Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Still So Young, Desperate For Attention
Sellouts Are Never Welcome
3 reviewsBrendon's birthday! See what happens when Brendon shows up four hours late for his own party.
2Ambiance
Author's Note: Okay, so I obviously did not mean to leave this fic for so long. Honest I didn't! I felt compelled to give you all something to do when you're being like me and avoiding the novel sitting beside you that has to be read in four days. :) So here goes the next chapter.
It was now almost the middle of April, and everyone was starting to get really tired. Almost time for a little break. Although, to liven their spirits, the day was April 12th, one of the best partying days of the year. This day would be Brendon's birthday.
Amelié was busy setting up all of the decorations for the party while the band played on at their concert. Her love/hate relationship with Brendon was ongoing, and lately, it had been more like a hate relationship. He would do everything he could just to get a rise out of her, including leaving his drinks on the table for hours so that they left rings on the shiny surface. Sometimes he would taunt her about being a background dancer and a perfectionist, calling it an oxymoron. If she's trying to be the best that she can be and she's only a back up dancer, than she isn't being much of a perfectionist. There were times that he felt bad, sure. Those were the times when she locked herself in the bunk area and cried. She would never cry in front of him, and he knew that. Then, he would go out and buy her flowers and everything would be okay until he did it again.
Even though she was slightly miffed at Brendon for something he did earlier, it was his birthday, so she had to try and forgive and forget and give him an awesome birthday. Normally, during a concert, she would be up there dancing, since she is part of the concert, but she had been working so hard, the boys gave her the night off and another dancer took her place. That, and Ryan, Spencer and John obviously knew what she was up to.
After working like a dog all night, the party was finally ready. His favorite munchies were on the coffee table waiting for him, all the drinks were in the fridge, keeping cool, the decorations were perfect, and now the only thing missing was the birthday boy. She changed into a fashionable blue dress with a white belt and a pair of red high heels to make the outfit pop. She brushed her hair and put a few curls in it. When she was finished getting ready, she sat on the couch, waiting for them to come back.
10:00pm- They still aren't back to the hotel room. It's okay, that's understandable. The show might have run a little late, maybe they met some fans.
10:30pm- Still understandable. Sometimes they get stuck with fans and they end up chatting and having fun. They should be there soon. The boys would make sure of it.
11:00pm- Amelié's special dip she made for the party is cold now. The chips are starting to get stale. She is still sitting on the couch waiting for them, her present sitting on the designated table, untouched.
11:30pm- Still no word. She's starting to get worried. Maybe some crazed fan attacked them and they are lying in hospital beds right now and no one thought to call her and give her the news. At this point, Amelié started to put things away, especially the food so it didn't spoil. If they were going to show up, they could at least have good food.
12:00am- Finally, a call from Spencer.
"We're trying to get him back El, he's just so stubborn. He wants to stay and drink." He tried to apologize.
"I know Spence, its okay. It isn't your fault." She was still mad, but not at Spencer.
"We'll keep trying to get him back to the hotel. Okay?"
"Okay, sounds like a plan. I'll just wait then." She tries hard not to sigh.
"Elly, you're the best." That made her smile.
"Thank you. That makes me feel better." She uncrossed her legs and crossed them the other way.
"Someone has to."
2:00am- Brendon stumbles through the door, supported by John and Spencer, Ryan leading the way.
"Surprise." Amelié said, less than enthused.
"Well there you are." Brendon smiled, stumbling towards her and hugging her. "Surprise? What surprise? You? Naked and in my bed?"
"Brendon." Jon warned, but it was too late. Brendon went in for the sloppy drunk kiss, slobbering all over her face. Amelié stamped on his foot with the heel of her shoe, making him scream in pain, falling on his ass, grabbing his foot.
"What the hell did you do that for?" Without answering, Amelié walked out of the hotel room, not even going back to her own, she needed to get out. She wasted all night on a drunken jerk that she had feelings for. Wait. Did she really think that? She actually stopped in the middle of a street to think about it, until a car honked at her, that is. After that, she was obliged to find a park bench and sit down to think about it.
