When your father is a world famous rockstar your life is supposed to be a little screwed up, right? What happens when it all goes a little too far out of control?
"Why did we come here again?" Mikey asked, looking at the people around him.
"Because we were made to," Frank sighed.
"No one made you do anything, Brian invited us and we said yes," Gerard explained as he took a sip of his soda.
Frank shook his head, "Nope. He said 'get your asses out of the studio and show your faces at my friend's club opening' and you said yes. We," he motioned to himself, Mikey, Ray and Bob, "Had no say in the matter."
Gerard rolled his eyes, "If you hated it so much you would've left by now."
"I'm going for a smoke," Frank grumbled.
"I thought you quit?" Gerard asked.
"What are you, my mother?" he quirked an eyebrow at him.
"Nope. Just asking. I'll come with," he stood up and followed his friend out onto the roof terrace of the club.
Frank leaned against the wall and shook a cigarette out of the packet, he lit it then handed his lighter to Gerard who did the same then handed the small plastic device back to its owner. The pair were silent as they let the nicotine into their systems. Frank's eyes wandered over the people on the terrace, fellow smokers were dotted around the perimeter and in the middle there were two huge L-shaped couches surrounding a large wooden table. On top of which was a petite brunette in a short red and navy dress dancing around to her own beat.
"Ruby West," Frank finished.
"Jack West's daughter? His band must be like the only eighties band that hasn't reformed yet", Gerard mused as he took a draw on his cigarette.
"Yeah, well I guess his daughter hasn't spent all his money just yet", Frank replied.
Gerard cocked an eyebrow at his friend, "I gather you're not a fan?"
"What's there to be a fan of? All she does is party all night and shop all day. Then she spends the rest of the time taking hundreds of photos of herself that she posts on Buzznet along with 'profound' statements about life and all that kind of shit", Frank huffed as he crossed his arms across his chest, taking a long inhale of his cigarette.
"Seeing as you hate her so much, how do you know so much about her?"
"I don't feel anything towards her as strong as hate. I just don't think it's fair that guys like us had to work our asses off to get anywhere near where we are today and all she had to do was be the love child of a rockstar and a supermodel. And how can you not know shit about her? She's in every magazine every week."
"You need to stop reading People, man. It just makes you mad", Gerard chuckled, stubbing out his cigarette against the wall.
"Hey, I can't help it if Bob leaves his crap all over the bus", Frank complained, following the taller man back into the club.