Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy >


by xp0lkad0tx 2 reviews

She says she's no good with words. But he's worse. Much, much worse

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: R - Genres: Angst - Published: 2007-02-02 - Updated: 2007-02-02 - 1692 words

Thanx for the reviews. Please if you like this story. Review it. Hell if you are viewing this story review it. Even a 'good work' or 'that sucks' tis better than nothing!!

Chapter Two - Always

"Justify to yourself in thirty eight words why you should be in this class" my eyes skimmed the top line of the piece of paper and I sighed in defeat. Biting on the end of my pen I brushed my fringe out of my eyes and put the pen to paper. It sat on top of the black lines and I willed it to move. To think of something super. To think of something worthwhile. I had to show the professor I deserved to be in his class. A million thoughts ran to my mind, none of which I could put on paper. Sticking with the safe option I put down something about wanting to be here and I would prove myself worthy of my place in the course. I put down exactly what they wanted to hear.

"Times up. Hand your paper to the left and I'll mark them and have them back to you tomorrow" the professor at the front of the room called out as chairs were scraped back and we made our way out of the darkened lecture hall and into the bright warm LA sunshine. Walking steadily towards the café I pulled my bag further up on my shoulder and walked on the sidewalk. College life was not all parties, fun and games. It was hard work and I had begun to really despise it!

"Tink!" a voice behind me caught my attention, I stopped and turned around. Standing in front of me was Tyler. Tyler McMillan. A friend from way back. Way back since we were five and he had a serious addiction to eating play dough. He caught up with me and gave me a warm hug. "You left class so quickly I didn't get a chance to catch up with you" he said as he walked in step with me.

Shrugging I folded my arms across my chest and sighed. "Thirty eight words on why you should be in the class? What kind of dumb essay is that" I answered, Tyler grinned and nodded.

"It's about thinking Tink, its about finding your inner core and pushing it" he explained to me, I rolled my eyes. Tyler is a bit of a drama queen. A serious over-exaggerator. Tyler was one of those guys that other guys feared. He was comfortable with himself, he knew he was good looking and knew that he didn't want a girl to break his heart, but the opposite. A boy. Yes. Tyler was gay.

"You really talk a lot of shit Tyler" I punched him playfully on the arm as we walked into the air conditioned café and bagged a table closest to the window. Slumping into the seat I dragged my chemistry book out and opened it to a random page.

"Working tonight?" Tyler asked looking directly at me; I dragged my eyes away from the page and shrugged. Tyler did not approve of my extra curricular activities as he liked to call them. He worried I would get knocked up, knocked out or killed.

"Depends if Charles wants me to work or not" I replied as a waitress set down a chai latte for me and a decaf latte for Tyler. Sipping the warm drink I smiled in satisfaction and set it back down on the table. I guess by now you have figured out what I do for a job? You must of. Money. Boys. And a girl. A hotel room. Yeah. You know. I know you know.

"You don't even need to work! Why do you do it?" Tyler asked his voice raising a little, an elderly couple at the table across from us glared. I hushed Tyler up and shook my head.

"Shh, seriously" I glared at him. "Its just a little play money" I confessed, Tyler sipped his drink and rolled his eyes. "And, I like the attention I get from it. It's like being a celebrity without the hassle of paparazzi" I concluded.

"Well, I have to go to class now. Come see me at the bar tonight Tink, I worry" Tyler placed a kiss on my forehead and stood up to leave. I smiled at him and watched him leave. Pulling out my wallet I count the money in there and stand up. Paying the bill I leave the cool interior of the café and out into the sweltering LA afternoon.
Inserting my key into the ancient lock I jiggle it slightly to the left and push the door open with my left foot, balancing a pile of mail and a cup of iced tea in my right hand. Setting the mail down on the stand by the door I look around the foyer. Its big, it's pretty but its messy. The red lights on the answering machine alert me to messages of people wanting my attention. Taking my shoes off I hit the play button and sit down on a hard wooden chair.

"Good afternoon, Tink. This is Charles. Call me up when you get home, I have some clients I want you to meet. Dress it up a little. They're high class" the message ended abruptly, taking a sip of the iced tea I skim through the mail as the next message plays.

"This is a courtesy call from Blockbuster. You have three hires still remaining out, please return them to avoid a fine" they message clicked off and I ripped open the top of an envelope. My name was emblazoned across the top and in the left corner of the envelope was a crest. A crest I knew all too well. The college crest. Wincing in apprehension I slid the letter out from its home of the envelope and read it to myself. Grades were in. Five A's and Two B's not too bad I thought to myself. Standing up from the wooden chair I walked towards the fridge and pulled out the bottle of vodka.

"Congratulations Tink" I murmured to myself as I took a swig from the bottle of vodka and winced at its bitterness. Why people drink this was beyond me. Setting the bottle back down I rifled through the contents of the draw in front of me and found a sharp knife. Grabbing an apple from the bowl I sliced chunks off and feed them directly to my mouth. Chewing I looked at the last letter that remained unopened on the counter. The handwriting was large and flamboyant. I knew who that was from. Sniffing I threw the core of the apple into the sink and grabbed the letter. Shoving it into my back pocket I grabbed my keys and wallet from the stand and walked out of the apartment.


"Take the red heart; stick it on the white shirt. See how that looks?" a over excited voice broke into the silence of the room, yawning Pete stretched out his lean body and huddled deeper into his hoody. Clandestine was taking off. A show was going to be held in the next month or two to demonstrate that Rock stars can do more than just sing and play musical instruments. Groaning Pete looked at his watch and rolled his eyes. It had been three long hours of choosing fabrics, choosing colours, deciding on designs.

"Just take the bat stick it on the back, put some smart logo on the front and you're done" Pete suddenly said standing up from the whirly chair abruptly. "I have to go, send me the finished designs and I'll critique them." He said as the room turned to look at him. Grabbing his phone, keys and wallet he placed a kiss on one of the designer's cheeks and walked out the door.

Peter leant against the wall and sighed. It was hard to be who everyone thought he was. The creative genius behind Clandestine. The fantastic lyricist from Fall Out Boy. He had never had a chance to be Peter Wentz. Period. He was always caught up in some whirlwind project. He could not remember the last time he had a chance to be himself. Grinning slowly, he suddenly remembered the last time he had a chance to be himself. Two nights ago. Shoving his hands into his back pockets he slowly walked towards the glass lift. Pushing the down arrow he waited patiently for the lift to arrive to take him to the bottom floor. It pinged and the doors were pushed open.

"Take three of the hoodies, take three of the badges and three of the girls shirts. That should do it" a business man walked through the elevator on to the floor, Pete stepped aside to let him through. Somehow the guy looked familiar; the man looked at Pete and forced a smile. "Clandestine?" he questioned, Pete cleared his throat and nodded.

"A part of it" Pete replied, kicking himself as the words escaped his lips. Part of it? Please. The man straightened his tie and stood uncomfortably.

"I take it you enjoyed your time with Tink?" he said suddenly, Pete's amber eye's widened. He knew he had drunk a bit that night, but he surely would have remembered how he got to meet Tink.

"Um. Yeah, we had some fun" Pete answered looking past the man in the suit, taking a step forward the man took out a business card.

"I'm Charles. Managing director of this company, and various other companies. I only let my girls out to the best Pete, to the boys who will treat them with respect" Charles placed the card into Pete's hand and picked his briefcase up. "Only a select few know about my girls Pete, that is all I will say to you" he finished before turning on his highly polished shoes and walking down the corridor. Looking down at the card Pete swallowed and pocketed the card. Some things are better dealt with, with one bottle of Tequila, a salt shaker and some limes.
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