Frank Iero, You Are My Hero

“Jesus Christ, Mercy! Do you have enough bags?”

She turned her blue eyes on him, narrowed, daring him to say something else about the fact that she had roughly ten bags. It was three months! She had to have clothes for every occasion. Not to mention shoes, makeup, and accessories. Bob was out of his mind if he thought she was going to bring any less than five bags.

The large tour bus was pulled up in front of the apartment building that she lived at, and people were starting to stop and stare. A few foundation-caked teeny boppers were also milling around, attempting to get a good look at who was the famous person, and once they figured that out, wondering if they were worth the time to get autographs from. It made Mercy want to throw up, to be honest. She did not go to college for this. This wasn’t her. She knew it wasn’t. But Bob had asked so nicely. He had used that voice, that sad ‘my puppy just got ran over’ type of voice. The one that always got her.

They guys loaded all her shit beneath the bus, rushing to make sure that the girls didn’t recognize them before they had a chance to run for cover. Not that they didn’t love their fans. They did with all of their little black hearts. But that didn’t change the fact that it was nine a.m. On a Saturday. None of them were feeling all that friendly, to be honest.

Mercy tossed the one bag that she was holding underneath the bus, then climbed up the slightly padded steps that led into the recesses of the My Chem tour bus. Her nose wrinkled in disgust. It smelled like moldy ass on there. Did they seriously not wash their clothes? Her blue eyes caught sight of someone’s wrinkled underwear beneath the small kitchen table, and she resisted the urge to gag. That was one thing they were going to have to fix. Now. There was no way in hell Mercy was going to be living in this sort of filth. And nor was she going to be a damn maid.

She heard the men’s voices as they came onto the bus, laughing and joking about Mikey, who damn near got raped right outside the tour bus. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Poor Mikey looked horrified, like his innocence had just been taken away from him. In a strange way, it made her want to go over and hug him. But Mercy was a stickler for no touching. Don’t touch her, and she won’t touch you.

“You guys live like animals!” Mercy exclaimed, fists on hips.

Frank turned towards her, directed his hazel eyes on her once more. The sunlight coming in from the slightly shaded windows glinted off of his lip ring and for a second, Mercy went insane. For a second, he actually looked…cute. Her upper lip curled. No. No. No. NO. Frank Iero was NOT cute. He was a disgusting, irritating, piece of slime, good for…

“Mercy? Earth to Mercy?”

She blinked a few times, realizing that she had gone into her own little Frank-hating world, and Ray was now waving a hand in front of her face. The other four members of the band were staring at her like she had just sprouted horns and was now proclaiming herself as the Devil herself.

“Lost myself for a minute there,” Mercy exclaimed, a sheepish smile coming over her face.

“We could tell,” Frank said, shaking his head as he moved past her, grinning.

“Oh eat shit, Frankie,” Mercy replied, rolling her eyes.

A few of the guys chuckled. Hardly anyone spoke to Frank like that. Except for the rest of the men of the band. But that was different. They were guys. Frank liked to pretend that he was a man whore, that all females liked him and thought he was a sex god. Mercy, however, didn’t. It was a bit of relief, actually. Finally, there was someone who would put Frankie in his place.

Merc moved over to the small, black leather couch and folded herself into it. Bob sat next to her, laying his feet into her lap, while Mikey sat at her feet, leaning against her slender legs. The driver started up the bus and she could feel it shake as the engine attempted to get warm. She couldn’t even remember where it was that they were going. She didn’t really care. To be honest, she just wanted to get away from New York. She wanted to get away from everything that she had known for the past four years. Mercy didn’t really want to be doing it with them, but there was no way she could back out now.

“So, where exactly are we going?” Mercy asked nonchalantly as she watched Frank wrestle with a jar of peanut butter.

“Detroit. That’s where the next concert is. Although we’re stopping in DC for a photo shoot,” Gerard answered, not even looking up from the sketchbook that was in front of his face.

That was the only thing she liked about Gerard. His drawings. They were so gorgeous, so well made. Mercy had always wished that she had a special talent like that, but the closest she could ever come to was faces. She couldn’t do music either. Mercy believed that she was the only one in the Bryar family who was tone deaf. She wouldn’t know what pitch was if it came up and kicked her in the ass.

*******************************

The day seemed to pass very quickly, as well as the night. Although, Mercy didn’t sleep all that great. She was so used to her big, fluffy bed, that the tiny ass bunk that she had to cram herself into was so uncomfortable. She felt like she was sleeping on a piece of plywood. She reminded herself to buy egg crates in DC, so that she would have something a little more nicer to sleep on.

She was awoken by a swishing noise, and then bright light erupted onto her face. She squinted, trying to figure out who was right in front of her. Luckily though, the light seemed to fade and Mercy’s blue eyes opened wider, only to see Frank Iero’s face three inches from her own. Mercy jumped, hitting her head on the bunk above hers.

“Fuck, Frank! Did you have to get so damn close?!” she exclaimed, rubbing her head, wincing as tears of pain came to her crystal blue eyes.

Frank erupted into laughter. “Of course I did, Mercy,” he responded shortly before skipping off into the living room. Yes, he skipped. Quite nicely, too.

Gah! Maybe she had a concussion. Frank Iero did not skip nicely. He didn’t do anything nicely, the annoying prat. Groaning, Mercy crawled out of her bunk and made her way into the living room, not even caring that she was still in her pajamas, which consisted of a pair of flannel shorts and a wife beater. Nor did she really care that her hair was probably a mess. Who in the hell was she trying to impress? Certainly not anyone on the bus.

“Holy shit, Merc! Put some damn clothes on!” Bob exclaimed, reaching over to cover Mikey’s eyes, which had been on Mercy’s long legs.

Mercy just rolled her eyes as she reached up for a coffee mug. Like most of the guys, she was highly addicted to coffee. She had to have it to survive. And not just one cup. Oh, no. She drank it all through the day. Otherwise, she was bitchier than usual. And that wasn’t a pretty sight. Mercy poured herself a cup, added her cream and sugar, then once more folded herself on the couch next to Mikey, who’s eyes were still covered by a gawking Bob.

She scowled at him for a second, then let out an exasperated sigh, handing him her cup of hot coffee. “Geez, you guys act like you’ve never seen a girl before,” she complained as she stood. Looking around, she realized that it wasn’t just Mikey and Bob who had been staring at her, but every single one of the guys had their eyes glued to her. It suddenly made her feel uncomfortable as she stood there, biting her bottom lip.

Much to her dismay, the only person who made her feel self-conscious was Frank. Those hazel hues staring at her made her feel like perhaps he was looking into her soul. Mercy scowled at herself. Since when the hell did Frank’s eyes ‘look into her soul’? It was Frank for crying out loud! She hated him!

Or did she?