References: Iconic pop culture, as usual.
You might say I'm being paranoid and it's true, I was totally fidgety all morning as I waited at the breakfast table for the guys. I was wondering whether Lance would look different this morning, since that whole creepy thing with the blanket and stuff.
"Morning," a subtly accented voice rang into my ears. I jumped, yelping like a puppy getting caught doing something bad.
"Leo! Morning!"
The blond - freshly showered and meticulously groomed like the British gentleman he is - sat beside me, raising a querying eyebrow. "What's up with you, love?"
I faked a laugh. "Oh, nothing really. By the way, did you know, when you said that, you sounded like some old dude?"
Oh no. Hysterical voice. Not good. My voice keeps rising in pitch like some yowling cat. Why am I always so not subtle when I want to be?
Leo was texting on his Blackberry. I noticed this, and asked, "Who're you texting so early in the morning?"
"Oh, a friend. He was just asking me some stuff."
"Wassup kitty?" Jay suddenly appeared, grinning at me and sitting on the other side of me, ruffling my hair like I'm some kinda street dog. So annoying.
"I'm not your Fido, all right?" I snapped, smacking his hand away from my head.
"Of course not," he said, spooning cereal into his mouth, "You're my kitty,"
I hate that grin. Especially when he looks so damn innocent when he just said something like that. Someone needs to find him a girlfriend, and fast.
"Leo!" I said loudly in an accusatory tone, "Why can't you tell him to stop saying those things to me? It's so... annoying,"
Leo looked at the both of us, smiling an 'aw-how-cute' smile. "Kaitlyn, we both know Jay's just joking. So there's no need to get riled up, now, is there?"
I see his point. But still...
I glared at Jay. Jay gave me a victory sign. "The handsome one always wins,"
"Bleh. Lemme go find a bathroom to puke in first. I think I'm gonna projectile vomit." I muttered, probably loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Projectile vomit? Why?"
My spine instantly went rigid. Lance. Of course, Tyson, Jordan and Gabriel were with him.
I turned to face them, plastering a super-fake smile over my uneasy expression. "You're awake! Finally!" I said, back to my super-high-pitched voice. The scene from last night keeps replaying in my mind. I feel like suiciding right now.
Jordan looked at me; a questioning look bore over his face. "What happened to you? Something wrong with your throat? We can't have that, you know,"
"Thank you for your concern, I'm fine, really," I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "And I slept pretty well last night too, thanks for asking."
Jordan looked baffled. "Thanks for ask-? But I didn't-,"
Tyson took a rolled-up magazine that Jay was holding out towards him and used it to hit Jordan's head. Ooh, that hurt. "Jordan, for someone who's always making people angry, you sure suck at detecting sarcasm,"
Jordan rubbed his head, snatching the magazine away from Tyson's grip. I could see the title from where I sat, GameZone. Does he not read other kinds of magazine except ones related to video games? "Easy for you to say, pretty boy,"
The guys laughed, except for Lance. He merely took a seat across from me, reaching for the cereal box beside Jay's bowl. I watched him warily, while the others were talking; or in Tyson and Jordan's cases, arguing. Lance seemed to have noticed my stalker-ish 'tude, because he paused and looked at me.
Straight. In. The. Eyes.
I averted his piercing look-into-the-soul eyes and my gaze landed on the visible tattoo on his arm. Well, his arm is better than his eyes. Wait. What the hell am I saying now!?
"Something the matter?"
Uh, yeah? There's something the matter. What's the matter? Well, you acted all strange last night with the whole 'Sleep well', the blanket and well, it was weird! Friends do not just go around stroking each other's head while the other is asleep and say stuff like that. It's just... awkward.
I'd like to say that, but I'm not one for public confrontations. Plus, I may have just read too much into the thing, and maybe it's just something that Lance does for everyone with his whole romantic dreamer image thing. So in conclusion: I will not confront him publicly. Only when we're alone.
Note to self: Be prepared to attack where it hurts the most at all times in case moves are made. Vulnerability will not be tolerated.
"N-nothing, really." I answered, faking a laugh, "Hahahaha..."
