This was one of the bad interviews, though. "It was never that hard for me," she said. "I mean, I just wasn't in that many bands. And they're good guys."
"But what about changing?" The guy grinned. "It must've been rough, right? How many of the guys have spied on you getting naked?"
"Um." She blinked, trying to think of something to say that wouldn't infuriate the label. "No. They've seen boobs before, generally."
"But not yours, right? I've heard you've got a reputation for being a prude."
She frowned. "I just wear normal clothes. How is that prudish?"
"Hey, now, I'm asking the questions." His laugh was as fake as his smile. She moved back a little. "And you can't pretend you haven't heard what people say about your...lack of fun, wardrobe-wise."
It wasn't the first, second, or even the third time an interviewer had said this kind of thing to her, but normally she'd had at least one of the guys to help her out. "I don't..."
"You just don't dress much like a girl in a band, if you know what I mean." He winked.
Her face was bright red and she knew exactly what she'd say and how she'd say it if she was anywhere but in front of a camera. "Um," she said, and looked away from him.
The Black Parade album cover was hanging behind him. He'd introduced her by talking about what a big deal My Chem was. They'd sold hundreds of thousands of copies.
They were a big fucking deal, she realized. It was like being kicked in the ass by Gerard, or being headbutted by Frank. "I wear normal clothes," she said coldly. "I don't front the band, and even if I did, I'd still wear normal clothes. I'm up there to play guitar, not be jerk off material for guys who don't know how to find internet porn."
He actually recoiled. Her face burned, because shit shit shit, Craig was going to be pissed. He hated when they steamrolled over what might have been good PR, and she was just confirming all the stereotypes about girls being too sensitive and no fun and –
"People have talked a lot about the record moving from a more punk, almost pop-ish feel into clear classic rock influences. Could you tell us how that change came about?"
She stared at him; he looked back.
This was her job, so she nodded, cleared her throat, and started talking about Pink Floyd.
||
She didn't tell the guys about it and none of them bothered to watch the interview, so it was only when Craig brought it up over a conference call that they realized something had happened.
"Girl power sells," he said cheerfully, "but beyond that, you should never feel cornered in an interview. You've got the label behind you guys right now, remember. You're hot stuff. Abuse your power a little."
"Wait, what?" Bob said.
"Oh. So hey, I'll call you guys back."
Craig hung up, and the others turned to look at Rae. She stared at her feet. "It was no big deal."
"He thinks it was, and he doesn't notice half the shit we do," Frank said. "What happened?"
"You guys didn't see?" Matt had opted out of the conference call, claiming rights as a substitute bassist to skip the boring parts of being in a major band, but he was hanging on the couch a few feet away. "She owned the idiot Kerrang sent to talk to her."
"I didn't own anything, I just said some words that we're lucky Craig isn't mad at me for."
"Okay," Bob said, but his laptop was loading the YouTube video. Rae went to stick her face in a couch pillow.
Unfortunately, she didn't think to cover her ears, and once she heard the interviewer's voice she couldn't make herself block it out. She didn't remember sounding that nervous – or, wow, that pissed.
Frank whistled when the interviewer backed down. "Nice."
"See why we're lucky?" Rae said.
"That interviewer was fucking out of line, though." Bob was doing his best impression of the Hulk when Rae looked up, all hunched shoulders and will-fuck-you-up frown. "If Craig had been pissed about that, I'd be voting for us doing our next album in Geoff's basement again."
"Exactly." Gerard shook his head. "You did a good job. That's so fucking stupid, I don't get called a fag when I do interviews."
"Well, to be fair, you don't actually make out with dudes." Frank paused. "Much."
"Does Mikey know?" Gerard said.
She knew that look. "It can wait till he calls," she said firmly.
"All he's doing is sitting on his ass playing sex chicken with all his weird friends. Give me your phone," Frank said, sitting on her ass and sticking his hands in her pockets.
"Get off of me, you freak."
"Or at least hold still," Gerard said. Rae looked up, and sure enough, he had his phone out.
She groaned. "Fuckers."
"Hey, Mikes. Yeah, Frank made me yesterday. What the fuck? I'm not telling you that. Yeah, no, that's actually what I was calling about. Did you – you did? Why didn't...oh. Jesus, that's – okay, okay. Calm down. Okay. Get some sleep, man. Love you too."
Gerard hung up. "He saw it and thinks you're awesome, but can't talk, because he burned his mouth on coffee he somehow got to boil."
It was a completely believable story, even if Gerard wasn't quite looking at any of them. "Oh," Rae said. "Well. Okay, then."
||
She called Mikey once every three days, like clockwork. They talked more than they ever had when he was actually touring, but she still felt his absence every time they performed; everyone did. He needed the break, but they needed their bassist.
