I Have A Problem Trusting Men, But Can I Trust You, Billie?, chapter 9
Next Day.
Spud's House.
We've had this big sleepover planned for months. Actually since the end of last school year. Every year that we all survive High School is cause for serious celebration so we promised each other back in eighth grade that each year we made through high school we'd celebrate by throwing a big sleepover. The first year it was held at Spike's. Last years, at Bobbye's and this year, Spud's turn. Our final year, senior year, starts in just a few short months. I can't believe I'm so close to my freedom.
Mom dropped me off an hour ago. We basically locked ourselves upstairs in Spud's room since then. See, Spud has three younger siblings. The two youngest are really cool but it's the oldest of them that's a bitch, Margaret. She's the preppy of the family. Scary, huh? Well, she begged to have a sleepover tonight probably so she can be like Spud and she got it.
"So, what are we gonna do?" asked Bobbye.
She snapped me out of my little daze. She's right. We haven't really done anything fun yet, just sitting around.
"Um, I dunno," replied Spud.
"Jeez, that's helpful," retorted Spike.
"Wanna play a game?" I asked.
"Like what?" questioned Bobbye.
"I dunno, truth or dare?"
"Oh man, I wouldn't think in a million years Ash would suggest something so typical," laughed Spike.
"Oh, shut up, Amelia. What else is there to do?" I asked, teasing her by using her real name.
"I have no problem with it," responded Spud.
And that's how the next four hours went. We played the fuck out of truth or dare. The first hours or so were ridiculously funny dares, now we're nearing the end, more of us are picking truth.
"Truth or Dare?" Spud asked me.
"Truth."
"Perfect. Okay, do you love Frank?"
"What?"
"That's not an answer, Ash. And you have to tell me the truth, do you love him?"
Damn it. Why'd she have to go ruin a perfectly good game of truth or dare by bringing Asshole into this. I have resorted to calling him Asshole. He hasn't even called me in God only knows how long. He's been pissing me off. But do I love him? Shit.
"Um... yes," I said in a barely audible voice.
"What was that?"
"Yes."
"Huh?"
"Yes, okay? I love Frank Iero!"
The room fell silent after my little outburst. Spud looked pleased with herself, but Spike and Bobbye looked a bit shocked.
"You do?" asked Bobbye.
"Yes, even if he's been an asshole lately. Yes, I do."
"Aw, she said I do. I guess she needs to get used to saying it before she taken that step down the aisle," joked Spike.
"Shut up, smartass," I replied hitting her playfully on her shoulder.
A few minutes passed of truth or dare until Spud's mom entered the room.
"Elizabeth, I'm going to Trader Joe's. Do you or any of your friends want something while I'm there?"
That was so funny. Spud's mom is the only person alive who dares call her by her first, full name. It took all I had not to laugh. Apparently Bobbye and Spike tried their best not to laugh as well. Spud rolled her eyes in an over exaggerated way.
"No, we're fine."
"Oh, wait Mrs. M. Can ya get me some of that SF Coffee Blast ice cream?" I asked.
If there's one amazing thing at Trader Joe's, it's their San Fran Coffee Blast ice cream. When Mike's over in the studio at my house he tends to eat a whole carton by himself. Yet another thing we have in common.
"Sure, Ashlynn. Anyone want anything else?"
I also shuddered at the use of my full name. Does this woman understand the concept of common courtesy?
"Oh, and some of that Mandarin Orange Chicken," added Bobbye.
"Right. SF Coffee Blast and Mandarin Chicken. Check." she replied back, smiled at all of us, and closed the door.
"How do you get away with it?" I asked Bobbye.
"Away with what?"
"She didn't use your full name," Spud put in.
"No one is that cruel."
"Are you sure, Tami-Rae?" I asked using her horrid full name knowing full well there'd be hell to pay.
"You whore!" shouted Bobbye as she lunged at me from her spot on the floor across the room.
I swung up my arms in defense as she slapped me repeatedly over the head.
"Okay, okay. Sorry, jeez."
Back At Home.
Dad's Office.
While I was having the shit beaten out of me by Bobbye at Spud's house, Dad was sitting alone in his office writing new song material. He had a cup of coffee, half empty, beside him. Sleep filled the corners of his green eyes. He yawned and stretched the muscles of his back. Tonight, he was in it for the long haul.
He let out a frustrated sigh and crumpled up another piece of paper. No matter how hard he tried, the lyrics never seemed to materialize on the paper. If things let on like this, they may never complete this album.
As he started writing yet again, his phone rang. He glanced at the digital clock on the far side of his desk, it read eleven thirty in it's glowing red form. Who would call him so late? He answered it reluctantly in case it was me and if something were wrong. But it wasn't me.
"Hello?"
"Billie Joe."
