Collision

They were going over the chorus of Helena for the fifth time when Alex reappeared. She grinned brightly, lighting up her whole face, when she saw that we were all there — standing around since our chairs had been stolen by other crew members — and came running over. When she was close enough she launched herself at Finley, jumping into his arms. He, admittedly rather surprised, stumbled back several steps with the velocity of her greeting, but then he found his balance and, apparently in revenge, started swinging her around.

“Fin! Stop it!” She demanded, as he kept spinning around in circles. Despite her rather shrill words she was still grinning and giggling. “Seriously, you moron! Put me down!”

He tightened his grip around her waist before setting her down on the ground, laughing himself, and kept her upright as she swayed on the spot for a few seconds, looking extremely disoriented.

“My head hurts like a motherfucker now, Fin,” she complained, prying his hands off her waist and then turning to me. “Ooh, Cam! Did ya miss me?”

“Not really,” I teased. “Where did you go?”

“Fine, be that way then, sister. I just won’t give you your present.”

“Present?” Suddenly, she had my full attention.

“Oh yeah. A present which you’re not getting now.”

“What? Aww, c’mon, I was only kidding. I really really really missed you.”

“I don’t believe you,” she stated bluntly, but then she pulled her messenger bag around to her front and opened it up and pulled out a plastic bag. “But you know what? You can have your present anyway. Because I’m that good of a sister,” she said, handing the bag to me. I laughed, reaching a hand in and pulling out a cotton bundle of bright red fabric, which I recognised as a t-shirt.

“You bought me a t-shirt?” I asked, quizzically, as I held it up and looked more carefully at the front of the t-shirt, noticing words — swirly white letters on the red background saying ’I slept with the lead singer’. I shook my head, amused. “I’m not sure what message I’m meant to get from this gift, Alex,” I said, folding it up neatly and sliding it back into the bag, “but thank you.”

She winked. “There is no message. Nope. None whatsoever.”

“I’m relieved,” I replied dryly, as my (and everybody else’s) attention was captured by the sudden activity on the stage. The band seemed to have given up on repeating the chorus of Helena, despite the dissatisfied expression present on Gerard’s face, and now Frank, lacking a guitar, was being chased around the others by Ray, again wielding his chosen weapon of paper.

I walked over to the stage, leaning on the edge and looking up at Gerard. “What’s up with that?”

“Frank scratched Ray’s guitar,” he explained, watching it himself. “I think... yeah, Ray’s gonna kick his ass.”

Ray tackled Frank to the ground. There was a sickeningly thud when both of them hit the floor which I winced at. Frank started shrieking like a particularly upset child, curling up into a ball to avoid the persistent beating with the stack of papers.

“Careful Ray,” Liza said as she came up behind me. I could tell she was trying not to laugh. “You might give him a papercut... the horror!”

“Don’t just stand there! Help me, you dickfaces!” yelled Frank, yelping again and trying to wriggle away. Gerard waited a few more seconds, an amused smile on his face, before finally striding over and pushing Ray off and then grabbing Frank’s wrist and hauling him to his feet.

“Now, Frankie, what have we learned from this?” He asked, putting his hands on his hips and looking at the now rather bedraggled guitarist.

“Don’t touch Ray’s precious guitar,” Frank mumbled, brushing down his clothes and looking sullen. “I got it.”

“Good. Run along now,” Gerard said, “and try not to get into trouble.”

“Yes, mother!” Frank replied, rather like a snotty teenager (reminding me of a certain sister, without naming names, who had much experience of acting like a snotty teenager). His tone, and my thoughts, only made me laugh harder as he came and sat down beside me, hanging his legs over the stage and looking down at me. “You know Cam, I swear Gerard is actually a middle-aged woman sometimes,” he said casually.

“Oh really? Is it the mood-swings or something else which makes you think that?”

“Mostly the mood-swings, but also his obsession with doilies.”

Gerard shot him a playful glare from his place on the stage a few feet away. “Doilies are sexy, dammit!”

“No, sweetie, they’re not,” Liza said, shaking her head. “They’re really not.”

“That’s what I tried to tell him!” Frank replied earnestly.

She snickered. “Right. So, hey, now you’ve stopped making our ears bleed with the amount of mistakes you were making in that song — ”

“Hey now!” Gerard interrupted, sounding insulted.