Not that Matt wasn't awesome, because he was, even if he was also fond of showing Rae his gross-out porn. He just wasn't Mikey, and it hadn't really hit home until now just how essential all five of them together were.
"We miss you," she said quietly one night, curled up in her bunk with the phone to her ear.
"I'll come back. You guys can do your macho-punk tour without me, though."
"Linkin Park is totally badass," she said. "Frank and Gerard are already making plans."
"People are going to be calling me about how gay my brother is, aren't they?" Mikey mock-sighed.
She laughed. "Just tell them you already know how gay he is. It'll be fine."
"Take care of yourself, okay?"
Mikey wasn't completely ignorant of what that kind of crowd would mean for her. She nodded, then rolled her eyes at herself and said, "Yeah, of course. Worm's already lectured me."
"Good." Mikey yawned into the phone. "'night, Rae."
"Goodnight," she said, but she waited for him to hang up.
||
Worm had lectured her, not that it was really needed. The atmosphere was a lot more like their smaller tours, and she acted accordingly, careful to stay with groups and keeping to herself at night. It wasn't a huge enough difference from how she normally spent her time to really be noticeable, until Gerard stormed onto the bus one day, face white.
She took her headphones off right away. "What's going on?"
"Motherfucking – fucking assholes." He made quote marks with his fingers. "'Motherfucking bus full of fags and pussies'. Fuck them." He dropped down on the couch. "Let's play D&D or something, Jesus."
"What the fuck?" Frank said. "Get off my foot."
"I heard people talking, is all." He shook his head. "This is the best fucking bus on tour. Okay?"
Rae put her iPod down, wrapping her headphones up and holding out an arm. "We know."
He leaned against her right away. "It doesn't even make sense to call you a pussy, because you have one, but you're awesome."
"They were probably talking about Frank. Everyone knows he's afraid of his own shadow."
"I will fuck you up, Toro."
She flipped him off. "Fess up, though. You heard some no-name techs talking."
"They had names," Gerard mumbled. "I just didn't ask."
It was the kind of Gerard Mikey would have been way better at dealing with. "It doesn't matter what they say."
"Yeah, it does." He sighed. "I'll think of something. I don't know."
It was impossible to stop herself from feeling apprehensive. She played half of the next show with her stomach in her throat, but Gerard was behaving as much as he ever did onstage, and as the set wore on, she let herself relax a bit.
Then Gerard had the guys in the audience take their shirts off and kissed Frank full on the mouth. Of course.
"You didn't really have to do that," she said afterwards. "Mikey's going to yell."
"He always yells when we do stupid shit," Frank said, and waggled his tongue at Gerard.
Gerard rolled his eyes. "Like you didn't know something was going to happen," he said.
"Just don't get beat up," Rae said.
"To be fair, you're more likely to get trouble for existing," Bob said.
"I'm used to it, though."
"So am I," Gerard said, gesturing to himself. "I get my ass kicked like a faggot no matter who I'm dating."
"But constantly?" She shook her head. "You should stay with Bob for awhile. The rest of the tour, if you keep doing that stuff."
It was relatively rare for her to put her foot down like that. Gerard blinked at her. "You're sure?"
"I have to be careful all the time. Which is okay, I'm used to it, but you..."
"I know." He hugged her, ignoring the way she wrinkled his nose at the waves of stink coming off him. "And Bob doesn't have to, I can get Worm to do it."
"You're such a rock star," she said, squeezing his shoulders. "Security and everything."
"Nah, you." He hugged her waist. "We get Mikey back soon."
She didn't miss the implication. "The band'll have our bassist, yeah."
"Rae."
It was never easy to pull away from Gerard when he was like this, but right now she wanted Way matchmaking about as much as a hole in the head. She took a step back. "You should make out with Frank while you have the chance."
Gerard dropped his arm. "He's been watching YouTube clips. I'm doomed either way."
"You definitely need Worm to protect you, then," she said, grinning.
They didn't tone it down after that; if anything, they got worse. "It's a little weird to be on this end of the revolution," Rae told Mikey one night.
"At least you get to see a bunch of dudes with their shirts off?"
She laughed. "Yeah, because that's so out of the ordinary for me."
"Yeah, well." She could almost feel Mikey frowning. "Eye candy. Awesome."
"Don't worry, it's pure objectification. Mostly. Cortez got shirtless the other day, it was nice. He's got these abs."
"I will hang up."
He sounded just annoyed enough for Rae to stop. "Three days."
