FicWad

Hey everybody! This is my first story on ficwad ever, so it might not be the greatest, but I hope you still like it. I'm not sure if the description got cut off, because it does sometimes, so here's the summary:
A few short words can describe me. Tramp, thief, liar, cheat. All very true. I'm cool with it, because I'm one lie away from being a legend. My name is Reese Taylor, and I'm about to pull of the greatest con in music history.
Hope you all like it!


Before I start this story, there are a few things you should know about me. First off, I'm not exactly what most people would call a good person. I cheat, I lie, and I scheme to get what I want, and I'm okay with that. It's gotten me to a good place in life, and you really shouldn't mess with a good thing. It's not just me either. My friends do the same, and their lives rock. Our system works. It's made us who we are.

And who we are is Savage Grace.

You know, that band you always see on MTV? The girls your boyfriend drools over when he thinks you're not looking? The girls who are always starting riots? The creators of the "devil shit" old people rant about and the group whose concerts your parents won't let you go to? Yea, that's us. Me? Oh, I'm just Riesa Barnes, spazzy chick with brown hair with a mind of its own, but you wouldn't know that. I'm known the world over as Reese Taylor: lead singer and guitarist of Savage Grace, hot girl with chin length ruby red hair, and the most famous seventeen year old in the world. Oh, and the most highly paid seventeen year old in the world, but that's beside the point.

I'm also a very bad influence on my fans. I'm generally considered a tramp, but most people don't know that I never go further than kissing- don't you know tease is the new slut? But, I do dress like one; I'll give my critics that. Speaking of critics, I'm a huge one. Having to be sweet as apple pie in interviews all alone (I handle publicity alone because my friends always screw it up somehow) takes a lot out of me. So afterward, I escape to my room and make a video blog for my site, where I can bash other bands to my heart's delight. My most recent victims: Paramore and My Chemical Romance. Poor sucker ticked me off at Lollapalooza last year.

Anyway, I think you get the point. As far as character goes, I'm not the most likeable person. Get used to it.

　

"Everybody get in here!" Jaycee yells. Down the hall, I hear a door swinging open and banging into the wall.

"Jaycee, do you mind? I'm trying to catch a few Z's in here!" Deryn, our rhythm guitarist and occasional keyboard player, screams shrilly at our drummer.

"And I'm trying to finish the last few pages of To Kill a Mockingbird," The bass player and my sister Lauren says in a nicer manner.

"Ah, just get your lazy asses in here!" Jaycee yells back. I hear them trudging toward the living room and decide I should probably go too. Sighing, I turn off my curling iron and join my friends.

"This better be pretty damn important for you to be cutting in on my hair time!" I exclaim as I saunter in. I grab the ends of my hair and shove it in their faces for emphasis. One side is curled but not the other, the left side is the same length as the right, it's a disaster! And I haven't even dyed in streaks of blonde and orange yet!

"Well, not really, unless you call the Legends of Music nominations important!" Jaycee replies sarcastically. The rest of us take this as our cue to squeal.

"No way! That's tonight?" I shriek.

"Yea! So all of you shut your traps so I can listen!" We all pile onto the couch and watch the TV screen anxiously. As they announce each nominee, the show a picture of the band and play an excerpt of a song. First is Fall Out Boy with a bit of I Don't Care. Then is Green Day- no shocker- with a bit of American Idiot. Well damn, if they're in it no one's got a shot, seeing as they've won it every year since their first nomination. Then it moves on to- and I kid you not- Justin Bieber. Really people? Has it come to that? It moves on to Linkin Park, then Muse (gotta love 'em), My Chemical Romance (ew), some pop shit by the name of One Direction, Panic! At The Disco, Paramore, etc.

"Yea, yea, get to S!" Deryn shouts at the TV. Then it happens. On the screen is a picture of four girls in tattered, torn, and utterly shredded remains of ball gowns, holding or leaning on spears with black and red lines painted on their faces. A song called Blazing blasts in the background. Our first album cover, our first famous song. The nominee is Savage Grace.

Needless to say, all hell breaks loose.

　

We all cheer as Lauren and Eric, our manager, walk up to our table, carefully carrying all our drinks. Eric sets down the drinks and swings an arm around my sister's shoulders.

"Three cheers everybody, drinks all around!" Eric laughs and kisses Lauren on the cheek, causing her to blush.

"Aw, aren't you two just adorable!" I coo, pinching both their cheeks. Eric swats my hand away and I give him a cheeky grin.

"Can we see the rock again?" Deryn asks. Before she can answer, Jaycee grabs Lauren's hand.

"Damn girl!" She squeals.

"You got yourself a good one!" I say. Deryn shrugs.

"I've seen bigger." I give her a playful shove.