Lance shrugged and resumed pouring cereal into a bowl.
-
"Kaitlyn!!"
I looked up from Jordan's magazine which I was flicking through idly while the guys were setting up outside. Leo had specifically given orders that no one but permitted people were to enter the little room that was temporarily serving as our, as Jay and Jordan crudely put it, 'Chillaxin' Area'.
"Chace?" the name tumbled out foreignly.
Said person cast a critical eye on me, as if he were giving me a once-over. Wait, not as if. He is. I noticed the makeshift access pass that he had around his neck, Leo's signature boldly scribbled on it.
We're an amateur band, but we're certainly not acting like one. One might believe we're actually professionals, except for the fact that we're not exactly earning anything.
"Even though I've revamped your wardrobe..." Chace began, an all-too familiar snarky tone edging into his voice. Oh, dear stars. Here comes the lecture. "How?! How on Earth can you look so... so... uncivilized?!"
He dramatically collapsed onto his knees onto the floor, the back of his hand resting on his forehead. "How?!"
If he weren't such a high-profile stylist to the stars, he would totally make a good actor.
I shrugged, pretending as if his words had no effect on me at all. Actually, I was dying to strangle him until he apologizes for insulting me, but he's a celeb stylist, so I don't want to be sued. "Hey, Chace with-no-last-name-because-it's-too-stuffy-and-formal."
Chace pouted, which made him look weird because I could see a day-old stubble - which, by the way, is weird for someone who's obsessed with me being dressed 'civilly' - on his lower face. Grown men, gay or not, should not pout. It's weird. "You're mean."
"Middle name," I answered back lightly, gesturing to a foldable chair beside me, "Have a seat, Mr. No-Last-Name."
Chace obliged and sat, his chin resting on his hand as he continued to stare at me. I must say, I think I'm the girl with the most stares gotten from Chace, since I believe he'd rather stare at hot gay prospects than unattractive girls. No offense intended.
The staring competition continued, and as I stared back at him in return, I realized something was different about him. He looked positively tired out, as if he had some problems plaguing him. I broke off our intense visual contact. "You look different. What's up?"
Chace looked confused. "Different? How so?"
I put on my wise tone. "Even though I don't know you that well, I know you well enough to know that you don't let yourself look like some guy who doesn't know the existence of shaving foam and razors,"
Chace self-consciously reached up to touch the stubble on his chin. "I suppose so..." he deliberated on my words thoughtfully. Then, he shot an accusatory look at me. "Look who's talking, Ms. I-Like-To-Look-Like-I-Have-No-Other-Clothes."
"Hey! It's not like that, okay?? I just think I shouldn't dress up too much because we're amateurs and more importantly, we're amateur rock musicians, not models!"
Chace looked bored. "I get your point, but at least wear something presentable. Don't wear a freebie t-shirt, you're appearing on TV for God's sake!" he chided, "And...I wasn't talking about that. I mean, you look like you have problems of your own too. Is it that Asher boy and Evie girl?"
Asher? Evie? How the hell does he know about them?! I haven't even seen the guy since the day we met, when he had forcefully given me a three-hour torture session! (Which, by the way, is something that I hope will never have to happen ever again.)
My theory is proven. Guys gossip like old women. God, can't they keep their mouths shut!? And they say girls are like radios.
"Of course not!" I answered back defiantly, "Asher and Evie are but a distant memory to me now!"
My view of the stylist was obstructed as he threw something at me. "Put this on. Tell me what's up while you're at it, yes?" he ordered, pushing me into the makeshift changing stall, ignoring my struggles.
I put on a sulky expression, regardless of the fact that Chace couldn't see me. "You tell me what's up first, pot."
"Pot?" I heard him ask from the other side. God! Is everyone not getting me today?
"Pot calling kettle black. Ever heard of that? You're pot, I'm kettle. Now tell me." I said as I pulled my t-shirt off. It was a free T-shirt I had gotten from a carnival last summer. Bobo the Clown.
Good times, good times.
I heard Chace sigh, and a slight creaking sound as he sat on the chair. "Well, the thing is, I-"
"WE'RE HERE!!!!"