“Oh shut up, Way! My puppy could sing better than you!” Liza yelled back, before finishing what she’d been saying before with, “You think you could play something well?”

Frank shrugged, picking at a loose thread on the hem of his t-shirt (whilst I resisted the urge to berate him for it.) “I guess. Got any suggestions?”

“Oh yes, you should do one of ours,” she said, nodding. “As long as you promise not to murder it.”

Gerard strolled over, apparently attracted to the conversation, or maybe wondering about the random insults from Liza. He grinned at all of us as he sat down next to Frank, throwing his arm around the other man and hugging him, one-armed. “Frank! What you guys yapping about?” He asked.

“Liza wants us to do a Hello, Irony song,” Frank explained. “Don’t ask me why.”

“Huh. I only know two of your songs,” Gerard said. “Clumsy Little Heart and Blame Gravity. And the second one I’m pretty rusty on... plus you’re a chick and I’m a dude.”

“Apparently,” Frank interjected. I chuckled, but both Gerard and Liza ignored him.

“It’s Blame Gravity for Falling in Love... don’t shorten my titles, mister!” Liza said in the snarky tone of voice she was particularly fond of when talking to him. “And that’s okay, you just mumble along like you normally do. C’mon, please? Remember when we used to play together? That was the time.”

Gerard shook his head. “That was about five years ago, Liza.”

“When you sucked,” Frank added. “And of course, we rocked.”

After a few more pleading looks from Liza, and then from Finley, too, when he realised what was going on, they both relented and got to their feet and walked back over to join the rest of their band. Liza looked very pleased with herself, doing a little dance in celebration, whilst I just rolled my eyes and pulled myself up to sit on the stage because I was tired of standing up. From my new position I could hear the guys arguing over what to play, which made me laugh — Ray’s complaints about not knowing the chords and Frank’s constant assertions that he was the better guitar player were fun to listen to. I watched Ray lift the papers again threateningly at one point, and Frank jumped back about two feet, throwing his hands up defensively in front of him.

Eventually they decided on Clumsy Little Heart, which was mostly because Liza kept shouting it from her position at the front, cheering when they finally started playing. I think she was pretending but she made a very good dedicated fan, even if it was only her. And Gerard came and sat by me to sing, which I found odd — surely it must be harder to sing sitting down than standing up — but I didn’t say anything, instead watching him and noting how in his element he was with a microphone in his hands. After the first verse, he jumped up and bounded over to Frank.

I tilted my head back to watch, delighted at the fact that, despite it being some fun at practice, the band was still as energetic in their performance as ever. Gerard almost caused Frank to drop his guitar when he came dangerously close to running into him, and in response Frank flipped him off, losing his place in the song in the process. That wasn’t the only near missed calamity — Mikey got the same treatment, an affectionate hug to throw him off balance, and an admittedly sloppy kiss on his cheek which made him grimace and push his older brother away, complaining loud enough to be heard even over the music.

By the end of the impromptu song, Liza was still cheering, Finley, Alex and I were laughing, and all the members of MCR were severely pissed at their lead singer. Alex was using Finley for support, clutching onto his upper arm, and I noticed a look he gave her; it was brief and I almost missed it, but there was definitely something in his expression which made me smile.

With a little help from Frank I half-slid, half-stumbled off my seat on the stage, and walked over to Liza’s side.

“Don’t you have sound check?” I asked.

“Nah, we’re not on today,” she said, still squinting at the stage and, apparently completely fascinated, watching the band and their crew pack up. “It’s My Chem, SAYF, SoundinSpace, Hearts!Attack... oh, and a few special guests.”

“Special guests?” I repeated, my interest piqued. She nodded and smiled mysteriously. That wasn’t exactly the answer I was looking for, so I turned to her properly and said, “Seriously, what special guests?”

“You’ll find out soon — especially since they’re joining for the rest of the tour.”

“What, it’s a band?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Yeah, you did... you said they’re joining for the rest of the tour!”

“No, no, no. That doesn’t mean it’s a band. It could be a singer. Or chipmunks. Nobody ever thinks it’s chipmunks.” She raised an eyebrow and I sighed.

“Yeah, maybe that’s because it’s very unlikely for chipmunks to join a music tour?” I suggested.

