Smiling at Everything

Jazz hopped onto the couch in the dressing room backstage, energy drink in hand. Her band mates and the members of All Time Low filed in behind her. Both bands had finished sound check moments before they decided to find their joint dressing room, which only took a few minutes. They had been in enough backstage areas to find their way around easily.

The couch cushion sunk with each of Jazz's jumps, her chest bouncing slightly in her Spiderman-influenced top. It was quite similar to the actual Spiderman costume in that it had a spider in the center and web designs flourishing on red background. However, like most of Jazz's tops, it cutoff between the base of her bra and her bellybutton, showing off a good deal of her stomach. Ended with a pair of blue booty shorts and red stilettos, she looked more like a stripper than a keyboardist.

But her friends expected her to dress that way.

"Spiderman," Dorian yelled, jumping onto the couch with Jazz.

He too was dressed in Spiderman-influenced attire: a tight red top with similar design to Jazz's, bright blue skinny jeans, and red shoes. They bought the clothing at separate times but decorated the shirts together in Neon's home while the lead singer wasn't home and successfully left the home a mess.

Alex let them in.

Jazz forced a giggle of delight, jumping on the couch with her partner in crime. Dorian had been the easiest member for her to get along with when she met everyone. At the time, he had been faking a good deal of his bubbly behavior due to his lack of positive coming out experience. He wanted his friends to think he was fine, that he could cope with what was happening to him. He and Jazz connected well together.

However, they had one major difference in their situations. Aside from them being related to different forms of abuse, everyone knew about Dorian's negative coming out; no one knew about Jazz's experience.

"Sit down," Lestat commanded.

Jazz gasped, overdramatic as was her normal fake gasp, "Spiderman, I've found our arch nemesis, Lex Luthor."

"Quick, find a rope," Dorian exclaimed.

"Lex Luthor definitely belongs to Superman," Dante stated, cocking his eyebrow.

"And," Arpeggio continued, "you wouldn't need a rope if you were Spiderman because you would have web powers. Just saying."

"There are our other arch nemeses: Poision Ivy and Mr. Freeze," Dorian stated.

"That's Batman."

"I can see Jazz in the Poison Ivy outfit, not Arpeggio," Neon said.

"Because she's you're sister," Alex returned.

"Well, there's that but Jazz also seems more suited for the outfit."

Jazz found no offence in Neon's statement. Of course she was better suited for the Poison Ivy outfit over Arpeggio. The drummer never dressed in clothing as revealing as Jazz.

"Hello," Jazz said, motioning to her body, "Spiderman."

"Except for the fact that you're not a man," Alex pointed out.

"They're killing my dreams," Jazz yelled, falling to a seated position on the couch.

Dorian collapsed next to her, patting her back, "Its okay, Spiderman. Superheroes cry too."

"No, they don't," Arpeggio stated.

"Neon, control your sister. She's ruining the lives of superheroes everywhere," Dorian commanded.

"That's Jack's job. I've got two kids to handle," Neon returned.

"Your kids are asleep," Dante pointed out.

During the sound check, the twins decided sleep was far more entertaining than listening to their parents sing. They had been awake most of the early morning, apparently keeping Neon and Alex up during the moon-light hours.

"They'll be awake soon," Neon stated, sitting in one of the empty lounge chairs with Novella in her arms.

Alex perched on the arm of the chair Neon sat in, Armand cradled in his arms. Jazz wondered if Alex was ever cynical of the fact that Neon named their first-born son after her ex-boyfriend. He never seemed to care much that Neon had picked the names for their children, nor did he seem to care what names she picked out. Then again, the twins were likely Neon's only chance at having children; Alex wasn't the type to stand in the way of Neon's total happiness over baby names.

Jazz didn't know if she would ever have children, if she would ever get over the pains of her past to have children. She wanted to. Though her ultimate goal in life wasn't to be a mother, she wanted to have kids. Not just one, as her parents had. She wanted three: a boy and two girls. But getting over her disgust with sex wasn't likely to happen. It had been years since the events that caused her the pain she was going through happened and she still wasn’t over it.

She didn't know if she ever would be over it.

An arm nudged Jazz's shoulder, diverting her attention from the wall to the culprit of the distraction. Zack stared down at Jazz from his seat next to her. Jazz couldn't remember him sitting down. Her eyes glanced around the room; everyone was seated, chatting on topics she wasn't aware of. She couldn't remember any of that happening. Had she been so lost in her thoughts that her surroundings faded into nothing?

Well, that had been happening on most occasions as of late.

Jazz smiled her thanks to Zack, knowing he was the reason she didn't switch to a set of unwanted memories while spacing out. He nodded. Zack knew Jazz had been out of it. He had gotten used to watching her to make sure nothing too sever happened to her during her episodes.

A vibration ran through Jazz's chest, making her jump. Zack watched as she reached down the front of her shirt without care and extracted a cell phone.

"You keep your cell phone in your bra?" Zack asked.

"It's convenient," Jazz returned, glancing at the caller ID.

In bold letters, the word "mother" stretched across her phone's screen. Why was her mother calling her? The woman never called Jazz when she was on tour. Her father never did either. Unless it was related to some important news about the items they bought her.

Smile still on her face, Jazz slid her phone open and held it to her ear, "Hello?"

"Jazz, would you be a dear and tell me how to get to your dressing room?" her mother's voice pumped into her ear.

"We aren't informed of the layout of backstage areas before we get to venues," Jazz responded, "I can give you general directions if you tell me which concert you'll be attending"

It made no sense for her mother to be asking such information before telling her which venue she was showing up at. That was relatively important information for Jazz to know.

"We're attending the one tonight and we are backstage wandering around because there is no help back here to guide us," her mother stated, "Robert and I would like directions."

Jazz's eyes widened, a nervous laugh pushing past her lips, "You're what?"

Her mother and Robert could not be there. Not tonight. They gave her no warning. And it was only the first concert. She was expecting them to show up towards the end, not the beginning.

"Oh, there's your father. Perhaps he can be good for something and help us find you. Never mind, dear."

The line went dead before Jazz could respond. Jazz pulled the phone from her ear, staring at it in disbelief. Her father, mother, and Robert were in the building on their way to the dressing room.

And she was dressed like a stripper.

Jazz shot off the couch, grabbing her backpack. She had packed a set of nice clothing in case of an emergency. It had been an afterthought when leaving the bus but she was glad she had followed her instincts.

"Neon, cover for me," Jazz commanded, rushing to the bathroom attached to their dressing room.

"Are you serious?" Neon asked.

She knew what "cover for me" meant. It was a coding they used throughout their childhood and part of high school when Jazz didn't want to get caught going against her parents' rules. Barely in her early twenties, Jazz was still afraid of breaking her parents' rules.

But Neon understood, which was more than could be said about the rest of the band members in the room who were watching the scene curiously.

Jazz stopped in the doorway of the bathroom, "Would I be scrambling to the bathroom if I wasn't serious?"

"Shit," Neon drawled.