Status: I haven't the heart to delete this after committing so much time to it, but I don't have the desire or time to update it either, so it will remain unfinished until further notice.
Green Day Saves the Day
Step Into Tinsel Town
“Now, for the most requested song in the country. Here’s The New with ‘The Words I’ll Never Hear’…”
“The overnight success of The New is nothing if not a fairytale…”
“It seems that the grim fate of music has been turned around completely thanks to The New…”
The New, The New, The New—they were absolutely everywhere. Their faces flashed on the digital billboards that lined the highways. They could be found on TV and heard on the radio in every home in every country. They had taken the world by storm.
No longer did they have to put up with the ancient 2002 tour van they had used for most of their career. After being signed to a major label, they were supplied with luxurious stretch limos, private jets, and double decker tour buses, all decked out with the latest technology.
Instead of scrounging off of whatever frozen edibles they could find, they had their own personal chefs that catered to their every culinary need. They had gone from instant noodles and TV dinners to gourmet four-course meals. It seemed that they had not a care in the world.
But, as we all know, fame brings much more than perks and luxuries. It also brings stress, chaos, hardships, and of course, the goddamn paparazzi. The New had their first taste of the pain of fame a few weeks after their huge debut.
Robb, Minty, and Dré finally had a free day to themselves. Rather than stay holed up in their new beachside condo with their nagging mentors—better known as Green Day—they decided to hit the town, and not just any town. They were stepping foot in Tinseltown—Hollywood.
“See you guys later!” they chimed in unison as they raced out the door and into the warm, dusky evening.
“Yeah, whatever,” Green Day mumbled back. They were too caught up in the flashing wonders of a brand-spanking new 60” flat screen high-def TV to care about anything going on around them.
After sliding into their sleek 2071 sports cars, The New sped off towards Hollywood with Robb taking the lead in his cherry red Lamborghini. The poor fools had no idea what awaited them in Hollywood, about 40 miles away.
***
“Oh my God! Robb! Robb!” It was no surprise that the source of the high pitched squealing came from a preteen girl. She had caught sight of Robb and his bandmates the second they stepped out of their cars. Technically, they hadn’t even stepped out of their cars yet. Their shoes were a few inches above the sidewalk when the stick-thin 12-year old with a frightening amount of makeup on ran up to Robb and scared him half to death.
“Can…I…have…your…au...to…graph?” The poor thing had excited herself so much that she need to take a deep breath between each syllable.
“Um, sure,” a startled, yet somewhat flattered Robb said as his friends looked on with smirks planted on their faces. He scribbled his name on a piece of paper the girl had handed him and watched as she skipped off—probably to her parents or teeny bopper friends—with a goofy smile on her face.
Minty and Dré were about to get in a few laughs and insults when they were mobbed by fans of their own. All three of them were trapped in front of their cars by a crowd of pushy fans. Some were young, some were old, and some were just crazy. After a solid half hour of face-numbing smiles and insincere ‘Nice meeting you’s, the band was left to absorb their surroundings. They had found themselves in the heart of Hollywood; in the midst of the sights and smells that gave the city its nickname. Not too long ago, that exact street was worn down and dirty and littered with bums begging for spare change. Now it was the definition of glamorous with its endless clubs, bars, shops, and restaurants—and absolutely no bums.
Dré sighed happily. “This is the life. So, where do you guys want to go first?”
Robb rattled on about his plans for the night; something about karaoke and phone numbers. Minty, however, was completely zoned out. All that he could see was the young woman across the street. While the women standing around her—presumably her friends—all looked somewhat similar with their blonde hair and trendy outfits, she stood out. Her wavy brown hair was streaked with red and tattoos curled around her ankle, wrists, and arms. He had to meet her.
“…that sound, Minty?” Dré said.
“Yeah that’s fine,” Minty replied absentmindedly, his eyes never leaving the stunning beauty just 12 feet away for fear of suddenly losing her in the crowd. “Hey um, I’ll catch up with you guys later, okay?”
