Steven forgot to mention something to Joe... (Joe's POV) There's some cussing, so don't read if you're bothered by that please.
"What?" Tom leaned back in his chair, brushing his blond hair out of his mild brown eyes. "American Idol? Yeah, it ain't pretty." He took another swig out of his drink and resumed watching the T.V.
Joe was irritated. He was irritated because Steven was turning into a snobby, attention whore of a celebrity, because American Idol was possibly the most idiotic and desperate show he had ever heard of and, most of all, because Steven had never passed this tidbit of gossip along to him.
"Did any of you know about this?" He demanded, still staring at the article angrilly.
"It was a surprise."
His bandmates didn't sound like they were bothered, but they probably were. Joe picked up the magizine, glared at it a moment longer, then tore it to shreds and flung it in the trash bin next to the couch.
"Why don't you call Steven?" Joey suggested. His tone implied that he thought Joe was going a little overboard.
Joe sent him a fiery look. "Since I see none of you jumping at the chance, I will." He stalked to the guest bedroom and whipped out his cell phone. Joe had Steven first on his contacts-- for many reasons.
The phone rang and rang. More than a little extremely pissed off now, Joe hand-dialed Steven's number, only to have him pick up on the first ring.
"So what's the name of this new show you're starring in? It feels I've temporailly lost my mind, because everyone knows this! Oh wait-- except for me and the band." Joe wasn't normally one to be sarcastic when angry, but this had crossed a line.
"Look man, it isn't a big thing."
"It is if you felt inclined to keep it a secret from us!"
"Calm the fuck down, Joe!"
"Explain to me this 'American Idol' then."
"It's a show were kids sing and me, J-Lo and Randy Jackson judge them. I would invite you on it, but there's no Guitar Idol bit!"
"Soon there won't be a Steven Tyler bit in Aerosmith if you don't shut your fucking mouth!"
"I can write lyrics without you. We both know that. Aerosmith doesn't need some fish-lipped harmonica player as a frontman to be big."
"But it helps."
"Maybe we don't need help anymore, Steven."
"C'mon Joe, you know what we've both always known. Brad, Tom and Joey are our help. Us. Me and you. The Toxic Twins. We are Aerosmith."
"Have you lost your damn mind? Don't answer that. And don't come back."
Joe pressed 'end call' and slumped against a wall, despair, rage and confusion threatening to swamp him.
After awhile, he realized he had to face the music. I just pretty much kicked Steven's sorry ass out of Aerosmith. How will the rest of the band react? What about a new frontman? This will be all over the press in two hours.
First things first, Joe. Calm. Down.
He took a deep breath. A couple of them, actually, and slid his phone into his jean's pocket. He forced himself to walk out the door and back to where the band was still hanging out.
Tom was the first to glance up. "Did you talk to Steven?"
"Yeah." Joe reluctantly sat on the corner of the couch, staring at the flickering light of the T.V screen as if engrossed.
"And?" Joey prompted.
Joe didn't look at any of them, for fear his mask of indifference would fall off and expose his shame and strange sense of loss.
"I hope he remembers how to write a single alone."
This is my first attempt at a real fan-fic. All my others I never finish. This was written as fiction; based off real events but high dramatized. My apologies about the poor quality and crappy spelling. xD