“Um, hello... Alvin and the Chipmunks, anyone?”

“They’re fictional, Liza. Fictional.”

“That’s what you think!”

I sighed and dug my phone out of my pocket instead. It was still turned off from last night, so I quickly hit the power button. When my phone, as slow as ever, finally complied I was surprised to see I had five new text messages, but less surprised to find that they were all from Janey. The first three were just random forwarded chain-mail type messages, and the other two were demands to hear from me all about the tour.

t’s alright, janey. i’m having fun but the work is HARD (well, harder than writing a newspaper column, that’s for sure) and i’ve found myself in some really... odd situations. i’ve leaned a lot.’

LMAO! Like what? J xx

well, never ever give bands marker pens... that’s something i’ve learned. or paint.

fuck’s sake, you’re touring with two year olds. but nvrmind that... cute guy update??? J xx

okay... most are taken, tho. combatant’s singer is single. he’s also a COMPLETE dick. um... jack’s single ;D

I said cute guys! J xx

then you’re out of luck, hun.

Dammit... well can I come & see 4 myself? ;) J xx

yeah, actually. we’re hitting london soon. we can meet up then. unless you feel like travelling

Seriously?! :D J xx

yeah, but i’ll have to ask mallory. no clue what he’ll say.

I happened to glance down at the time on my phone and my eyes widened. Oh shit. I was meant to have been back from my quick ’thirty minute’ break about ten minutes ago. I cursed under my breath, waved at the guys and then I practically sprinted all the way back to the merch tents. By time I got there my breath was coming in jagged gasps and I was red-faced and flustered, and inside the SoundinSpace tent again I fell down on the ground next to Chantel to get my breath back.

“Geez, Cam — don’t kill yourself,” Chantel said, shooting me a concerned look. “You okay?” She stood looking down at me for a few moments, and then shook her head and went back to sorting the t-shirts out in one of her odd little orders (yesterday it had been her favourite to least favourite colours, but no doubt today it was something else.)

“I’m fine, I just really need to go to the gym,” I answered finally, stumbling to my feet. “Fucking lungs.”

“Oh yeah, blame it on your body,” Chantel said, now looking more amused than concerned. “Ever thought about not smoking instead?”

“Don’t give me that holier-than-thou non-smoker attitude, missy,” I said, laughing slightly now I could breathe again. I glanced around the tent. I guessed she was still serving the odd person who wandered in, but I noticed the majority of the crowds had gravitated towards the stages and there was only one other person in the tent — a teenage girl with her hair in two bunches, looking at some of the SoundinSpace posters hung up on the tent’s walls.

“Hey, it’s not my fault I’m a better person than you, Cam,” she shot back, picking up a studded choker and admiring it. “Whaddya think, too punk?” she asked, turning and showing me the accessory.

I shrugged. “Depends if your name is Alex Martinez... or if you’re a bulldog.”

“Okay, point taken.” She let out a snort of laughter and put the choker back down on the table. “So are you gonna go see any of the performances tonight?”

“Hmm... I’m probably gonna go back and fall asleep,” I admitted. “I’m actually exhausted.”

“Lightweight,” she teased with a small smile. “You’re no fun. I haven’t seen you at any of the parties so far, and you hardly come down to catering to eat. What’s up with that?”

“I don’t know,” I replied, wondering if she was actually curious and why, if she was. “I guess I’m just a bit of a hermit.”

“Now that... that I agree with.” She pointed an accusing finger at me and I returned the gesture, except instead of my pointer finger I used my middle one. She gasped. “That’s rude!”

“It is,” I conceded. “Now do you need any help or not?”

Two and a half hours later I finally gave into my craving for a cigarette, despite Chantel’s derisive snort when I voiced this. She said I was free to go for the day, and that Wright was gonna be my replacement, which made me a lot more cheerful. I wandered outside to find a good spot. I was about to dig my lighter out of my pocket when I realised that it, and my cigarettes, were both in my bag. Dammit, I really needed to get more organised, I thought sourly, looking around. I spied Frank emerging from a tent and made a beeline for him, deciding that if I was going to have to beg a cigarette off of someone, he’d be a good place to start.

“Oi, Franko!” I yelled, just to get his attention. It worked — he turned around and gave me a puzzled look. “I hate to ask, but do you have a cigarette I can borrow?”