Before Robb or Dré could ask him where he was going, Minty was gone. He bounded across the street, dodging traffic and ignoring the angry honks and curses. He was just an arm’s length from his dream girl—with hasty pedestrians shoving him aside—when he realized that he had absolutely no idea what to say. He stood frozen to the spot in a state of panic with a million lame pick up lines running through his mind. While he stood there like an idiot, one of her friends nodded in his direction with her eyebrows raised as if to say, “Get a load of that.”
Minty thought his heart would explode when she turned around. She was even more beautiful up close. On her heart-shaped face were the most stunning amber-colored eyes which were carefully outlined in smoky gray eyeliner. Her small nose was decorated with a tiny metal piercing which matched the ring that hugged her full bottom lip. Just as his eyes were trailing down her legs to take in the shamrock tattoo on her ankle, she smiled and asked, “Can I help you with somethin’?”
Embarrassed and caught off guard, Minty stammered uselessly. “I-I was just here with um, with some people, and I noticed you were with some people and I was, uh, th-thinking that that was—“
“How about,” the girl interrupted gently, “we start with names?”
“Right, right. I’m Danny but my friends call me Minty.” Finally beginning to feel a bit of confidence, he added, “But you can call me whatever you want.”
Giggling, the girl replied, “I’m Joan, but you can call me Joan. It’s nice to meet you, Minty.”
When Joan’s friends started to giggle and ogle, she rolled her eyes and dismissed them with “I’ll see y’all later.”
Just as the suddenly love-stricken pair was about to walk into the café they were standing in front of, they heard shouting.
“Minty! Mint, look out for the guys behind you! They’ve got cam--!” Bam! As Robb and Dré were running across the busy street to warn Minty of the paparazzi that had seemed to pop out of nowhere, Dré’s body came in full contact with someone’s car. The serene scene became one of chaos. Passersby screamed, babies cried, the driver that had hit Dré yelled and prayed and wept and in the middle of it all was the paparazzi, snapping away and blinding everyone with flashes.
“Dré! Come on, we’ve got to see if he’s okay,” Minty told Joan as he latched onto her wrist and practically dragged her into the street where traffic had come to a standstill. Pushing their way through the crowd, Minty knelt down beside Dré while Joan looked on with horror. Dré’s left arm was twisted in a way no arm should ever be twisted and there was a nasty gash on his forehead.
“Am I dead?” he groaned.
“No, but I’m going to kill you for getting yourself hit by a fucking car,” Robb half cried, half laughed.
Minty patted his fallen friend on the knee and reassured him that if any killing was going to be done that night, it was going to be done by him.
Suddenly, a familiar voice broke into the scene. “Paramedics coming through! Make way, make way.” A short, slender man with dark hair and a slightly taller man with blonde hair pushed through the thinning crowd with a stretcher in tow. They kept their heads down low and both wore large sunglasses, though it was nine o’clock at night. They stopped just short of Dré’s busted arm and the shorter man yelled out, “We got a call about some idiot that got hit by a car!” Looking down at his feet, the taller paramedic smiled and said, “I’m guessing you’re that idiot.”
Minty sprang up and shouted, “Hey, shut your fucking mouths and do your jobs!”
The dark-haired man looked over at him and said, “Always with the temper, this one.”
Minty’s eyes widened. He leaned over and whispered, “Billie?”
“You bet!” Billie shouted back. “Now let’s get this fool on the stretcher, shall we?”
Billie and Mike clumsily hoisted Dré up onto the stretcher, much to his dismay, and wheeled him off to the ambulance they’d parked rather haphazardly just up the street. Robb soon caught up with them, leaving Minty and Joan in a somewhat awkward situation.
“Wow, so that was some night, huh?” Minty said with an uneasy laugh.
“Yeah, I hope your friend’s okay,” Joan replied.
“Ah, he’ll be all right.” He smiled. “Maybe you should give me your number so I can tell you how he’s doing,” he added smoothly.
Joan laughed. This guy was slick. She’d only just met him but decided he was worth a shot. “I think I should.” She pulled a Sharpie out of her purse, grabbed his arm, and wrote her name and number on it.
Thank you God. “Thanks,” he replied coolly. “Well, I should probably catch up with the paramedics before they drive off. I’ll call you.” Without a thought, he leaned over, pecked her on the cheek, and ran off.
When she was sure he was gone, she gingerly touched the cheek he’d kissed and mouthed the words, “Oh my God.”