My Lord, Jay is such a mood-killer and interrupter. And not to mention, he has bad timing, too.
"Oh, hey Chace!" Jay exclaimed brightly, and I heard him flopping into another chair. "Didn't know you were coming!"
"Just thought I'd surprise the lot of you, yes?" I heard Chace reply with a fake bright tone. Man, he's a rival to me in this faking business. I quickly pulled over the t-shirt Chace had given to me. Not bad; airbrushed thunderbolts and clouds. At least he knows what I like to wear.
I stepped through the curtains, carefully folding up my Bobo shirt and depositing it inside my bag. I wonder how Chace knew I'd end up not wearing one of his hand-picked shirts. Must be a stylist's intuition or something.
Chace cast his soon-to-be-reputable critical eye on the guys. "When I don't see any of you for a week, this is how to come back looking to me!? How is it so that only Lance and Tyson are properly dressed?"
I guess I could see his point. Lance had on a black dress shirt with white pin stripes and a skinny black tie on over his dark jeans while Tyson was a notch more fancy, with his black checkered scarf draped over a white T-shirt and black skinny jeans. We have a winner!
Jay had a dark look on his face. Obviously, he's not used to being wronged. I snickered. "That's because you're biased, Chace," he muttered, standing up.
"Come here, you street ruffians! I'll try to save what can be saved, yes?" he turned to look at me. "I shall... tend... to you later..."
Tend? I'd rather run away, but seeing as I don't want my identity to be exposed, I shall have to face Chace's wrath. Chace ushered the 'ruffians' - Heehee. Now I'm not the only one getting scolded - out of the room, leaving me and Lance alone. Tyson decided to tag along, probably to egg on the guys for being 'street ruffians', yes?
Ah, crap. Chace's way of talking is rubbing off on me.
Then, I realized my situation. Lance was there, reading a book quietly, while I, Kaitlyn Hunter, had instant super-sweaty palms that usually happen when I'm nervous. Well, hell, I am nervous right now.
I should confront him. "L-Lance...?"
Dammit. Don't stutter, me! It's a sign of weakness!
Lance looked up from his book. "Yes?" he answered in his deep tenor voice, "How may I help you?"
No turning back now. "I just wanted to ask you..." I stared at my hands. "Did you-?"
"I'm back!"
We jumped at the sound of Jay's voice. He was grinning, his school basketball T-shirt replaced with a cleaner, newer T-shirt. He picked up a chair and promptly placed it in an empty space between Lance and I and sat down. "What did I miss?"
"Nothing, really." I replied, relieved - because I wasn't actually ready to ask Lance about the thing that happened last night - and annoyed - because he interrupted me when I was going to ask Lance about the the thing that happened last night. "That was fast, by the way."
Jay stuck up his nose in the air with an indignant 'hmph'. "I am the King of Quick Changing. That's what you get when your sister brings in crazed fan girls early in the morning for eating the last of the dessert from the night before."
I took a quick glance at Lance as Jay went on to say no matter how evil his sister was, he still loved her and whatnot. Lance had gone back to his book - Dracula this time - as if I hadn't been asking him a question before.
I got bored of Jay's incessant chirping on how popular he was with his sister's friends, so I experimented with the box of masks that Chace had brought with him when he came.
"You shall be using the one with the black crystals, oui?" Chace's voice spoke into my ear. I jumped, but Chace expertly avoided colliding with my head/shoulder/whatever by withdrawing his head.
"No way in hell am I going to use any of these," I said defiantly, "Can't I stick with the one Jay gave me?"
"You will use one of these masks that I especially picked out for you!" Chace insisted, "After all, it is the least you could do for me after all that help I gave you!"
"Chace, ignore her. Please work on her to match the rest of us handsome people," Jay piped up, "But please, she's not too used to you yet despite the fact you gave her that three-hour-makeover a few months ago, so tone down with the theatrics, will you?"
Chace turned to look at He Who Has Spoken. His expression was overflowing with dramatic emotion. "My creativity must not be suppressed!" he announced with a flourish, "The beautiful people you see around you-," I looked around to see only the guys. Huh. He must be talking about some other people. "-will not exist without my unique and matchless personality, as well as my unlimited talent at making people beautiful!!"
