The Tick Tock of the Clock

Wandering behind Pete, I dug through the bag slung over my shoulder as he hurried along due to the cold marble floor on his bare feet. His arms were raised as if he was wadding through ice cold water.

“You should’ve put your shoes on.” I sighed pulling out his notebooks and folders, along with his cell-phone knowing he was going to die with out it as soon as he noticed he didn’t have it on him- much like his shoes. “Don’t give me that look.” I hissed not even looking up at him. Knowing because he wasn’t gasping from the cold floor that he’d stopped to glare at me.

“You scare me sometimes.” He whispered softly, taking the items from my hands slowly as I reached him. “You know that right?” He pressed following me slowly, hissing at the cold.

“Is that why your phone message tells me to stop calling you?” I shot back glancing over my shoulder at him as he snickered lightly.

“Yez.” He muttered childishly.

“Come on, you’re going to be late.” I sighed stopping to wait for him.

“Bite me.” He snapped flipping me the birdie.

Crossing my arms over my chest I raised a brow at him as he watched his feet take slow cautious steps. For a full grown man he often makes me wonder how many times his mom dropped him on his head.

“You know if you focused more on speed then on the floor you’d get to the meeting on time.” I smirked at him as he glared at me, still going slow. “Or shall I go ahead and inform them you’re going to be late due to the fact you’re so much of a spaz you can’t remember to put on shoes?” His brows narrowed lightly, as once again he flipped me off. “Is that a yes, because that’s a 'Go the hell away' in most situations for you.”

“You know what.” He snapped pointing at me as he finally passed me and kept moving. “Don’t make me fire you.”

“Oh, I’m shaking in my boots.” He glared back at me and my sarcastic remark. Smirking I glanced at the floor then back up at him, rather proud of myself.

“You can’t be shaking in your boots, your not wearing boots.”

“Its figure of speech you moron.” I whispered just behind him. “And Trick moves faster than you when he first wakes up.” Pete whirled on the spot pointing at me with inflated cheeks. “Have I insulted you?” I pressed, he nodded.

“And Trick moves slower then smell!” Pete snapped spinning around again stocking off ignoring the cold marble floor for once.

“I’ve been on tour with you before. Smell appeared rather quickly in that packed bus and I blame you for the smell.” The remark left my lips before I could even think. It seriously was far too early to deal with his split personalities.

“I had spicy tacos!!” He yelled over his shoulder at me.

“And whose fault was that?”

“Yours’” Scratching my head I licked my lips. Honestly I couldn’t see how it was my fault he’d had spicy tacos before hand that day. I’d meet him at Trick’s parents place and where the bus was picking everyone up at. I didn’t even take him for breakfast or lunch that day. “You took me the day before for those tacos and I craved them.” He clarified.

“I’m sorry your taste buds and your stomach don't talk before they decided what they want and what might or might not settle with you. I’ll get right on that.”

“You’re being very mean and sarcastic this morning…” He paused as he placed his hand on the door to the meeting room. “Do you need Midol?” he whispered leaning down towards me, hand placed over his mouth, pretending to be worried.

“Don’t make me hurt you.” I hissed at him. Nodding he threw open the door smiling at the rather old audience around the long table, staring at the blank white board Pete had the building set up for him.

“Hello Gentlemen!” He smiled at them laying the Pete Wentz charm on as he walked around the table, waving and smiling a smile only car-salesmen should be able to pull off. It was too friendly, too perfect, and slightly sinister. “Today we are here to talk about the expansion of a great clothing brand. And do you know why?” Pete asked as he reached his white board at the end of the table, leaning on it. “Do you?” He asked as I took my seat against the wall, eyes darting to his bare feet before back at his face.

“Because you want to.” An elderly man muttered softly leaning back in his seat. Pete snapped standing up straight ready to speak. “But I want to know why, Mr. Wentz, why you’re not even wearing shoes?” Pete paused looking at his feet then back up. I wanted to see him get out of this one.