She did not want to have feelings for Brendon; had no idea why she had feelings for him. After a long evaluation of the time they had spent together, never once did he do anything truly nice for her. Sure, he bought her flowers, but only after he had pissed her off one too many times. In retrospect, everything nice between them was mostly done on her part, like throwing him this giant party that he didn't show up for, and when he did, he couldn't appreciate it. He did at one point try to throw her a birthday party, but that didn't turn out so well. He did help her through the hard patch that followed it. No. She thought. I will not let my feelings for him get in the way of being severely pissed at him. He deserves it.
After sitting on that park bench for nearly two hours, she was starting to get cold, so she started to walk again, taking off her heels and carrying them. She spent her entire night walking around in a strange city, somewhere she had never been before. When lights started to turn on and traffic picked up, she thought it best that she make her way back to the hotel, shoes on.
Only Ryan offered to stay the night with Brendon, even though he was still mad at him as well. He knew that Brendon knowing that Amelié would probably never talk to him would be punishment enough. Oh yes. He saw it. Sure, Brendon dated a lot of floosies and tramps and often pretended he didn't have a care in the world, but he liked Amelié; his ways of showing it, frankly a little more than a little bit juvenile. She needed someone who could care for her and be there for her when she needed to be held. Someone who understood how hard she worked and appreciated her for what she was inside, not just because she had a killer body. Brendon, so far, was not this man. Ryan personally hoped that she found someone better. Yes, Brendon was his best friend and his band mate, but if he was going to continue treating her like that, he sincerely hoped for better in her case.
When he knew that Brendon was going to be okay, and was now sleeping it off instead of puking it up, he left him to his own, going back to his own room and showering before phoning Saffron and then after telling her all about what happened and hearing her views on it, falling asleep dreaming of her.
Amelié is standing over him, smiling. She's leaning in to give him a kiss, about to say the words he wanted to hear so much.
"Brendon, I love--" Some incessant tune filling his ears, drowning out her words. He looked up at her and she smiled, standing and going over to the door, answering it. A man stood in the doorway. A good looking man. He dipped her and kissed her, she giggled the whole time.
Brendon's bloodshot eyes snapped open. His head pounded with the incessant tune that muddled up his dreams. Upon looking at the coffee table in front of him (he was lying on the couch, half on, half off), he saw that the source of the noisy tune was Amelia's Blackberry. He knew she wasn't there, so he answered it, more to stop the noise.
"Hello?"
"Hello, can I speak to Amelié Ladda, please?" said the authoritative male voice on the other end of the phone.
"She isn't here right now, can I take a message?" Brendon's voice was still groggy and full of drunken sleep.
"Yes, you can." "
"Alright, lemme get a pen." He groped around for a pen and a few moments later, he was ready to go. "Okay, what's the message?"
"This is Jason Strut calling her about the MCR job. My number is 569-4582." Brendon barely caught the number.
"MCR?" He asked.
"Yes." The voice replied.
"As in...My Chemical Romance?" His heart was pounding more than his head.
"Yes." The voice replied again as if he was stupid.
"So then she is planning to leave the band she's touring with now?" He stopped breathing for those few seconds.
"I believe that's why she came to me for the job, yes." The voice paused. "Can I ask who I'm speaking to?"
"Oh. Of course. This is her manager, Ryan Walker." That was some pretty quick thinking on his part.
"If you're her manager, shouldn't you know all of this?" Brendon is an idiot.
"Well, we were actually having a little argument at the time she did this, so she decided not to tell me." Much better. "Did she tell you the reason why she decided to leave the current tour?"
"She said something about current working conditions being unsatisfactory." That was Amelié code for 'Brendon is a jerk.'
"Alright, well thank you for letting me know. I will definitely pass this message along to her."
"Alright. Thank you." Both parties hung up. Brendon stood, took an aspirin and headed down the hall, banging on Amelié's door. After he stood there screaming for her to open up for about five minutes, Ryan popped a sleepy, tousle haired head out his door.
"She's not there Brendon. Go back to bed." The door closed again. This didn't stop Brendon; it only made him more determined. He went down to the front desk and sweet talked them into giving him a key.
He sat in a chair, legs crossed, head throbbing, but he's ignoring it, staring at the door, waiting for her to come back. Come back she did. As she opened her hotel room door, she slipped her heels off her aching feet, tossing them down next to her suitcase. She was mightily aware of Brendon's presence, but chose to ignore it as he tried to stare her into talking. Without so much as a glance in his direction, she walked into the bathroom, starting the shower and getting in.