“Sure... but are you really planning on returning it?” He said, looking amused, as he dug into a pocket of his dark-wash jeans and pulled out a squashed carton. The little marker devils on his face moved when he smiled. It was hilarious. He flipped the lid open and offered it to me.

“No,” I said, taking one, “but I thought borrow sounded politer than steal.”

“Fair enough.” He stuffed the packet away again without taking one for himself, and then drew his thick coat around him a bit tighter before smiling at me. “I was just gonna go see some of the fans. Mikey said there’s a bunch near the fence and that Liza and Taylor got swarmed earlier getting coffee. They almost died.”

“And you’re gonna willing put yourself in that situation?”

“Nah, they’re all behind the fence. I just thought it would be nice to go say hi.”

I smiled. “That’s sweet. I remember Alex saying you used to do that a lot.”

“Yeah, it’s fun,” he said as he leaned closer and lowered his voice, “but don’t tell Worm, okay? He’s pissed off at me for doing it last time.”

“Should you really be doing it again then?”

“No, but rules are meant to be broken.” His smile transformed into a grin as his eyes lit up with a distinctly devilish twinkle. I laughed and, realizing I still hadn’t lit it, I raised my cigarette to my lips. He dug out a lighter without me asking, handing it over. “You should come and say hi, too. Just to confuse them.”

“Why the hell would anyone want to see me?” I said, shaking my head and using the lighter “Although, saying that, I had the weirdest thing happen this morning.”

“What was that?” He prompted as he started walking, apparently to the fence. I fell into step beside him.

“This girl — Fresca, she said her name was — said she was a fan of my blog.” I shrugged. “It kind of threw me for a loop.”

He laughed. “Oh yeah, I suppose you would have fans... followers... what would you call them?” He frowned slightly. “Admirers?”

“Vocabulary isn’t your strong point, is it?” I said, raising my eyebrows. I didn’t really think it was that important to come up with a name for my so-called “fans”, especially since there was only a handful of them that I knew of, which were Fresca and her mates, and I doubted there were that much more out of there. I’d been surprised how popular my blog had become — I got quite a few comments within a few minutes of me posting anything — but it wasn’t that big.

True to Frank’s words, there were quite a few fans hanging about behind the fence, and when they spied the guitarist walking towards them screams soon followed. I winced at the sheer volume of the delighted shrieks, slightly surprised but extremely impressed that just the site of Frank had caused it. I think the majority of the people there looked half-frozen to death, and I was suddenly glad for my jacket. I pulled the cuffs over my hands to keep my fingers warm and watched as Frank greeted the first few fans with a smile and, when he pulled a marker pen out of his pocket, started signing things.

“Hey, Frank!” A girl near the front raised her voice to get the guitarist’s attention so he would look up from the ticket stub he was trying to sign — the look of concentration on his face as he tried to figure out how to sign on such a small area made me giggle, especially when he settled for putting ’F xoxo’ with a flourish. He handed the ticket back and turned to the girl, who’d started waving a camera. “Can I have a picture, please?” she asked, quieter now. He nodded and complied with her request, leaning sideways so she could put her head next to his and snap a quick photo.

I moved further away from the fence to avoid blowing smoke in the fan’s faces, thanks to the wind, and because of that I saw Gerard walking over first, before any of the fans or Frank did. I wondered whether or not to warn him about the situation but I realised he must have already seen the fans, judging form the look of delight on his face. He stayed in the shadows long enough to get to my side before any of the people in the fray recognised him, although it didn’t last long — I saw a boy in the front elbow a girl standing next to him, and jerk his head in our direction, and then another wave of excited chatter broke out.

“Ah, wouldn’t ya know it... you’re a hit with them,” I said to Gerard, nodding towards the beaming fans. “You gonna go and join Frank?”

“Yeah, probably. I was actually looking for him, but I gathered he’d be over here.” He smiled slightly and then he moved over Frank’s side. Without a marker of his own he was left standing there rather helplessly, before a fan managed to shove one into his hands. Then he started signing things too, taking anything pushed through the fence and trying to return everything to it’s original owner — I spied napkins and crumpled pieces of paper amongst some of the things, which made me laugh. Apparently none of the people had expected anybody famous to show their face and hadn’t come suitably prepared.