“There is a very good reason why I’m not wearing shoes!” Pete stated. “And yes, one because I want to, a two we are missing critical pieces of clothing in the line.” Pete stuffed his hands in his pockets nodding slowly as he clicked his tongue. “I’d be wearing shoes right now gentlemen, if we had a pair of shoes in the line and sadly enough we don’t. But this morning I woke up and decided I wanted Clandestine shoes to wear, but then I realized,” Pete paused, crossing his arms over his chest lightly, one hand at his mouth as he shrugged softly. “All I had are my Nikes. I don’t wanna wear Nikes! They don’t have a sweet logo or that much style.” Tipping my head sideways I watched Pete lick his lips trying to run with this, his favorite shoes were Nikes. “We need to expand! Not how we sell, not how we make or ship. We need to expand what we have clothing wise… and how we sell, make and ship. But that’s not the point.” He muttered quickly. “The point is, if you had to wear something other than nice loafers for a day wouldn’t you wanna wear Clandestine slippers with a nice soft lining and leather, with a nice little clandestine bat on the back by the heel? I mean what would be more comfortable, stylish and affordable!” He passed. “Tell me gentlemen, what would be better? Well right now anything and everything because they don’t existed! But I want them too, don’t you?”

Pete slung bull for the next twenty minutes before the meeting ended and the board left leaving us both alone in the conference room, staring at there retreating backs through the frosted glass windows.

“Where’d I go wrong?” He muttered softly. Scratching his head as he stared at the papers in front of him; he’d gone through them as best he could. “How could they tell me no?” He asked glancing at me.

“In order?” I muttered softly watching him as he waited for me to continue. “I think they made up there minds when they watched you walked in barefoot. Second, because Clandestine Industries is run by a board.” I muttered softly, watching as he sat down and hid his face in his hands with a groan.

“Why does it have a board?” The words were muffled by his hands, but I understood them none the less.

“Because, last time I checked they were there to keep your spending in so you wouldn’t go bankrupt on the line, have to sell everything and then live on the streets like a hobo while the guys funded the next record move with the new owner of the record label.” Groaning he threw himself back into the chair roughly, rocking it several times as he thrashed around like a little kid having a tantrum.

He froze, arms crossed over his chest, legs tucked up, cheeks puffed out, brows narrowed as he glared at me. Tipping my head sideways I waited for him to give his childish comment.

“I hate the board. They never let me do what I want!” He muttered in a small child-like voice as I watched.

“And your parents never let you stay up late and kick it with your friends when you sixteen.” I smirked at him as he spun the chair so he wasn’t looking at me, nose in the air. “Pete, they do keep you in check.”

“I wanna get rid of them.” He snapped.

“You do have the power to suspend or fire them, they work for you.” He nodded.

“I’ll suspend them and take away their allowance.” He nodded standing up and grabbing his papers. “And you’re giving me your shoes.” Laughing I crossed my arms over my chest staring in disbelief.

“I’m what?” I hissed at him as I ran my tongue over my teeth still trying to understand why I had to give up my shoes, or even how he was going to fit his huge size eleven or twelve feet into my small size five or six shoes.

“Shoes, hand them over midget.” He snapped placing his hand out. Laughing I turned walking away. “I’ll fire you! I will!” He hissed at me, spinning I stared, my lips pursed lightly.

“If you were going to fire me it was six months ago when Panic at the Disco was here and I had them come over with their drum set to wake you up, or A year ago when I hit you with a frying pan.” I snapped spinning on my heels as he snapped his fingers knowing I’d won this argument like many others we’ve had. “Now lets go, or I’ll call Jessica to get you moo-” I froze as my hair fluttered and Pete went flying past me towards the front of the building. “Oh dear lord.” I whispered, laughing softly at how fast he was moving.

“Don’t call her!” He yelled at me as I slid into the car. Laughing I smirked at him. “Step on it Tom! She called Jessica!” He screamed. Slapping at him, I pointed at him I glared.

“Stop it, I didn’t call her.” He sank into his seat; hand on his chest as he took slow deep breaths. “But I will if you give me reason to.”

“I totally won’t! I promise I’ll be a good boy!” He gasped waving his arms around.

“Can I know where I’m going?” Tom muttered looking back at us from the driver seat.