I... see.
You know, I can totally picture Chace wrapping on a feathery boa, dressed in a skirt and parading around in five-inch heels, looking totally at ease with the world, just like Miss Jay in ANTM. Of all stylists from on the the guy's dad's company, the Gyles girls sure picked a flamboyant one to work with.
"Well, we want your unique and matchless personality to adjust accordingly to the person you're going to work on," Jay replied serenely, as all the other guys nodded in agreement, "She's lethal. She could kill any of us if she wanted. Not that, of course, she would kill me. Right, Kitty?"
I snorted. "You must be joking. I'd rather kill you than kill an ant." I answered, "After all, you're the one who stalked me, robbed me, then held me captive."
I got an indignant 'hey!' from Jay as Chace pulled me away from the band, pulling curtains across the middle of the room separating us from them. Actually, I have no idea how the curtains got there. Chace's creepy that way.
"But you just made me change like, five minutes ago!" I protested as he dragged me past the curtains.
"Quiet," Chace chided, "Fashion is an ever-changing whirlwind; a force of nature! You are in no place to question it,"
O-kay. I'm just going to shut up now, because the man is giving me the Look.
Chace made me sit in a chair, and I did so quietly as he worked on my face with lip gloss, mascara and all that weird you-know-what-I-wanna-say. I'm not sure why I need the eye stuff, though. I'm going to wear a mask, after all. I could hear the door open, and giggles of girls could be heard from the other side.
"I'm afraid the area beyond the curtain is restricted, ladies," I heard Leo say smoothly. "But I'm sure that's nothing for you, is it?"
"After all, we're all here," I heard Jay put in. I swear, I think he winked at them. I don't know how I know, but I just do. My suspicions were proved as I heard a few girls giggle shyly.
Chace worked with my hair, twisting my locks in all sorts of directions until I felt like tearing out every single strand of it.
Finally, he held up a super teeny-weeny, revealing tank top. "What do you think of this, Kaitlyn?" he whispered with a happy grin.
I screeched like a banshee as Chace dared asked my opinion on the tank top. "Do you think I'm going to perform in front of innocent little children and adults or going to go to some dark alley and lure pedophile old men as a prostitute!?"
I heard collective gasps from the Giggles Club and Jay said, "Hey! I wanna see kitty wear what you're showing her!" He stuck his head through the curtains, and I heard Jordan take over his distracting duty.
I shrieked, but thank God I was still dressed. I instinctively grabbed the prosti-top and threw it at Jay's head. Chace starting pushing Jay out, saying, "This is a sacred place for an artist and his work of art! No sacrilegious people allowed!"
"Hey! This top is sexy!" I heard Jay remark. He's probably holding it up for the whole world to see. Well, not the whole world at least. The whole room.
"Agreed." I heard Leo say. I swear, I'm going to kill them.
Chace firmly pinned the curtains together with a safety pin and turned to look at me again. "Put this on," he ordered, throwing a long piece of fabric at me.
I looked at him with the largest and most innocent eyes possible. "What if the work of art can dress herself?" I asked.
Chace rolled his eyes. "Well, the work of art did that this morning, and look how it turned out." he paused to look at me, probably imagining my Bobo t-shirt. "Apocalyptic, my dear."
Apocalyptic? I ignored his verbal smack-down, because I'd rather not do anything too conspicuous when the Giggles Club is here.
"Well then, please get out so I can change in peace." I asked him, my voice still sweet and sugary.
Chace rolled his eyes yet again. "Looking at you naked is hardly going to excite me, darling. For one, you're still an adolescent and I've seen women naked who're much much more sexier than you are, and two, I'm gay. Looking at you is like looking at a dog for moi."
A dog. Really? I refrained myself from giving him the finger and letting loose a torrent of cuss words forming in my brain. "Well, I'm sorry I give you the impression of a dog and that I'm not sexy, but I'd prefer to keep my naked body's image to myself, thank you very much." I said pleasantly.
