I was wrong. I was wrong, really wrong.
Here I was, at Gerard's party having quite an awesome time. It wasn't nearly as awkward as I thought it was going to be. It turns out that his friends are a lot like him; that's a good sign seeing as how well Gerard and hit it off in the beginning.
I’m talking to this one kid now, Frank Iero. He’s in the same band as Gerard. I still don’t know why Gerard didn’t say that him and his wife were both in world famous bands. He probably thought that I would think he was showing off or something.
“… so yeah, that’s when I got my first tattoo,” Frank said proudly, grinning at me. Hell, you’d be grinning too if you were talking to another body art junkie. That’s not all we have in common either; our favorite bands are the same, we’re both vegetarians, and we were both really freaking short.
I laughed with him. “I actually got my first tattoo at fifteen. I paid some homeless guy to sign for me, and all it cost me was calling him Grandpa for half an hour and buying him a sub,” I said. Frank burst into little high-pitched giggles. He covered his mouth with his hand in embarrassment.
Now I don’t know why I notice these things but I do. I saw a tan line around his ring finger on his left hand when he put his hand to his mouth. I’m not sure why it stood out to me but it did. Maybe he just got divorced or something… I thought to myself. I figured it best not to ask at all.
“You seriously paid some hobo to sign for you ink?” Frank laughed out. I nodded, taking a sip from my water bottle and trying not to laugh. “Briella, that is just… bravo.” I laughed even more at his enthusiasm. Though it was clear that he wished he had thought of that idea when he was kid. That only gave me more self-satisfaction. I grinned at him.
“I did the same thing to get into my first Bouncing Souls show. I mean, dude, I was only eight,” I said to Frank. He almost spit some of his beer out.
“Do you wanna go for a walk or something?” Frank asked me suddenly.
I shrugged. “Yeah, sure, I guess,” I said to him.
So right now, I feel like a fourteen year-old kid who snuck out with her best friend and then realized she would get caught if she tried to go home. Yes, that’s exactly how I feel.
Frankie and are laying on a picnic table in the middle of the park (incidentally not the one Gerard and I went to yesterday) and talking about the most off-topic shit. I’ve never been part of a more random conversation.
“You know, Gee’s probably wandering where we are,” Frank reminded me. I really didn’t care because, while the party wasn’t awkward, I would much rather be out here in the Jersey humidity talking with Frank.
I shrugged my shoulder half-heartedly. “You gotta point, Frankie?” I asked him, looking up at the sky. I don’t know why I was looking at the sky; I mean, you can’t even see it through the trees.
Frank sat up; he was wobbling a little so I sat up with him, steadying him. “Briella,” he said in a bored tone. “Bri, I need help. I need some serious help.”
My confused look showed through any type of façade I was trying to pull off. “Frank, what’d you mean?” I asked him worriedly.
“I don’t know what I’m gonna do, Bri. What can I do?” Frank asked me. He started sobbing and suddenly I was slightly scared. What am I going to do?
“Frankie, hun, what’s wrong?” I asked him. He didn’t answer me; he wiped some tears from his eyes that were only to be replaced by more. “Hun, if you don’t tell me I can’t help you,” I said to him quietly.
“I know too much, Bri. I’m not supposed to know this,” Frank said to me. “I know way too much!”
Holy shit! What does Frank know? Can Briella help him? Do any of you care?!