His Personal (Lover) Assistant
Decoy.
“Douche called,” Someone announced, as I shut the door, and walked into the living room.
Just what I needed, I thought, walking into the kitchen. Bob sat there, with Ray next to him, eating a plate of French Fries, which were probably mine.
“What are you doing here?” I shot a look at them both, turning around, and getting a mug of coffee, pouring milk into it.
“Bella called,” Bob shrugged, eating more fries.
At the mention of her name, Bella came running in, whining at my feet to be picked up. “Bella’s just a dog,” I rolled my eyes. She whined again, and I looked down. “Aw, daddy didn’t mean that,” I cooed, picking her up. She licked my face in forgiveness.
“Okay, I give, we were hungry,” Ray said, taking another fry.
“So you steal my food?” I asked, eyebrow raised.
“He seeks your presence, at seven o’ clock,” Bob said aloud, staring at the clock on the wall. We both turned to him, confused, and he finally looked at us. “Douche,” He said. “Douche seeks your presence at seven.”
“Great,” I muttered. “Just great. I had plans.”
“What, sit and mope around with Bella?” Ray asked. I glared at him.
“I was going to invite you over, maybe for pizza and beer,” I told him.
“Well, you’re not now,” He mused, laughing at me. I glared again, and pointed to the door.
“Out. Both of you,” I said. Ray pouted, and stomped to the door.
“Fine! Remember that when you’re broke and starving!”
“That won’t happen again! I have a job.”
The door slammed at this, and I looked down at Bella, who was sitting there patiently. “Looks like it’s just us Bell.” I ate a few fries.
XxX
I hated this place. It reminded me of my grandparents place when I had to spend all my summers there if my parents were trying to rid of me. It made me nervous, antsy even.
“Who are you?”
Not only are the rich people mean, and rude, but the services that work for them are usually mean, rude, and bitter. I groaned inwardly, and smiled pleasantly at her. “I’m Frank Iero, Gerard’s p—“
“I know who you are,” She interrupted. “Come on.”
“You don’t say I could just run, and you say you never saw me?” I asked, squinting my eyes shut. She turned to look at me.
“I have two boys, and rent and heat to pay. I get paid five bucks above mini wage and hour? Can you top that?”
“Not on your life.”
“Then no!”
…. “What are you wearing?” Douche cried as I walked through his office door. I looked down at my ripped jeans, and Black Flag shirt. Converse decorated the entire theme.
“Street clothes. You know, normal people wear them?” I gave a sickeningly sweet smile, and a earned a dirty look from Douche. He groaned.
“That’s not good enough! Think, Armani!”
“Think, Prices!” I snapped. “I haven’t got money falling out my ass like you.”
“I figured that,” He shrugged. “Which is why I got you this,” he handed me the Armani suit. “For the dinner party tonight.”
“Dinner party?” I asked blankly.
He looked at me, “Yes. I left you a note Iero.”
I’m pretty sure I probably threw it away, along with the five thousand other Post-It notes stuck on my desk back at the office, and never even glanced twice at it, thinking it was old. Call to confirm mom’s appointment. Call to confirm dinner reservations for Sophia and I. Pick up dry cleaning. Call Mr. Silverman. I hate this fucking job.
“No note,” I shook my head. “You left me no note.”
“I’m sure I did!” He snapped. “You just ignored it.”
“Gerard,” I looked at him. “I had plans.”
“Well,” His million-dollar-grin fades. “They’re canceled now.”
I gaped at him. He can’t just do that, can he?
“Now, go change your clothes, I’ll meet you in the study in twenty minutes. The should be enough time to fix that hair.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust, hurrying off. “Bathroom’s to the left!” He called.
“I like my hair!” I shouted after him. “A LOT!” But he ignored me.
That was the thing about Douche. Or, better known to some people, as Gerard Way, money sucking, power seeking, stupid bastard. He ignored you, no matter what, unless it was something offensive towards him. He was greedy. He was obnoxious.