"I miss you guys." He yawned, the crackling noises letting her know he was once again mashing the phone against his mouth. "I learned 'Cancer', by the way. You can still play it, I just...I don't know. I learned it."
It hadn't even occurred to her that he'd try. "That's awesome," she said. "Crash now, and when we hit Jersey I'll make you play it for me."
"'kay."
He was making tiny, sleepy snuffling noises before she even hung up.
||
"Mikey Way!" Frank yelled, and tackled him.
"You're getting too much sex," Mikey complained from his spot on the ground.
"Quasi-sex." Frank licked Mikey's neck. "Gerard still won't suck my dick."
"Suck his dick, Gerard. Maybe that'll calm him down."
"You do it, if you're so invested." Gerard helped him up, then hugged him hard. "Hey."
The others hung back a little, watching Gerard and Mikey cling together and sniff more than Rae thought any of the rest of them could have managed without gagging. When Gerard finally let Mikey go, both their faces were bright red.
"Saps," Bob said in the tone Rae knew meant he wanted to hug all of them.
Mikey was apparently thinking the same thing, because he went over and hugged Bob. "Hey, Bryar."
She didn't mean to wind up standing on the edges, but by the time Bob pulled away, she was hanging off to one side. Mikey walked up to her and stopped about a foot away, staring at her shoulder. "Hi."
And really, this was so completely ridiculous Rae was a little amazed everyone else wasn't laughing at them. "Hi, Mikey," she said, and hugged him tight.
He looked and felt better than he had before he'd left – healthier, even more sure of himself. She let him go and immediately failed at not looking him up and down appraisingly.
Sometimes being honest with herself sucked. Now was one of those times; he looked hot, she admitted privately. He'd changed enough that it was like being back in his mom's basement, ignoring the rumors she'd heard about him in favor of shoving him into the just-friends box in her head.
"So where's Schechter got us staying?" he said finally, shifting nervously from foot to foot.
Bob snorted. "On the bus, for tonight."
Mikey's face fell. "But it's Jersey. "
"And Schechter," Frank said helpfully.
Gerard laughed. "Welcome back, Mikey Way."
||
The show that night was completely insane.
She'd forgotten how much Gerard depended on Mikey. It was the one thing she didn't think Mikey'd ever completely understand; when he wasn't onstage, something was missing from Gerard.
"Back to back, Mikey Way!" he yelled joyously, and Rae couldn't stop smiling in response.
All five of them, she thought. It was what had to be.
She watched Mikey carefully during 'Cancer'. He was standing just backstage, watching Gerard, expression completely unreadable.
It took longer than usual to wind down after the show; Frank kept jumping on everyone, and Bob told Mikey it was good he was back no less than five times. Even James and Matt had caught it, grinning like idiots as they all huddled together.
After an hour of hanging in and around the buses, Mikey said, "Hey, can I play it for you now?"
He sounded as excited as he ever did. "Sure," she said. "Dewees!"
James's ability to appear when someone yelled for him was a little surreal, all things considered. "No threesomes or costumes."
Mikey rolled his eyes. "We just need a keyboardist for a minute."
He cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
"Cancer," Rae said. "Please?"
They all crowded into the bus studio together. "Ready? Alright," he said when Mikey nodded, and started playing.
Rae hummed – off-key, she always told Gerard, not that he listened – as Mikey went into his part.
She forgot to make any noise for a while after that.
It wasn't amazing playing. It was just Mikey going through a part he'd learned, and logically, she knew that. She also knew that he'd learned it as much for himself as for her or anyone else in the band. But it still felt a little like being punched in the stomach, watching him play so confidently, half his mouth curled up in a smug little smile.
"I...wow," she said finally. "That's, um. Yeah. You practiced."
Mikey put his bass aside, full-out grinning. "And practiced, and practiced. Like I said, you can still play it, I just wanted to know it. You know?"
She nodded so hard it felt like her head might fall off. "Awesome, Mikey. Seriously."
Everything about the way he moved was distracting enough that she almost didn't notice James moving to the doorway and clearing his throat. "Hey, Rae, I just thought of something. Can I talk to you for a second?"
She half wanted to hug Mikey, but settled for squeezing his wrist. "Yeah, sure."
James didn't say anything until they were off the bus and the door was closed. He stood for a second with his back to her before saying, "So who knows?"
She blinked. "What?"
"Gerard wants it, that's kind of obvious, but he thinks it's just him being a romantic. Does anyone actually know?"
It wasn't the first time she felt like she'd abruptly stepped into a soap opera, but she'd never expected to have that kind of surreal conversation with Dewees. "Know what?"
