FicWad

Sorry if that confused you guys! It was an intro, sort of thing. Wow, I'm heaps happy I already got some reviews! I only put it up an hour ago too.! Anyways, here is the next chapter!

P.S. Yes moocow, I'll have babies with you. Also, I've read your stories. Like months ago before I joined. They're great :)


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I hate bitches. I really do. And I'm not talking about your average bitchy girl, I'm talking about the slutty, 'I think I'm the sex' punk/emo girls that show up at concert venues who talk like, like, like, like, like, what was I, like, talking about, like?

I know alot of American teens are portrayed as that and Australian chicks are portrayed as surfy blondes, but guess what? We're all pretty much the same.

Alot of Aussie culture is so influenced by American's now that I'm left to wonder if I actually suit a catagory. Emo, surfer, punk, nerd, dork, goth - and here I am, standing on the other side of this table, fiddling with my VIP MERCH card that hangs from the necklace around my neck. I think it's made out of the same stuff shoelaces are. I think.

"Hey, do you have the pink one in extra small?" A girl asks me and I'm pulled out of my random thoughts. She's maybe only eighteen, but it's hard to tell with her dodgy make-up job. I think she's going for the 'I did this with my left hand' look, judging that she's right handed.

She points at the pink shirt thats pinned on the board behind me. I look back at her.

"Extra small? You look like a medium to me." I say to her in a neutral tone. I don't wanna start a fight with a girl who has nails longer than Naomi Campbell's legs.

Her lips purse, her eyes suddenly giving me an immense dirty stare as she says, "Extra small, thank you."

Considering that the Merch stand is practically flooded kids (Not actual children, it's just what I call people younger than me), I'm certain she yelled that. I'm beginning to think I'm the only Merch person who isn't hurriedly moving around selling crap.

"Righteo then", I say and turn my back to her. Mouthing 'bitch' to no one in particular, I search through the boxes of shirts.

After a few minutes, I find an extra small shirt and hand it to her. The girl is tall, alot taller than most of the other girls here. I'm standing on higher ground, and she's still taller than me.

She holds it up, looking at it, then presses it against her large breasts as if she were really wearing it. She looks back at me and says, "Looks fine. How much is it?"

"Thirty-five."

She pulls her purse out, hands me the money and I give her her change back.

I watch as she practically wrenches the shirt over her head. The blue, white and yellow text across the front of the shirt immediately cracks and deforms as it strains against her balloons of plastic, I mean, boobs.

Grinning to herself, or thin air, either one, she wanders off back into the crowd.

"Dumb girl", I murmur to myself, resting my arms on the table. Only a few people are left. Security are hurrying them off and out of the venue.

"What she do?"

It's Dirty. I first met him at the first show on this tour in Sydney and we became friends. He likes to drink. I like to drink. It's all dandy as candy.

"Nothing. I just think she's dumb." I reply, turning onto my side to see him picking tags off the table. Silly fans and their laziness. It isn't hard to walk over to the bin at the end of the stand.

Dirty reminds me of my dad sometimes. Scruffy, a little bit of pudge, a great sense of humour and his love for beer.

"There's alot of them around here," he says while shoving plastic and paper into a rubbish bag, "I just got told that one of them managed to get on the stage, only to be pulled back down by another girl."

I snickered, "Serious?"

He nods, "Yeah. I think she face-planted on the way down."

I laughed, "God, I woulda' loved seeing that."

"So, what you doing after this?" He asks.

I shrug, "Probably find a motel or something to stay at. I'm too buggered to get a taxi home."

"Wouldn't that cost a couple hundred?" He was talking about a taxi home.

I nodded, "Yeah, but I'm making a shit-load a day. So, eh."

Dirty shook his head, "So what you gonna do?"

I shrug, "I dunno. The nights still young. I got ages."

"It's almost two."

"Morning, then."

We step down from the stand and head towards the entrance. All the merch was sold in the foyer and we were now walking into the actual place where all the bands played.

"Have you met the boys yet?" Dirty asks me as I kick a water bottle across the dirtied floor. The cleaner a few metres away gives me an annoyed stare. Sor-ry then.

I shake my head, "Nah. I never really thought about it."

Dirty leads me pass two very big security guards. They just let us walk right by. I'd seen other merch people try to get through, only to be told to 'Piss off!'

"You're probably the only girl I know whose working on this tour who hasn't screamed, fainted or cried when they've walked past you or asked for a bottle of water", Dirty says with an amused smile and I shrug. We were now walking down the side of the stage.

