Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Young Hearts Be Free
Sorry it's been so long guys. I've had some major writer's block. And thanks to everyone who helped me out on the whole vegan dog issue. I got some conflicting responses, but I still think I was right. If your dog's vegan, they need special dog food. Just like vegan people take special vitamins (at least my friends do). Taylor was saying you could just feed your dog salad or something. Which is dumb, and I told him that. So on with the story.
This chapter's a little depressing. Or at least it might be, I was a little depressed by the time I got to the end.
Izzie didn’t leave her hotel room until it was time to go to the venue the next day, and even then she had successfully gone from the room to the van to the dressing room all while avoiding Pete. Pete had all but given up on trying to explain, she didn’t seem like she was willing to be reasonable. It was strike three after all. The thing that most pissed him was that he didn’t know what else he had done. Strike two was probably when he had freaked out about Andy. But what was strike one? He had resorted to trying to decipher her thoughts the way he had for the past five years when she wasn’t speaking to him, and typed in the web address of her blog. Most of the recent entries were pictures of her and the band in airports and tour busses or acting like tourists in front of famous European landmarks. He scrolled down to the most recent post, made less than an hour ago.
I’s_on_your_own_Page wrote:
Baby seasons change but people don’t
Has never been more true…
He sighed and slammed his laptop shut, defeated. Suddenly, he heard the door to Izzie’s dressing room across the hall slam shut and footsteps going down the hall. He dashed out of the room just in time to see the door to the girls bathroom swing closed. “Iz?” He knocked on the door, the only response was a frustrated grunt. “Iz, Baby. Please talk to me.” He begged. “Nothing happened. That girl, she has a brother who’s totally obsessed with YOU. They couldn’t afford concert tickets, so she was trying to win them off the radio. I said I’d put a couple aside for him and gave her the name of the guy to talk to at the ticket window. Ok?” The door abruptly flew open.
“And people normally thank you their tongue down your throat and a little light molestation?” Izzie spat before slamming the door in his face.
“It was just the cheek. I’ve watched five different guys kiss your hand since we’ve been here. That’s what people do in Europe.”
“Not when they look like Heidi fucking Klum!” she screamed through the door.
“Baby, you have to believe me.” He perked up a little when the door opened a crack, only to have his face fall when Victoria’s head poked out.
“Pete, just give her some space right now. She’ll come around eventually.” She whispered.
“The eventually is what I’m worried about.” He sighed.
Pete groaned, rolling over in bed. He glared angrily at the phone on the table next to him that wouldn’t stop ringing. Who would be calling him at 8 am? “This better be good.” He grumbled into the receiver.
“Peter, get up. I have a case I think you’d be very interested in. I’ll pick you up in 20 minutes.” His father’s voice came sternly down the line.
“Dad.” He sighed. “I’m NOT going to be a lawyer. I dropped out of school a year ago. I’m a musician.”
“I know. I think you’d be very interested in this case. I’ll be there by 8:30, be ready.” Pete sighed, abandoning any hope for sleeping in and climbed out of bed.
“Someone better have died if people are calling this early.” Joe yelled from his room as Pete walked down the hallway of the apartment they were all sharing.
“Just my dad. I’m going out for a minute.” Pete called, going into the bathroom
“We have stuff to do later.” Patrick shouted.
“I’ll be back in a little while.” Pete stepped into the shower, letting the water wash away the sleep.
“Did you find them?”
“I got their seat numbers from ticket sales, they’re not here yet. I’ll come get you when they are.” One of the crew guys nodded, passing Izzie in the hall.
Izzie was wandering around the venue after sound check. She had heard from a couple different people that Pete was off somewhere with Patrick, so she wasn’t worried about hiding. She glanced in Cobra’s dressing room as she past and saw Alex sitting on the couch, hunched over a wad of fabric. She turned and walked into the room.
“Are you drawing on your clothes?” He looked up from his pants.
“Gabe tried to do the laundry and splattered bleach all over my black pants. I’m coloring them in with Sharpie.”
“That’s a good idea. A lot more work than I would probably be willing to put in though.” She chuckled, slumping down on the couch next to him. “I’m not very motivated.”
“You are about certain things. And certain people.”
“No. I’m stubborn. There’s a difference.”
“You know, he really is telling the truth about that girl and it’s tearing him up inside. He forgot how to play Saturday during sound check.” Alex sighed, looking down at her.
“I know. I believe him. It’s just…it’s complicated.” Izzie rubbed her eyes, frustrated. “Can I tell you something? You have to promise not to tell anyone. Especially not Pete.” She raised her eyebrows.
“Are you pregnant?! Because I can’t be trusted with that kind of secret.” He shook his head.
“I hate hardcore music.”
“What?” He asked, confused.
“I don’t get it. I can’t understand the words, the songs all sound the same, it’s just noise.” She shrugged.
“But you came to all those Arma shows. You were our tour manager.” He chuckled.
“I know.”
“But why?”
“Because Pete wanted me to.” She paused and stared at her shoes, sighing. “Everything I have done since I was 14 years old has been for Pete. From my hair, my clothes, my band…HIS band.” She snorted. “Even when we weren’t speaking. It was always in the back of my mind. What would Pete think about this? And he doesn’t even notice. And when he does notice, he just…I feel like he takes advantage of me.” She slouched even further in her seat, a single tear running down her cheek.
