Drumsticks, Starter Kits and Bass Guitars

Sighing as her dark brown hair fell into her eyes yet again she pushed it away with an awkwardly aimed breath. Her shirt was already sticking to her back, the sun beating down.
Nice day to wear black, she thought to herself with a half grin. Some days she really was just an idiot.

And what was this idiot doing on such a hot day wandering around in the sun, when her pale complexion obviously screamed to be inside with a book. Or a Nintendo.
Well, she was currently looking for her manager, Bradley Meltzer. She thought she had seen him a few times, but when she got close enough to call out his name he had once again disappeared into the crowd.
Stupid effing Warped Tour, she thought in disgust.
She already missed the small venues that her and her band had been playing for what seemed like centuries but was truly only a few years. She wasn't too excited about large crowds, being the shyest of the band. Not that you could truly tell from her behavior on stage.

"Hell," she muttered, sighting a few members of various other bands that she would normally fan girl squee, though she professionally held it in.
Approaching them she tried to quiet the bile twirling through her stomach.

Why the hell am I the one looking for Brad? she wondered to herself, self conscious as she tapped the nearest guy on the shoulder. He paused in what he was saying to turn his eyes to her. Since she was shorter than he was he had to re-shift his gaze, which landed on her chest, and the black shirt that read Breast in bold red ink.

Immediately his face took on the same red color and he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. His eyes landed on everything but her face.
Great Heaven, she said to herself, You had to pick Brendon Urie. Damn!

"Hi, I-I...was wondering i-if..." she stuttered and the guy standing next to her nudged his friend.

"Geez Bren, just give her your autograph so she can go," the boy was obviously irritated with something. And he was most definitely Ryan Ross. Double Damn!

Brendon pulled out a marker and a picture of himself and signed it, handing it over. She took it with raised eyebrows as the two turned back to the rest of the group.
He did not just pull that rock star shit on me!she thought to herself as she reached out and tapped him again.
Once again he turned to face her, once again his face fell to her shirt and once again Ryan Ross butted in.

"What?" he snapped, "Jesus, can't anyone have a conversation without being bothered!"

Wide eyed and extremely pissed off she looked at him long and hard before snapping, "Jesus, no wonder your fucking fans don't like you. Thought I found a fucking band, not a bunch of drama queens!" And she turned on her heel and marched away muttering about idiots and assholes.

Brendon blushed, "Do you really think our fans don't like us?"

"Who cares?" Ryan asked sullenly, "I have a rash in an extremely...weird place."

"It's over your right nipple, Ryan," Pete Wentz muttered marching up to the boys, "That's not weird, its just awkward."

Ryan chose not to respond and instead scratched at his chest.

"Heaven!" Keri called from the back of their van, pulling a bottle of water from her cooler, "Did you find Brad?"

"No. But I have good news." She paused for dramatic effect. "I hate Panic! At the Disco."

And Heaven began to march away to where the group's merch tent was being set up. She paused and looked back at the rest of the band.

"And we aren't speaking to them."

Keri laughed at Heaven. She couldn't help it.

"Isn't that a little childish? What did they do to you?"

"Brendon Urie autographed a picture for me..." She began.

"That bastard!" Tarra gasped, hand to her mouth, amber eyes glinting with laughter.

"And he stared at my Breast."

"What, that's all?" Cristi piped in from the front seat of the white van.

"Shuddup, you," Heaven said childishly, folding her arms across her chest, "No Panic! At the Disco."

To emphasize her point she reached into the van and plucked the cd from the player, locking it in the dashboard.

"Hey!" Tarra shouted, "I just got that back from Jarrett!" Heaven ignored her.

Pete Wentz liked to find new things. It gave him time to think of things other than the girl that he loved. She was insane but he couldn't let her go. So instead he spent his time trying to find new things to spend his time on. That was why he was currently patrolling the merch tents of the unsigned bands playing the tour that year. He bought a few cds from the various groups so that he could listen to the bands before the morning. He liked to be well informed on the people he would be playing with.