Brendon was even more pissed off now that she was ignoring him; although, he couldn't blame her. He barely remembered what he did, but he did remember, no matter how fuzzy it was. No. He would not let himself think of his wrongs against her, he must only think of the huge wrong that she did him and the rest of the band. She would be leaving them for another band. After he was finished ripping through her, he would tell the other band mates. Sure, he's got it in the wrong order, tell others first, than rip into her would be the mature thing to do, and the most painful, but he wanted to be the first one to get mad at her. He hoped if she had any feelings whatsoever for him, it would be the worst pain of all.
The shower stopped. A few minutes later, Amelié came out of the bathroom in a towel. A very short towel. Yes, Amelié knew it, and she was flaunting what she had to make him miss what he will never have. Brendon tried hard to resist his mouth falling open, but it was undoubtedly inevitable. He still said nothing, just waited to be acknowledged by the high and mighty Princess Elly. Nothing happened, although, she did bend over to get some clothes out of her suitcase and walk back into the bathroom, closing the door. Close, but no cigar. He refused to tilt his head to look. He must remain angry. One cannot be horny and angry at the same time. Horny will win. Horny was winning. He kept thinking that it was a damn good thing his legs were crossed.
Again, she stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, flicking off the light and walking right passed him to close the blinds in her long t-shirt and nothing else. His eyes trailed to the hem of her shirt, just passed her nice firm ass. If only it was a little shorter. She still had not given any sign at all that she knew he was there. She was standing right in front of him, he could touch her, pull her down onto his lap. Before he could even attempt such an act, she moved away from him to the bed in the pitch black: the sound of covers being pulled back, a body sliding between the sheets.
For almost ten minutes, he sat there, still not moving, still waiting. He began to wonder if she really had seen him, and if not, did he really become invisible. She was playing mind games with him. Typical chick. He tried clearing his throat to get her attention. Nada from the Ladda. In other words, she didn't even move, didn't even start at the sound of a man in her room. She must know that he was there. This enraged him, and he did the only thing he could to get her attention.
"Jason Strut called about your job with MCR." He let the bitterness come through in his voice. If his was bitter, hers was deathly.
"Get out." For once, he did exactly what she told him and he left. He went across the hall and started pounding on Ryan's door to tell him the news.
It was now almost the middle of April, and everyone was starting to get really tired. Almost time for a little break. Although, to liven their spirits, the day was April 12th, one of the best partying days of the year. This day would be Brendon's birthday.
Amelié was busy setting up all of the decorations for the party while the band played on at their concert. Her love/hate relationship with Brendon was ongoing, and lately, it had been more like a hate relationship. He would do everything he could just to get a rise out of her, including leaving his drinks on the table for hours so that they left rings on the shiny surface. Sometimes he would taunt her about being a background dancer and a perfectionist, calling it an oxymoron. If she's trying to be the best that she can be and she's only a back up dancer, than she isn't being much of a perfectionist. There were times that he felt bad, sure. Those were the times when she locked herself in the bunk area and cried. She would never cry in front of him, and he knew that. Then, he would go out and buy her flowers and everything would be okay until he did it again.
Even though she was slightly miffed at Brendon for something he did earlier, it was his birthday, so she had to try and forgive and forget and give him an awesome birthday. Normally, during a concert, she would be up there dancing, since she is part of the concert, but she had been working so hard, the boys gave her the night off and another dancer took her place. That, and Ryan, Spencer and John obviously knew what she was up to.
After working like a dog all night, the party was finally ready. His favorite munchies were on the coffee table waiting for him, all the drinks were in the fridge, keeping cool, the decorations were perfect, and now the only thing missing was the birthday boy. She changed into a fashionable blue dress with a white belt and a pair of red high heels to make the outfit pop. She brushed her hair and put a few curls in it. When she was finished getting ready, she sat on the couch, waiting for them to come back.
10:00pm- They still aren't back to the hotel room. It's okay, that's understandable. The show might have run a little late, maybe they met some fans.
10:30pm- Still understandable. Sometimes they get stuck with fans and they end up chatting and having fun. They should be there soon. The boys would make sure of it.