***
“You didn’t think we’d stay in all night on a Friday, did you?” Tré said slyly. He was sitting in the driver’s seat of the ambulance wearing shades much like Mike and Billie’s.
Hardly amused, Robb fired back with, “No, but I didn’t think you guys would be stupid enough to steal a fucking ambulance, either!”
“Calm down; there’s no harm done,” Billie said calmly.
“‘No harm done’? We’ve got three dead guys in stolen paramedic uniforms racing around Hollywood in a stolen ambulance with three paramedics bound and gagged in the back. That’s a lot of harm done!” Robb shouted.
“Nothing’s stolen,” Billie began. “It’s all borrowed. Besides—Hey, hey, does it look like we’re talking to you? Keep walking, lady! Anyway, like I was saying, we were just having a little fun.”
“Fine, fine. Just take Dré to the hospital, ditch the uniforms and the van, release the guys in the back, and make sure no one remembers anything.”
“Gotcha. We’ll see you guys back at the condo.”
Robb nodded and was about to let them speed off when he realized that someone needed to drive Dré’s car back home, and Minty was still in the back talking to Dré. After collecting both Mike and Minty, he sent the ambulance off with a “Don’t get into trouble!” and a silent prayer.
***
The next day was one to be remembered. When Minty woke up and turned on the news, the first thing he heard was: “Dré Awesome of the popular band called The New was tragically hit by a speeding vehicle last night in Hollywood. It’s believed that he was trying to stop his fellow bandmate, Robb Dean Armstrong or ‘Robb’d’, from assaulting the band’s bassist, Daniel ‘Minty’ Malvez. The cause of all this chaos? This girl.” A picture of Joan and Minty standing outside the café flashed onto the screen. “It seems she and Robb were romantically involved at some point and Robb was trying to break her and Malvez up when the accident occurred. No word yet on Dré’s condition.”
Minty flicked off the TV with a heavy sigh. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he murmured under his breath. What did Joan think of all this? What did the fans think? He slumped back on the couch and covered his face with his hands. He began to question if being famous was really worth all of this. Yeah, the personal chefs were great; so were the new condo and cars and TV. But was it worth it? Was it really worth it? Little did he know that both his bandmates were thinking the same thing.
“The overnight success of The New is nothing if not a fairytale…”
“It seems that the grim fate of music has been turned around completely thanks to The New…”
The New, The New, The New—they were absolutely everywhere. Their faces flashed on the digital billboards that lined the highways. They could be found on TV and heard on the radio in every home in every country. They had taken the world by storm.
No longer did they have to put up with the ancient 2002 tour van they had used for most of their career. After being signed to a major label, they were supplied with luxurious stretch limos, private jets, and double decker tour buses, all decked out with the latest technology.
Instead of scrounging off of whatever frozen edibles they could find, they had their own personal chefs that catered to their every culinary need. They had gone from instant noodles and TV dinners to gourmet four-course meals. It seemed that they had not a care in the world.
But, as we all know, fame brings much more than perks and luxuries. It also brings stress, chaos, hardships, and of course, the goddamn paparazzi. The New had their first taste of the pain of fame a few weeks after their huge debut.
Robb, Minty, and Dré finally had a free day to themselves. Rather than stay holed up in their new beachside condo with their nagging mentors—better known as Green Day—they decided to hit the town, and not just any town. They were stepping foot in Tinseltown—Hollywood.
“See you guys later!” they chimed in unison as they raced out the door and into the warm, dusky evening.
“Yeah, whatever,” Green Day mumbled back. They were too caught up in the flashing wonders of a brand-spanking new 60” flat screen high-def TV to care about anything going on around them.
After sliding into their sleek 2071 sports cars, The New sped off towards Hollywood with Robb taking the lead in his cherry red Lamborghini. The poor fools had no idea what awaited them in Hollywood, about 40 miles away.
***
“Oh my God! Robb! Robb!” It was no surprise that the source of the high pitched squealing came from a preteen girl. She had caught sight of Robb and his bandmates the second they stepped out of their cars. Technically, they hadn’t even stepped out of their cars yet. Their shoes were a few inches above the sidewalk when the stick-thin 12-year old with a frightening amount of makeup on ran up to Robb and scared him half to death.