Chace grumbled some incoherent words. "I was going to turn around while you change and watch for either Jay or Leo, if they try anything funny," he turned to poke his head out of the curtains. "You hear that, boys? Come one step anywhere near this curtain, I'll assure you, you'll have a good and long career as a soprano duo."
Now, if he weren't so verbally abusive, we'd be best bosom buddies.
I pulled on the white round-necked tee and then the ash-gray strapless dress. Wow, pretty conservative this time. Chace turned me around and beamed.
"Ooh la la! Trés bien! You look wonderful!" he exclaimed, then turned around to dig into the box of masks. He pulled out the mask that he had mentioned before, and it was, of course, cat-eared. It was entirely covered in black crystals. He made me hold it in place as he delicately guided the ribbons around my head and fastened it.
"Sit down," he ordered, pulling out a box from nowhere. I swear, he could be the next David Copperfield if he wanted. He keeps doing enigmatic things without an explanation for them.
I obeyed meekly, and he knelt down, taking one bare foot in his hand. You know, if he wasn't gay, he could be Prince Charming and I'd be Cinderella. But, you see the case, don't you? He's gay and probably taken.
He slipped my foot into a small flat-soled shoe that looked two sizes too small for me. I gasped as it fit perfectly. "Never doubt the powers of lé great artisté,"
Oh sure, lé great artisté. "So, am I ready yet?" I asked.
"Of course! Your appearance is finally presentable!" Chace announced, unpinning the curtains as I stood up. Finally. I get something else other than, 'FASHION DISASTER!'. "Oh booooys! The vocalist is ready!"
I assume he used 'the vocalist' instead of my name because of the Giggles Club's presence.
I stepped through the curtains, and a bunch of girls of various ages - Probably kids from the orphanage - eyed me; some with distaste, some with pure curiosity.
"Hi?" I said tentatively. Jay and Leo, as charming as ever, both stood at either of my sides, and draped their arms around my shoulders.
"Meet the Lightning Kitty," Jay introduced with a flirty smile, "She's our newest member, so play nice."
"She's rather shy in front of people she doesn't know." Leo added, winking at me. I felt a tad bit reassured as I recognized his way of telling me everything's fine. "So, if you ladies don't mind, please leave. We have some pre-show things to talk over. See you in half an hour!"
I sighed audibly as the last girl left and the door closed. Under a disguise makes me feel quite hypocritical. I have no idea why.
-
"Great show!" a guy dressed in a business suit said as the guys and I got off stage. I could see Gabriel a little way off with some other guys dressed with t-shirts that had 'SECURITY' printed across their backs, handling the various photographers clamoring to get to us with a couple of other people that volunteer in the orphanage. Well, by us I mean the guys. I don't really think they're at all interested in me.
"Thanks," Jay answered smacking a high-five into Leo's palm as they celebrated the success of the performance.
A woman, probably in her twenties, came running up to us. She was wearing a volunteer's shirt. "Oh, it's you! I'm sorry, I never expected the event to be this big! We're rather short-staffed because we underestimated the crowd today," the poor woman sounded extremely flustered and embarrassed; she looked near the tears, "We especially didn't think this many reporters would come!"
I'd really like to go sit her down somewhere quiet and educate her on the mysterious powers that five extremely attractive teenage boys can have.
"Sorry," we all chimed together sheepishly, "We'll talk to the reporters for you,"
"Well, if that's the case, please come over this way," the volunteer sounded extremely relieved as she gestured over to a group of chairs, "You can use the lobby,"
"Word your sentences carefully, guys," Jay warned - pretty smart of him, considering his mental aptitude. Then he seemed to have remembered I was there, "And girl," he added hastily.
"Nice save," came my sardonic comment.
I was walking behind them, and Tyson fell back to match my painfully slow pace. He leant over to my ear and said, "We don't normally do this, but it's kind of our fault that the paparazzi are here... it's unorthodox, since we're not even real recording artists yet,"
Ah. So that was it. Tyson and I caught up with them as they were getting settled into the chairs. I took a chair next to Jay, since Leo was sitting in the middle. Gabriel, and the business-suited guy from earlier, led the reporters towards us, and I could lip-read him.
