I Need Him, My Gerard

“Can I get you anything Mr. Iero?” The waitress asked me, and I lifted my head just long enough to reply to her.
“No thanks, I’m good with the coffee,” I mumbled. I even forced out a smile, see how nice I am?
“Are you sure? You look tired, maybe I could get you a pick me up?” She asked, smirking. I rolled my eyes. She was one of those types or waitresses.
“Coffee is a good pick me up, thanks again,” I said and she sighed.
“I was thinking a slightly more pleasurable pick me up, I get my break in fifteen minutes, we could go in the back rooms,” she said, winking suggestively. Her face was literally a startling shade of orange against her neck and her eyes would barely open for the amount of mascara she was wearing. Her bleach blonde hair had a hint of green to it, like chlorine had washed it and she hadn’t bothered to re-colour in a while. I couldn’t think of anything more repulsive than this plastic. I certainly didn’t want to fuck her.
“Err, no,” I said simply, done with the pleasantries, and done with trying to be polite.
“Come on, I’ll make it so worth your while,” she purred and I laughed.
“Look, I’m sorry but you couldn’t be farther from my type,” I said and she glared.
“What’s your type then?” She spat and I grinned.
“Well, very pale skin, green-blue eyes, longish raven black hair,” I said, picturing Gerard in my mind. I could never, never want anything more.
“Oh yeah? Bet this stupid Goth girl has tiny boobs,” she sneered, practically shoving her stupid boobs in my face.
“Actually, you’re right, because my incredibly sexy boyfriend has no boobs whatsoever thanks, and that’s just the way I like him. Bet he has a bigger penis than you too, seeing as he is massive.” I laughed and she went pale with shock.
“OMG your gay? That is so fucking disgusting!” She shouted and I closed my eyes.
“No need to make a scene love, don’t want to have to alert your manager, you’d probably hate to get fired,” I said and she bit her lip.
“Yeah, probably. People like you, are so fucking disgusting. You don’t deserve to be alive,” she spat lowly, her eyes narrowing impossibly.
“Know what? I’m done.” I said, getting up and going towards the cash register.
“Can I speak to management please?” I asked the lady behind the register.
“Of course sir, was our service not satisfactory?” The coffee was good, its my waitress I am making a complaint about.” I said and the waitress behind me bustled round the till, panic in her eyes.
“Hey Linda, don’t bother listening to him,” she said hurriedly, and I smirked.
“Oh, do listen Linda. Your waitress friend here came onto me, insulted me and then showed serious homophobic beliefs towards me. She told me I didn’t deserve to be alive, and she insulted my boyfriend, which I take extremely personally.” I explained and ‘Linda’ growled.
“Cathy, I have told you and told you about this damnit! You are not to come onto customers.”
“Hey, can you blame me? I thought he looked easy,” she said, shrugging. I rolled my eyes at her and turned to Linda.
“Manager, now please,” I said and she bit her lip.
“Of course, one moment sir,” she said, disappearing behind the counter.
“You’ll regret this,” Cathy spat and I laughed lightly.
“I’m sure I will… when will that be exactly? When I’m playing with my highly successful band? When I’m fucking my hot boyfriend?” I asked and she made a vomiting noise.
“Y’know, you truly are the scum of the earth. I hate you. You are a sick, sick man and you deserve to die!” She said and I laughed, hard. Right behind her stood Linda and a guy in a suit. He had long dark hair with a little stubble, and was glaring vehenemently at Cathy.
“You have some explaining to do,” he said, glaring at her harder, if that were possible.
“Yes sir, sorry sir,” she said, going bright red under her orange foundation face.
He turned to me and smiled warmly.
“Hello, I am Bert McCracken, I run this place. I am so sorry for the way you were treated, rest assured the waitress will be dealt with in the best way.”
“Which is?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.
“Instant termination of her work here, and a hearing,” he said and I grinned.
“Excellent, I’ll pay and be out of your hair, I have a million things to do today,” I said and he smiled.
“Coffee is on the house for your trouble,” he said and I nodded in thanks, before exiting the shop and making my way to the next place on my list. I flicked open my phone and dialled the number from on the card pinned to my dashboard.
“Hello, Torrisoto’s how may I help you?” The friendly, posh female voice said.
“Hello, I am Mr. Frank Iero, I would like to book a table for two tonight under the name Iero,” I said.
“Right, Iero. What time?” She asked.
“8 ‘o’ clock, please,” I said and she nodded.
“Alright, that’s all set. Enjoy your dinner,” she said.
“Thank you, I will,” I said, clicking the phone shut.
I had to go to the florists and pick up a bouquet, the candy store for a tacky box of confectionary hearts and then finally, to Warren James. Nothing, and I mean nothing had ever felt more right, or exciting, and I just wanted to get on with it.