s sickly voice to decease. She ran a hand through her short brown hair and glanced out at the crowd. Teenage girls were crushed in the front row, against the barrier, each one reaching out for Nick or Eric. They screamed and cried, clapped and sung along with every word.
It wasn’t until halfway through that Ashley’s undivided attention would be on A Rocket To The Moon. She had been in the middle of an article about denim, when the mention of her name brought her out of the fashion world and back into the sweaty club. She looked up to see Eric looking at her, expectantly.
“Could you come out here?” He asked into a microphone.
She glanced at John, who simply shrugged at her. Dropping the magazine on the floor, she cautiously stepped over snaking wires and tape, making her way out on stage, to a few dull cheers. It was true that she wasn’t particularly liked amongst the fans. Internet forums and websites had dubbed her a bitch and various other high school remarks. She was hated. Truly despised amongst fans, who all claimed Eric could do better, offering themselves up instead.
She watched Eric take her hand in his and lower himself onto the floor. He bent down on one knee and Ashley felt her stomach drop. This wasn’t what she wanted. She liked Eric, yes, but their relationship was built on pure lust not love, and the fact her celebrity status was growing, she was more like a parasite than a girlfriend, feeding off his ever growing fame, desperate for more.
“Ash, sweetie, we’ve been together for what seems like eternity to me. You really are the love of my life, and I know it’s not been years or anything like that, but I know that I really love you. And I couldn’t imagine loving anyone else in the same way. So Ashley, in front of all these people, will you marry me?”
NO!
She stuttered, looking around at the wide eyed crowd. Some girls had pure poison in the looks they handed to her on a silver platter. She looked up to see Nick standing there, looking puzzled and Justin, shaking his head, mouthing the word that she so desperately wanted to say.
“Yes,” she nodded her head. Eric pulled a ring out of his pocket and placed it onto the correct finger a wide smile adorning his face. He pulled her into a hug and kissed the side of her head, before setting her free and allowing her to walk off stage. Humiliation over.
She looked at John. “What the hell did I just do?”
♠ ♠ ♠
Okaaaay, time to get serious, this is the last introduction, so this will be the last chapter for a bit. I don't know how long. I have presentations and reports and original works to write, and it's all getting a bit much right now. So, do stick with it, I hope it'll be worth it, even if chapters are far apart.Shows I don't proof read, completely forgot to put Andrew's surname in there, so thank youuu for pointing that out for me.