He finally turned to look at her. "Oh. You don't know."
"Yeah, that's kind of the point."
He shook his head. "Mikey."
She took a deep breath. She'd been in a band with Gerard for five years; nonsensical conversations were nothing new. "Mikey what?"
"You and Mikey – you're kind of, you know."
Jumping to conclusions was wrong. She frowned anyway. "No, I don't. Explain, please."
James crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows and generally looked as solid serious-dude as anyone with My Chem connections possibly could. "There was an awful lot of longing glances and uncomfortable tension back there."
She could handle this. She could. "Being in a band with a bunch of guys doesn't mean I have to have a crush on one of them. And I don't."
He sounded almost too gentle when he said, "It wasn't just coming from you, Rae."
"It wasn't coming from me at all! Wait." She blinked. "What?"
"This isn't an intervention." He held up his hand. "I'm not saying you guys should hop a plane to Vegas and get married. But I know it's easy to get so familiar with someone you don't even notice that kind of thing. So...heads up, okay?"
"Heads up." She nodded hard, trying to force her mind to stop spinning and cooperate. "Right. Thanks."
He cocked his hand in a half-wave and left.
Mikey was sitting on the lounge's couch like a kid waiting to be sent into the principal's office. "Well?"
She shrugged. "Gerard's been stealing his underwear."
"That's the kind of lie Frank would come up with." Mikey blinked up at her. "You're lying."
"Yes," she admitted, sitting next to him.
He moved immediately, resting his head on her shoulder. "You don't have to tell me."
"There's not a whole lot to tell." She put an arm around him loosely. "You were really good, though."
"Not as good as you."
"You're important," she said. "You might not be as good on guitar, but Jesus, Mikey. You saw how Gerard was."
"Yeah." There was definite pride there, and once again she was hit with exactly how much he'd changed after Paramour. "We're all really good together."
Her stomach twisted; she closed her eyes. Hitting people wasn't her thing at all, but if James had been anywhere nearby right then, she might have tried to punch him. Friends, she thought. Friends. She'd seen the type of girl he went for, and it wasn't anyone who looked like her.
Friends.
||
She stepped back onto the bus to see Mikey lying on the couch, looking like he'd never left. "We head out tomorrow," she said. "Are you spending the night here?"
"Yeah, but – hang on." He grabbed his Sidekick the second it buzzed, flipping it open and rolling his eyes as his fingers moved over the keypad.
"Adam?" she said.
He nodded. "Wants to come hang, with Geoff and the others. Kick it old school, or whatever."
"Tell them we're too much of a big deal to do that kind of thing," she said airily.
"Too late." He closed his phone. "We're swinging by there tonight. They're gonna do a house party thing."
"You're sure you want to go?" she said, but she was already texting Gerard.
"I'm sure," Mikey said firmly.
||
It was like being catapulted backwards, both literally and metaphorically.
Everyone was there. They treated each other differently; of course; staying in touch with people was different from all of them being thrown together again. Rae was a Someone she'd never been back then, and Bob knew an unexpected number of people.
Neither Mikey nor Gerard got drunk, which was really the biggest difference, and the one that had her feeling stupidly incongruous.
"Am I turning into an old man, or is this not as much fun as it used to be?"
Jamia poked Frank in the side. "You're turning into an old man."
He stuck his tongue out. "I wasn't asking you."
"Gerard's not a wallflower, at least," Rae said. He also mostly wasn't even in the house, but hey, quibbling.
"Who does he keep calling?"
"Lyn-z," Frank said before Rae could answer. "She's his love story or something."
"Jealous, baby?" Jamia said, and stomped Frank's foot.
He howled. Rae laughed and looked away, just in time to catch Mikey ducking down the hallway.
"I'll be right back," she said absently, and followed him.
She half expected Mikey to meet up with someone, but instead he went into the bathroom, leaning against the counter. He didn't close the door, but she knocked on the doorframe anyway.
His head jerked up. "Oh. Hi."
"Mind if I come in?"
He shook his head. She moved in and shut the door; it made the already distant music legitimately quiet. "Something wrong?"
"Not really." But he was standing stiffly, not looking at her. "I don't know. I guess I used to think this was fun."
There was nothing tactful to say to that. "To be fair, you were kind of...um. Usually you used to..."
"Be drunk off my ass and fucking someone? Yeah."
"You could still do half of that."
She felt bad as soon as he looked at her. "I know."
"Not that I think you should," she said quickly. "Just that you could. "
He hunched his shoulders, staring at the bathroom floor. It was the clearest indicator in the world that she'd fucked up, so she moved over to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. "You're happier now, though, right?"