"What am I suppose to do? They ask for a bottle of water and I just so happen to be standing next to a random fridge, alright then, I'll give them water."

He laughs, "You're also the only girl on this tour with a sense of humour."

We continue down a side passage. Crew people scurry around, moving instruments, lights, amps, garbage cans. I'm glad I only work in merchandise.

"So, are you introducing me to them? Is that were you're taking me?" I ask, and even though I'm keeping my tone as normal as possible, I can't help to feel a little nervous.

"Sure am," Dirty pushes a door open and all of a sudden I'm standing in a dressing room with four boys, staring at me. "Rachel, this is Fall Out Boy."

I stand there, just looking at them. Snap out of it! Alright, so now I'm smiling politely. Alright, that's progress and moved you from 'twit' to 'mildly odd'.

"Hey Dirty, man," Patrick comes over, shaking Dirty's hand, "how come you didn't come down earlier? We were gonna suggest going down a club or something."

"Yeah, we've been signing stuff for two hours now, so we wanted to do something fun", Andy chimes in from his seat on an old couch. The couch looks like road kill five times over.

"There were alot of people wanting stuff, so I had to stay back," Dirty looks at me, "This is Rachel Eves. She's been working with us on the Tour since we started two months ago."

Patrick extends a hand, a warm smile on his face, "Hey. I'm Patrick."

How could I not know that already?

I shake it lightly, "Rachel."

Joe stands up, also taking my hand and giving a polite kiss to my cheek. My brow furrows, only because I hadn't expected it.

"I'm Joe, nice to meet you Rachel," he steps back then says, "I've seen you around the Tour."

I smile, "Yeah, well just doing my job."

Andy took my hand, "Andy. I've also seen you around the Tour."

And then there he was. He was shorter than I expected. Shy of five foot eight, dark eyes, almost black hair and lovely olive skin, he took my hand, shook it and then planted a kiss on my cheek also.

"Pete Wentz, but I'm sure you knew all our names before we introduced ourselves?" Pete said with a small smile.

I nod, also smiling, "Yeah, but I didn't wanna ruin their vibe."

He chuckled, "Polite and funny. I already like you."

I hate to say it, but I was blushing. I felt the heat run up my neck and to my cheeks. Thank god I have a caramel tan, or it would have been so obvious.

"So you work in Merch with Dirty?" Pete asked.

"Yeah, we've been working together in Merch since June."

"She somtimes helps with other stuff too cos' she's one of the few who don't try to jump band members", Dirty added and I playfully slapped his arm.

"They can't help it Dirty, they're naive little girls", I said.

"Did you see the blonde who tried to grab at my pants?" Andy said and I shook my head.

"She went straight fro my crutch, then Dirty came along and pushed her back into the mosh."

I laughed, "Well, a little crutch grabbing couldn't hurt."

Pete huffed then said, "So, do you two wanna come out with us?"

Dirty said yes straight away but I gave a small shrug, "I'm not too sure. I gotta find a motel to stay in tonight. I gotta get some shut eye before driving to the next venue tomorrow morning."

"Hey, I'm sure we can find a trailer for you. They seem to have heaps of them that the crew people are using," Patrick suggested then continued, "where are your clothes and stuff?"

"I leave them in one of the crews trailers."

"Serious?" Pete asked and I nodded. He blinked then said, "Alright, you're coming out with us tonight, but before that you're grabbing you're stuff and putting them on the bus."

I frowned, confused, "Bus?"

He nodded, "Our bus."

My mouth fell open in shock, "Oh no, it's ok really! I remember passing a motel not too far from here. Honestly, it's fine."

Pete shook his head, "Nah, too late. Plans are done. You guys cool with that?"

"Yeah, she can stay on the couch." Joe said.

Patrick shook his head, "Correction: she can stay in your bed and you can stay on the couch."

"Guys, seriously, you don't have -" I was immediately cut off by Joe.

"Dude, why can't she stay in Pete's?"

My eyes shifted to Pete, who shrugged then replied, "We'll figure it out later. Rachel, which trailer is it?"

"Number eight. I think it has the lights in there." I gave up arguing.

"I'll go get it," Dirty offered while pullign keys from his pocket, "I have to talk to them about that broken light anyways."

I tried again, "Guys, you don't -"

Pete cut in, shaking a finger at me like I was a naughty little girl, "Too late. Now come on, we'll go to the bus and you can get changed out of your merch clothes."

And just like that, I was on the Fall Out Boy Bus.

Jealous much?