Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > But It's Better if You Do
Brendon wasn't long on the stage before the first act of girls flooded the wood platform with their bright satin dresses. With a careless wink at the red-clad woman in the audience he leapt down from the stage into the orchestra pit. He sat down at his piano and looked around at the orchestra. He made eye contact with an excited Spencer and they smiled at each other before turning to the conductor.
Music throbbed through the air around him, his heart swiftly beating along with the rag time. His head buzzed and in between songs he would frequently reach for the bottle nearby and take another sip. His anxiety left him completely by the fourth song and his grin turned into something like from a Lewis Carroll novel. His playing, fortunately, wasn't effected by his sky-rocketing blood alcohol level. The lively music and the energy from the surrounding atmosphere powered him through the show like one of Crackitus' steam engines.
Soon enough, however, he was forced to leave the safety of the orchestra pit and head to the stage. Natalie had already performed two songs that night and now called him up to join her in a few numbers, as planned.
As he approached the center of the stage to join Natalie, he noticed the red lady was now seated with what was most likely one of the crime bosses. She laughed as he whispered in her ear, a group of intimidating men gathered close around him. The man was tall and dressed in red and black like a Don Juan. “The devil...” Brendon whispered to himself, trying to concentrate as the couple in red began to get very... familiar with each other.
He shook his head, clearing away the distractions and instead gave his attention to Natalie. The duo were singing a lighthearted nod to real romance, certainly something that didn't exist within the walls of the cabaret. He flirted with the dancers and with Natalie, and ambled his away across the stage with a poor excuse of grace and balance.
His entire mind was filled with the music and the warm and crazed haze that was starting to take over his vision. His collar seemed to be getting tighter and tighter and he worked to loosen it.
Natalie glanced over at him only to notice his staggering closer and closer to the edge of the stage. At first he seemed totally engrossed in his singing but then his eyes focused on something in the audience. She followed his gaze and saw it: the woman in red.
She couldn't see much of the woman's features but she could see the special attention she was giving to the man next to hair. Still, she couldn't see why that would upset of distract Brendon. With a nervous glance at the audience she danced over to Brendon and poked him in the ribs to get his attention. He jumped a little bit and glanced at her while he still continued to sing. “Get that head of yours back in the game, buster!” She whispered into his ear while still smiling out at the crowd.
He smiled what he thought was a sexy smile and kept on singing, “Oh you beautiful doll! You great big beautiful doll!” He seemed to be doing alright for a few measures but then his attention was fully derailed when out of the corner of his eye he saw the burly rich man yank the woman in red onto his lap while she tried futilely to get away with him.
Brendon ignored Natalie's warnings and shook her off as she tried to restrain him from jumping off the stage. In a moment that shocked many audience members he leapt off the edge of the lamp lit stage, over the heads of the musicians in the orchestra pit and easily landed next to the problem couple.
What happened after could only be described as a brawl. When Brendon threw the first punch, the body guards threw the second, third and fourth punches, which landed Brendon in the orchestra pit next to the woodwinds, which they respectively proceeded with the fifth, sixth, seventh and a half punches resulting in a neighboring table being involved in the latter half, the eighth, ninth, and eleventh, with a certain drummer coming in with the tenth. Shortly thereafter, the strings and the rest of the rhythm joined in to balance out the next two tables that participated. The total count of punches reached 127.2 before a certain woman fired off a very large gun from the stage.
“ENOUGH!” Natalie shouted while waving a still-smoking .45 Colt around at anyone who tried to come near. “For those who would like the show to continue, sit yourselves back down and settle down or get out!” The prospect of having a show canceled sobered many in the audience, while a few got up to carry on their business outside.
Brendon, now very much sober, moved to go back to the orchestra pit but a set of very firm hands landed on his shoulders. He recognized the men as the body guards of the crime boss he had attacked, a tall burly man who nodded at the thugs in command. The two men who held him led him out one of the side doors to an alley. On the way through the cabaret he noticed the woman in red looking at him from across the room, her mask was gone now and the deepest sense of dread settled in Brendon's stomach. “Blanche...”