He nodded against her. "Obviously. But it's not...I don't want to. I don't think I told you. I just really fucking don't want to."
"Okay," she said slowly. It was obvious he was leading up to something, but she couldn't have said what for all the money in the world.
He shook his head a little and moved away. "And Gerard's all lovey-dovey over long distance, and Frank and Jamia are...well, you know them. Even Bob's got someone."
"I don't," she said, feeling more or less like the lamest person ever.
Mikey stared at her for a second before laughing. It was an old-Mikey laugh, abrupt and strained. "You could."
She didn't know whether he was trying to mock her or not. "Yeah, so?"
"You know you could," he pressed. "And I know sometimes you want to. Why don't you?"
Touring had a way of sticking a person in every single ridiculous social situation imaginable, and then some. She still had no idea what to say. "I don't know," she said. "I'm...I'm picky, I guess."
"Picky, right." He moved until his hip was cocked, looking at her. For the first time, she missed his glasses – missed every part of old-Mikey, who never would have made such a tense conversation even worse. "You should hook up with someone. I'm totally stupid about it, but you could find someone. And I know you want to."
"Mikey." She gave in to temptation and buried her face in her hands, sighing. "You don't get it."
"What don't I get?" His voice was loud enough to echo in the bathroom, loud enough to drown out the drunken yells of guys stumbling past the door. "Just explain!"
She could feel herself burning up, the blush bad enough to spread down her neck. "I don't have to," she said. "You've seen me. I'm not ugly, but come on, do I look like the girl you pick up at a party to – to whatever with? I'm the girlfriend type who never has a boyfriend. You know it."
He was quiet for long enough that even her patience ran out. She took her hands down and looked up, stomach turning.
He was staring at her. "What?"
"You seriously think." He sighed and took a step forward. "You could be. Is the thing."
She half wished she could blame losing track of the conversation on being drunk. "What?"
He took hold of her wrists and moved them, looking at her. "There's nothing wrong with you."
"I look like a bodybuilder," she said.
"Yeah, with tits." He shook his head. "Seriously. If you dressed differently, you'd be a hit."
"If I straightened my hair, wore makeup?" It was unfair to be sarcastic and she knew it. She just couldn't stop, was all. "I don't."
He kept moving closer. "Yeah, no. But you could."
Staring at his hands on her was getting old, so she looked up.
It was a mistake; he was too, too close. "You keep saying that."
"It's true."
"It doesn't matter, " she said. "It just doesn't. Thanks for the comfort, really, because it's nice sometimes, but -"
It wasn't very dramatic because they were already in each other's personal spaces, but it still felt like Rae's stomach was bottoming out when Mikey ducked his head down and brushed his lips against hers.
"Oh," Rae said when Mikey jerked backwards.
He was bright red. "I didn't mean to," he blurted. "It was – I didn't. Um. It was stupid. Sorry."
She cleared her throat. "You don't have to be sorry," she said. "Really, really don't."
"I should, though. You hate getting hassled at parties."
She hated being brave even more, but... "You kissing me like a third grader isn't hassling."
He was blushing, and it was adorable, and she was stupid. "What is it?"
"Kind of ridiculous." She hated this, absolutely completely hated it, but she took a deep breath and forced herself to keep going anyway. "Want to try again?"
"I thought you weren't –"
"I just said I was picky."
She'd never seen Mikey act this awkward before, fumbling and blushing. "Okay."
It would have been almost laughably easy to make a list of reasons why this was a bad idea. Tables, picture graphs, essays, even. But none of that was more important than the way Mikey's hands felt when she took them, clammy and kind of amazing, or the way he swallowed and looked down at her.
"So I don't need to dress differently?" she said quietly.
His eyes flew up to her face. "Never. I didn't mean – I meant for other people. Who are stupid. Not me."
That made her laugh a little as she leaned forward, kissing him lightly. "I know. It's you."
She moved up until she was sitting on the counter. She had to tilt Mikey's head back, which was a little weird but completely worth it; Mikey made a quiet little noise in the back of his throat and kissed back, hands splaying on her thighs.
"Okay," Mikey said after a few minutes. He took a deep, shaky breath. "Okay."
"It is," she said firmly.
He swallowed hard. "I'm just not. Are we. Are we?"
And – right. This was the reason why not. "Whatever you want." She held up a hand to keep him from replying. "Not in a bad way. Just, I'll take anything, you know?"
His eyes were so wide they looked almost ready to pop out of his head. "Oh."
Дата добавления: 2015-10-21; просмотров: 34 | Нарушение авторских прав
| <== предыдущая лекция | | | следующая лекция ==> |