They were saying that they weren't to take any unauthorized pictures and also to not fake any statements, because if not, the Lightning Devils would personally sue the felon. Ooh. Never knew Gabriel could be such a bad-ass manager-in-training.
"That's a manager that my father hired to give Gabe some hands-on training," Jay whispered to me, seeing the way I was watching Gabriel and the other guy.
"Oh," I looked up at the approaching onslaught of camera-laden people, "Look. They're here,"
"So, this is your first official performance for the public?" a reporter asked.
Leo nodded. "Well, you can say that. We have performed many times in public before, but this is the first time someone's asked us to perform. So, yes, we consider this to be our first official performance."
"Why haven't you signed with a record label yet? I believe you have been approached with many offers?" another random reporter asked.
Jay's turn. "We're still young. We still have to go to school, so we're not thinking of this for the time being. Maybe soon into the future, you may be seeing us collaborating with the world's top bands!" he said, grinning that signature devil-may-care grin of his.
"I'd love to collaborate with Lady Gaga," Jordan joked, and he high-fived Tyson as he said this. Really, Jordan? As eccentric as the woman may be, she could take your comment personally in the wrong way and sue you or something!
So much for wording our words carefully.
"Speaking of collaborating," reporter number three piped up, "This girl you have with you. She is the new vocalist, isn't she?"
"Well obviously," Jay said in a bewildered amusement, "What did you think she was doing up there? Making a speech?"
The other reporters laughed, and reporter number three looked slightly embarrassed. "Hey man, no offense, yeah?" Jay asked, playfully punching the said reporter's shoulder good-naturedly.
Hmph. Jay obviously knows how to word his sentences 'carefully'. "So, any chance of revealing her identity to us?" reporter number four asked, holding up his camera hopefully.
"Sorry, no," I answered, putting my input for the first time, "I'm not comfortable with seeing myself all over the news. I'd like to be less conspicuous."
I think the reporter was deaf, because he acted as if I hadn't spoken and turned to face Lance, who was quiet as he always is. What an ass. "Lancelot Montague. The keyboardist, I'm assuming?"
Uh, duh? It's not like the person working magic at the keyboard was somebody who happened to look like Lance.
Lance, obviously not familiar with sarcasm as I am, nodded. "Yes. Yes I am."
"So, I've heard from some sources," the reporter continued, "Is it true that you're a former child from this orphanage? A former orphan?"
Wait. What?
Lance was an orphan from this very orphanage?
How come I never knew that!?
I looked at the other guys; except for Gabrel, they all had tense expressions on their faces. Why didn't they ever tell me Lance was adopted? It's not that bad. But judging by the looks on their faces, my thoughts were otherwise. Something's up.
Lance, expression still stoically neutral nodded. "Yes, yes I was an orphan. I was placed here when I was younger, before I got adopted,"
---------------------------------------------
You might say I'm being paranoid and it's true, I was totally fidgety all morning as I waited at the breakfast table for the guys. I was wondering whether Lance would look different this morning, since that whole creepy thing with the blanket and stuff.
"Morning," a subtly accented voice rang into my ears. I jumped, yelping like a puppy getting caught doing something bad.
"Leo! Morning!"
The blond - freshly showered and meticulously groomed like the British gentleman he is - sat beside me, raising a querying eyebrow. "What's up with you, love?"
I faked a laugh. "Oh, nothing really. By the way, did you know, when you said that, you sounded like some old dude?"
Oh no. Hysterical voice. Not good. My voice keeps rising in pitch like some yowling cat. Why am I always so not subtle when I want to be?
Leo was texting on his Blackberry. I noticed this, and asked, "Who're you texting so early in the morning?"
"Oh, a friend. He was just asking me some stuff."
"Wassup kitty?" Jay suddenly appeared, grinning at me and sitting on the other side of me, ruffling my hair like I'm some kinda street dog. So annoying.
"I'm not your Fido, all right?" I snapped, smacking his hand away from my head.
"Of course not," he said, spooning cereal into his mouth, "You're my kitty,"
I hate that grin. Especially when he looks so damn innocent when he just said something like that. Someone needs to find him a girlfriend, and fast.
