Sequel: Gerard Way: Artist

Frank Iero: P.A.

Thirty Two

Getting out of bed this morning took a lot of self motivation on my part. Since Gerard’s very skilled retort to my argument yesterday, all I’ve been able to think about is the idea of me sucking him off in the middle of Alicia and Mikey’s wedding reception. The news was a useless distraction, I couldn’t focus on writing the song I’ve been perfecting over the past few weeks... my mind kept wandering back to a vision I really wish was impossible to imagine. Sleep came too easily and I fell into dreams, a.k.a. nightmares, that I couldn’t escape.

Facing Gerard this morning terrifies me, but I know that there’s less of a chance of those dreams flashing through my mind if I’m occupied with my work. I intentionally enter the office ten minutes late, knowing full well that Gerard will be seated at his desk engrossed in his work by time I arrive. The first thing I notice is a post-it note stuck to my computer screen.

Two canvases outside the studio to be mailed to the Oheka Castle.


Two? He must have been up all night to have gotten that much done. Oh, well, what do I care? He is entitled to do whatever he wants with his time.

There’s a sack of fan mail propped up against the wall that I intend to get stuck into answering as soon as I check our inbox for anything vital. Although, perhaps answering letters in the voice of Gerard Way when I’m this resentful is not such a good idea; who knows what will come out of my mouth – perhaps Gerard’s real personality. But you know what? People deserve to know what he’s really like. Why should I have to be the only one to suffer through his tumultuous attitude?

Choosing to ignore Gerard’s note, I get on with the rest of my work. There were only two things of great interest in the inbox, which I dealt with without needing to speak to Gerard. I slowly made a dent in the stack of fan mail, plus set up a few interviews with the most annoying journalists that I’ve spoken to before – just another way for me to get back at the man in the next room. As nine o’clock approached, Gerard left his office to head upstairs to his studio. When he saw I was answering fan mail and not doing something slightly more productive, I was fixed with a glare from his narrowed hazel eyes before he continued on out the door.

By way of protest, I waited until eleven before trudging upstairs to collect the canvas for the Oheka Castle. They’re propped up against the wall opposite the studio door. I pick one up and gasp in awe as I realise it’s a portrait of the castle itself. He’s used a technique that makes it seem like it was painted centuries ago, and I’m swept away by the sheer talent he has to create such a piece in so little time. The second canvas is of the courtyard from the perspective of someone driving in under the arch, the bonnet of a classic car visible at the bottom of the canvas. This one also incorporates the aging technique. How he managed them both in such a short period of time is beyond me.

The studio door is pulled open suddenly, Gerard appearing in the hallway and startling me.

“I see you’re finally doing what was asked of you,” he says in that irritable tone I’m slowly becoming accustomed to receiving.

“Funny,” I say, “I don’t remember seeing a question mark on the note you left me.”

“When I’m paying you as much as I am, nothing I say to you ever has to be a matter of question.” He hands me a white envelope. “That is to be sent along with the canvases.”

He makes his way back into his studio, but I’m determined to have the last word.

“If I remember correctly, you’re not allowed to fire me, so I see no reason why I can’t do things on my own schedule.”

The door is ripped open and he reappears, a similar expression on his face to when I pounded on his hotel room door yesterday.

“Ellie means a lot to me, but if I see fit to fire you then I will do so, especially if you’re not doing your job the way I need it to be done,” he says sharply. “Don’t forget, I found you on a train; I can find someone far better than you with little more effort than it took me to employ you.” He takes a step toward me, looking menacing. “Don’t push me.”

My heart races as he, after a long pause, swivels on his feet and retreats back to his office. I clutch the canvases to me and run – literally – back to my office. I’m shaken, and I really shouldn’t be, but that look... those eyes... his words...

I bury myself in my work, determined not to run into Gerard again. I’m back to the good, obedient little P.A. I was weeks ago. Now I’m fearful that I will lose my job, and for some unknown reason I’ve done a complete one-eighty from my attitude yesterday. I want to keep working here. I don’t want to completely lose Gerard out of my life, I just want to be able to understand him better and understand why things have changed in the way that they have. I’m not who I used to be and that scares me. Something tells me, as much as I wish it weren’t true, that he’s the reason for that. I need to be here to discover the reason.

***


I lie on my bed, my day of personal assisting done. I skipped lunch, and dinner. The prospect of food hasn’t really hit me as something to take on board. My mind has been concentrated firmly on work, with the occasional flashback to a series of looks I’ve seen up close on Gerard’s face lately. I’m certain they will haunt me in my dreams tonight as well.

There’s a knock on my door. Knowing it could only be Gerard, I thoroughly consider feigning sleep until he goes away. However, working for him for this long, if nothing else, has taught me that Gerard never goes away. He has little patience and even less respect for personal boundaries. Which he just proved, as my door is now and he’s making his way into my room.

“You and I need to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk,” I reply honestly, rolling onto my side with my back to him to emphasise this.

“Neither do I,” he says, “which I why I said ‘need’ and not ‘want’.”

My bed shifts and I feel the weight of Gerard’s body next to mine. I look over my shoulder, finding Gerard next to me with his hands wringing themselves in his lap; he appears nervous and doesn’t make any attempt to look at me.

“Unfortunately, we can’t continue pretending that things between you and I haven't changed. I acknowledge that that is mostly my fault for kissing you. I understand why you feel awkward around me – I can’t say I’m too comfortable myself – but the reality is that we have to work together,” he says authoritatively, but still with that soft hint of understanding, “so we’re going to have to find a way to be comfortable around one another.”

“Would you be happier if I quit?” I ask, dreading the answer that’s sure to come, but watching for his answer anyway.

He shakes his head. “Happier? No. More relaxed? Yes,” he admits. “I want us to have another go at being friends.”

"Do you honestly think it's possible?"

"No, but I think we should try anyway," he replies softly, looking at me for the first time since he sat down.

This gets my attention and I roll over to face him. “And what happens if it doesn’t work?”

He shrugs his shoulders hopelessly. “That’s not something I’m prepared to think about right now.”

Gerard gets to his feet and heads for the door. Not another word is uttered before the door clicks back in place and he is gone.
♠ ♠ ♠
My apologies for this chapter being put up about 12 hours later, and being shorter, than usual. It's the last week of my second year of university so it's assessment central right now. Five are due tomorrow - two I've submitted already, and three I've still got to finish. I hope you enjoy what I do have, and I'll do my best to give you a much longer update next week.

Remember, you can still submit your fan art for this story to me - I've yet to set a deadline. See Chapter 31 for more details on how to do that.

Coming up in Frank Iero: P.A. ...

Gerard's expression goes stony, his mouth slack.

No... please, God, no... not now.