Getting Surreal

Becks sighed as she gave her apartment one last once-over. This was really it. Part of her was nervous. Had she made the right choice? She hadn’t even known Frank for more than ten minutes before she agreed and signed her life over to him and his band for the next eight months. She’d quit her job, her lease on the apartment would be up while she was gone, she was going to leave the small Jersey town she’d taken residence in. All of that combined is enough to make anybody at least a little nervous.

But the part of Becks that was nervous was far overshadowed by excitement. She was going to travel, a part of some major tours with big bands, and, to top it all off, she was going to be working directly for a band that she really liked. She wasn’t a crazed fan that could point out the members and name their middle names or anything, but she could sing along to a few songs, not to mention play a few on guitar. She felt like she had just won the lottery. The only real thing that she was anxious about was if she’d get along with the guys and if they’d like her. Sure, she and Frank seemed to get along well enough, but there’s a stark difference between a chat in a bar and spending the next eight months of your lives in extremely close proximity.

She sighed again and checked her phone for the time. Frank said he’d be there at seven to pick her up. Seven in the freaking morning. It was currently seven sixteen.

He’s a rockstar. Probably late for most things, she thought as she checked to make sure she had everything she’d need for the tour. One suitcase with clothes and toiletries, her messenger bag that she kept the random crap she’d need at any given moment, and one pillow. Frank had said to pack light, no more than one suitcase and one small bag. Becks was okay with that. She was simple and didn’t need much.

She heard a car horn and took that as her cue. She gathered up her things and, with one last look at the empty apartment over her shoulder, she walked out the door into the Jersey winter chill to leave her old life behind and take on her new one.

“Sorry I’m late,” Frank said, getting out of the car to help her with her stuff. “I stopped for coffee.” He grabbed her suitcase and threw it in the trunk. “Wow, you really do pack light, he commented.

“Told you I don’t need much,” she murmured as she threw the rest of her stuff in the trunk with her suitcase then climbed in the car.

“Still,” Frank said, getting in the car himself, “most chicks say they don’t need much, but they always do. Like, one bag to them means five.” He gave her a bemused look.

“I’m not most chicks.” She said with a shrug. Frank studied her face for a moment then smiled.

“Nah, I don’t think you are. Coffee?” He asked, holding up a large white cup. “I didn’t know how you like it, so it’s just black, hope that’s okay.”

“Black is best, thanks!” She gratefully grabbed the cup from his hand. “I thought you meant that you had just stopped for your own coffee,” she said, wrapping her hands around her drink to warm her chilled fingers.

“What do you think I am, a complete douche?” Frank joked as he put the car in reverse and backed out onto the street, headed towards the highway.

It was Becks’ turn to smile. “Nah,” she said, taking a sip. “I don’t think you are.”

---

Forty minutes and a good discussion about their favorite early punk bands later, spawned from the cd playing in Frank’s car (which ultimately turned into an epic singalong with the both of them singing as loud as they could along with the cranked tunes, just rocking out together, where huge amounts of respect were gained for each other at learning their knowledge of the songs), and Frank pulled his car in front of a small house with a tour bus parked in front of it.

“Perfect!” Frank shouted as the song ended just as he pulled into the driveway and turned off the car. “I love it when it works out like that.” Becks laughed and agreed with him. After a moment of silence, Frank spoke up again. “So,” he looked at her, eyebrow quirked, “you ready to meet the band?”

Ignoring the fear that churned her stomach at his words and what they meant, she narrowed her eyes and stared him down. “Let’s do this,” she said in her best action-movie voice with a nod. Frank laughed and got out of the car, heading up to the house, Becks following him closely, trying to quell her nerves.

Frank didn’t even stop to knock or ring the doorbell or anything, he just barged on through the door, looking back with a smile at Becks who had stalled on the steps. “Come on!” He jerked his head towards the house before disappearing inside.