"Leo!" I said loudly in an accusatory tone, "Why can't you tell him to stop saying those things to me? It's so... annoying,"
Leo looked at the both of us, smiling an 'aw-how-cute' smile. "Kaitlyn, we both know Jay's just joking. So there's no need to get riled up, now, is there?"
I see his point. But still...
I glared at Jay. Jay gave me a victory sign. "The handsome one always wins,"
"Bleh. Lemme go find a bathroom to puke in first. I think I'm gonna projectile vomit." I muttered, probably loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Projectile vomit? Why?"
My spine instantly went rigid. Lance. Of course, Tyson, Jordan and Gabriel were with him.
I turned to face them, plastering a super-fake smile over my uneasy expression. "You're awake! Finally!" I said, back to my super-high-pitched voice. The scene from last night keeps replaying in my mind. I feel like suiciding right now.
Jordan looked at me; a questioning look bore over his face. "What happened to you? Something wrong with your throat? We can't have that, you know,"
"Thank you for your concern, I'm fine, really," I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "And I slept pretty well last night too, thanks for asking."
Jordan looked baffled. "Thanks for ask-? But I didn't-,"
Tyson took a rolled-up magazine that Jay was holding out towards him and used it to hit Jordan's head. Ooh, that hurt. "Jordan, for someone who's always making people angry, you sure suck at detecting sarcasm,"
Jordan rubbed his head, snatching the magazine away from Tyson's grip. I could see the title from where I sat, GameZone. Does he not read other kinds of magazine except ones related to video games? "Easy for you to say, pretty boy,"
The guys laughed, except for Lance. He merely took a seat across from me, reaching for the cereal box beside Jay's bowl. I watched him warily, while the others were talking; or in Tyson and Jordan's cases, arguing. Lance seemed to have noticed my stalker-ish 'tude, because he paused and looked at me.
Straight. In. The. Eyes.
I averted his piercing look-into-the-soul eyes and my gaze landed on the visible tattoo on his arm. Well, his arm is better than his eyes. Wait. What the hell am I saying now!?
"Something the matter?"
Uh, yeah? There's something the matter. What's the matter? Well, you acted all strange last night with the whole 'Sleep well', the blanket and well, it was weird! Friends do not just go around stroking each other's head while the other is asleep and say stuff like that. It's just... awkward.
I'd like to say that, but I'm not one for public confrontations. Plus, I may have just read too much into the thing, and maybe it's just something that Lance does for everyone with his whole romantic dreamer image thing. So in conclusion: I will not confront him publicly. Only when we're alone.
Note to self: Be prepared to attack where it hurts the most at all times in case moves are made. Vulnerability will not be tolerated.
"N-nothing, really." I answered, faking a laugh, "Hahahaha..."
Lance shrugged and resumed pouring cereal into a bowl.
-
"Kaitlyn!!"
I looked up from Jordan's magazine which I was flicking through idly while the guys were setting up outside. Leo had specifically given orders that no one but permitted people were to enter the little room that was temporarily serving as our, as Jay and Jordan crudely put it, 'Chillaxin' Area'.
"Chace?" the name tumbled out foreignly.
Said person cast a critical eye on me, as if he were giving me a once-over. Wait, not as if. He is. I noticed the makeshift access pass that he had around his neck, Leo's signature boldly scribbled on it.
We're an amateur band, but we're certainly not acting like one. One might believe we're actually professionals, except for the fact that we're not exactly earning anything.
"Even though I've revamped your wardrobe..." Chace began, an all-too familiar snarky tone edging into his voice. Oh, dear stars. Here comes the lecture. "How?! How on Earth can you look so... so... uncivilized?!"
He dramatically collapsed onto his knees onto the floor, the back of his hand resting on his forehead. "How?!"
If he weren't such a high-profile stylist to the stars, he would totally make a good actor.
I shrugged, pretending as if his words had no effect on me at all. Actually, I was dying to strangle him until he apologizes for insulting me, but he's a celeb stylist, so I don't want to be sued. "Hey, Chace with-no-last-name-because-it's-too-stuffy-and-formal."