Greed, is a Dirty Thing.
Just what I needed, I thought, walking into the kitchen. Bob sat there, with Ray next to him, eating a plate of French Fries, which were probably mine.
“What are you doing here?” I shot a look at them both, turning around, and getting a mug of coffee, pouring milk into it.
“Bella called,” Bob shrugged, eating more fries.
At the mention of her name, Bella came running in, whining at my feet to be picked up. “Bella’s just a dog,” I rolled my eyes. She whined again, and I looked down. “Aw, daddy didn’t mean that,” I cooed, picking her up. She licked my face in forgiveness.
“Okay, I give, we were hungry,” Ray said, taking another fry.
“So you steal my food?” I asked, eyebrow raised.
“He seeks your presence, at seven o’ clock,” Bob said aloud, staring at the clock on the wall. We both turned to him, confused, and he finally looked at us. “Douche,” He said. “Douche seeks your presence at seven.”
“Great,” I muttered. “Just great. I had plans.”
“What, sit and mope around with Bella?” Ray asked. I glared at him.
“I was going to invite you over, maybe for pizza and beer,” I told him.
“Well, you’re not now,” He mused, laughing at me. I glared again, and pointed to the door.
“Out. Both of you,” I said. Ray pouted, and stomped to the door.
“Fine! Remember that when you’re broke and starving!”
“That won’t happen again! I have a job.”
The door slammed at this, and I looked down at Bella, who was sitting there patiently. “Looks like it’s just us Bell.” I ate a few fries.
XxX
I hated this place. It reminded me of my grandparents place when I had to spend all my summers there if my parents were trying to rid of me. It made me nervous, antsy even.
“Who are you?”
Not only are the rich people mean, and rude, but the services that work for them are usually mean, rude, and bitter. I groaned inwardly, and smiled pleasantly at her. “I’m Frank Iero, Gerard’s p—“
“I know who you are,” She interrupted. “Come on.”
“You don’t say I could just run, and you say you never saw me?” I asked, squinting my eyes shut. She turned to look at me.
“I have two boys, and rent and heat to pay. I get paid five bucks above mini wage and hour? Can you top that?”
“Not on your life.”
“Then no!”
…. “What are you wearing?” Douche cried as I walked through his office door. I looked down at my ripped jeans, and Black Flag shirt. Converse decorated the entire theme.
“Street clothes. You know, normal people wear them?” I gave a sickeningly sweet smile, and a earned a dirty look from Douche. He groaned.
“That’s not good enough! Think, Armani!”
“Think, Prices!” I snapped. “I haven’t got money falling out my ass like you.”
“I figured that,” He shrugged. “Which is why I got you this,” he handed me the Armani suit. “For the dinner party tonight.”
“Dinner party?” I asked blankly.
He looked at me, “Yes. I left you a note Iero.”
I’m pretty sure I probably threw it away, along with the five thousand other Post-It notes stuck on my desk back at the office, and never even glanced twice at it, thinking it was old. Call to confirm mom’s appointment. Call to confirm dinner reservations for Sophia and I. Pick up dry cleaning. Call Mr. Silverman. I hate this fucking job.
“No note,” I shook my head. “You left me no note.”
“I’m sure I did!” He snapped. “You just ignored it.”
“Gerard,” I looked at him. “I had plans.”
“Well,” His million-dollar-grin fades. “They’re canceled now.”
I gaped at him. He can’t just do that, can he?
“Now, go change your clothes, I’ll meet you in the study in twenty minutes. The should be enough time to fix that hair.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust, hurrying off. “Bathroom’s to the left!” He called.
“I like my hair!” I shouted after him. “A LOT!” But he ignored me.
That was the thing about Douche. Or, better known to some people, as Gerard Way, money sucking, power seeking, stupid bastard. He ignored you, no matter what, unless it was something offensive towards him. He was greedy. He was obnoxious.
Greed, is a Dirty Thing.