“Closest shoe store.” I muttered facing Pete pointing a figure at him. “You have a shoot today with the rest of the guys, don’t be an idiot you don’t want another tabloid problem; so no sex with anyone that works there in any of the closest.” I muttered he nodded opening his mouth. “I don’t care how hot, or how much they beg you or offer to pay you. If I find out you did something stupid not only will I call Jessica, I’ll call your mother who will give you a rashen of crap.” I hissed at him as his mouth dropped open and eyes went wide. “So you better keep that promise and be a damn good boy ‘cause if you screw up your mother calls me and chews me out. I’m your assistant not your babysitter, got it?” I glared as his snapped his mouth closed, placed his hands in his lap with ridged shoulders and wide eyes.

“Got it…” He squeaked nodding lightly.

“Good. Now I’m not going to be there because I’m going to be working on Beckett’s birthday party you wanted me to plan for tomorrow. I’ll be back by,” I pulled my phone out looking at my calendar, before back at him. “Eleven. The shoot’s an hour, but right now since we have time, we’re going to stop to get you shoes.” I sighed.

“Thanks.” He smiled hugging me. Grunting, he laughed patting my head. “You’re kinda scary, you know that?” He questioned tipping his head sideways.

“So I’ve been told.” I whispered as the car stopped on the curb. “Come on.” I sighed as Tom waited for us to get out so he could find a place to park and wait for us to call him once we were done with shoe shopping. “Go, be free.” I stated absent mindedly as I waved my hands at the doors.

“I need a size…” Pete turned to me as I sat on the bench in the store, bored out of my mind. It’s been twenty minutes, I figured he’d buy the same pair of Nikes he always wore, but no he had to look through every shoe they had first before deciding he wanted them. “What size shoe do I wear?” He asked lightly, laughing softly as the woman laughed lightly too.

“Eleven or Twelve.” I sighed hanging my head. “Hurry up we gotta go.” I growled at him.

“Yeah, yeah.” He huffed sitting next to me. “I want these to fit.” Pete muttered lightly draping an arm around my shoulders lightly pulling me into his chest. “So where’s this studio at?” He muttered lightly looking down at me.

“Edmund Studios a few blocks over, and no we can’t walk.” He snapped lightly. “Where is that woman? We seriously have to go.” I muttered craning my neck to see where she’d gone. “Like now.”

“We got time don’t worry.” Pete laughed hugging me tightly, nearly choking me. “Stop stressing or you’ll have grey hair before your twenty-four.” I stared up at him blankly.

“I dye my hair for a reason.” I muttered. “I’ve had grey hair since after the first six months of working with you.” He bobbed his head as he placed his hand over his mouth focusing on what I’d just said.

“That sucks.” His words were slow and drawn out as he glanced down at me. “Oh yay! Shoes!” He squealed springing up as the woman came back. Clapping he stomped his feet a bit. “I love you.” He gasped at her sitting back down and tearing the box open. “Oh…” He moaned softly as he pulled them out. “They have that new shoe smell.” I watched his eye lids fluttered slightly.

“Can you do them later and put them on already?” I asked nodding he slipped them on.

“They fit.” He muttered pointing I waved my hand a bit. “I know I’m paying.”

“No, no… well yes, but walk in them a bit to make sure they feel good.” I muttered, nodding he stood up walking around in them. Giving a thumbs up he wandered to the counter to pay as I pulled my phone out calling Tom.

“Do you think I should have gotten different shoes?” He asked as we wandered out of the store to the crowded street waiting for Tom to pull up. I could see the car trapped back in traffic.

“Come on.” I muttered walking towards it.

“Well I do own like four pairs of these shoes now.” He stated lightly. “It does seem rather redundant and lacks a certain fashion quality with having the same pair of shoes.” He whined lightly as I hurried through the rows of traffic and opened the car door sliding in and waiting for him.

“I say if it works, it works and stick to it.” Nodding he smiled as I leaned forward to Tom. “Edmund Studios.” Nodding he waited for the traffic to move.

“I guess…” He whispered as I gazed out the window. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He smiled