"Oh, what's up Pat?"
It was Pat Magnarella, his manager. What would his manager want at this hour?
"Hey, Bill. I'm calling to see how the album is going. Good I presume."
"It's getting there, Pat. Patience is a virtue."
"Yes, but in the music business you know that even patience has a time limit. I also needed to ask if you're doing anything in July."
"Huh? What's going on July?"
"Nothing until you answer me."
"I'm not doing anything. I'd probably just be in the studio, why?"
"Well, as I'm pretty sure you know, your friends in My Chemical Romance are on tour and doing great."
"Yeah, Gerard called me yesterday and told me they were doing good."
"Yes, well what he didn't tell you is that in July the Reading festival has booked them."
"Really? Again?"
"Except this time they're a headliner."
"That's awesome. What does this have to do with me?"
"Well, along with My Chemical Romance and Avenged Sevenfold, Reading wants to book you three again."
"What? They want us?"
"Yeah, I just got off the phone with those damn Brits."
"Why would they book us? We don't even have an album to promote. Our buzz has long since died down."
"Yes, but you are aware of the fact that you're one of the greatest live acts alive and that My Chemical Romance played amazingly well when they were on tour with you. You guys cheered them up and got them hyped. That's what they need. So Reading wants you. Are you in?"
"I have to talk it over with Mike and Tre."
"They're both okay with it. I called them a few minutes ago."
"Really? Um, I'll have to go it over with my fiancée and all."
"Sure, talk it over with your family. I understand. I want an answer by tomorrow night."
"Alright, Pat. Talk to you then."
"Night, Billie."
"Night."
Spud's House.
A Few Hours Later.
Spud's mom came back from Trader Joe's with everything we asked and I practically tackled her at the door for my ice cream, Spike for the mandarin chicken and Bobbye just so she could be like the rest of us. We took our little presents into the kitchen and cooked the chicken. I swear, no matter how unhealthy coffee blast ice cream and mandarin orange chicken is, it's still the most delicious thing ever.
It was starting to get late, nearing oh, crack of dawn time, so we cleaned up and walked upstairs to Spud's room. Spud got her bed, Spike took the egg chair leaving Bobbye and I to share the uncomfortable floor. I went to sleep thinking about the usual things: what are Mom and Dad up to? Is Raven sleeping too? Do all dogs really go to heaven? Is there a heaven? Will a piece of the ceiling flake off and fall on me while I'm sleeping? Is Frank thinking about me?
Spud's House.
We've had this big sleepover planned for months. Actually since the end of last school year. Every year that we all survive High School is cause for serious celebration so we promised each other back in eighth grade that each year we made through high school we'd celebrate by throwing a big sleepover. The first year it was held at Spike's. Last years, at Bobbye's and this year, Spud's turn. Our final year, senior year, starts in just a few short months. I can't believe I'm so close to my freedom.
Mom dropped me off an hour ago. We basically locked ourselves upstairs in Spud's room since then. See, Spud has three younger siblings. The two youngest are really cool but it's the oldest of them that's a bitch, Margaret. She's the preppy of the family. Scary, huh? Well, she begged to have a sleepover tonight probably so she can be like Spud and she got it.
"So, what are we gonna do?" asked Bobbye.
She snapped me out of my little daze. She's right. We haven't really done anything fun yet, just sitting around.
"Um, I dunno," replied Spud.
"Jeez, that's helpful," retorted Spike.
"Wanna play a game?" I asked.
"Like what?" questioned Bobbye.
"I dunno, truth or dare?"
"Oh man, I wouldn't think in a million years Ash would suggest something so typical," laughed Spike.
"Oh, shut up, Amelia. What else is there to do?" I asked, teasing her by using her real name.
"I have no problem with it," responded Spud.
And that's how the next four hours went. We played the fuck out of truth or dare. The first hours or so were ridiculously funny dares, now we're nearing the end, more of us are picking truth.
"Truth or Dare?" Spud asked me.
"Truth."
"Perfect. Okay, do you love Frank?"
"What?"
"That's not an answer, Ash. And you have to tell me the truth, do you love him?"
Damn it. Why'd she have to go ruin a perfectly good game of truth or dare by bringing Asshole into this. I have resorted to calling him Asshole. He hasn't even called me in God only knows how long. He's been pissing me off. But do I love him? Shit.
"Um... yes," I said in a barely audible voice.
"What was that?"
"Yes."
"Huh?"
"Yes, okay? I love Frank Iero!"
The room fell silent after my little outburst. Spud looked pleased with herself, but Spike and Bobbye looked a bit shocked.
"You do?" asked Bobbye.
"Yes, even if he's been an asshole lately. Yes, I do."
"Aw, she said I do. I guess she needs to get used to saying it before she taken that step down the aisle," joked Spike.