“Why don’t you tell him?” Alex shrugged as Izzie gave him a look as if he’d gone crazy. “he talks about you all the time. Even when you hated him. ESPECIALLY then. He thinks it’s a coincidence that you’re always thinking and doing the same thing he is. That you’re always a step ahead of him.”
“That’s the point.” She sniffed, then giggled.
“He doesn’t think you’re as invested in this as he is. If you opened up a little, he’d probably stop acting like a tool.”
“You know, you should have been a therapist.” She grinned.
“Only for you.” He laughed.
“Hey, we found them.” the sound guy stuck his head in the room.
“I gotta go. I’m trying to track down someone in the audience.” She stood up and headed out the door, almost running into Pete outside. “How much did you hear?” her eyes widened.
“All of it…” he barely got out before she brushed past him.
“So, what the hell is this about?” Pete asked, climbing into his dad’s car.
“You’ll see when we get there. And don’t use that kind of language.”
“Sorry.”
“How’s the music going?”
“Pretty good.” Pete nodded. “We’re starting to write some songs.” They sat in silence until the car turned into the Chicago police station. “What are we doing here?” Pete looked around.
“I need your help.” Mr. Wentz said, getting out of the car. “Hold this.” He handed Pete an envelope as they walked into the building.
“What is it?” Pete opened the envelope. His eyes widened when he saw a large wad of money.
“$1,200 in cash.” They walked up to a desk. “Officer Moyer? Peter Wentz, we spoke on the phone.” He stuck his hand out.
“Yes, hello. How are you?”
“Very good, thank you. I have the bail money. Plus a little extra if this doesn’t make it into the media.” He took the envelope from Pete, handing it to the officer.
“Excellent, if you could just sign a few things.” The officer handed Mr. Wentz a clipboard full of papers. Pete tried to discretely read them, thoroughly confused.
“Can I ask what the formal charges are?” Mr. Wentz read through the documents. Officer Moyer pulled a paper off his desk, reading through a list.
“Underage drinking, drunk driving, possession of marijuana, reckless endangerment, driving the wrong way down a one way street, running a red light, hitting a parked car, and calling a police officer,” he cleared his throat. “A booger.”
“I see.” Mr. Wentz handed back the signed papers.
“Of course given the circumstances, as long as this never happens again I think we can avoid the court date. She’ll be fitted for an alcohol-monitoring anklet and we’ll suspend her driver’s license for six months.”
“That sounds fair.” Mr. Wentz nodded.
“Good. Now, if you two will follow me.” The officer led them towards a separate room with a few holding cells.
“I never want to see this to happen to you.” Mr. Wentz gave Pete a stern look.
“We bought these tickets just like everyone else. I didn’t steal them or scalp them or anything. This is my daughter’s birthday present!” A woman’s shrill voice called as Izzie turned the corner to the production office. She opened the door to come face to face with an irate mother shouting at the big burly security guard as her daughter’s face held the same terrified expression she’d had in France.
“Sorry for the inconvenience.” Izzie interrupted, swinging the door open. She knelt down in front of the little girl. “Hi Becky, remember me? From the restaurant?” Becky’s expression turned to one of shock as she silently nodded. “Mrs. Bingham, was it?” Izzie stood up.
“Of course. I’m so sorry for causing a scene, it was a misunderstanding.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. Do you two want a tour before the show starts?” She grinned down at Becky.
“Could we?” Becky beamed.
“Of course. Wear this.” She unclipped her laminated pass from her belt loop and hung it around the girl’s neck. “I heard it’s your birthday.” She said as they started off towards the dressing room.
“Uh-huh.”
“Mine’s next week. Hey, do you want to watch the show from the side of the stage?”
“Cool!” Becky gasped.
“And I’ll set you up with some free tickets to see whoever you want here the next time. Since you already paid for your seats and all.” She turned to the mother, following closely behind them.
The three men entered the room and heard a shrill voice coming from down the row of cells. “No one loves me…Do you love me?...You know, in England I can drink…Why doesn’t anyone love me?” They slurred.
“It seems someone loves you.” Officer Moyer swung the door open. Pete looked around the corner into the cell. He almost gasped when he saw Izzie, in a short blue sequin dress with her hair a mess and her makeup smeared. She had a black eye and scrapes across one side of her face.
“Hi Pete.” She stood up wobbly. “You left me here all night!” She pointed angrily at Mr. Wentz. “I could’ve got shived!”
“It was three hours. You needed to learn a lesson.” Mr. Wentz took her arm to steady her.
“Someone stole my shoes.” She looked around on the floor.
“Miss Page.” Officer Moyer held out a plastic bag with a pair of gold stilettos, a tiny black purse and a set of car keys.
“Hey! Those are mine.” She snatched the bag away.
“Take her right home.” The officer said to Mr. Wentz.
“Of course.” Mr. Wentz nodded as they exited the building.
Izzie sighed deeply on the plane taking them back to the States. Nothing happened, so she leaned closer to Taylor in the seat next to her and sighed again, louder and more dramatically. He put his magazine down, rolling his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he groaned.
“I think I’m going to cancel my purple party.”
“You can’t do that!” Victoria’s head popped up from the row in front of them, followed by Nate’s.
“Yeah, Gabe already bought us matching purple pants.” He said.
“Only pants?” Izzie chuckled.
“We already all had purple hoodies.” Victoria shrugged, applying lip-gloss.