11:00pm- Amelié's special dip she made for the party is cold now. The chips are starting to get stale. She is still sitting on the couch waiting for them, her present sitting on the designated table, untouched.
11:30pm- Still no word. She's starting to get worried. Maybe some crazed fan attacked them and they are lying in hospital beds right now and no one thought to call her and give her the news. At this point, Amelié started to put things away, especially the food so it didn't spoil. If they were going to show up, they could at least have good food.
12:00am- Finally, a call from Spencer.
"We're trying to get him back El, he's just so stubborn. He wants to stay and drink." He tried to apologize.
"I know Spence, its okay. It isn't your fault." She was still mad, but not at Spencer.
"We'll keep trying to get him back to the hotel. Okay?"
"Okay, sounds like a plan. I'll just wait then." She tries hard not to sigh.
"Elly, you're the best." That made her smile.
"Thank you. That makes me feel better." She uncrossed her legs and crossed them the other way.
"Someone has to."
2:00am- Brendon stumbles through the door, supported by John and Spencer, Ryan leading the way.
"Surprise." Amelié said, less than enthused.
"Well there you are." Brendon smiled, stumbling towards her and hugging her. "Surprise? What surprise? You? Naked and in my bed?"
"Brendon." Jon warned, but it was too late. Brendon went in for the sloppy drunk kiss, slobbering all over her face. Amelié stamped on his foot with the heel of her shoe, making him scream in pain, falling on his ass, grabbing his foot.
"What the hell did you do that for?" Without answering, Amelié walked out of the hotel room, not even going back to her own, she needed to get out. She wasted all night on a drunken jerk that she had feelings for. Wait. Did she really think that? She actually stopped in the middle of a street to think about it, until a car honked at her, that is. After that, she was obliged to find a park bench and sit down to think about it.
She did not want to have feelings for Brendon; had no idea why she had feelings for him. After a long evaluation of the time they had spent together, never once did he do anything truly nice for her. Sure, he bought her flowers, but only after he had pissed her off one too many times. In retrospect, everything nice between them was mostly done on her part, like throwing him this giant party that he didn't show up for, and when he did, he couldn't appreciate it. He did at one point try to throw her a birthday party, but that didn't turn out so well. He did help her through the hard patch that followed it. No. She thought. I will not let my feelings for him get in the way of being severely pissed at him. He deserves it.
After sitting on that park bench for nearly two hours, she was starting to get cold, so she started to walk again, taking off her heels and carrying them. She spent her entire night walking around in a strange city, somewhere she had never been before. When lights started to turn on and traffic picked up, she thought it best that she make her way back to the hotel, shoes on.
Only Ryan offered to stay the night with Brendon, even though he was still mad at him as well. He knew that Brendon knowing that Amelié would probably never talk to him would be punishment enough. Oh yes. He saw it. Sure, Brendon dated a lot of floosies and tramps and often pretended he didn't have a care in the world, but he liked Amelié; his ways of showing it, frankly a little more than a little bit juvenile. She needed someone who could care for her and be there for her when she needed to be held. Someone who understood how hard she worked and appreciated her for what she was inside, not just because she had a killer body. Brendon, so far, was not this man. Ryan personally hoped that she found someone better. Yes, Brendon was his best friend and his band mate, but if he was going to continue treating her like that, he sincerely hoped for better in her case.
When he knew that Brendon was going to be okay, and was now sleeping it off instead of puking it up, he left him to his own, going back to his own room and showering before phoning Saffron and then after telling her all about what happened and hearing her views on it, falling asleep dreaming of her.
Amelié is standing over him, smiling. She's leaning in to give him a kiss, about to say the words he wanted to hear so much.
"Brendon, I love--" Some incessant tune filling his ears, drowning out her words. He looked up at her and she smiled, standing and going over to the door, answering it. A man stood in the doorway. A good looking man. He dipped her and kissed her, she giggled the whole time.
Brendon's bloodshot eyes snapped open. His head pounded with the incessant tune that muddled up his dreams. Upon looking at the coffee table in front of him (he was lying on the couch, half on, half off), he saw that the source of the noisy tune was Amelia's Blackberry. He knew she wasn't there, so he answered it, more to stop the noise.
"Hello?"
"Hello, can I speak to Amelié Ladda, please?" said the authoritative male voice on the other end of the phone.
