If Only Until Morning

You know that old banana peel gag? In a cartoon, someone peels a banana and carelessly tosses the skin over her shoulder, into the path of an unsuspecting victim, walking along minding her own business.

Well, replace the banana peel with a t-shirt, carelessly with malevolently, and walking along minding her own business with concentrating on executing a complicated bass solo. Congratulations, you have what Alison did to me.

Luckily Jesse was nearby and abandoned strumming to keep me from falling off the stage onto the barrier. He almost choked me to death, but he saved me from possibly breaking my bass and my neck. I was more worried about the bass though; I would murder if anyone hurt Frigga.

Yeah, I named my bass. After the wife of a Norse God. Gotta make Daddy proud somehow.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" Alison squealed once we exited the stage. "You should watch where you're going, you're so clumsy." She smiled viciously, and I glowered in return as she turned to hang off Jesse. "You're a hero, Jesse! So brave and strong!"

Jesse grinned sheepishly, ruffling his hair in the back like he always did when he got nervous. "It was nothing," he pardoned.

Alison cooed--cooed!-- "And so modest! What girl wouldn't want to--"

"Don't you have some place to be?" I interrupted pointedly, disgusted at where her insinuations might have gone. "Like, oh, I don't know, at the booth doing your job?" She sneered at me covertly and detached herself from Jesse's arm. "You know, your job: that thing we're paying you for?"

She made a repulsed noise in my direction and beamed at the guys. "See you later, sweeties."

I inwardly gagged as she tramped away, swinging her hips like a streetwalker during rush hour. Not able to keep silent anymore, I rounded on the guys and stated, "She's a bitch, and I don't want her here."

This, for some reason, took all of them aback. "Beg pardon?" Sean asked incredulously.

"She's been nothing but a raging bitch and conniving whore since she showed up, and I won't stand for it any longer." I straightened my posture, arms crossed. "The first thing she said to me alone was offering me help with quote 'that filthy rat's nest on my head'. She sneers at me all the time and gives left-handed compliments, she stole all of my underwear and humiliated me in front of the entire tour, she hits on Ryan in front of me and purposefully takes him away from spending time with me, she's never at the booth like she's supposed to be, and just now," I finished, pointing at the stage, "She threw that shirt on stage so I would slip. I could have died!"

Sean and Jesse were staring with wide-eyed skepticism, but Matt was smirking. Suspicious? You know I was. "What the hell is so funny?" I demanded of him.

He shook his head. "You're jealous," he said, starting to laugh. I gaped at him, putting my hands on my hips. Matt patted my shoulder. "It's okay, Pen. I understand: you're used to being the only girl and getting all the attention, and now that there's someone else, you're jealous." He snickered again and started to leave. "I always knew you acted a little bit like a normal girl."

I stormed after him, Sean and Jesse following, and grabbed his arm. "You think I'm making this up?" I said incredulously. "That I'm lying just to be the centre of attention?"

"It sounds a little like you're pulling the classic 'make the other chick look bad so I look better' routine," Jesse put in. I spun to stare at him.

"It is a little out of the blue, love," Sean agreed hesitantly. "I've never seen 'er be anythin' but pleasant."

I gaped at all three of them. "None of you believe me?" I asked in disbelief. I faltered for a moment, watching the expressions of cautious disbelief, mild annoyance, and outright amusement on their faces. "But... proof!"

"We play pranks all the time, Ange," Jesse said impatiently. "Ali just wanted to be one of us."

"And she's a flirt, so what?" Matt added. "So am I."

"Not with people who are spoken-for!"

"Maybe she doesn' know," Sean said, looking around at the people walking past us.

"You're just being paranoid," Jesse assured me.

"And it's not like you're doing anything to make her feel welcome," Matt continued, sounding increasingly heated. "All you do is glare at her and accuse her of things. Maybe you shouldn't point fingers, Pen, when you're to blame."

I took a step back from them, hurt. Incredibly hurt. "You really don't believe me," I repeated softly. I shook my head resolutely. "I'll show you. I'll prove it--"

"We don't want to hear it, Angie!" Matt exploded. A few people stared. My throat tightened. "Just drop it. I've known Ali for years. You're wrong."

I met his gaze fiercely and tilted my chin up. Opening my parasol silently, I turned on a heel and strode away from the group. If they didn't trust me, I didn't want to be around them. They'll come around eventually, I told myself.