“What kind is that? It looks fancy.” Izzie held her hand out as Victoria held up the shiny gold tube.
“It’s lip-plumping. I just got it, so I don’t know if it works. But it tastes like frosting.”
“Mm, delicious.” Izzie smacked her lips.
“So, why do you want to cancel your party?” Taylor asked.
“I don’t know. Pete’s still being a tool and we’re still homeless. I’m just not in the mood.”
“But you LOVE your birthday.” Victoria said.
“You even say every time you’re asked that birthday cake is your favorite food.” Nate added.
“I know. But it’s time for me to start being responsible. I don’t want to still be living in my grandmother’s basement when I’m 40. That’s lame.”
“If you want to cancel it, then I guess we can.” Taylor shrugged, returning to his magazine.
“Yeah…” Izzie mumbled, glancing back at Pete, asleep a couple rows behind them. “Oh my god! My lips are numb.” She sat up, suddenly.
“Ah, it burns!” Victoria squealed. “Get it off!” she began wiping her mouth on her sleeve.
“Ow, ow, ow!” Izzie looked around, for something to clean off her mouth with. “Stupid tank top.” She finally resorted to smearing it on the shoulder of Taylor’s hoodie.
“It’s like the devil’s lip-gloss! The crap in that can’t be legal!” Victoria gasped, tossing the gloss out into the aisle as the girls cracked up.
“Why don’t you want a birthday party?” Nate asked, confused.
“My birthday’s cursed.” She nodded, he gave her a blank look so she elaborated. “My 16th birthday, I broke my nose for the second time in six months. My 17th birthday, I had surgery so I could breathe from breaking my nose. My 18th birthday...we don't talk about that one.” She rolled her eyes. “My 19th birthday, I slept with Pete’s friend and he stopped talking to both of us. My 20th birthday, Pete told the entire Warped Tour I was a whore. My 21st birthday I was stuck in an airport in Japan because there was a hurricane. My 22nd birthday I had to get my appendix out. Now I’m broke and homeless. I’ve stopped having birthdays.”
“Pete, I need you to take her with you until she sobers up and I can speak with her grandmother.” Mr. Wentz glanced at her, slumped in the back seat as he pulled up to Pete’s apartment.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Take care of her, I think she needs you right now.” Pete nodded, opening the back door and pulling her out by her shoulders.
“I’m sleepy.” She mumbled as Pete helped her to the curb.
“We just need to get upstairs, and you can go to sleep.” Pete said, opening the door. They slowly made their way up the stairs to be met by Patrick at the top, munching on half a bagel.
“You need any help?” he asked.
“I got it.” Pete groaned, as Izzie stopped helping to walk.
“Hi, Patrick.” She giggled. “I was in jail.”
“Seriously? What happened to your face?” his eyes widened as she turned her head and he saw the bruises on her cheek and eye.
“Airbag!” she grinned. Pete pulled her into his room, laying her down on the bed.
“Do you want to change?” he asked, closing the door as Patrick and Joe crowded in the hallway.
“No. Sleep.” She mumbled, climbing under the blankets.
“Ok, I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” He started to leave.
“He forgot.” She whispered. Pete stopped and turned.
“Who forgot?”
“My dad.” She sniffled. “It’s my 18th birthday, and he went to Australia on tour. He didn’t even call me.”
“Iz, I’m so sorry.” He sat on the edge of the bed, wiping a tear from her eye.
“Why should you be? You forgot too.”
“Oh, come on. You know a boy like me would always make it up to you.” He chuckled.
“Boys like you are overrated.” She wiped the tears from her eyes before turning the other way and falling asleep. He grabbed a piece of paper off the nightstand and scribbled something down before leaving the room.
“Guys, where are we going?” Izzie whined as Taylor, Kyle and Steve forcefully shoved her into the back of a limo.
“It’s a surprise.” Steve said, as the car pulled away from the hotel they were staying at until they could find and afford an apartment.
“I don’t want a party.” She shook her head.
“It’s your birthday, we’re taking you out. And you’re not going to complain.” Kyle scowled at her. They rode in silence until the limo pulled up to the curb in front of a building covered in purple lights.
“No, this is Pete’s bar! I don’t want to go here. He’s still being a tool.” She tried her hardest not to let them push her out of the car. They slowly filed into the bar and Izzie’s eyes widened. The entire place was filled with purple lights, purple streamers, purple fabric draped over every surface, and there was a sea of purple people writhing around on the dance floor. “Guys, I told you to cancel it.” She grinned.
“We didn’t.” Kyle shrugged, unzipping his hoodie to reveal a purple tee shirt.
“Technically, it was Nate’s job to cancel. So blame him.” Taylor nodded.
“Thanks you guys.” She pulled them all in for a group hug.
“Short Stack!” Gabe yelled, jumping on top of all of them. “Here, drink this. You’re not wasted yet.” He handed her a glass filled with purple liquid.
“What is this?” She looked at it warily.
“I don’t know. But the people at the bar figured out how to make any drink purple.” He shrugged.
‘This is so cool. But I’m the only one not wearing purple.” She looked down at her outfit, dark skinny jeans and a grey and white striped top.
“Don’t worry, the guys told us they were kidnapping you and bringing you here, so they had us bring you a dress.” Ryland said, coming over with the rest of the Cobras from their booth. Izzie had to giggle when she saw them. They were all wearing matching purple American Apparel hoodies, just like the ones half the people in the bar had on, and skin tight fluorescent purple jeans. Gabe had obviously picked them out. Alex handed her a small shopping bag. She gave them all a worried look as she opened it.