He stopped abruptly at a tent that said The Dominant E in bold letters. A girl with long dark brown hair sat in a chair, brooding. She played with her hair for a moment before looking up at him.

"Oh," she said, "It's you."

Pete frowned, most girls didn't sound like that when they talked to him. Usually they at least pretended to like him because of who he was. He had a feeling that he could get along very well with this girl. But first he had to figure out why she didn't like him.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked with a half grin. He didn't want to sound cocky.

"Yes," she said simply, before going back to playing with her hair.

This answer surprised him. What the hell did he do? She was defiantely too young for him to have slept with her.

"Can I ask you what?" Curiosity in his eyes he leaned on to the table to see into her eyes as she looked at him. They were hazel and he smiled reassuringly at her.

"You fucking signed Panic! At the Disco," she answered without hesitation.

Pete lost his balance on the table and slipped off the edge. His nose hit the table and began to bleed. The girl made a tisking sound in the back of her throat.

"See," she said with a sigh, "God hates you and Panic! At the Disco too. It's karma. You should go pee in a jar and bury it."

Embarrassed, Pete mopped at his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie.

"Tell me about The Dominant E," he said with a grin, changing the subject.

She sighed, "It's an all girl band, Sorta My Chem meets Paramore meets Avril."

Pete quirked an eyebrow at the description. "How about I buy a cd and listen to them?" he said, "Do you think they're any good?"

"Absolutely not," the girl said, boredom evident in her voice. Pete shook his head, taking a cd anyway. The girl stopped him.

"I'll give it to you for free if you let me beat up Panic! At the Disco."

Silently Pete handed the girl a twenty, leaving her a very generous tip of eight dollars.

She sighed again, "I need a damn cookie." And she rose and left the merch booth unattended.

Pete couldn't help it. He reached out and grabbed one of the hoodies from the table. He was obsessed with hoodies, and a bad kleptomaniac when he felt the urge. The hoodie was forest green with white pidgeons on it. The sleeve read The Dominant E in small lettering. On the back was a design, a small d and a large E curling through each other. He shuffled off to Fall Out Boy's bus before she could find her cookie and come back.
He had a suspicion that it wouldn't be good if she caught him stealing a hoodie.

"Tarra, have you seen my cookies?" Heaven asked, wandering back to the bus and digging through various piles of crap in the back of the van.

Sheepishly Tarra said, "No." She swallowed the last cookie hurriedly as Heaven looked at her suspiciously.

"You bitch," she said in a dangerously low voice, "You ate my cookies, didn't you?"

Heaven lunged at Tarra as her best friend took off running.

"Lyn! get your ass back here right now!" Heaven reached up to grab her friend's auburn hair right as they stumbled into someone.

Brendon F-u-c-k-i-n-g Urie, Heaven thought in disgust. Tarra was on her ass in the dirt. Standing infront of Brendon Tarra couldn't help but think that Heaven looked like she was ready to draw a weapon on him, Wild West style. Quickly checking to make sure that her friend wasn't carrying a weapon (you never know) she climbed to her feet.

"I'm Tarra," she said, her eyes on his lips. They stretched into a smile as he reached out a hand to shake hers.

"Brendon."

"Oh sure," Heaven muttered, "Stare at my Breast but ignore Tarra's."

Tarra nudged her as Brendon's face once again grew red.

"Come on, Tarra," Heaven said, pulling at her friend, "You owe me a cookie...and we don't associate with Panic! At the Disco."

Tarra looked back at Brendon as Heaven walked away and shrugged.

"I'm not really sure what you did to her, but she hates you now."

"But--all I did was give her an autograph!"

Tarra patted his shoulder soothingly, "Don't worry, you'll figure out why she's mad at you. You should buy her cookies. That would make her like you."

Brendon chuckled and wondered how many more times he would have to run into the girl before they left for the next venue.