Just Friends

I pulled into one of the parking places at the studio and was met by Rob at the door. He smiled at me. "Hey."

"Hey," I answered, smiling a little back. We made our way down some florescent lit halls until Rob opened a door for me.

"Welcome to the studio," he said.

It was a dimly lit room with a piano, drums, and a crap load of guitars and other studio-y stuff.

Mike stopped whatever he was playing on the piano and turned to us. "Hey, Jen." When he said that the first thought that popped into my head was: Mike Shinoda remembered my name! I felt like freaking out, but I played it cool and just smiled and waved.

Dave(or Phoenix, I wasn't sure what to call him yet) and Chester were lounging around, not seeming to be too much into the creative process. Chester jumped up from his comfy chair. "Its Rob's girl!" he exclaimed and threw a smart-ass smile–I'm sure–at Rob before looking back at me. "What's up?"

I shrugged. "Just hangin', I guess." I handed him my camera. "Rob told me to bring pictures from you guys in Portland. Thought you might want to see them." Chester nodded and took the camera, then went off into his own little corner.

"You want anything to drink?" Rob asked opening a mini-refrigerator.

"Water?" Rob grabbed a bottle and tossed it to me. I took a swig and sat down in the first available space–behind the drumset.

"You still remember how to play?" Rob asked, sitting on a stool beside it.

I quirked an eyebrow at him. "Doubt it."

"Why don't you try?" he pressed pressed. Was he trying to embarrass me?

"Yeah, play us a song!" Chester yelled from his corner, skimming through my pictures.

"I'll suck."

"Do it!" Mike called from his spot at the piano. "I want to see how good a teacher Rob was."

I reluctantly picked up the drumsticks that had been left on the kick drum. Thinking, I spun around on the stool, which was way too tall for my short butt. I tried to recall one song I could remember from the deep chasms of my mind. I stopped in front of the drums as a song hit me and began "Wipeout". I screwed up in a few places, but, hey, I did good for not playing since high school.

When I stopped I got some applause from the guys and I smiled a little. I continued to tap on the drums, an old feeling of happiness returning. We talked about the random stuff like how the writing process was going, what it was like to live on tour, and meeting crazy fans. Teal came up during the latter conversation. For the moment, Rob and I were back to joking like we always had, like nothing had ever changed. Of course, it can't ever last long.

Mike was teaching me the beginning of "In the End" on the piano when the door opened and in stepped Miss Hollywood herself. She was nicely tanned with a perfect hour glass figure. Her raven hair was what you saw in a Treseme commercial.

"Hey, guys," she greeted with a perfect white grin. I noticed she saved a special look for Rob. They all greeted her with a smile.

"Hey, Sam, this is Jen. Jen, Sam. She works for Warner,” Mike introduced us.

Sam offered her manicured hand and I took it, offering my own friendly smile. "Nice to meet you. What do you do for these guys?" she asked.

"Oh...I don't do–"

"She's our new private documentary photographer!" Chester piped up from his corner as he continued to go through my pictures.

"I'm your what now?" I asked, turning to look at him.

"We'll pay you," Chester said, coming over and handing the camera to Mike. "We've been thinking about putting up some regularly updated photo journal thing. It'd be fucking awesome with your skills! And I know you're dying to hang out with us." He grinned.

"Well, It'd be awesome, but I have a job..."

"You could come over whenever it works for you," Mike said, he and Dave now captivated by the little glowing screen of my camera.

Sam bent down to whisper in my ear. "Sounds like they really want you. You should totally do it."

I looked over my shoulder at her then back at the guys. I caught Rob's face in the corner of my eye. It was somewhat tense. What was he thinking? Whatever it was, I wasn’t going to worry about that now. "Sure," I grinned. "Why not?"