“Don’t worry. Victoria picked it out, so it’s not any sluttier than you’re used to.” He shook his head. She pulled out a purple satin bubble dress with a high neck and a string that wove through and tied in the back. It looked pretty short, but it was definitely her style.
“Oh, it’s cute!” she smiled, holding it up.
“You should have seen the one I picked out. It was hot.” Gabe grinned.
“That wasn’t a dress, it was underwear. And it was see through.” Victoria scoffed.
“Come on, help me put it on.” Izzie waved her towards the bathroom.
“I hope it’s not too short. I held it up to Nate to guess the size.” Victoria giggled.
Izzie woke up several hours later feeling much better, except for the massive headache pounding away inside her skull. She sat up and looked around, she vaguely remembered Pete bringing her to his apartment and telling him about her dad. She spotted a pair of jeans and a tee shirt she had left here the last time she stayed over folded on the end of the bed, and smiled to herself. She quickly got changed and headed out of the room. She followed the sound of voices to the kitchen, trying to smooth down her hair to no avail. She poked her head around the corner to see the kitchen and living room filled with streamers and balloons. Patrick and Andy were arguing over cake candles and Joe’s face was bright red, trying to blow up a balloon. He froze when he saw Izzie in the doorway, dropping the balloon. It flew in a spiral, smacking her in the middle of the forehead. “Ow.” She rubbed the spot.
“Good morning.” Andy said, shoving Patrick out of the way and sticking candles in the cake.
“Happy birthday!” Pete came in the room, wrapping her in a big hug and kissing the top of her head. “We wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Pete told us about your dad, I’m sorry.” Patrick said, embracing her once Pete let go.
“We didn’t think you’d be awake yet. Everybody doesn’t get here for another hour.” Andy looked at the clock.
“No, you sit there. It’s your party, you shouldn’t have to set up.” Joe plopped her down at the kitchen stool.
“Works for me.” She shrugged, sticking her finger in the cake icing.
“Put that back!” Pete grabbed her hand halfway to her mouth. She sighed, wiping the icing carefully back in the hole it came from.
“All better.” She giggled, smoothing it out and inspecting the big fingerprints in the side of the cake.
“You might want to wash your face before your friends get here.” Pete spun her chair to look at her reflection in the window. Her hair was all tangled, her lip-gloss and eyeliner were smeared and she had mascara filled tear streaks running down her cheeks.
“Good idea.” She said, getting up and heading to the bathroom. “Does anyone have any concealer?” She pointed at the red and purple bruises on the side of her face. Patrick held out a CVS bag.
“We went and got you some this morning, we didn’t know what color so we got all of them. She opened the bag and saw three different shades of makeup, a black eyeliner pencil and cherry chapstick. Her daily arsenal.
“Have I told you guys you’re my best friends?” She grinned, hugging each one on her way to the bathroom.
Izzie was wandering around the party, more like stumbling as she was on her fifth mystery purple drink, talking to all her friends acquaintances and people who looked vaguely familiar. Maybe she met them on tour or at a photo shoot one time? She was having a great time. The birthday boycott was cancelled. She felt a tap on her shoulder and spun around to come face to face with Pete, wearing a purple tee shirt and a pouty expression on his face. “Can I talk to you for a second?” He wrinkled his eyebrows.
“I’m having my first happy birthday in seven years. Don’t ruin it.” She shook her head.
“I haven’t been able to get a hold of you.”
“That’s because I’ve been ignoring your calls.”
“I just want to talk about what happened in London. And what I heard you saying in that dressing room.” She sighed and looked around the room.
“Not here.” She grabbed his arm, pulling him down a hallway. She pushed a door open, dragging him through it and they were in a dark deserted alley. “Ok, talk.” She crossed her arms over her chest as he leaned against the wall.
“I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to you over the years. I know I take advantage of the stuff you do for me sometimes. But it’s just that I feel like if I bring it up, you’ll realize you don’t need me. You can have anybody you want, but you chose to hang out with me and my loser friends all those years.” He chuckled nervously. “I mean…” he was cut off by her lips crashing down on his. He moaned into her mouth as she shoved him back into the wall, pressing her body against his. One of his hands tangled in her hair as the other made it’s way down her hip to the hem of her dress. She swiftly unbuckled his belt and pulled the zipper of his pants down. Sucking on her neck, he flipped her over so she was against the wall and tugged her underwear down her thighs. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he slid into her. It was over almost as quickly as it had started. Pete bit the delicate skin on her shoulder to muffle his groans as he exploded inside her. They stayed frozen in that position for a moment, both attempting to catch their breath. Izzie slowly returned her feet to the ground, straightening out her dress. She looked up into Pete’s eyes, they were slightly dilated with arousal and his breathing was still heavy and ragged. She could feel her cheeks heat up at the thought of what they had just done in a dirty, public alley. He opened his mouth to speak, but she slapped him across the cheek before any sound could come out.
“You’re still an asshole. It’s my own problem that I’m addicted to you.” She said, scowling before turning and retreating back inside. Pete sighed, defeated, and looked down at the ground. He picked up her little pink thong and tucked it in his pocket. He looked up at the door and turned around, heading out to the street to hail a cab.
Pleas review! You guys rock.