The effect of my dramatic exit was risked when I realised that I was headed straight towards the merch booth-- where I definitely didn't want to go-- but I didn't want to turn around as I would have to pass the guys again and embarrass myself. Luckily, I spotted a head of wavy brown hair exiting the backstage area of the nearest stage.

"Hello, William," I greeted, stopping beside him. He turned, apparently expecting a fan, and smiled when he saw it was I. I slipped an arm through his. "Walk with me."

"What's with the umbrella?" he asked as we moseyed.

I rolled my eyes up at him, smiling. "First of all, it's a parasol-- learn the difference-- and second of all, you should know I burst into flames if I'm in the sun longer than ten minutes."

William laughed. "Try two." I mock-glared, but couldn't help grinning. I liked William. Our first encounter wasn't exactly what you might call "pleasant", but somehow I warmed up to him. Took longer than the rest of the band, but whatever, it happened.

Might have something to do with my inability to look at him without wanting to giggle, but that's another kettle of fish entirely.

"So where are we going?" I posed.

"I was just wondering that myself," William informed me. "Hold on." He slipped his arm out of mine and laid it across my shoulders. "Much better." I rolled my eyes at him; he, among many other males I knew, had a strange fixation on having their arms around me, and I had yet to figure out why. "How about we go gather up the usual suspects and see what fun we can mix up?"

Shaking my head, I allowed him to steer me to the left. "You're still hell-bent on getting me on TAI TV, aren't you?"

"You got it, Princess."

And try as I might to hide behind various tall people and things, I still couldn't shake Jack following me around with the camera. Eventually I gave in to Michael Guy Chislett's advice-- his name is so fun to say-- and just let him film me.

"So tell us your name and band," he prompted. This was shaping up to be an incredibly informal interview and probably wouldn't make the cut, for which I was eternally grateful.

"I'm Angie Callaghan, and I play bass and sing for Penny Dreadful."

The Butcher, standing out of the camera shot, rephrased. "She's Penelope and she's the female Sisky Biz. Only sexier."

"Ouch," Carden laughed as Sisky made a sad face at The Butcher.

"So how do you like tour so far?" Jack continued.

"Tour is fantastic," I said, twirling my parasol. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

Sisky ran into the shot, sticking his head on my shoulder, and said in a high-pitched voice, "Tour sucks. I'd rather be in Canada hitting on Mounties." And then darted off.

I grinned. "Well, I am a sucker for sexy accents." Jack swung the camera over to Chislett, who smiled and wigged his eyebrows.

It was hard to hear Jack's next question over the laughter. Fortunately for him, Ryland Blackinton was on the scene. "Is it true that bassists make better lovers?"

"You better believe it, sugar," I joked, winking at him. I laughed and decided to answer it seriously. "I don't know. I'm not dating a bassist."

Then they all reacted like twelve year-old girls-- or twenty-something year-old guys-- and hooted. "So you have a boyfriend?" Jack asked, trying to keep some semblance of order to the scene (and failing).

"I think the question burning on everyone's mind," Gabe declared, "what everyone wants to know is, how's your sex life?"

"No, I think that's just what you want to know, Saporta," I sniped, smirking. The guys all laughed, and Butcher jumped in beside me, licked his finger, and made a hissing sound. I shook my head, still grinning. "You're not actually going to use this, are you, Jack?"

"Maybe," he answered, laughing from behind the lens. "This interview's a lot better than I thought it'd be."

I stuck out my lower lip, pouting and twirling the shade I carried on my shoulder. "You boys are mean," I said in a childish voice. "I don't wanna play with you anymore."

"Aww, c'mon," Michael urged. "We're having fun 'ere."

"So tell us, Pen, have you started any tour beefs with anyone?"

I shot William a brief look before answering; I'd brought up Alison on the way to find people and he protested that he didn't want to get involved in drama, especially between girls. "Started?" I repeated. "No. Gotten involved in? Yes, but hopefully it'll resolve itself soon enough."

"That's no fun," Gabe complained, coming to stand next to me.Stupid tall boy. "The people want to see their favourite redheaded bassist throw down in a catfight. You're a people-pleaser, right?"

"Gabe, I met you this morning. You are at exactly no liberty to assume I'm a people pleaser or anyone's favourite redheaded bassist."

"You're my favourite."

"She's the only one you know," Ryland pointed out.

Gabe shrugged in his giant purple hoodie. "Still my fav." He put an arm around my shoulder and beamed at the camera. I looked up to the sky and rolled my eyes, eliciting more laughter from our companions.
Nothing like silly boys to take a girl's mind off serious boys. Funny how that works, isn't it?