“Here goes nothing,” she muttered to herself before walking in and letting the door close behind her.

---

“Honeys, I’m home!” Frank shouted as he walked through the living room.

“Frank, you’re fucking late!” A voice yelled back from the next room. Becks gave a small smile as Frank rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, but I brought a new friend,” he replied, stepping through the doorway, gesturing to Becks who had followed him and found herself in the kitchen with Frank and three other guys.

Three other guys who all turned to stare at her upon her entrance.

Well, that’s not unnerving, she thought as she looked slowly from the one sat at the table wearing glasses and a beanie, the phone in his hands momentarily forgotten, to the one with an impressive looking afro standing in front of the fridge, his one hand holding the door open, to the one with long and shaggy black hair leaning against the counter, coffee mug frozen at his lips.

Finally, she looked at Frank for help, not feeling terribly comfortable with them all staring at her. Frank was just opening his mouth to speak when a voice rang out.

“Frank, who is this?” It was the one at the counter, sipping his drink as he stared at Frank, waiting for an answer.

“New girlfriend?” The one at the fridge asked, finally having shut the door. “Because I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to bring somebody you barely know on tour with you for the next few months,” he paused and looked at Becks. “No offense,” he added kindly. She gave him an understanding face and shrugged off her hoodie, suddenly feeling a little too warm in the stuffy kitchen.

“Guyyys,” Frank whined, moving to stand next to Becks. “This is my guitar tech! And we don’t ‘barely know each other,’ Ray,” he looked very pointedly at the man in front of the fridge and threw his arm around Becks’ shoulders. “We happen to be pretty tight, thank you very much.” Becks shot him a look. So did everybody, really. Something that Frank promptly ignored before continuing. “This is Becks, she’s a beast on guitar and has agreed to be my tech for tour this year!” He beamed at the room, clearly proud of himself.

“Tech, huh?” The one at the counter said, putting his mug down and pushing off the counter to walk the two steps to Becks and Frank. “I’m Gerard,” he said politely, holding out a hand for Becks to shake, “That’s Ray,” he pointed towards the man with the ‘fro who stepped forward to shake her hand as well. “And that’s my little bro, Mikey,” he gestured towards the guy with the glasses. Mikey just nodded at her in greeting, still not having said a word.

“I honestly thought you were lying about actually finding a tech,” Ray said to Frank with an amused look.

“We all did,” Gerard added with a laugh.

“Oh, fuck off, all of you. I told you I’d deliver.” Frank said with faux hurt, his hand over his heart.

“Yeah, but remember the last time something like this happened?” Ray asked and Becks watched as Frank, Gerard, and Ray fell into a loud, good natured bickering fest. It was clear that these guys were all tight and got along well.

Not knowing what to do, she stepped out of the way and leaned against a chair at the table.

“What’d you do to your arm?” A new voice rang out, startling her. Becks’ head whipped from watching Frank joke shoving Ray over while Gerard held him back to the guy with the beanie whose name she just couldn’t remember at the moment who was watching her, waiting for her answer.

“Hm?” She asked, having not processed the question quite yet.

“Your arm,” he gestured toward her right arm, “what’d you do?”

Becks looked down at her arm that was all bruised and scraped up near the elbow and then smiled, thinking that maybe the pathetic story attached to her injury would be a good ice breaker. “Well, you see,” she started mildly theatrically, looking back up at him, “I was realllly drunk the other night and I got kinda hungry on my walk home, so I thought I’d try and, uh, eat some pavement.” She paused for dramatic effect, vaguely aware that the chaos around her had stilled, but didn’t take her eyes off the man with the glasses. “It didn’t agree,” she finished her with a casual shrug.

There was a moment where nothing happened, and then beanie-boy’s face lit up in a smile and he barked out a laugh, Becks smiling along with him.

“Well, shit,” Gerard said with a laugh, watching the two of them.

“Told you she’d be perfect,” Frank said, smiling at him.