He wasn't allowed to dwell on that subject for long, however, as he was shoved out into the alley. He tripped over his feet and landed on his hands and knees. With a grunt of irritation, Brendon raised himself from the ground and faced the gang boss and his men. He noticed that there was another tall, skinny man with the group now and that Blanche had followed them outside as well. Without their masks, Brendon recognized the two thugs as the men who had greeted him when he first arrived in Chicago. Small world.
“My name is Mr. Rogers and to be honest,” the leader stepped forward and tossed his mask to the side into the mud, “I am a little put off by your ruining my evening.” His black eyes glared at Brendon and he stepped closer, his massive bulk towering over the musician. “And I insist on retribution for the insult you have paid me tonight.” He stepped even closer and slapped Brendon's face with a glove, somewhere in the background Blanche gasped.
Brendon's hand slowly reached up to touch his cheek as he stared in disbelief. “Now I prefer pistols,” Mr. Rogers was still speaking, “6:30 in the morning, at the yard behind the old mill. Does that suit you?” Brendon nodded numbly. “And I shall need to know the name of your second for security's sake, of course. This gentleman over here is mine, Mr. Beckett.”
Brendon stared dumbfounded first at Rogers and then at Beckett, “My... my second?” He stuttered as he tried to think of one.
“I'll be his second,” Spencer stepped out from the nearby shadows, “My name is Spencer Smith.” Brendon's shock doubled at the unlooked for favor and all he could do was nod in acceptance.
Mr. Rogers seemed pleased enough with the arrangement, “Very well, all is settled and now I must bid you a good night.” He turned to leave, but before he did his cane lashed out and caught Brendon across the face, the force of the blow nocking him to his knees.
He gingerly fingered his now bleeding lip and figured it would be best to stay on the ground for the time being until his head cleared. Blanche hurried to his side and tilted his head up to get a better look at his lip. “Oh Brendon, I'm so sorry...” she took the hankie from his vest pocket and dabbed at the blood. Spencer reached down and helped the singer to his feet and kept a hand on his arm until he was stable.
“Thank you,” Brendon said to Spencer while Blanche stepped away from the two, her arms wrapped around herself as she suddenly felt the cold air. Brendon peeled off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, his hands lingered for a moment and he smiled sadly at her. “You, my dear, are going to be the death of me.”
A/N: Wow... I updated two stories this weekend. Yay me! This is what happens when one is stuck sick at home with nothing to do. Anyways, thanks so much for reading! Please rate and review to let me know how you're liking this!
Music throbbed through the air around him, his heart swiftly beating along with the rag time. His head buzzed and in between songs he would frequently reach for the bottle nearby and take another sip. His anxiety left him completely by the fourth song and his grin turned into something like from a Lewis Carroll novel. His playing, fortunately, wasn't effected by his sky-rocketing blood alcohol level. The lively music and the energy from the surrounding atmosphere powered him through the show like one of Crackitus' steam engines.
Soon enough, however, he was forced to leave the safety of the orchestra pit and head to the stage. Natalie had already performed two songs that night and now called him up to join her in a few numbers, as planned.
As he approached the center of the stage to join Natalie, he noticed the red lady was now seated with what was most likely one of the crime bosses. She laughed as he whispered in her ear, a group of intimidating men gathered close around him. The man was tall and dressed in red and black like a Don Juan. “The devil...” Brendon whispered to himself, trying to concentrate as the couple in red began to get very... familiar with each other.
He shook his head, clearing away the distractions and instead gave his attention to Natalie. The duo were singing a lighthearted nod to real romance, certainly something that didn't exist within the walls of the cabaret. He flirted with the dancers and with Natalie, and ambled his away across the stage with a poor excuse of grace and balance.
His entire mind was filled with the music and the warm and crazed haze that was starting to take over his vision. His collar seemed to be getting tighter and tighter and he worked to loosen it.
Natalie glanced over at him only to notice his staggering closer and closer to the edge of the stage. At first he seemed totally engrossed in his singing but then his eyes focused on something in the audience. She followed his gaze and saw it: the woman in red.
She couldn't see much of the woman's features but she could see the special attention she was giving to the man next to hair. Still, she couldn't see why that would upset of distract Brendon. With a nervous glance at the audience she danced over to Brendon and poked him in the ribs to get his attention. He jumped a little bit and glanced at her while he still continued to sing. “Get that head of yours back in the game, buster!” She whispered into his ear while still smiling out at the crowd.
