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Hey kiddies. Small update by yours truly. I was inspired by the new Fall Out Boy record. Oh man...it is amazing wrapped in a candy coated shell of awesome topped with some tasty sprinkles. I'm really proud of them. Oh, and Kyle Alexander does not condone the cool crime of illegally downloading music via Limewire. Thank you, that is all.


The next morning came quickly. Too quickly. I awoke to my brother shaking me. I was still in the lounge with Patrick snoring away next to me. I smiled as my eyes glided over his sleeping figure. His already boyish face looked years younger when he was off in dreamland.

"What are you doing in here?" He asked, anger apparent in his tone.

"What?" My eyes struggled to adjust to the sun filtering in through a small window.

"Why are you in here sleeping with Patrick?" He hissed, his voice at a low whisper.

"I was not sleeping with Patrick!" I squeaked as I rubbed one of my tired eyes.

"Well, get up and go help Tyler and Dirty unpack merch. You're late." I scowled at my sibling before getting up and slipping on a pair of shoes. Whose shoes? I didn't know.

"You're going out like that?" I looked down at my duck themed ensemble and shrugged.

"Pajamas are so in right now." I said before getting off the bus and heading toward the merch area.

"It's about time, Lola." Tyler growled as he threw a pile of shirts on the stand.

"Sorry. I overslept." He nodded, but continued to unpack angrily. I'm on everyone's shit list today.

As expected, a huge surge of kids came, sweaty and crispy from baking in the sun. I tried desperately to be helpful and stay out of Ty's way. Who knew he was a stickler for promptness?

"Lola, get me a stack of CDs, I'm all out." He demanded as he fended off hordes of loud teens. I hurried over to the cardboard box labeled TTYG. And then my eyes wandered over to a similar box with FUCT blazon on the side. Crap.

"Get FUCT."

"Excuse me!?!" I placed my hands on my hips.

"From. Under. The. Cork. Tree." Oh. Right.

I bent down and grabbed the heavy box. In my 5 feet of traveling, I managed to trip over something, spilling the box of CDs all over the ground...and scraping my knee.

"God damn it!" He hurried over and began to collecting the plastic cases.

"I'm sorry." I yelped, frantically trying to help.

"Take a walk, Lola." He replied through gritted teeth.

"What?" He snatched a CD from my hand.

"Just get out of here. You're almost as worthless as Dirty." Ouch. That was unnecessary.

I chucked a case at him and stormed off, concentrating on the angry sound of my shoes smacking against the blacktop in hopes to take my focus away from the painful lump in my throat.

I rifled through the crowd, not caring who I pushed out of my way.

"Hey! Are you alright?" I turned to see my cute friend from orientation.

"Yeah. I'm fine." I said curtly.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" I shook my head and bit my bottom lip.

"Unless you can convince my merch partner to not hate me, then no." He smiled.

"Well, I'm not a miracle worker." This is the first interaction we've ever had that didn't consist of a demure little wave and he's making fun of me?

He swept his dark bangs out of his face and lightly sucked on his lip ring.

"So, what's with the wave?" He laughed and shrugged.

"I'm not really sure. I guess I thought it could be a conversation starter or something." Little did he know his little tactic infuriated a very drunk and very unwashed roadie.

I reached out my hand.

"I'm Lola."

"Brody," He shook my hand with his tattooed one. "Nice to finally meet you."

"Brody! Come on!" A voice called from afar. He smiled sheepishly at me.

"I've been summoned. Listen, I'll see you around, OK?" I nodded and waved as he hurried off toward the merch area.

"Alright, I'm getting pretty sick of that fucking guy." I turned to see Dirty approaching me, clad in long shorts and a filthy wife beater.

"You don't even know that fucking guy." I mock punched his chubby arm. He scoffed.

"And you do?" I folded my arms over my chest and looked up at the beastly man.

"As a matter of fact, I do. His name is Brody." He frowned.

"Why aren't you helping Ty?" I sighed.

"He told me to go away. He said I was almost as worthless as you." He gasped.

"Wow. That's pretty worthless."

"I'm aware."

"I don't like him."

"Who? Tyler?" He rolled his eyes.

"No, that Brody fucker." Apparently, we were back on the waving bandit again.

"And why is that?"

"He wants to fuck you." I placed my hand over my eyes and sighed.

"Would you shut up? No one is fucking me."

"Who's fucking you?" Pete appeared from no where, a red apple in his hand. I threw my hands in the air. This is exhausting.

"Gah! No one!" I quickly headed off toward the tour bus area.

"Maybe that's the problem." I wasn't sure which one mumbled it and I wasn't in a hurry to find out.

With a flash of my badge, Georgio-the flamboyant security guard-nodded his head, allowing me to pass into the fenced in area. Once inside the designated tour bus, I headed to the lounge and flopped down on the soft couch, letting my short body sprawl out on the cushions. A headache was brewing inside my cranium, much to my dismay.

"Why aren't you running merch?" I looked toward the entrance and frowned at the male.

"Ty says I'm as worthless as Dirty." Pete sat down by my head and continued to munch on an apple.

"He's probably just stressed. I'm sure once he calms down, he'll apologize." I nodded and placed my arm over my eyes.

"You OK?" He asked after a moment of silence.

"I'm fine. Can't you tell?" I'd be the first to admit; my tone was kind of harsh.

"Attitude much?"

"Sorry." I grimaced as I heard the grotesque crunch of his teeth against his fruit of choice.

"So wafs op?" He asked, his mouth full. After much thought, I came to a conclusion: whatever he did in the past shouldn't affect me now. We're not together anymore and I refuse to let an ex boyfriend's wandering eye take its toll on me ever again.

"I had an interesting chat with Bridget last night." His posture stiffened visibly.

"Well, she's an interesting girl." So I've noticed.

I had to handle this delicately, with tact and grace.

"How many girls did you fuck while on tour?" OK, so tact and grace aren't in my vocabulary. He choked on his apple, coughing and sputtering.

"Wh-what?"

"Don't act stupid. I know that's hard for you, but try." He shook his head.

"I'm not acting stupid." Could have fooled me. I exhaled loudly and pushed some hair from my view.

"Forget it; it's none of my business. Maybe two years ago, it was my business. But not anymore." His gaze was fixated on the lush carpet.

"Listen, I'm sorry, Lola. I wish I could have treated you better." That makes two of us.

"It's in the past, Peter. Let's just leave it." He sighed.

"Then why did you even bring it up?"

"I just wanted to see you sweat."



***

P.S. The chapter title, I'm ashamed to say, is from Panic! At the Disco. I hate them, but I thought the line was fitting. All my love to my ladies. Miss you.

P.P.S Currently, I'm at 90 reviews. Whoever leaves me the 100th review gets a prize. I'm not sure what the prize will be...probably just a cameo or something lame. Or maybe a big e-hug.