Categories > Celebrities > The Used > Why Don't You Just Drop Dead, McCracken?

Chapter 11

by cretingirl 2 reviews

In which I reference Zach Braff several times.

Category: The Used - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama,Humor,Romance - Published: 2010-05-12 - Updated: 2010-05-12 - 2079 words

“Hey, Doll face.” Russ said with a wide smile as I struggled into his office that was serving as the staging area for “The First Ever The Used/My Chemical Romance/Cydeswyped Tour” or what I had fondly deemed Gross Boy Smells Fest 2008. I quickly gave up on toting my luggage and abandoned it in the hallway with everyone else’s.

“Pack much?” Bert asked giggling as he eyed my bags and elbowed the uber pale guy who was beside him in the ribs, causing him to wince.

“Stink much?” I retorted childishly, instantly feeling disgusted with myself.

“Okay,” Russ said with a clap of his hands. “Let’s get the meeting started. There has been a new addition to the tour, for that that don’t know, Cydeswyped will now be the opener for My Chem and the Used. Guys, this is Marla Reynolds, Adam Shifter, Payton Thompson, and Waldo Winthrop. Cyderswypers you already know the Used boys, but meet Gerard, Mikey, Ray, Frank, and Bob, better known as the My Chem boys.

Of course there were smiles and sheepish hand waving abounds after the introductions and just like at my fateful birthday show Amy gawked. All three bands split off into their respective instrument categories (isn’t it funny how that happens?) leaving me alone with Bert and Gerard.

“So,” Gerard said extending one pale long fingered hand to carefully bring mine to his lips so that he could lightly kiss the air above it. “You must be the Marla that Berty-buns here has been yak yak yaking my ear off about.”

Bert’s eyes widened at that and he shoved his hands deep in his hoodie pockets before grumbling something that sound like “gotta go” but could’ve been “way to go” and headed over to where Russ was looking supremely interested in something on a clipboard.

“I could say the same about you, Mr. anti-Bert,” I replied with a blush. I took a moment to take in his entirely head to toe black outfit and boyish clean shaven face that vaguely reminded me of Robert Smith, lead singer of 80s alt-gods The Cure, minus all that very unattractive red lipstick.

Gerard laughed at that and grinned widely, “We only say that because even though Bert and I share many interests, hobbies, and vices I am only an asshole to people I don’t like while Bert is an asshole to everyone.”

“I’ve noticed.” I replied with a smirk.

“I agree with whatever you two are talking about,” said Mikey, Gerard’s little brother, coming over to introduce himself. “Mikey Way, scourge of the Jersey Shore.”

“Uncool,” Ray announced bounding over, his unruly hair waving wildly in the air coming from the vents in Russ’s office. “That’s so my line!”

“Whoa!” I said laughing as I backed away raising my left hand and indicating the tattoo around my ring finger. I was pretty sure Amy was shooting me a most scandalized look. “Spoken for! So the most you guys can do is practice your pick up lines on me. I will critique them at my convenience and relay my notes to you as soon as possible. Wait, you said Jersey Shore? We are all SO from Jersey!”

“No way!” Frank said jumping, quite literally, into the conversation.

‘This may not be so horrible after all,’ I thought with a smile.

~~Bert’s POV~~
Seeing Gerard pull his whole chivalrous bit threw me for a loop. That dick knew I liked Marla and here he was flirting with her! Worst part was she seemed to fall for it too. That prick wasn’t even Marla’s type and she sure as hell wasn’t his type either. Gerard just liked to make girls swoon over him and then leave them gasping in his wake.

I couldn’t take watching him flirt with her anymore and basically captivating his with his mysterious and broody tortured artist act so I decided to take matters into my own hands. I sidled over to Russ as I overheard the “Jersey clique” start talking about how the movie Garden State was a very poor depiction of New Jersey and how underrated grease truck sandwiches were.

“Hey Russ,” I said quietly as he chuckled over some text he’d gotten on his baby phone. “Where are the buses, dude?”

“Oh yea,” Russ said glancing at his watch and slapping me on the back. “Thanks for reminding me. Gentlemen and ladies it’s time to see your new homes for the next three months. Get your shit and follow me.”

There was grumbling from everyone as they shuffled out the door to pick up mismatched duffle bags and luggage that littered the floor and the hallway. I let everyone file out before me so that I could catch Gerard before he slung his sharpie scrawled army duffle over his shoulder.

“Low blow, man,” I said as I grabbed my tattered backpack off a chair.

“What?” Gerard said innocently. “I was just talking. You know, pumping her for information so we could devise a scheme to make her fall in love with you.”

“No, you were hitting on her and you practically told her that I stalk her. What kind of asshole thing is that!? I mean we’re like brothers, Gerard, and I know that you would never cock block Mikey or one of the other guys like that. Now are you just busting my balls for liking her or what?”

“Done ranting?” Gerard asked as a smile quirked his lips.

“Yea, I guess,” I grumbled my face reddening under the week’s worth of stubble that I had neglected to shave that morning. I shuffled my feet in an embarrassed way, “I wasn’t ranting. It was more of a tangent or a tirade, but not a fucking girly rant.”