“Can…I…have…your…au...to…graph?” The poor thing had excited herself so much that she need to take a deep breath between each syllable.
“Um, sure,” a startled, yet somewhat flattered Robb said as his friends looked on with smirks planted on their faces. He scribbled his name on a piece of paper the girl had handed him and watched as she skipped off—probably to her parents or teeny bopper friends—with a goofy smile on her face.
Minty and Dré were about to get in a few laughs and insults when they were mobbed by fans of their own. All three of them were trapped in front of their cars by a crowd of pushy fans. Some were young, some were old, and some were just crazy. After a solid half hour of face-numbing smiles and insincere ‘Nice meeting you’s, the band was left to absorb their surroundings. They had found themselves in the heart of Hollywood; in the midst of the sights and smells that gave the city its nickname. Not too long ago, that exact street was worn down and dirty and littered with bums begging for spare change. Now it was the definition of glamorous with its endless clubs, bars, shops, and restaurants—and absolutely no bums.
Dré sighed happily. “This is the life. So, where do you guys want to go first?”
Robb rattled on about his plans for the night; something about karaoke and phone numbers. Minty, however, was completely zoned out. All that he could see was the young woman across the street. While the women standing around her—presumably her friends—all looked somewhat similar with their blonde hair and trendy outfits, she stood out. Her wavy brown hair was streaked with red and tattoos curled around her ankle, wrists, and arms. He had to meet her.
“…that sound, Minty?” Dré said.
“Yeah that’s fine,” Minty replied absentmindedly, his eyes never leaving the stunning beauty just 12 feet away for fear of suddenly losing her in the crowd. “Hey um, I’ll catch up with you guys later, okay?”
Before Robb or Dré could ask him where he was going, Minty was gone. He bounded across the street, dodging traffic and ignoring the angry honks and curses. He was just an arm’s length from his dream girl—with hasty pedestrians shoving him aside—when he realized that he had absolutely no idea what to say. He stood frozen to the spot in a state of panic with a million lame pick up lines running through his mind. While he stood there like an idiot, one of her friends nodded in his direction with her eyebrows raised as if to say, “Get a load of that.”
Minty thought his heart would explode when she turned around. She was even more beautiful up close. On her heart-shaped face were the most stunning amber-colored eyes which were carefully outlined in smoky gray eyeliner. Her small nose was decorated with a tiny metal piercing which matched the ring that hugged her full bottom lip. Just as his eyes were trailing down her legs to take in the shamrock tattoo on her ankle, she smiled and asked, “Can I help you with somethin’?”
Embarrassed and caught off guard, Minty stammered uselessly. “I-I was just here with um, with some people, and I noticed you were with some people and I was, uh, th-thinking that that was—“
“How about,” the girl interrupted gently, “we start with names?”
“Right, right. I’m Danny but my friends call me Minty.” Finally beginning to feel a bit of confidence, he added, “But you can call me whatever you want.”
Giggling, the girl replied, “I’m Joan, but you can call me Joan. It’s nice to meet you, Minty.”
When Joan’s friends started to giggle and ogle, she rolled her eyes and dismissed them with “I’ll see y’all later.”
Just as the suddenly love-stricken pair was about to walk into the café they were standing in front of, they heard shouting.
“Minty! Mint, look out for the guys behind you! They’ve got cam--!” Bam! As Robb and Dré were running across the busy street to warn Minty of the paparazzi that had seemed to pop out of nowhere, Dré’s body came in full contact with someone’s car. The serene scene became one of chaos. Passersby screamed, babies cried, the driver that had hit Dré yelled and prayed and wept and in the middle of it all was the paparazzi, snapping away and blinding everyone with flashes.
“Dré! Come on, we’ve got to see if he’s okay,” Minty told Joan as he latched onto her wrist and practically dragged her into the street where traffic had come to a standstill. Pushing their way through the crowd, Minty knelt down beside Dré while Joan looked on with horror. Dré’s left arm was twisted in a way no arm should ever be twisted and there was a nasty gash on his forehead.
“Am I dead?” he groaned.
“No, but I’m going to kill you for getting yourself hit by a fucking car,” Robb half cried, half laughed.
