When It All Goes Wrong Again

Rain.

It rains every day in my world.

Even when it's one of those beautiful, puffy white clouds in a blue sky kind of days, it might as well be raining. They're just wasted on me.

Today's different, though, because it acutally is raining.

I'm sitting on the floor with my head resting on the windowsill, watching as the water pours down and floods my front yard. Absentmindedly, I twist the amethyst ring on my left hand. Though it's depressing, I actually prefer these kind of days. Days where it rains for hours, pouring down in buckets so hard the sound of it echos in my head. Thunder so loud it shakes the walls and makes my heart beat fast. Sometimes I want to stand in the middle of a field, arms out, skin soaking, spinning slowly around and around, half-heartedly wishing for something, anything, to happen.

But I never do. That's only wishful thinking. I just trance out by the window.

I sigh and recross my legs. That's my problem. I never do anything. I imagine everything I should do or want to do, but never follow through.

God, now my thoughts are starting to taunt me in my mother's voice.

I continue staring out the window, my breath fogging the glass, tracing lazy designs with my fingertips. Not even the ringing of the phone could break my stupor. I never even heard it until the answering machine picked up.

"Hey A.J., I know you're home. Pick up, it's important. I know, I know, it's your day off, but you know I wouldn't call unless I had no other choice..."

I sigh as I reach for the phone. "Joel, one day. All I asked for was one day of uninterrupted peace."

"I know and I'm sorry, but something unexpected came up and they asked for you," my boss said apologetically.

"Asked for me personally?" I questioned. "I didn't realize you were giving out our names."

"Of course not! They just asked for the best, and well, you're it babe."

A strand of hair fell in my eyes and I blew it off. "Flattery? Really? Joel, I'm immune. I asked for this day off months ago. The only one in the past year. I covered for Tanya when she was sick. I took that 3am gig last month. I even worked on my birthday, rememeber? There is nothing you could say to make me leave this house today."

Joel was silent for a moment, then said, "The kid offered three times your rate."

I just sat there, stunned. "Did you say three? Do you know what I could do with that much money?"

"Hopefully, something fun," Joel said, chuckling. "You in babe?"

Today would've been so perfect if I just remembered to turn off that damn machine. I glanced longingly at the window as I answer, "Okay, I'll do it. What's the info."

-----------------------------------------

That's how I ended up driving down these wet streets, squinting at roadsigns. It was still early, but the cloud cover made the day dark and the street lights began to turn on. Their light reflected off the puddles on the sidewalk making bright little points that caught my eye. I know the rain is supposed to make things look dank and dreary, but I think it improves L.A. It washes away the dust, clears out the smog, keeps people inside. Kind of makes me feel like I'm back home.

As I head out of the city and towards the hills, the houses become nicer and spaced farther apart. My car sputtered as I went up what I hoped was the last hill. With this money I could finally fix my little engine problem. I pulled into the driveway of a nice, yet modest home, and killed the motor. Glancing at my info card, I realize I didn't get a name. It's not unusual, though. Most celebrities like to keep a low profile.

And I've met quite a few of them. I went to that private club for Ashton Kutcher last month. I was one of the 'surprises' at Jay-Z's bachelor party. I entertained Jessica Alba and company at a pool party last summer. I even got to see a half naked Brendon Urie, which wasn't as exciting as I had always imagined. I must be jaded.

I flipped the visor down and looked into the mirror. The mascara around my hazel-green eyes is smudged and my red hair is poofy from the rain. My fingers rub at the smudges absently as I search for a non-existant hair tie. There is an old fashioned, barber shop style hat in my passenger seat. "There is no damn way in hell I'm wearing that today," I mutter defiantly, picking it up and throwing it disgustedly into the back seat. It is seriously the worst part of my already hideous uniform. The rain bounces off my car while I dig around for my umbrella. The one that I just remembered I left in the hall closet.

"Looks like I'm going to get wet," I sigh as I open my door. I quickly ran to the porch, trying to dodge as many drops as I could, but failing miserably. Taking stock of my apperance, I pull the white cotton shirt from my skin, push my lank, wet hair out of my eyes and adjust my suspenders.

Okay, okay. I know what you're thinking. Suspenders? Yeah, well, it's kind of expected in my profession. I work for Melodious Transfers, Inc., which is just a sophisticated way of saying I deliver singing telegrams. It may sound cheesy, but it's actually a really good job and my company is one of the best in the business. And boy, business is booming. It's become the new 'thing' for celeberites to 'sing-a-gram'(a phrase i coined) each other. But not just celebrities. I deliver to office birthday parties, proposals from hopeful boyfriends, and once, the news of an unexpected divorce. This old fashioned past time has been revived in an astounding way.

I finally give up, accepting my disheveled apperance as a lost cause, and ring the doorbell. As the door opens, I put on a fake smile and say brightly, "Singing telegram!"

I'm not even surprised when I see it's Pete Wentz standing in front of me.