Oh, and "here's":
http://bluefly.com/pages/products/detail.jsp?PRODUCT%3C%3Eprd_id=2083698207&FOLDER%3C%3Efolder_id=1215&N=945+4294967271&Nao=36&Ne=10&Ns=Popularity%7c0%7c%7cProduct%2bCode%7c1&Nu=Product+ID the purple dress.
This chapter's a little depressing. Or at least it might be, I was a little depressed by the time I got to the end.
Izzie didn’t leave her hotel room until it was time to go to the venue the next day, and even then she had successfully gone from the room to the van to the dressing room all while avoiding Pete. Pete had all but given up on trying to explain, she didn’t seem like she was willing to be reasonable. It was strike three after all. The thing that most pissed him was that he didn’t know what else he had done. Strike two was probably when he had freaked out about Andy. But what was strike one? He had resorted to trying to decipher her thoughts the way he had for the past five years when she wasn’t speaking to him, and typed in the web address of her blog. Most of the recent entries were pictures of her and the band in airports and tour busses or acting like tourists in front of famous European landmarks. He scrolled down to the most recent post, made less than an hour ago.
I’s_on_your_own_Page wrote:
Baby seasons change but people don’t
Has never been more true…
He sighed and slammed his laptop shut, defeated. Suddenly, he heard the door to Izzie’s dressing room across the hall slam shut and footsteps going down the hall. He dashed out of the room just in time to see the door to the girls bathroom swing closed. “Iz?” He knocked on the door, the only response was a frustrated grunt. “Iz, Baby. Please talk to me.” He begged. “Nothing happened. That girl, she has a brother who’s totally obsessed with YOU. They couldn’t afford concert tickets, so she was trying to win them off the radio. I said I’d put a couple aside for him and gave her the name of the guy to talk to at the ticket window. Ok?” The door abruptly flew open.
“And people normally thank you their tongue down your throat and a little light molestation?” Izzie spat before slamming the door in his face.
“It was just the cheek. I’ve watched five different guys kiss your hand since we’ve been here. That’s what people do in Europe.”
“Not when they look like Heidi fucking Klum!” she screamed through the door.
“Baby, you have to believe me.” He perked up a little when the door opened a crack, only to have his face fall when Victoria’s head poked out.
“Pete, just give her some space right now. She’ll come around eventually.” She whispered.
“The eventually is what I’m worried about.” He sighed.
Pete groaned, rolling over in bed. He glared angrily at the phone on the table next to him that wouldn’t stop ringing. Who would be calling him at 8 am? “This better be good.” He grumbled into the receiver.
“Peter, get up. I have a case I think you’d be very interested in. I’ll pick you up in 20 minutes.” His father’s voice came sternly down the line.
“Dad.” He sighed. “I’m NOT going to be a lawyer. I dropped out of school a year ago. I’m a musician.”
“I know. I think you’d be very interested in this case. I’ll be there by 8:30, be ready.” Pete sighed, abandoning any hope for sleeping in and climbed out of bed.
“Someone better have died if people are calling this early.” Joe yelled from his room as Pete walked down the hallway of the apartment they were all sharing.
“Just my dad. I’m going out for a minute.” Pete called, going into the bathroom
“We have stuff to do later.” Patrick shouted.
“I’ll be back in a little while.” Pete stepped into the shower, letting the water wash away the sleep.
“Did you find them?”
“I got their seat numbers from ticket sales, they’re not here yet. I’ll come get you when they are.” One of the crew guys nodded, passing Izzie in the hall.
Izzie was wandering around the venue after sound check. She had heard from a couple different people that Pete was off somewhere with Patrick, so she wasn’t worried about hiding. She glanced in Cobra’s dressing room as she past and saw Alex sitting on the couch, hunched over a wad of fabric. She turned and walked into the room.
“Are you drawing on your clothes?” He looked up from his pants.
“Gabe tried to do the laundry and splattered bleach all over my black pants. I’m coloring them in with Sharpie.”
“That’s a good idea. A lot more work than I would probably be willing to put in though.” She chuckled, slumping down on the couch next to him. “I’m not very motivated.”
“You are about certain things. And certain people.”
“No. I’m stubborn. There’s a difference.”
“You know, he really is telling the truth about that girl and it’s tearing him up inside. He forgot how to play Saturday during sound check.” Alex sighed, looking down at her.
“I know. I believe him. It’s just…it’s complicated.” Izzie rubbed her eyes, frustrated. “Can I tell you something? You have to promise not to tell anyone. Especially not Pete.” She raised her eyebrows.
“Are you pregnant?! Because I can’t be trusted with that kind of secret.” He shook his head.
“I hate hardcore music.”
“What?” He asked, confused.
“I don’t get it. I can’t understand the words, the songs all sound the same, it’s just noise.” She shrugged.
“But you came to all those Arma shows. You were our tour manager.” He chuckled.
“I know.”
“But why?”
“Because Pete wanted me to.” She paused and stared at her shoes, sighing. “Everything I have done since I was 14 years old has been for Pete. From my hair, my clothes, my band…HIS band.” She snorted. “Even when we weren’t speaking. It was always in the back of my mind. What would Pete think about this? And he doesn’t even notice. And when he does notice, he just…I feel like he takes advantage of me.” She slouched even further in her seat, a single tear running down her cheek.
