That Girl

Hoping to avoid a car argument of epic proportions, I rode with Panic! in their little rental Nissan. We followed Rian, who led us to a small burger joint off of 2nd and Rockfield, and as we came in, smashed a few tables together as a big ego struggled to make it through the door and fit his rude self down in the seat across from me. I sat between Ryan and Matt Flyzik, not really having the energy to join into the conversation.

I opted to drink my sprite, just as Ryan was sipping on his water.

"So," Alex began with a plotting grin, "how long have you two been fucking?" The question was rhetorical, meant to get a rise out of me and make Ryan uncomfortable for casually slinging his arm over my shoulder.

Sure, it had accomplished that, but there was a fine line between what I'd tolerate and what would earn people an all-out brawl.

Ryan choked on his Cherry Coke, and his arm slipped off my shoulders swiftly. It took him only a brief moment to recover as I hissed across the table, “Your sheer lack of tact astounds me.”

“Says the girl who has the dirtiest mouth in history.”

“I wouldn’t be talking, Gaskank.” Whatever truce we may have had these last few days was out the window, “You’re the one dropping f-bombs left and right.”

“At least I’m not whoring myself around and acting like everything’s without strings.” Again? Really? He knew the outcome of when he’d said this last. Ryan stiffened next to me.

“Take that back.” Ryan growled.

Both of these two were the only ones in the diner who knew about my past. I froze. He knew. And he still had the nerve…

I jumped out of my chair, not caring that it clattered backwards and fell to the ground. The table fell silent. Wordlessly, I made my swift way around the table, grabbed Alex by his sweaty t-shirt and yanked him outside.

“What, are you going to throw yourself at me now?” He laughed as I dragged him to a small alley. I whirled around and punched him in the jaw.

“You’d better be on drugs, you bastard.” I growled. “High as a fucking tree.”

“Totally sober, love.” He smirked, stressing the last word. If I weren’t about ready to rearrange his pretty boy face, I would have laughed at his lame attempt at an insult.

“What is wrong with you?” I exclaimed, “The moment I tell you my past, you rub it in my fucking face?!”

“I call it like it is.” He smirked, “Got a problem?”

“Yes, I do, actually.”

“Well, sorry then.” The sarcasm dripping from his statement… oh good god. I had no suitable reaction to that, so I settled for narrowing my eyes and getting up in his face.

“You know what?” I said, my voice was at a lower octave than his could ever achieve, “I’m done with this. The moment I think we might become friends; you just throw it in my face in the way that you know will be excruciating. I’m sick of you.”

“Good, you’ve done enough intruding. Go back your band of fuck buddies.” He sneered.

I slapped him, straight across the face before turning, “Have fun finding a new producer to put up with your shit, Alex.”

*.*.*

"So you're coming home now, again?" Pete sighed through the phone, and I knew him well enough to picture him pinching the bridge of his nose, seated in his LA office with his feet up on the desk. There was a heavy sigh, "You can't keep running from your problems, Stella."

"Who said I'm running?"

"Jack did."

I bit my lip, pausing to conjure up some sort of suitable retort when all my reasons- excuses- seemed to be rather petty all of a sudden.

"You can't just punch the singer in the jaw and then up and leave."" Pete said. Well, when he worded it like that... "There has to be a reason for him being such a... well, to put it in your words, a doucheface."

I, try as I may to not be amused, doubled over, clutching my stomach as Pete said that. I mean, I was a potty-mouthed teenager, so combinations of curse words in my vocabulary were common and expected, but with Pete...

It just... Well, it was funny, hearing my word out of his mouth.

"Regardless," Pete sighed at my immaturity, how easily amused I was, "you've still got things that you have to figure out with this band."

"Like what?"

"What's Alex's inspiration?"