Ryan's account of the summer of 2006. "I would get a tattoo of the number '2006'. That whole year was amazing to us."-Jon Walker (Ryden, with OC's from my auditions)
At first he was just some kid with a voice. But that didn't last very long.
June 3rd, 2006.
I hate it when they give him red bull. It makes him jumpy as fuck, and just plain annoying. He'll sit in the back lounge and bounce on the seats while listening to N'sync or something like that, and hum the tunes obnoxiously until 5 am when he'll finally crash. I know he will, I've seen it before. Not that it should bother me, he's not too loud, and my bunk is insulated enough that I don't hear much. It really shouldn't bother me. What he does with his early mornings is none of my business.
But god, I hate it when they give him red bull. He should be sleeping. He'll hate himself tomorrow when we have to play and he's running on 4 hours of sleep. He'll get tired, and he might get sick. It's all Zack's fault. He should keep a lock on that shit.
"Hey, Bren?" I ask, as he takes yet another sip of the energy drink. His eyes glance up at me, eyes big and puppy like as usual, saying 'what? I'm not doing anything wrong!'. "Kind of late to be drinking one of those."
"I'll be fine." He assures me with a smile. He kicks his feet up onto the couch in back and pulls himself into a ball, one hand clutching his knees, the other holding his drink. I shrug, but know he's wrong. This is what always happens. I turn from the back lounge doorway, to see Spencer climbing into his bunk, and Jon's bunk curtain being pulled closed.
"'Night." Spencer nods towards me, once he sees me watching. I nod in return as he climbs all the way in. Jon waves his hand out from the curtain of his bunk, wishing me a silent goodnight and then pulls it back in. Jon's bunk is under Spencer's, and across from mine. I should really get some sleep. I turn back to the lounge door, watching as Brendon pulls out his iPod and puts his headphones in.
"I'm gonna close this, cool?" I ask. He nods absentmindedly, his thumb twirling the dial of his iPod. He's already concentrated on the song playing through his earbuds, as I pull the door shut. I walk back to my bunk, and grab the pair of plaid, flannel pants I have tucked in the corner. No one's watching, so I quickly pull my stage pants off and replace them with the pajama bottoms. I slide my shirt off quickly, and opt to sleep topless. It get's so hot in my bunk at night. With one final glance at the lounge door, I slip into my bunk, and pull the curtain.
The giggles wake me up an hour later. I toss and turn for a few seconds, hoping to fall back to sleep despite the interruption. My bunk is hot, just like I expected it to be, and my skin is clammy. Not sweaty; clammy. There's a difference. I lie on my back, and stare up at the wooden bottom of Brendon's bunk. Tomorrow is going to suck. I can already tell. Realizing that sleep won't be coming anytime soon, I inch out from my bunk and crawl out onto the bus floor. There's light leaking from the door of the back lounge, and girly giggles are accompanying it.
Does no one sleep around here?
I stand, pad my way over to the door, and push it open. Brendon is standing on the couch, bouncing on the cushions, with a goofy expression on his face, while two of our dancers, Tatiana and Linnea, sit laughing up at him from the ground. Both girls are beautiful in their own way.
Tatiana is pale, with long layered black hair. She seems to wear her life on her skin, unafraid to speak her mind. I've always liked her, her easy way of just being her. Though, I'm sure there's more to her than she leads on. There's a story behind everyone. She's wearing black leggings, and pink high top converse. Her top half is wrapped up in a white oversized cardigan, with nothing but a plain black sports bra underneath. He face is still slightly stained with her circus make-up. Diamonds and stars dressing the side of her face.
Linnea sits next to her, closer to Brendon. Not that that is necessarily surprising. She's been crushing on Brendon since we shot the I Write Sins music video, and it hasn't stopped yet. I have no idea if Brendon has noticed. She has black hair as well, but only for the moment. It seems to change on a daily basis. It falls down a few inches past her shoulders, and is teased up on top. Her skin is darker than Tatiana's, a tiny bit of a sun kissed tan. Other than that she and Tatiana could be sisters. Maybe that's the point… do they play that up during the show? I don't remember. Linnea stands up upon my entrance, her legs are bare, an extra large Rolling Stones t-shirt falling down to her mid thighs. She strides over to me, and wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me into a hug. I hug back, a smile on my face. I've always liked Linnea.
"Hi." I laugh, staggering a little. She has to stand on her tip toes to hug me, and as she lets go, she sinks down to her usual height of… well, small.
"Hi. Great show tonight!" She smiles, I nod.
"Trouble sleeping?" Tatiana chimes, biting her lip.
"I'll be fine. My bunk is just really hot. Speaking of which, how did you two get on the bus? Weren't you in the van with the other guys?" I ask, scratching the back of my head. Linnea walks away, falling onto the couch where Brendon is now sitting.
"Tsk Tsk," Tatiana shakes her head, "King Ryan, sending us jester folk back to the circus car."
"Aw come on, you know what I mean."
"We stopped to fill up, and I went over and kidnapped them." Brendon smirks. Linnea giggles again, God could she be more obvious, and nods in agreement.
"And we couldn't say no!" She smiles over at Brendon, who returns it.
They might make a good couple. But never get involved with someone you're on tour with. Things are bound to get ugly.
"Well, obviously," I allow, sitting down on the couch on the other side of Brendon, "I'm never going to get any sleep tonight."
"You can have one of my redbulls tomorrow if you need it." Brendon offers, looking over at me with his big eyes wide.