“It was a rant, love,” Gerard laughingly replied as he lazily draped his arm across my shoulders and led me to the door. “You forget, Robert dear, that I am a married man now and I have repented of my lustful ways. I have no desire to steal a girl from you. I am merely trying to find out more information about your beloved.”

“What kind of information?” I asked beginning to warm to the idea.

“Well, if you hadn’t sulked off like you do so well you would have learned that Marla and the rest are from Jersey, that her favorite color is red, and that she really identifies with Elliot from Scrubs.”

“Really?” I was astounded that he had found out so much about her from just one conversation.

“Yes,” Gerard said his expression suddenly going sober. “But, alas, she is spoken for.”

“What?!” I exclaimed my mind immediately flashing to the guy who had emerged sheepishly and half clothed from Marla’s room the morning after her birthday party. I vigorously shook my head, my dreadlocks slapping against my cheeks, “No.”

“Yea man,” Gerard said as we caught up with the others who were gathered in a group listening to Russ as he gave his famous “No drugs/parties/fires/groupies” speech. “She was flashing around some tattoo on her left hand and saying she was spoken for.”

“No,” I groaned frantically looking around the group for Marla as I sank to sit cross legged on the ground. I spotted her standing slightly apart from the rest of the group with her friend Amy, whom she seemed to be having an argument with.

“What’s up?”Quinn said ambling over to Gerard and me as everyone else rushed to claim their beds on the buses.

“Nothing,” Gerard said hefting his army bag. “Poor Bert is just watching his life flash before his eyes. Cheer up; there are plenty of fish in the sea.”

“I guess,” I said resigned as Marla threw her hands up and stalked away from Amy towards a kinda pinkish tinted bus which had been avoided by all the boys for some reason. “But not sexy Jersey girl fish.”

“Oh,” Quinn said finally realizing who we were talking about. “Bus isn’t Amy dating Waldo?” Or not.

Gerard rolled his eyes at Quinn before he got that light bulb look on his face. “Tell you what, Lyn is meeting us in Boston, I’ll ask her to bring down that girl Cecilia that you liked.”

“Whatever,” I mumbled getting to my feet and heading towards the bus I had seen Quinn enthusiastically hurl his stuff into. “I need a drink.”

~~Marla’s POV~~

“All right,” Russ said gesturing to the six large buses behind him. “These buses will be your homes for the next couple of months so I don’t care who bunks with who and all that political shit, but the drivers have asked me to lay down some rules.”

There was a resounding chorus of boos from all the boys.

“Hey, Lene,” Amy said slipping her arm through mine. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure,” I replied leading her away from the group of boys. I though of all the possible things that Amy needed to say to me. Most of them were pretty horrible, cancer, Waldo cheating on her, pregnancy. I turned to face her and gripped her hands and I steeled myself for what she was about to tell me, but nothing could prepare me fore what she did finally say.

“Earlier…when you were flashing your tattoo around…”She trailed off and bit her lip as she looked at me nervously.

“What this one?” I said laughing and lifting up my left hand to wave it in from of her face. Encircling the ring finger was the word “forever” in flowing script. “What about it?”

“Well,” Amy said pulling her hand out of mine and wrapping her arms around herself. “Don’t you think that you shouldn’t be going around saying that you’re spoken for anymore?”

As the words left her lips my heart sank and I flinched away from her as if I had been slapped.
Amy rushed on, the words spilling from her mouth like bile. “It’s been almost two years and you should start to think about trying to find someone new. Paul would want you to be happy not putting you life on hold because of what happened.”

“Don’t you dare say his name,” I spat at her in a fierce whisper. “Don’t presume to know what he would’ve wanted for me, because you don’t know what it’s like to lose the person you love more than life itself.”

“I don’t think he would have wanted you to live this depressed half life that you do. Most of these guys are single and you should see this as an opportunity to put yourself out there and find someone new.”

“I don’t want to find someone to replace Paul. No one could ever replace him.” I replied as the tears began to well up in my eyes.

“Honey,” Amy said reaching for me with a pleading look in her eyes. “We don’t want you to replace Paul. We just want you to be happy.”

“We who?” I said suspiciously, stepping away from her grasp. “You? My Mom?”

“Me, your mom, the boys, Neil, Shay, everyone. We just don’t want you to live like half of you died with Paul did.”

“Well, Oprah,” I said my voice rising steadily and dripping venom. “Did it ever occur to you, to ANY of you, that maybe a part of me did die that night? That maybe I don’t feel like I deserve to be happy?”

“You deserve to be happy. You couldn’t have known—“Amy began shakily her eyes looking watery.

“Don’t.” I said cutting her off and putting my hands up defensively. “I am so tired of this conversation. I’m done.”

And with that I grabbed my bags from the ground and headed to the only bus that hadn’t been claimed-a sickly looking pepto-pink one. I trudged up the stairs, giving the jolly looking drive a feeble smile as I went.

*Author's NoteThis chapter is extra long and dedicated to CyanideChild. Your persistance means the world to me. I'd also like to thank a little know band hailing from New Jersey themselves, The Measure [SA] have been a great inspiration to me. Listen to them.*
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