“Why don’t you tell him?” Alex shrugged as Izzie gave him a look as if he’d gone crazy. “he talks about you all the time. Even when you hated him. ESPECIALLY then. He thinks it’s a coincidence that you’re always thinking and doing the same thing he is. That you’re always a step ahead of him.”
“That’s the point.” She sniffed, then giggled.
“He doesn’t think you’re as invested in this as he is. If you opened up a little, he’d probably stop acting like a tool.”
“You know, you should have been a therapist.” She grinned.
“Only for you.” He laughed.
“Hey, we found them.” the sound guy stuck his head in the room.
“I gotta go. I’m trying to track down someone in the audience.” She stood up and headed out the door, almost running into Pete outside. “How much did you hear?” her eyes widened.
“All of it…” he barely got out before she brushed past him.
“So, what the hell is this about?” Pete asked, climbing into his dad’s car.
“You’ll see when we get there. And don’t use that kind of language.”
“Sorry.”
“How’s the music going?”
“Pretty good.” Pete nodded. “We’re starting to write some songs.” They sat in silence until the car turned into the Chicago police station. “What are we doing here?” Pete looked around.
“I need your help.” Mr. Wentz said, getting out of the car. “Hold this.” He handed Pete an envelope as they walked into the building.
“What is it?” Pete opened the envelope. His eyes widened when he saw a large wad of money.
“$1,200 in cash.” They walked up to a desk. “Officer Moyer? Peter Wentz, we spoke on the phone.” He stuck his hand out.
“Yes, hello. How are you?”
“Very good, thank you. I have the bail money. Plus a little extra if this doesn’t make it into the media.” He took the envelope from Pete, handing it to the officer.
“Excellent, if you could just sign a few things.” The officer handed Mr. Wentz a clipboard full of papers. Pete tried to discretely read them, thoroughly confused.
“Can I ask what the formal charges are?” Mr. Wentz read through the documents. Officer Moyer pulled a paper off his desk, reading through a list.
“Underage drinking, drunk driving, possession of marijuana, reckless endangerment, driving the wrong way down a one way street, running a red light, hitting a parked car, and calling a police officer,” he cleared his throat. “A booger.”
“I see.” Mr. Wentz handed back the signed papers.
“Of course given the circumstances, as long as this never happens again I think we can avoid the court date. She’ll be fitted for an alcohol-monitoring anklet and we’ll suspend her driver’s license for six months.”
“That sounds fair.” Mr. Wentz nodded.
“Good. Now, if you two will follow me.” The officer led them towards a separate room with a few holding cells.
“I never want to see this to happen to you.” Mr. Wentz gave Pete a stern look.
“We bought these tickets just like everyone else. I didn’t steal them or scalp them or anything. This is my daughter’s birthday present!” A woman’s shrill voice called as Izzie turned the corner to the production office. She opened the door to come face to face with an irate mother shouting at the big burly security guard as her daughter’s face held the same terrified expression she’d had in France.
“Sorry for the inconvenience.” Izzie interrupted, swinging the door open. She knelt down in front of the little girl. “Hi Becky, remember me? From the restaurant?” Becky’s expression turned to one of shock as she silently nodded. “Mrs. Bingham, was it?” Izzie stood up.
“Of course. I’m so sorry for causing a scene, it was a misunderstanding.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. Do you two want a tour before the show starts?” She grinned down at Becky.
“Could we?” Becky beamed.
“Of course. Wear this.” She unclipped her laminated pass from her belt loop and hung it around the girl’s neck. “I heard it’s your birthday.” She said as they started off towards the dressing room.
“Uh-huh.”
“Mine’s next week. Hey, do you want to watch the show from the side of the stage?”
“Cool!” Becky gasped.
“And I’ll set you up with some free tickets to see whoever you want here the next time. Since you already paid for your seats and all.” She turned to the mother, following closely behind them.
The three men entered the room and heard a shrill voice coming from down the row of cells. “No one loves me…Do you love me?...You know, in England I can drink…Why doesn’t anyone love me?” They slurred.
“It seems someone loves you.” Officer Moyer swung the door open. Pete looked around the corner into the cell. He almost gasped when he saw Izzie, in a short blue sequin dress with her hair a mess and her makeup smeared. She had a black eye and scrapes across one side of her face.
“Hi Pete.” She stood up wobbly. “You left me here all night!” She pointed angrily at Mr. Wentz. “I could’ve got shived!”
“It was three hours. You needed to learn a lesson.” Mr. Wentz took her arm to steady her.
“Someone stole my shoes.” She looked around on the floor.
“Miss Page.” Officer Moyer held out a plastic bag with a pair of gold stilettos, a tiny black purse and a set of car keys.
“Hey! Those are mine.” She snatched the bag away.
“Take her right home.” The officer said to Mr. Wentz.
“Of course.” Mr. Wentz nodded as they exited the building.
Izzie sighed deeply on the plane taking them back to the States. Nothing happened, so she leaned closer to Taylor in the seat next to her and sighed again, louder and more dramatically. He put his magazine down, rolling his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he groaned.
“I think I’m going to cancel my purple party.”
“You can’t do that!” Victoria’s head popped up from the row in front of them, followed by Nate’s.
“Yeah, Gabe already bought us matching purple pants.” He said.
“Only pants?” Izzie chuckled.
“We already all had purple hoodies.” Victoria shrugged, applying lip-gloss.
“What kind is that? It looks fancy.” Izzie held her hand out as Victoria held up the shiny gold tube.