"Thanks." I smile back. We let the conversation flow for the rest of the night, easy and playful. The girls tell us ridiculous circus stories, while Brendon and I share studio memories. We fall into an easy pattern, and i'm beginning to think that this summer might turn out to be one of the best of my life.
June 5th, 2006
God fucking damn it. This is such bullshit. Why the fuck we have to do our soundcheck so fucking early is beyond me. I was power napping, when Spencer slapped me on the back as hard as he can to wake me and force me onstage. I want to kill people. I will probably end up killing people.
"Guitar." The voice on the intercom comes, telling me to play. I flip on my foot board with my hand and begin idly strumming my guitar. I'm lying down on the stage, guitar across my stomach. I refuse to do more. Physical movement is pretty much impossible at the moment.
"Guitar, and Guitar Vocals."
I huff, looking up at the mic stand. It's so far away. I'd have to actually get up to talk into it. I start to lean up, when Brendon pulls the mic from the stand and starts talking into it. I lay back down and continue to strum.
"Check, Check. CHHeck CHHeck. Ryan Ross is a lazy mother fucker who won't get up off his ass, checking. CheckING."
I roll my eyes, and look up at that stupid smile he's sporting. What a stupid dork, with a stupid smile.
"Thank you. Lead vocals." The voice calls. Brendon shakes his head at me, and puts the mic back on my stand. He strides over to his center mic.
"Check, Check. Checking, One, Two-"
"Can you sing please?"
"Swear to shake it up if you swear to listen, oh we're still so young, desperate for attention, I aim to be your eyes, trophy boys, trophy wives. Swear to shake it up-"
"Okay, thank you. Full band?"
I better stand up now. I push myself to my feet, and look over at the other guys.
"Camisado?" I suggest. They all nod, and agree. Spencer counts us off, and Brendon sings the opening lines.
One would think that I'd be used to him singing this by now. This one in particular. I took a chance with these lyrics, poured my past and all of my fucked up problems into the words. And he sings them perfectly. So perfectly.
The band kicks in on his, "This is the scent of dead skin…" and he looks over at me, guitar in hand, and mouth still on the mic. But he manages to look over at me and smile. Like he's reading my fucking thoughts and knows I'll never be more thankful that we found him. That he's part of this band. That he's him.
I just smile back.
We play through the rest of the song, and the mysterious voice of the sound guy says we're all set. I hand my guitar over to Nick, my guitar tech, and give him a pat on the back. He nods up at me. He's kind of a quite guy, spends most of his time with Zack or Spencer. But he's nice enough, and I can't help but feel that he's got some kind of opinion on me that he'll never share… maybe I need to get him drunk and make him spill.
"The usual settings?" he asks, looking down at my footboard.
"Yeah, thanks, man."
He nods, pressing a few buttons on the footboard, as I excuse myself and walk back to the dressing room. The one with the nice couch I was just power napping on. When I walk inside, Spencer and Jon are sitting on the couch, locked in some kind of thumb war that has them really concentrated on their own arms, and Brendon is propped up on the make-up counter, sucking on a capri sun. I sigh, my napping spot now being taken, and pull myself up on the counter next to Brendon.
"What are they even doing?" I ask, watching as they twist their elbows this way and that way to achieve superiority.
"Um… it's a thumb war." Brendon states, looking at me with a raised eyebrow.
"Well, yeah. I've got that much." I roll my eyes, because really? I'm not an idiot.
"I don't know. It just kinda broke out. Got really intense, really fast." Brendon laughs a little.
"All of your talking is throwing off my game!" Spencer says, biting his lip and twisting his wrist a little.
"You didn't have any game to start with!" Jon banters, finally catching Spencers thumb under his own and holding it there.
"Fuck you, man." Spencer shakes his head, pulling his hand away from Jon and slouching back on the couch. He's breathing like he just ran a marathon.
Jon smiles wide, and stands from the couch, grabbing a capri sun from the cardboard package on the table. Brendon sits up a little, eyes wide.
"Hey! Zack bought those for-"
"The band, Brendon. Are you two years old or what?" Jon shakes his head, piercing the straw through the whole in the top, and sucking in. He looks about five years old drinking that thing, so him calling Brendon two is pretty ironic. Brendon sighs, and leans back against the mirror.
"We can pick more up next time the bus makes a pit stop. Okay?" I say to him. Brendon smiles, the straw still in his mouth.
"So, we going to the after party tonight?" Spencer asks from the couch.
"After party?" I ask. I haven't heard anything about one.
"Yeah, uh, since tomorrow's our off day there's supposed to be a huge party downtown it's at the uh… umm…"
"The Viper Room." Jon smiles. I nod. I know that place. A club in downtown LA, owned by some hot shot movie star, I forget which one. I'm pretty sure River Phoenix died there back in the 90's…
"And how do you plan on getting in there?" I shake my head. We may be a top selling band at the moment, but that doesn't change the fact that we're 18 and 19 year olds. Well, Jon's old enough, but still.
"We're the band, dude." Jon looks at me like that is explanation enough. I just shrug. If he thinks we can get in, maybe we can.
And okay, getting smashed and getting laid sounds really awesome right now. I glance over at Brendon, who's got this excited grin on his face, and a playful quirk in his eyes, like he's thinking the same thing.
"After party sounds fun." I agree, and Brendon nods.
a/n I know not all of the OC's were introduced, but do not fret! They will be soon. Please Rate and Review, it's always appreciated!