"She isn't here right now, can I take a message?" Brendon's voice was still groggy and full of drunken sleep.
"Yes, you can." "
"Alright, lemme get a pen." He groped around for a pen and a few moments later, he was ready to go. "Okay, what's the message?"
"This is Jason Strut calling her about the MCR job. My number is 569-4582." Brendon barely caught the number.
"MCR?" He asked.
"Yes." The voice replied.
"As in...My Chemical Romance?" His heart was pounding more than his head.
"Yes." The voice replied again as if he was stupid.
"So then she is planning to leave the band she's touring with now?" He stopped breathing for those few seconds.
"I believe that's why she came to me for the job, yes." The voice paused. "Can I ask who I'm speaking to?"
"Oh. Of course. This is her manager, Ryan Walker." That was some pretty quick thinking on his part.
"If you're her manager, shouldn't you know all of this?" Brendon is an idiot.
"Well, we were actually having a little argument at the time she did this, so she decided not to tell me." Much better. "Did she tell you the reason why she decided to leave the current tour?"
"She said something about current working conditions being unsatisfactory." That was Amelié code for 'Brendon is a jerk.'
"Alright, well thank you for letting me know. I will definitely pass this message along to her."
"Alright. Thank you." Both parties hung up. Brendon stood, took an aspirin and headed down the hall, banging on Amelié's door. After he stood there screaming for her to open up for about five minutes, Ryan popped a sleepy, tousle haired head out his door.
"She's not there Brendon. Go back to bed." The door closed again. This didn't stop Brendon; it only made him more determined. He went down to the front desk and sweet talked them into giving him a key.
He sat in a chair, legs crossed, head throbbing, but he's ignoring it, staring at the door, waiting for her to come back. Come back she did. As she opened her hotel room door, she slipped her heels off her aching feet, tossing them down next to her suitcase. She was mightily aware of Brendon's presence, but chose to ignore it as he tried to stare her into talking. Without so much as a glance in his direction, she walked into the bathroom, starting the shower and getting in.
Brendon was even more pissed off now that she was ignoring him; although, he couldn't blame her. He barely remembered what he did, but he did remember, no matter how fuzzy it was. No. He would not let himself think of his wrongs against her, he must only think of the huge wrong that she did him and the rest of the band. She would be leaving them for another band. After he was finished ripping through her, he would tell the other band mates. Sure, he's got it in the wrong order, tell others first, than rip into her would be the mature thing to do, and the most painful, but he wanted to be the first one to get mad at her. He hoped if she had any feelings whatsoever for him, it would be the worst pain of all.
The shower stopped. A few minutes later, Amelié came out of the bathroom in a towel. A very short towel. Yes, Amelié knew it, and she was flaunting what she had to make him miss what he will never have. Brendon tried hard to resist his mouth falling open, but it was undoubtedly inevitable. He still said nothing, just waited to be acknowledged by the high and mighty Princess Elly. Nothing happened, although, she did bend over to get some clothes out of her suitcase and walk back into the bathroom, closing the door. Close, but no cigar. He refused to tilt his head to look. He must remain angry. One cannot be horny and angry at the same time. Horny will win. Horny was winning. He kept thinking that it was a damn good thing his legs were crossed.
Again, she stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, flicking off the light and walking right passed him to close the blinds in her long t-shirt and nothing else. His eyes trailed to the hem of her shirt, just passed her nice firm ass. If only it was a little shorter. She still had not given any sign at all that she knew he was there. She was standing right in front of him, he could touch her, pull her down onto his lap. Before he could even attempt such an act, she moved away from him to the bed in the pitch black: the sound of covers being pulled back, a body sliding between the sheets.
For almost ten minutes, he sat there, still not moving, still waiting. He began to wonder if she really had seen him, and if not, did he really become invisible. She was playing mind games with him. Typical chick. He tried clearing his throat to get her attention. Nada from the Ladda. In other words, she didn't even move, didn't even start at the sound of a man in her room. She must know that he was there. This enraged him, and he did the only thing he could to get her attention.
"Jason Strut called about your job with MCR." He let the bitterness come through in his voice. If his was bitter, hers was deathly.
"Get out." For once, he did exactly what she told him and he left. He went across the hall and started pounding on Ryan's door to tell him the news.
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