That Girl

The next few days passed without much conversation at the dinner table, and I tried not to let it bother me. Alex was a stubborn leader, of course he wasn’t used to people like me actually taking the initiative for his little band-kingdom. Mrs. Gaskarth made this clear when I was helping her with laundry on her day off while Alex was at school. I’d decided against going with him to school, because I knew it’d probably go over just like the last time.

“You know, dear,” Mrs. G told me, folding a pair of her jeans, “I know my son’s got a stubborn edge to him, but he means well.”

I didn’t reply for about thirty seconds, because it was difficult to think of a suitable thing to say, “I suppose.” I focused on folding the flannel shirt I’d stolen from Zack.

She set down a piece of cloth I couldn’t identify, looking at me, “He’s just, well, he doesn’t really know how to react when people reach out to him.”

I hummed in agreement, remembering my words to him on his gated and barred comfort zone.

“And dear, if you are leaving, I hope it’s not because of him.” Oh, mothers and their subtle ways of wrapping you around their fingers and guilting you into staying.

“Mrs. G.” I said, setting down a pair of Alex’s folded jeans, I sighed, “I don’t even know what I’m doing here anymore.”

“Well why don’t you try to figure it out before you leave so soon? Mr. Peter said it was only something you could do, and I believe him. You and Alexander are so much alike, I think that only you’ll get through that stubborn shell of his.” She told me with an odd twinkle in her eye.

"Okay. That's reasonable." I raised an eyebrow before nodding in agreement… Women.

*.*.*

I was on the phone with Ryan on the patio the first time Alex tried to talk to me after the incident.

“Stella, come on-.” He was being extremely irritating and inconsiderate, interrupting my conversation with Ryan while the poor songwriter on the other end was going through a fucking panic attack.

“One moment please, love.” I murmured to the emotional guitarist before turning to glare. I pulled the receiver away from my mouth. “I’m busy Gaskank, and I don’t really want to talk to you at all right now. Or ever. So just leave.”

Yeah, Brendon’s maturity thing was probably just a futile attempt to make me civil. I wasn’t really applying it to anything as of late. Oh well. The front man of Panic! had tried his best.

“I really need to talk to you-.” Gaskarth said, looking somewhat desperate. What? Had he lost his song book and expected to be allowed to use mine? Or maybe he’d finally come to terms with the fact that I was leaving in a day and a half.

I don’t bluff. I’d booked the earliest ticket home. The weather’s nicer on the West coast anyways this time of year.

“I don’t really care. Whatever it is that’s important to you is less important than this call, I assure you.” I sneered. Mouth close to the receiver once more, I told Ry in a hushed tone, “No, no, don’t worry about a thing. I’m here for you. The lead singer is just being an ass.”

“Stella, I can call you back later if you’d like…” He sounded a bit pained, and I knew exactly what he was going through. The grief… It felt like it was yesterday when I was wallowing in it. Alex took the phone out of my hand, and I was frozen with shock and uncontrollable anger as he said:

“Could you? Sorry man, but I really need to talk to her.” And like always, Alex took the lead when he had no right to, and Ryan submitted to the commands of others.

Why else would he hide behind Brendon’s voice like he did? He was ultimately scared of the world, as I’d deducted by his reaction to touring.

“You- you,” Words couldn’t flood out of my mouth quickly enough as he shut my phone and slipped it in his pocket. His Pocket! “Dammit, Gaskarth! I will smash your face in!”

And I was dead serious, but he rolled his eyes, “Calm down, Wentz.” to which I slapped him. Hard.

I seemed to have a tendency for doing that lately, huh?

“You have no idea what you just interrupted-.”

“You can fly back to LA and meet up with your boyfriend later; we need you in Baltimore-.”

“Really, are you that daft?!” I screeched, “Ryan’s touring, you fucking idiot! And we’re not dating either!” I really hoped the Gaskarth adults weren’t home, because I hadn’t cursed in quite a while, and it was all-too easy to slip back into my bad habit. “He’s going through an awful time right now-.”

“What, did his girlfriend break up with him? Or did he miss a chord playing one of their shitty songs?” He asked rhetorically, equally as angry as I was. He backed me up against the wall in a matter of seconds. I was beyond violence now.