Minty patted his fallen friend on the knee and reassured him that if any killing was going to be done that night, it was going to be done by him.
Suddenly, a familiar voice broke into the scene. “Paramedics coming through! Make way, make way.” A short, slender man with dark hair and a slightly taller man with blonde hair pushed through the thinning crowd with a stretcher in tow. They kept their heads down low and both wore large sunglasses, though it was nine o’clock at night. They stopped just short of Dré’s busted arm and the shorter man yelled out, “We got a call about some idiot that got hit by a car!” Looking down at his feet, the taller paramedic smiled and said, “I’m guessing you’re that idiot.”
Minty sprang up and shouted, “Hey, shut your fucking mouths and do your jobs!”
The dark-haired man looked over at him and said, “Always with the temper, this one.”
Minty’s eyes widened. He leaned over and whispered, “Billie?”
“You bet!” Billie shouted back. “Now let’s get this fool on the stretcher, shall we?”
Billie and Mike clumsily hoisted Dré up onto the stretcher, much to his dismay, and wheeled him off to the ambulance they’d parked rather haphazardly just up the street. Robb soon caught up with them, leaving Minty and Joan in a somewhat awkward situation.
“Wow, so that was some night, huh?” Minty said with an uneasy laugh.
“Yeah, I hope your friend’s okay,” Joan replied.
“Ah, he’ll be all right.” He smiled. “Maybe you should give me your number so I can tell you how he’s doing,” he added smoothly.
Joan laughed. This guy was slick. She’d only just met him but decided he was worth a shot. “I think I should.” She pulled a Sharpie out of her purse, grabbed his arm, and wrote her name and number on it.
Thank you God. “Thanks,” he replied coolly. “Well, I should probably catch up with the paramedics before they drive off. I’ll call you.” Without a thought, he leaned over, pecked her on the cheek, and ran off.
When she was sure he was gone, she gingerly touched the cheek he’d kissed and mouthed the words, “Oh my God.”
***
“You didn’t think we’d stay in all night on a Friday, did you?” Tré said slyly. He was sitting in the driver’s seat of the ambulance wearing shades much like Mike and Billie’s.
Hardly amused, Robb fired back with, “No, but I didn’t think you guys would be stupid enough to steal a fucking ambulance, either!”
“Calm down; there’s no harm done,” Billie said calmly.
“‘No harm done’? We’ve got three dead guys in stolen paramedic uniforms racing around Hollywood in a stolen ambulance with three paramedics bound and gagged in the back. That’s a lot of harm done!” Robb shouted.
“Nothing’s stolen,” Billie began. “It’s all borrowed. Besides—Hey, hey, does it look like we’re talking to you? Keep walking, lady! Anyway, like I was saying, we were just having a little fun.”
“Fine, fine. Just take Dré to the hospital, ditch the uniforms and the van, release the guys in the back, and make sure no one remembers anything.”
“Gotcha. We’ll see you guys back at the condo.”
Robb nodded and was about to let them speed off when he realized that someone needed to drive Dré’s car back home, and Minty was still in the back talking to Dré. After collecting both Mike and Minty, he sent the ambulance off with a “Don’t get into trouble!” and a silent prayer.
***
The next day was one to be remembered. When Minty woke up and turned on the news, the first thing he heard was: “Dré Awesome of the popular band called The New was tragically hit by a speeding vehicle last night in Hollywood. It’s believed that he was trying to stop his fellow bandmate, Robb Dean Armstrong or ‘Robb’d’, from assaulting the band’s bassist, Daniel ‘Minty’ Malvez. The cause of all this chaos? This girl.” A picture of Joan and Minty standing outside the café flashed onto the screen. “It seems she and Robb were romantically involved at some point and Robb was trying to break her and Malvez up when the accident occurred. No word yet on Dré’s condition.”
Minty flicked off the TV with a heavy sigh. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he murmured under his breath. What did Joan think of all this? What did the fans think? He slumped back on the couch and covered his face with his hands. He began to question if being famous was really worth all of this. Yeah, the personal chefs were great; so were the new condo and cars and TV. But was it worth it? Was it really worth it? Little did he know that both his bandmates were thinking the same thing.