The Plan
Fifth Day of Tour
“Kelly! Kelly, slow down! God damn you woman, stop running!”
“Simone!” I wailed, shrieking down the streets of whatever godforsaken city we were in now. Andy finally reached me, wrapping strong arms around my waist. I doubled over in what had to be physical pain. “Simone, please come back!”
I wasn’t sure how I’d decided to run down this particular avenue nor was I sure about how far I ran. It became apparent though, as Andy tucked me into his side and led me back in the direction we’d came, that I had ran for a long time.
Eventually, my ragged breathing, sniveling, and sobbing subsided. It left me with a cold, hard edge that had me numb inside. My cynical, calculating side returned full force and swift and even now I could feel any warmth and charm draining from my body.
“Aren’t you going to run away too?” I asked harshly. He sighed deeply.
“It’s not you that I’m mad at Kell, it’s him. And if Simone had any sense she wouldn’t have run off like that, it’s not gonna solve any problems,” he answered. I smiled at the response but it lacked any real emotion beyond satisfaction.
We walked back into the venue, a line was now forming outside. We showed our passes to the men behind the door, who let us in quickly before grumbling to themselves. We stopped short, Andy shaking his head and my heart pounding.
“This isn’t gonna solve any problems,” I echoed, observing the path of destruction. The Devil Wears Prada’s merch table was ruined. The table was flipped and a few shirts were ripped. Through the wide double doors that showed the venue’s stage was where we saw the real problem.
Simone and I had bought the spray paint four nights ago, on the first night of tour. We had been planning on spraying all of the boys’ clothes black. Now, the backdrop that was to be used all throughout the tour displayed in bold, black letters: Fuck Mike Hranica.
I almost smirked in pride of my usually passive best friend. I knew, however, that some blame still rested on me. In the middle of the floor stood the angry girl, screaming profanities at Mike. His nose was bleeding somewhat profusely and she was being held back by Chris and Alex. Mike stood there blankly, trying to defend himself.
“You’re a disgraceful pig Mike! I treated you with nothing but respect and showed you nothing but love and there you are being a whore in the bathroom!” she shrieked.
“It was a mis—”
“Oh okay, it was a mistake? You didn’t mean to? Shut the fuck up, do I look like I came down with last night’s rain? You went in there with every intention of kissing her and I can’t even believe it. I never thought of all people that you would be the one to betray me,” she spat, shaking her head in disgust.
Mike didn’t deny anything and his protests and mild attempts at explaining disappeared. His own anger seemed to flare and he left, lifting a few fingers to brush his nose gingerly. With her target missing, Simone’s eyes set on Andy and I.
“Really Andy?” she asked. In the short distance I could see a raised eyebrow. “You went after her? Pathetic.”
“She didn’t do anything wrong Simone, you need to calm the fuck down.”
“She didn’t do anything wrong? Last I saw her she was upstairs kissing my boyfriend!” My anger rose as did the bile. Before I could defend myself, Andy cut in smoothly.
“Last you saw her your boyfriend followed her upstairs to kiss her. Calm down Simone and try not to burn bridges you’d be better off keeping,” he instructed. She shook her head and shook off the boys holding her.
She strutted across the floor, passing us by without a second glance and making a dramatic exit. It was silent in the giant room as we all looked at each other, shocked. Andy heaved a sigh and the rest of the crew grumbled.
“Well, now we’re in a pickle,” Andy stated. I couldn’t help but whole heartedly agree.
“Simone!” I wailed, shrieking down the streets of whatever godforsaken city we were in now. Andy finally reached me, wrapping strong arms around my waist. I doubled over in what had to be physical pain. “Simone, please come back!”
I wasn’t sure how I’d decided to run down this particular avenue nor was I sure about how far I ran. It became apparent though, as Andy tucked me into his side and led me back in the direction we’d came, that I had ran for a long time.
Eventually, my ragged breathing, sniveling, and sobbing subsided. It left me with a cold, hard edge that had me numb inside. My cynical, calculating side returned full force and swift and even now I could feel any warmth and charm draining from my body.
“Aren’t you going to run away too?” I asked harshly. He sighed deeply.
“It’s not you that I’m mad at Kell, it’s him. And if Simone had any sense she wouldn’t have run off like that, it’s not gonna solve any problems,” he answered. I smiled at the response but it lacked any real emotion beyond satisfaction.
We walked back into the venue, a line was now forming outside. We showed our passes to the men behind the door, who let us in quickly before grumbling to themselves. We stopped short, Andy shaking his head and my heart pounding.
“This isn’t gonna solve any problems,” I echoed, observing the path of destruction. The Devil Wears Prada’s merch table was ruined. The table was flipped and a few shirts were ripped. Through the wide double doors that showed the venue’s stage was where we saw the real problem.
Simone and I had bought the spray paint four nights ago, on the first night of tour. We had been planning on spraying all of the boys’ clothes black. Now, the backdrop that was to be used all throughout the tour displayed in bold, black letters: Fuck Mike Hranica.
I almost smirked in pride of my usually passive best friend. I knew, however, that some blame still rested on me. In the middle of the floor stood the angry girl, screaming profanities at Mike. His nose was bleeding somewhat profusely and she was being held back by Chris and Alex. Mike stood there blankly, trying to defend himself.
“You’re a disgraceful pig Mike! I treated you with nothing but respect and showed you nothing but love and there you are being a whore in the bathroom!” she shrieked.
“It was a mis—”
“Oh okay, it was a mistake? You didn’t mean to? Shut the fuck up, do I look like I came down with last night’s rain? You went in there with every intention of kissing her and I can’t even believe it. I never thought of all people that you would be the one to betray me,” she spat, shaking her head in disgust.
Mike didn’t deny anything and his protests and mild attempts at explaining disappeared. His own anger seemed to flare and he left, lifting a few fingers to brush his nose gingerly. With her target missing, Simone’s eyes set on Andy and I.
“Really Andy?” she asked. In the short distance I could see a raised eyebrow. “You went after her? Pathetic.”
“She didn’t do anything wrong Simone, you need to calm the fuck down.”
“She didn’t do anything wrong? Last I saw her she was upstairs kissing my boyfriend!” My anger rose as did the bile. Before I could defend myself, Andy cut in smoothly.
“Last you saw her your boyfriend followed her upstairs to kiss her. Calm down Simone and try not to burn bridges you’d be better off keeping,” he instructed. She shook her head and shook off the boys holding her.
She strutted across the floor, passing us by without a second glance and making a dramatic exit. It was silent in the giant room as we all looked at each other, shocked. Andy heaved a sigh and the rest of the crew grumbled.
“Well, now we’re in a pickle,” Andy stated. I couldn’t help but whole heartedly agree.
♠ ♠ ♠
Lame as fuck ending.