“It’s lip-plumping. I just got it, so I don’t know if it works. But it tastes like frosting.”
“Mm, delicious.” Izzie smacked her lips.
“So, why do you want to cancel your party?” Taylor asked.
“I don’t know. Pete’s still being a tool and we’re still homeless. I’m just not in the mood.”
“But you LOVE your birthday.” Victoria said.
“You even say every time you’re asked that birthday cake is your favorite food.” Nate added.
“I know. But it’s time for me to start being responsible. I don’t want to still be living in my grandmother’s basement when I’m 40. That’s lame.”
“If you want to cancel it, then I guess we can.” Taylor shrugged, returning to his magazine.
“Yeah…” Izzie mumbled, glancing back at Pete, asleep a couple rows behind them. “Oh my god! My lips are numb.” She sat up, suddenly.
“Ah, it burns!” Victoria squealed. “Get it off!” she began wiping her mouth on her sleeve.
“Ow, ow, ow!” Izzie looked around, for something to clean off her mouth with. “Stupid tank top.” She finally resorted to smearing it on the shoulder of Taylor’s hoodie.
“It’s like the devil’s lip-gloss! The crap in that can’t be legal!” Victoria gasped, tossing the gloss out into the aisle as the girls cracked up.
“Why don’t you want a birthday party?” Nate asked, confused.
“My birthday’s cursed.” She nodded, he gave her a blank look so she elaborated. “My 16th birthday, I broke my nose for the second time in six months. My 17th birthday, I had surgery so I could breathe from breaking my nose. My 18th birthday...we don't talk about that one.” She rolled her eyes. “My 19th birthday, I slept with Pete’s friend and he stopped talking to both of us. My 20th birthday, Pete told the entire Warped Tour I was a whore. My 21st birthday I was stuck in an airport in Japan because there was a hurricane. My 22nd birthday I had to get my appendix out. Now I’m broke and homeless. I’ve stopped having birthdays.”
“Pete, I need you to take her with you until she sobers up and I can speak with her grandmother.” Mr. Wentz glanced at her, slumped in the back seat as he pulled up to Pete’s apartment.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Take care of her, I think she needs you right now.” Pete nodded, opening the back door and pulling her out by her shoulders.
“I’m sleepy.” She mumbled as Pete helped her to the curb.
“We just need to get upstairs, and you can go to sleep.” Pete said, opening the door. They slowly made their way up the stairs to be met by Patrick at the top, munching on half a bagel.
“You need any help?” he asked.
“I got it.” Pete groaned, as Izzie stopped helping to walk.
“Hi, Patrick.” She giggled. “I was in jail.”
“Seriously? What happened to your face?” his eyes widened as she turned her head and he saw the bruises on her cheek and eye.
“Airbag!” she grinned. Pete pulled her into his room, laying her down on the bed.
“Do you want to change?” he asked, closing the door as Patrick and Joe crowded in the hallway.
“No. Sleep.” She mumbled, climbing under the blankets.
“Ok, I’ll be right outside if you need anything.” He started to leave.
“He forgot.” She whispered. Pete stopped and turned.
“Who forgot?”
“My dad.” She sniffled. “It’s my 18th birthday, and he went to Australia on tour. He didn’t even call me.”
“Iz, I’m so sorry.” He sat on the edge of the bed, wiping a tear from her eye.
“Why should you be? You forgot too.”
“Oh, come on. You know a boy like me would always make it up to you.” He chuckled.
“Boys like you are overrated.” She wiped the tears from her eyes before turning the other way and falling asleep. He grabbed a piece of paper off the nightstand and scribbled something down before leaving the room.
“Guys, where are we going?” Izzie whined as Taylor, Kyle and Steve forcefully shoved her into the back of a limo.
“It’s a surprise.” Steve said, as the car pulled away from the hotel they were staying at until they could find and afford an apartment.
“I don’t want a party.” She shook her head.
“It’s your birthday, we’re taking you out. And you’re not going to complain.” Kyle scowled at her. They rode in silence until the limo pulled up to the curb in front of a building covered in purple lights.
“No, this is Pete’s bar! I don’t want to go here. He’s still being a tool.” She tried her hardest not to let them push her out of the car. They slowly filed into the bar and Izzie’s eyes widened. The entire place was filled with purple lights, purple streamers, purple fabric draped over every surface, and there was a sea of purple people writhing around on the dance floor. “Guys, I told you to cancel it.” She grinned.
“We didn’t.” Kyle shrugged, unzipping his hoodie to reveal a purple tee shirt.
“Technically, it was Nate’s job to cancel. So blame him.” Taylor nodded.
“Thanks you guys.” She pulled them all in for a group hug.
“Short Stack!” Gabe yelled, jumping on top of all of them. “Here, drink this. You’re not wasted yet.” He handed her a glass filled with purple liquid.
“What is this?” She looked at it warily.
“I don’t know. But the people at the bar figured out how to make any drink purple.” He shrugged.
‘This is so cool. But I’m the only one not wearing purple.” She looked down at her outfit, dark skinny jeans and a grey and white striped top.
“Don’t worry, the guys told us they were kidnapping you and bringing you here, so they had us bring you a dress.” Ryland said, coming over with the rest of the Cobras from their booth. Izzie had to giggle when she saw them. They were all wearing matching purple American Apparel hoodies, just like the ones half the people in the bar had on, and skin tight fluorescent purple jeans. Gabe had obviously picked them out. Alex handed her a small shopping bag. She gave them all a worried look as she opened it.