“Insulting them is insulting me, in turn, Gaskank.” I said darkly, my voice reaching the lower limit of my deeper octave, “Not everyone’s life is picture - fucking - perfect like yours, he’s been through more bullshit than your ignorant little mind could imagine, let alone comprehend.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” He whispered angrily, eyes looking a bit swimmy. Oh hell no, he was not about to cry over something like a comment about his complete and utter naiveté. He pinned my hands above my head. Oh, so now he thought he was in control?

You have to be shitting me. I tilted my head up in defiance. It takes two to tango. “You're all talk, you can't act like you're calling the shots. I know plenty enough, because I’ve lived in this house for two and a half weeks, Gaskarth, and-.”

“Did you know you’re sleeping in my brother’s old room?” He asked rhetorically. He had a brother?

“You have a brother?” I blinked, “What does that have to do with anything?!”

“Never mind.” He seemed to have regained his composure, and he let me go, walking off.

I sat down, still letting all that had just occurred sink in. He probably had wanted to say something, but our argument strayed from his point of interest, so he let it go. Or had I offended him? It didn’t matter. All of it reached one basic point, Alex was a walking travesty, and I’d just fucked up. Bad.

*.*.*

All the tension in the house was starting to get to me. All conversation was strained and terribly awkward small talk took place between Mr. and Mrs. G. Even the slightest vocalization at the dinner table would make everyone jump. It was my fault.

I needed to talk to someone. Someone in particular. And that someone was calling me in the middle of brushing my teeth.

“Hey Ashlee.” I greeted after spitting out my toothpaste. I washed off the toothbrush before setting it in the mug in the corner.

“Hey, Stella. You texted me to call you… so what’s wrong?”

I didn’t directly answer the question. Out of character though it was, I had been hoping to beat around the bush, but Ashlee was like me in that she was frank. I let out a heavy sigh. “How do you deal with Pete when he starts acting bitchy?”

“Is that lead singer giving you trouble?” She asked as I poured myself some Listerine. Ashlee was quick, I'd be the first to admit.

“You could say that.” I shrugged before sipping the strong liquid.

“Well my… methods wouldn’t really be appropriate for you to use.” She said, and I could almost feel her face heating up. “Unless you and that boy are a couple.” I nearly dropped the phone in embarrassment, and the Listerine was suddenly intolerable.

Thus, I did a spit take.

“What the fuck, Ashlee?!” I whisper-yelled, wiping my mouth clean. Well that broke the ice. Mrs. G came into the room, asking of I was okay after the loud noise of me hitting my fist against the granite counter and bacteria killers exploding from my mouth. I smiled and waved. “I’ll take care of it.” I grabbed a rag from under the sink and wiped down the wet counter as she left. “Ashlee, that is absolutely disgusting.”

She giggled, “Not when-oh well, I shouldn’t say that.” I rolled my eyes.

“Whatever.”

“So what exactly happened between you two? Because what Pete told me was just the condensed version.” She inquired curiously.

“He’s being… difficult, for lack of a better word.” I sighed, “He thinks he has everything taken care of, and isn’t willing to consider my opinion.”

“Well, lyrically-.”

“No, Ash.” I shook my head, “It’s not that. I wouldn’t dare touch his lyrics. They scream him, and he’s progressing creatively faster than I do. It’s just that he’s secretive.”

“Like with his songbook?” She asked.

“No, with his band mates. It makes no sense. He lets me read his lyrics, a complete stranger, but he’s known Jack and Rian and Zack for ages, and none of them discuss the process together at all. Alex writes all the stuff they’ve recorded, but the other guys have their own independent projects.” I let out a huff. “I just don’t get it.”

She was quiet for a moment before she said, “Oh.”

“What?”

“He wants your approval.”

“Why the hell would he-?!”

“If I told you why, you wouldn’t believe me. I’m not quite sure why myself, but he probably trusts you because you’ve written songs yourself, so you understand the struggle.” Ashlee said, and damn it, it made sense.

“Ashlee, that is probably the most insightful thing I’ve ever heard you say.” I told her seriously, to which she protested and we exchanged farewells.

“Don’t abuse whatever power you have over him, though. That could ruin any chances he has with sharing it with others.” She warned before disconnecting the line.

Was she foreshadowing something? Did she expect me to flip a bitch and do something reckless?

Yeah, probably.