American Candy

“I simply don’t like them,” Matthew Healy, the outspoken lead singer of the British band, The 1975, stated. “They sound gastly,”

George rolled his eyes.

“Matt, this is the fifth band you’ve hated. Stop being so damn picky.”

“I will not,” Matty said firmly, picking up a cigarette and placing it delicately on his chapped lips. “I want a band, not some pop shit.”

It was Adam’s turn to roll his eyes.
“Do you have anyone in mind, Matty?”

Matty actually did have a band in mind, but he knew the lads would most likely roll their eyes before giving the band a proper listen. Inside of replying to Adam, or Hann, Matty pushed the man out of the way to get to the laptop sitting in front of George. He smacked his friends hands off of the keyboard, and effortless typed in what he needed.

“For God sake, Matty.” Ross huffed. “Not this bloody band again,”

“They’re good,” Matty snapped back. “G likes them.”

“G does,” George laughed, eyes crinkling as they always did. “But I don’t think we should tour with them.”

Matty pulled a face at his best friend before finding the song that he wanted the entire band to listen to.

“This, fucking this is the band we need! They’re music needs to be heard! It needs to be shouted from the fucking rooftops and sobbed to whilst mending a broken heart. This is music lads.”

Hann gave a unassured look at their lead man.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Matthew,” He stated. “They’re young. Maybe when they’re old enough or tall enough to reach the bar then we’ll talk,”

“They’re not fucking ten, Hann,” George laughed again. “They’re...I mean they’re still bloody teenagers, but they are old enough to drink,”

Matty smirked; nearly satisfied. The band knew that he was right. He could practically feel it. He knew that he was going to get his way; that’s just how he was.

“Matty, man are you high?” Ross asked, laughing.

“Maybe a little,” He laughed, slamming shut the laptop. “Good, that’s settled.”

“Wait!” Hann called. “We didn’t talk about it!”

Matty turned to flip him off.

“Too bad, Charles already called them”

“Fuck you,”

“Gladly,” George smirked, laughing a little as Hann rolled his eyes and left the opposite direction. It was a successful day, Matty must have admitted.



“Yes, yes of COURSE!” Bexley, or X as she is known as, yelled into her shiney black iPhone. “Fuck...oops...sorry. Yes, we’d love it. Yes, yes… okay thank you!”

On the other side of the room Larkin and Nirvana were working on new music for Weekend Misery, their all-girl grunge rock band. By work, Lark was laying on the floor with her legs in the air and propped against the ugliest army green couch. Nirvana was actually sitting on the couch with a notebook perched in her lap, however she was making spit balls and shooting them at Maize.

Maize happened to be curled up on the other side of the room with a book in her hand, her auburn hair falling in her face. Nirvana gave up when she heard X yelling so loudly into the phone. She stopped her spit-ball escapade and swooped her hair into a messy bun. Lark, however, continued to look blankly at the ceiling.

Writers block never hurt so bad, Lark thought.

“What in the hell was that about?” Nirvana spoke first, giving her friend a look.

“That was… Charles Reed..” She trailed off and all of the girls looked at each other before back at X. “Fuck...he’s the manager for The 1975,”

“What?!” Lark all but shouted, turning her body quickly. She narrowly missed Nirvana’s head. “What the hell, X?! What happened?”

“Calm your tits,” Maize stated, closing her book up. It was To Kill A Mockingbird, naturally. “What did this Charles guy say?”

“He said that Matthew Healy personally invited our band to be their opening act in the UK and Europe!”

“What?” Nirvana laughed. “You’re serious? He did?”

“According to Charles Reed he did!” X shouted again.
X didn’t exactly expect her friend to believe her. Hell, she barely believed it herself. She wanted nothing more than it to be the truth. The girls have been waiting for their big break, and have been having some issues getting connected with good bands as of the last few months. Weekend Misery finished a worldwide tour with the punk all-girl band, Reckless Little Hearts. It was an experience of a lifetime, and it was nice to see the One Direction boys up close and personal. Even if the girls didn’t admit it, they loved the boy-band. They just hid it really well.

The tour was the best thing that could have happened to the four-piece girl band from Seattle. They grew and they ended up inking a record deal that none of them thought would ever happen, but it did. They toured the world and had a cover with Alternative Press magazine. Life had been a little wild for the girls, and it was different. It was a good different.

“I can’t believe this,” Nirvana stated. “This better not be some fucking sick joke or I swear-”

“Stop,” Lark cut her off, elbowing her friend lightly. “You’ll do nothing but cry and eat ice-cream."

Nirvana lifted her middle finger to her friend, whom rolled her eyes and walked to the kitchen in response. Lark didn’t want to be petty, so she just left. Maize, now with her book aside was talking with X about all of the details. The only thing that made her nervous was the fact that Charles Reed insisted on hearing and meeting the girls first before the band did. However, the entire band was joining the joyous meet and greet to see how well they meshed together. They was the nerve-wrecking part. The girls, all four, at some degree fancied the pants out of the British band. That made Maize question if it was the right thing, but she figured it wasn’t going to be so bad.

After all, how hard is it to get along with band with equally attractive males?

Way more difficult than the girls imagined.