“Don’t worry. Victoria picked it out, so it’s not any sluttier than you’re used to.” He shook his head. She pulled out a purple satin bubble dress with a high neck and a string that wove through and tied in the back. It looked pretty short, but it was definitely her style.
“Oh, it’s cute!” she smiled, holding it up.
“You should have seen the one I picked out. It was hot.” Gabe grinned.
“That wasn’t a dress, it was underwear. And it was see through.” Victoria scoffed.
“Come on, help me put it on.” Izzie waved her towards the bathroom.
“I hope it’s not too short. I held it up to Nate to guess the size.” Victoria giggled.
Izzie woke up several hours later feeling much better, except for the massive headache pounding away inside her skull. She sat up and looked around, she vaguely remembered Pete bringing her to his apartment and telling him about her dad. She spotted a pair of jeans and a tee shirt she had left here the last time she stayed over folded on the end of the bed, and smiled to herself. She quickly got changed and headed out of the room. She followed the sound of voices to the kitchen, trying to smooth down her hair to no avail. She poked her head around the corner to see the kitchen and living room filled with streamers and balloons. Patrick and Andy were arguing over cake candles and Joe’s face was bright red, trying to blow up a balloon. He froze when he saw Izzie in the doorway, dropping the balloon. It flew in a spiral, smacking her in the middle of the forehead. “Ow.” She rubbed the spot.
“Good morning.” Andy said, shoving Patrick out of the way and sticking candles in the cake.
“Happy birthday!” Pete came in the room, wrapping her in a big hug and kissing the top of her head. “We wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Pete told us about your dad, I’m sorry.” Patrick said, embracing her once Pete let go.
“We didn’t think you’d be awake yet. Everybody doesn’t get here for another hour.” Andy looked at the clock.
“No, you sit there. It’s your party, you shouldn’t have to set up.” Joe plopped her down at the kitchen stool.
“Works for me.” She shrugged, sticking her finger in the cake icing.
“Put that back!” Pete grabbed her hand halfway to her mouth. She sighed, wiping the icing carefully back in the hole it came from.
“All better.” She giggled, smoothing it out and inspecting the big fingerprints in the side of the cake.
“You might want to wash your face before your friends get here.” Pete spun her chair to look at her reflection in the window. Her hair was all tangled, her lip-gloss and eyeliner were smeared and she had mascara filled tear streaks running down her cheeks.
“Good idea.” She said, getting up and heading to the bathroom. “Does anyone have any concealer?” She pointed at the red and purple bruises on the side of her face. Patrick held out a CVS bag.
“We went and got you some this morning, we didn’t know what color so we got all of them. She opened the bag and saw three different shades of makeup, a black eyeliner pencil and cherry chapstick. Her daily arsenal.
“Have I told you guys you’re my best friends?” She grinned, hugging each one on her way to the bathroom.
Izzie was wandering around the party, more like stumbling as she was on her fifth mystery purple drink, talking to all her friends acquaintances and people who looked vaguely familiar. Maybe she met them on tour or at a photo shoot one time? She was having a great time. The birthday boycott was cancelled. She felt a tap on her shoulder and spun around to come face to face with Pete, wearing a purple tee shirt and a pouty expression on his face. “Can I talk to you for a second?” He wrinkled his eyebrows.
“I’m having my first happy birthday in seven years. Don’t ruin it.” She shook her head.
“I haven’t been able to get a hold of you.”
“That’s because I’ve been ignoring your calls.”
“I just want to talk about what happened in London. And what I heard you saying in that dressing room.” She sighed and looked around the room.
“Not here.” She grabbed his arm, pulling him down a hallway. She pushed a door open, dragging him through it and they were in a dark deserted alley. “Ok, talk.” She crossed her arms over her chest as he leaned against the wall.
“I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to you over the years. I know I take advantage of the stuff you do for me sometimes. But it’s just that I feel like if I bring it up, you’ll realize you don’t need me. You can have anybody you want, but you chose to hang out with me and my loser friends all those years.” He chuckled nervously. “I mean…” he was cut off by her lips crashing down on his. He moaned into her mouth as she shoved him back into the wall, pressing her body against his. One of his hands tangled in her hair as the other made it’s way down her hip to the hem of her dress. She swiftly unbuckled his belt and pulled the zipper of his pants down. Sucking on her neck, he flipped her over so she was against the wall and tugged her underwear down her thighs. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he slid into her. It was over almost as quickly as it had started. Pete bit the delicate skin on her shoulder to muffle his groans as he exploded inside her. They stayed frozen in that position for a moment, both attempting to catch their breath. Izzie slowly returned her feet to the ground, straightening out her dress. She looked up into Pete’s eyes, they were slightly dilated with arousal and his breathing was still heavy and ragged. She could feel her cheeks heat up at the thought of what they had just done in a dirty, public alley. He opened his mouth to speak, but she slapped him across the cheek before any sound could come out.
“You’re still an asshole. It’s my own problem that I’m addicted to you.” She said, scowling before turning and retreating back inside. Pete sighed, defeated, and looked down at the ground. He picked up her little pink thong and tucked it in his pocket. He looked up at the door and turned around, heading out to the street to hail a cab.
Pleas review! You guys rock.
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