He smiled what he thought was a sexy smile and kept on singing, “Oh you beautiful doll! You great big beautiful doll!” He seemed to be doing alright for a few measures but then his attention was fully derailed when out of the corner of his eye he saw the burly rich man yank the woman in red onto his lap while she tried futilely to get away with him.
Brendon ignored Natalie's warnings and shook her off as she tried to restrain him from jumping off the stage. In a moment that shocked many audience members he leapt off the edge of the lamp lit stage, over the heads of the musicians in the orchestra pit and easily landed next to the problem couple.
What happened after could only be described as a brawl. When Brendon threw the first punch, the body guards threw the second, third and fourth punches, which landed Brendon in the orchestra pit next to the woodwinds, which they respectively proceeded with the fifth, sixth, seventh and a half punches resulting in a neighboring table being involved in the latter half, the eighth, ninth, and eleventh, with a certain drummer coming in with the tenth. Shortly thereafter, the strings and the rest of the rhythm joined in to balance out the next two tables that participated. The total count of punches reached 127.2 before a certain woman fired off a very large gun from the stage.
“ENOUGH!” Natalie shouted while waving a still-smoking .45 Colt around at anyone who tried to come near. “For those who would like the show to continue, sit yourselves back down and settle down or get out!” The prospect of having a show canceled sobered many in the audience, while a few got up to carry on their business outside.
Brendon, now very much sober, moved to go back to the orchestra pit but a set of very firm hands landed on his shoulders. He recognized the men as the body guards of the crime boss he had attacked, a tall burly man who nodded at the thugs in command. The two men who held him led him out one of the side doors to an alley. On the way through the cabaret he noticed the woman in red looking at him from across the room, her mask was gone now and the deepest sense of dread settled in Brendon's stomach. “Blanche...”
He wasn't allowed to dwell on that subject for long, however, as he was shoved out into the alley. He tripped over his feet and landed on his hands and knees. With a grunt of irritation, Brendon raised himself from the ground and faced the gang boss and his men. He noticed that there was another tall, skinny man with the group now and that Blanche had followed them outside as well. Without their masks, Brendon recognized the two thugs as the men who had greeted him when he first arrived in Chicago. Small world.
“My name is Mr. Rogers and to be honest,” the leader stepped forward and tossed his mask to the side into the mud, “I am a little put off by your ruining my evening.” His black eyes glared at Brendon and he stepped closer, his massive bulk towering over the musician. “And I insist on retribution for the insult you have paid me tonight.” He stepped even closer and slapped Brendon's face with a glove, somewhere in the background Blanche gasped.
Brendon's hand slowly reached up to touch his cheek as he stared in disbelief. “Now I prefer pistols,” Mr. Rogers was still speaking, “6:30 in the morning, at the yard behind the old mill. Does that suit you?” Brendon nodded numbly. “And I shall need to know the name of your second for security's sake, of course. This gentleman over here is mine, Mr. Beckett.”
Brendon stared dumbfounded first at Rogers and then at Beckett, “My... my second?” He stuttered as he tried to think of one.
“I'll be his second,” Spencer stepped out from the nearby shadows, “My name is Spencer Smith.” Brendon's shock doubled at the unlooked for favor and all he could do was nod in acceptance.
Mr. Rogers seemed pleased enough with the arrangement, “Very well, all is settled and now I must bid you a good night.” He turned to leave, but before he did his cane lashed out and caught Brendon across the face, the force of the blow nocking him to his knees.
He gingerly fingered his now bleeding lip and figured it would be best to stay on the ground for the time being until his head cleared. Blanche hurried to his side and tilted his head up to get a better look at his lip. “Oh Brendon, I'm so sorry...” she took the hankie from his vest pocket and dabbed at the blood. Spencer reached down and helped the singer to his feet and kept a hand on his arm until he was stable.
“Thank you,” Brendon said to Spencer while Blanche stepped away from the two, her arms wrapped around herself as she suddenly felt the cold air. Brendon peeled off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, his hands lingered for a moment and he smiled sadly at her. “You, my dear, are going to be the death of me.”
A/N: Wow... I updated two stories this weekend. Yay me! This is what happens when one is stuck sick at home with nothing to do. Anyways, thanks so much for reading! Please rate and review to let me know how you're liking this!
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