I finished my cigarette, and I was about to disappear back inside when I saw a dark-haired girl, who looked older than most of the others, point at me and motion me over. Curious to what she wanted, I obeyed, smiling despite my confusion. “Yeah?” I said, tilting my head to the side slightly.

“Hey, sorry, I was just wondering... do you know any of the bands?” She looked delighted, a beam on her face, but I had a feeling it wasn’t me that was causing it — more likely, the fact that Gerard and Frank were there.

“Some,” I replied. “Why?”

“I was just wondering — if you wouldn’t mind, that is — could you give this to Zacky? From Hello, Irony?” She held up a small, neatly wrapped parcel. I nodded and, still beaming, she passed it through the fence. “Thanks so much!”

“It’s alright,” I said, making a note to hunt down Zacky later. “What’s your name?” I asked, more as an afterthought. “You know, so I can say who it’s from.”

“Svana,” she answered. “Are you a girlfriend of one of the band members or something? Because, you’re really good at sneaking about.”

I laughed. “No, I’m a crew member,” I answered. “But I do moonlight as a spy, sometimes, to make a little cash on the side.”

Gerard managed to sidle up to me without me noticing, at least until he touched my elbow and made me jump in surprise. “Making friends?” He asked with a playful grin, waving at Svana. I saw her eyes widen, looking even more starstruck, but she didn’t say anything.

“Um, sort of? This is Svana... she’s asked me to deliver this.” I lifted up the parcel I was still holding. “I’m sure you know, Svana, but this grinning idiot is Gerard.”

“This grinning idiot is insulted,” Gerard said, his grin replaced with a small frown, “which seems to happen a lot around you...”

“Then maybe you should stop hanging around me,” I suggested.

“Trying to get rid of me? I think not!” He huffed and turned back to Svana. “Do you want anything signed?”

“Um, yeah, could you sign my arm?” She rolled up her sleeve and offered the bare skin of her forearm, and I chuckled quietly to myself as I watched Gerard try and find a way to reach through without twisting his arm into an uncomfortable position. He ended up using his left hand to write, and his signature came out as even more of a scrawl than usual.

Svana looked pleased at least. As she turned around, she paused and then smiled shyly. “I forgot to say, happy belated birthday by the way.”

He smiled toothily. “Thank you!”

When she’d disappeared back into the crowd, I turned to look at him incredulously. “You had your birthday?” I couldn’t believe he hadn’t said anything. Even Liza hadn’t mentioned it. Or any of his bandmates for that matter.

He waved off my concern with one hand, still grinning. “It was like, a few days ago.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I demanded. “I would have got you a present!”

“I’m like, thirty-one man, I don’t need to be reminded of this shit.”

Frank, apparently overhearing, bounded over at the point, his shit-eating grin still in place. “I gave him a blowjob and a really nice pair of socks!”

Gerard sighed. “Half of that is true.”

Later, I noticed Gerard’s teeth were chattering as he signed yet another ticket stub and I reached out and touched his hand. “Geez, you’re freezing,” I said, surprised by that fact — usually he was the warm one whilst I, with my shitty blood circulation, slowly turned into an ice statue. “You should get inside.”

He waved me away. “I’m fine,” he insisted, moving on to the next fan. As soon as the word got out that they were there, the crowd had swelled immensely.

“You’ve got goosebumps,” I pointed out, nodding at the raised bumps all along his pale arms — trust him to come outside in a t-shirt and without a jacket. At least Frank had been sensible in his choice of clothing, for once. When he shook his head again I frowned at him. “You should really go inside. Do I need to force you or something?”

Apparently I did have to, since he didn’t make a move to go at all. Finally, Frank and I grabbed hold of his arms and began pulling him away towards their tour bus, chastising loudly for his idiocy and choice of clothing to go out in the freezing cold in — or at least Frank was, whilst I was still giggling at his protests to the whole turn of events.

“You guys blow,” he mumbled when we let go of his arms. We were pretty sure he was able to walk on his own by then, since the lure of fans were way behind us and we were almost at their bus. He spent a few seconds adjusting and sorting out his rumpled clothes, before looking up to glare darkly at both of us.

“I thought I sucked?” Frank asked, a grin lighting up his face. “At least, that’s what you said.”