FicWad

The six-story building stared over me and did its best to block out the blue sky that loomed over it. Feeling the muscles stretch in my lower back, I stared up the straightaway and up the clear sheets of glass that people stared through and took for granted day in and day out. A small spasm went through my back and I returned to my default, upright position. My foot took about one step before an unappreciated pane of glass gave me a glimpse to what other people saw in me. Stopping, I leaned closer to the makeshift mirror and shoved my hands into the deep pockets of my black hoodie. Fearing a lack of eyeliner, I crinkled my nose and stared distastefully at my own reflection. Trying my hardest to look decent, I smiled but it wasn't genuine. It just looked like a dirty, shitty boy pretending that everything was ok. It didn't take the mirror long to reflect my 'trademark' face. Giving up, I sighed and drew out my hands just to throw open the large glass door that was marred by the building logo of a camera and some fancy schmancy type. Replacing my hands casually, I looked around and was simply met with the vision of an empty reception desk. A bright, blue post-it addressed me and informed that the usual receptionist was out for lunch and would be back in about 30 minutes. Curious as to how long ago the tall Hispanic woman in small clothes wrote that, I pondered my options: I could sit here for god knows how long or I could just go on up. It's not like I'll get in trouble and I know where to go. Thanks to this I decided to go on up to my engagement. My feet plodded up the thick stairs beneath me as I stared down upon the next stair. God, would it suck to be a stair. Everyday people would walk all over you, literally, and not once even stop to look at you. There were days when I knew what it was like to be a stair. There were days when I was nothing special and just another stepping-stone for someone, when I was just another piece of shit on the dog trail of life.
I reached the top stair and stood on the second story in a pastel colored hallway. Doors surrounded me on both sides and I ignored them all, spare one. A sea green door stared at me with its golden doorknob just longing for some manhandling. Giving up to its seduction I grabbed the knob and gave it a rough jerk around. The door swung open gracefully and led to a small hallway of more sea green paint. I shuffled into the familiar enormous room and observed the bright lights that shined hotly over the 2D tarp on the floor. I leaned up against the dark wall and waited patiently. "Fine, just let yourself in, Mr. Burglar. It's not like I care in the least," A bright, happy voice rang from the small kitchen on the side and made me smirk.
"No problem, just give me all your eyeliner and nobody gets hurt."
"Hmm....eyeliner thief, sounds like Peter."
"Damn, caught." From the kitchen a short 23-year old woman stepped out sporting a snug black hoodie and some blue jeans. Her hair fell in soft brown/blonde curls around an oval-shaped face. It was her shiny green eyes that always grabbed my attention but that's not saying much because of my fixation with peoples' eyes.
Smiling, she shook my huge hand, "Peter Wentz, what can I do for a big, handsome superstar like yourself?"
"Ah, you know me, Jess, I love to just stop by and see what you're up to. Actually, I'm your..."
"2:00?! Are you kidding? Roberta's handwriting could only be deciphered as 'Geraldo'." Laughing, I mirrored her steps as she pulled out lasagna from the microwave and set it down on the stool over the tarp.
"Where do you want me?" I asked while standing in the direct spotlight.
She looked down at her lasagna, "In bed. Get to it. No, um...here...get off the tarp." Stepping off quickly, I watched her scramble up and throw the tarp behind the large screen. Smartly she observed what I happened to be wearing and pulled down a light blue, pastel background. Without delay, she pulled out a large black camera that was littered with stickers and adjusted it. My ugly eyes watched her throw off her hood and flip her hair over. "Didn't you come in last week, Pete?"
"Yeah, but...yeah."
"You know I sent the prints from last week to your manager, right?"
"Yeah, but...yeah."
"Ok, ok. All right, so we're gonna take a few in what you're wearing right now for the whole original Pete Wentz effect. Cappice?"
"Ci, senorita."
"That was Italian, corazon."
"Oh..."
"Here, I'm feeling weird. Put your right hand in those sexy emo bangs of yours and look at them with a 'what the hell' face." Silently I complied only to hear her laughing as she took one shot and then another. "So, how's the best band in the world going?"
"Pretty awesome. The new album's coming out early next year."
"Should I be expecting a copy or should I have to spend my hard earned money for it?" Jess ran over and pulled down a painted apartment background behind me.
"Of course I'll arrange a copy for you. New backdrops?"
"Oh, yeah. My buddy J's back in town and she painted some backdrops for me this weekend. Pete...take this stool, good, now...cross your ankles...no right over left, and put your elbow on your knee. Hehe, other elbow, smarty pants. All right, now put your head on your hand, tilt, tilt, tilt, other way, good. Tell the guys I say hi. Keep it there."
"You know, Andy saw some of the headshots and he's thinking of coming over to you sometime."
"Pretty face like his? Whew, I could do wonders with that." She ran to a light board and twisted one of the knobs until the light over me had a greenish hue and I only wondered how horrible I looked in that moment. "Maybe I should focus on your pretty little face for now." Smiling I stared at the camera, "Ooh, don't smile, I just set the angsty mood." I forced a frown as she clicked the camera two or three times, "Sexy..." I seriously believed she was only saying that for some psychological aspect to picture taking. Something like, if I think I'm sexy, I'll look sexier. Unfortunately, I didn't feel very sexy and it was only then I realized she'd disappeared. It took a minute for a huge pile of clothes to exit the side room and throw itself on the floor just off the tarp.
Flipping her hair again, Jess dug through the pile of clothes as I sat in the hue and watched her; "It seems like every time I come here you're always putting some green light on me."
She didn't even look up but continued to choose outfits, "Green brings out your eyes and it puts a nice sheen on your hair. Forgive my horrible fashion sense but could you wear this?"
I observed the jeans and red polo she held up for me, "Sorry, Jess, I only wear girly, wimpy jeans."
"Oh! Right, you're the one with the girl jeans. I have to remember the preferences for all these major rock stars or they get all bent out of shape. Gerard Way likes his ties, Tre Cool has a suit fetish and you love your girl jeans. What you people expect of me..." A pair of small jeans, just my size, landed in front of me and I grabbed them along with the red polo shirt with black spades down the side.
"Where do you want me to change?"
"You know, Pete, you're so much more courteous than other people who come in. Some of those boys just start stripping right there. Behind the background is fine, I won't peek."
"You can, I mean, it's not like there's anything to look at." Jess flashed me a sweet smile before going back to her lasagna. Quickly, I shed the 'Love Can't Save You' hoodie and stretched a bit. Feeling the warm air on my back I threw the polo over my head and felt the confines of the material stretch over my painted chest.
"This ain't a scene, it's a god damn arms race..."Jess' voice whispered through the room and I couldn't help but smile. My old clothes were left on the floor as I stepped out from behind the changed backdrop. Assuming everything was ready, I stood on the tarp and unconsciously chewed on my nails. On the floor across from me, my photographer sat cross-legged at her laptop and dialed a site I was quite familiar with. Adjusting her camera, she pressed a button on the computer and it immediately sprang to life. Holding her expensive camera tightly, Jess began to dance and mouth the words of my best friend, "I am an arms dealer..." I couldn't help but smile, which prompted several pictures before I knew what was going on. "Come on, Pete, break out some dance moves." I recalled various instances of me 'breaking out moves' and laughed. She restarted the song and I did my best to dance. She laughed as she snapped shots of me from every angle.
It was five o' clock when I changed for the third time but into my regular clothes this time. I was all smiles as I left my good friend and photographer in her large pastel room all alone. I passed the panes of glass without a second glance as I unlocked my car and sat inside.