"All right guys," Eric says with a smile, "I'd like to make a toast." He raises his bottle of beer. "To my dear fiancée Lauren, her lovely baby sister Reese, and their two darling best friends Jaycee and Deryn."

"And to the other bands in the competition," I add. "Let's hope the world screws the all!"

"Amen to that!" Jaycee exclaims. We clink our glasses together and cheer.

"To making them our bitches!" Deryn says, laughing. I take a sib of my soda and pretend to gag.

"Oh Coca Cola, why must you limit me so?!" I exclaim dramatically.

"Aw, poor baby can't have any alcohol?" Jaycee teases me, downing a shot of whiskey.

"Sucks to be seventeen, don't it?" Eric says, taking a sip of his beer.

"Sucks to be the only underage member of the band, more like it," I mutter, gulping down some coke. It's true too. Lauren, Eric, and Deryn are all 22, and have been friends since high school. Jaycee was my friend first, but she's 21. She was a senior when I was a freshman. We were both kind of outcasts so she took me under her wing. But either way, I can't get a drink on my own- everyone knows I'm seventeen, famous remember? - and Lauren won't let anyone buy me one. I lean over to Jaycee and point to a mildly attractive guy across the room. "Bet you I can get a drink off of him." She looks at me and smirks.

"Five bucks says you can't."

"You're on." We shake hands and I stride away from the table, 'oomfing' my hair and adjusting my clothes to show maximum skin.

Five minutes later, I've got the guy eating out of the palm of my hand. Well, tips of my fingers anyway. He- Chase I mean- leans back and I toss a kernel of popcorn in the air and it bounces just off the side of his mouth.

"Aw man!" I exclaim. "So close!" He laughs.

"Maybe next time, sweetheart." I sigh.

"Too bad we're out of popcorn."

"Shame. I guess it wasn't meant to be." I laugh, even though it wasn't funny. Chase looks pretty pleased with himself. "So, uh, can I buy you a drink?" I smile.

"I thought you'd never ask." He buys me a drink and I stay and talk to him for a while before the frequent buzzing begins. "Are you gonna answer that?" Chase asks when I start pounding my phone to shut it up. I apologize and check my messages. I groan internally on sight. Leave me alone Finny.

"You know what, it's my friends," I lie smoothly. "They want me back, sorry." I say goodbye to Chase and return to my friends, smirking at Jaycee. "That'll be five bucks. Pay up." She laughs and hands me a bill.

"You're coming along my little protégé,"

"I don't even know why I bother playing the protective older sister with you three around corrupting her," Lauren sighs.

"Us? Corrupt her?" Jaycee says with mock indignation.

"Please, chicky," Deryn says snootily, "we were wide-eyed and innocent before this one came along."

"Yea, I'm sure," Eric replies. Jaycee sticks her tongue out at him and he flips her off. My phone buzzes obnoxiously again.

"Who's texting you?" Deryn asks.

"Finn," I say. "Who else?"

"Oh ho ho! Are you sure it's texting my dear ginger friend?" Jaycee asks, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh funny!" They laugh. "God, I'm so done with that guy." Jaycee rolls her eyes.

"You always say that, and then the next day you're sucking face like there's no tomorrow!" She and Eric pantomime making out with someone, their arms wrapped around themselves and their tongues rolling around in the air.

"You're disgusting," I say to Jaycee at the same time Lauren says it to Eric. His phone starts ringing and he excuses himself.

"So, what're we going to do about the contest?" Deryn asks, taking advantage of Eric's absence to start scheming.

"Practice?" Lauren suggests the obvious.

"Stick out thumbs up our asses and hope for the best?" Jaycee says sarcastically. Deryn and I roll our eyes. These two are absolutely useless once they start drinking.

"Well, first we need to figure out who our biggest treats are," I say.

"Obvious isn't it? Muse, Green Day, and My Chemical Romance," Deryn replies.

"Why My Chemical Romance?" I ask.

"Reesey dear, don't you do your research?" She sighs. "First off, MCR's been around three years while we've hardly got one and a half under our belts. We're rookies compared to them. Second, two of them just had a family member pass away maybe a month or two ago. So they've got the sympathy vote. Third, they're pretty hot. Fourth, they've got one of the greatest fan bases in the world. It's a panel of judges that pick the winner, but there'll be pressure from fans of the bands."

"Yikes," Jaycee says dumbly.

"Precisely," Deryn agrees. "Worse, they're pretty private. There's nothing already out there that we could use against them."

"Damn," I say. "That's the only thing other than talent we've got with the other two, information, sabotage. What do we do about these guys?" We never get to figure that out, because just as we're talking Eric walks up.

"Kay babes, time for bed." He starts leading us from the table. "Chop chop, we don't got all night!"

"Hey, what's the rush?" He grins at me.

"I just booked you three interviews for tomorrow," he replies, smirking. "How awesome am I?"

He's very, /very /awesome.