"Shut up, smartass," I replied hitting her playfully on her shoulder.
A few minutes passed of truth or dare until Spud's mom entered the room.
"Elizabeth, I'm going to Trader Joe's. Do you or any of your friends want something while I'm there?"
That was so funny. Spud's mom is the only person alive who dares call her by her first, full name. It took all I had not to laugh. Apparently Bobbye and Spike tried their best not to laugh as well. Spud rolled her eyes in an over exaggerated way.
"No, we're fine."
"Oh, wait Mrs. M. Can ya get me some of that SF Coffee Blast ice cream?" I asked.
If there's one amazing thing at Trader Joe's, it's their San Fran Coffee Blast ice cream. When Mike's over in the studio at my house he tends to eat a whole carton by himself. Yet another thing we have in common.
"Sure, Ashlynn. Anyone want anything else?"
I also shuddered at the use of my full name. Does this woman understand the concept of common courtesy?
"Oh, and some of that Mandarin Orange Chicken," added Bobbye.
"Right. SF Coffee Blast and Mandarin Chicken. Check." she replied back, smiled at all of us, and closed the door.
"How do you get away with it?" I asked Bobbye.
"Away with what?"
"She didn't use your full name," Spud put in.
"No one is that cruel."
"Are you sure, Tami-Rae?" I asked using her horrid full name knowing full well there'd be hell to pay.
"You whore!" shouted Bobbye as she lunged at me from her spot on the floor across the room.
I swung up my arms in defense as she slapped me repeatedly over the head.
"Okay, okay. Sorry, jeez."
Back At Home.
Dad's Office.
While I was having the shit beaten out of me by Bobbye at Spud's house, Dad was sitting alone in his office writing new song material. He had a cup of coffee, half empty, beside him. Sleep filled the corners of his green eyes. He yawned and stretched the muscles of his back. Tonight, he was in it for the long haul.
He let out a frustrated sigh and crumpled up another piece of paper. No matter how hard he tried, the lyrics never seemed to materialize on the paper. If things let on like this, they may never complete this album.
As he started writing yet again, his phone rang. He glanced at the digital clock on the far side of his desk, it read eleven thirty in it's glowing red form. Who would call him so late? He answered it reluctantly in case it was me and if something were wrong. But it wasn't me.
"Hello?"
"Billie Joe."
"Oh, what's up Pat?"
It was Pat Magnarella, his manager. What would his manager want at this hour?
"Hey, Bill. I'm calling to see how the album is going. Good I presume."
"It's getting there, Pat. Patience is a virtue."
"Yes, but in the music business you know that even patience has a time limit. I also needed to ask if you're doing anything in July."
"Huh? What's going on July?"
"Nothing until you answer me."
"I'm not doing anything. I'd probably just be in the studio, why?"
"Well, as I'm pretty sure you know, your friends in My Chemical Romance are on tour and doing great."
"Yeah, Gerard called me yesterday and told me they were doing good."
"Yes, well what he didn't tell you is that in July the Reading festival has booked them."
"Really? Again?"
"Except this time they're a headliner."
"That's awesome. What does this have to do with me?"
"Well, along with My Chemical Romance and Avenged Sevenfold, Reading wants to book you three again."
"What? They want us?"
"Yeah, I just got off the phone with those damn Brits."
"Why would they book us? We don't even have an album to promote. Our buzz has long since died down."
"Yes, but you are aware of the fact that you're one of the greatest live acts alive and that My Chemical Romance played amazingly well when they were on tour with you. You guys cheered them up and got them hyped. That's what they need. So Reading wants you. Are you in?"
"I have to talk it over with Mike and Tre."
"They're both okay with it. I called them a few minutes ago."
"Really? Um, I'll have to go it over with my fiancée and all."
"Sure, talk it over with your family. I understand. I want an answer by tomorrow night."
"Alright, Pat. Talk to you then."
"Night, Billie."
"Night."
Spud's House.
A Few Hours Later.
Spud's mom came back from Trader Joe's with everything we asked and I practically tackled her at the door for my ice cream, Spike for the mandarin chicken and Bobbye just so she could be like the rest of us. We took our little presents into the kitchen and cooked the chicken. I swear, no matter how unhealthy coffee blast ice cream and mandarin orange chicken is, it's still the most delicious thing ever.
It was starting to get late, nearing oh, crack of dawn time, so we cleaned up and walked upstairs to Spud's room. Spud got her bed, Spike took the egg chair leaving Bobbye and I to share the uncomfortable floor. I went to sleep thinking about the usual things: what are Mom and Dad up to? Is Raven sleeping too? Do all dogs really go to heaven? Is there a heaven? Will a piece of the ceiling flake off and fall on me while I'm sleeping? Is Frank thinking about me?
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