Chace pouted, which made him look weird because I could see a day-old stubble - which, by the way, is weird for someone who's obsessed with me being dressed 'civilly' - on his lower face. Grown men, gay or not, should not pout. It's weird. "You're mean."
"Middle name," I answered back lightly, gesturing to a foldable chair beside me, "Have a seat, Mr. No-Last-Name."
Chace obliged and sat, his chin resting on his hand as he continued to stare at me. I must say, I think I'm the girl with the most stares gotten from Chace, since I believe he'd rather stare at hot gay prospects than unattractive girls. No offense intended.
The staring competition continued, and as I stared back at him in return, I realized something was different about him. He looked positively tired out, as if he had some problems plaguing him. I broke off our intense visual contact. "You look different. What's up?"
Chace looked confused. "Different? How so?"
I put on my wise tone. "Even though I don't know you that well, I know you well enough to know that you don't let yourself look like some guy who doesn't know the existence of shaving foam and razors,"
Chace self-consciously reached up to touch the stubble on his chin. "I suppose so..." he deliberated on my words thoughtfully. Then, he shot an accusatory look at me. "Look who's talking, Ms. I-Like-To-Look-Like-I-Have-No-Other-Clothes."
"Hey! It's not like that, okay?? I just think I shouldn't dress up too much because we're amateurs and more importantly, we're amateur rock musicians, not models!"
Chace looked bored. "I get your point, but at least wear something presentable. Don't wear a freebie t-shirt, you're appearing on TV for God's sake!" he chided, "And...I wasn't talking about that. I mean, you look like you have problems of your own too. Is it that Asher boy and Evie girl?"
Asher? Evie? How the hell does he know about them?! I haven't even seen the guy since the day we met, when he had forcefully given me a three-hour torture session! (Which, by the way, is something that I hope will never have to happen ever again.)
My theory is proven. Guys gossip like old women. God, can't they keep their mouths shut!? And they say girls are like radios.
"Of course not!" I answered back defiantly, "Asher and Evie are but a distant memory to me now!"
My view of the stylist was obstructed as he threw something at me. "Put this on. Tell me what's up while you're at it, yes?" he ordered, pushing me into the makeshift changing stall, ignoring my struggles.
I put on a sulky expression, regardless of the fact that Chace couldn't see me. "You tell me what's up first, pot."
"Pot?" I heard him ask from the other side. God! Is everyone not getting me today?
"Pot calling kettle black. Ever heard of that? You're pot, I'm kettle. Now tell me." I said as I pulled my t-shirt off. It was a free T-shirt I had gotten from a carnival last summer. Bobo the Clown.
Good times, good times.
I heard Chace sigh, and a slight creaking sound as he sat on the chair. "Well, the thing is, I-"
"WE'RE HERE!!!!"
My Lord, Jay is such a mood-killer and interrupter. And not to mention, he has bad timing, too.
"Oh, hey Chace!" Jay exclaimed brightly, and I heard him flopping into another chair. "Didn't know you were coming!"
"Just thought I'd surprise the lot of you, yes?" I heard Chace reply with a fake bright tone. Man, he's a rival to me in this faking business. I quickly pulled over the t-shirt Chace had given to me. Not bad; airbrushed thunderbolts and clouds. At least he knows what I like to wear.
I stepped through the curtains, carefully folding up my Bobo shirt and depositing it inside my bag. I wonder how Chace knew I'd end up not wearing one of his hand-picked shirts. Must be a stylist's intuition or something.
Chace cast his soon-to-be-reputable critical eye on the guys. "When I don't see any of you for a week, this is how to come back looking to me!? How is it so that only Lance and Tyson are properly dressed?"
I guess I could see his point. Lance had on a black dress shirt with white pin stripes and a skinny black tie on over his dark jeans while Tyson was a notch more fancy, with his black checkered scarf draped over a white T-shirt and black skinny jeans. We have a winner!
Jay had a dark look on his face. Obviously, he's not used to being wronged. I snickered. "That's because you're biased, Chace," he muttered, standing up.
"Come here, you street ruffians! I'll try to save what can be saved, yes?" he turned to look at me. "I shall... tend... to you later..."
Tend? I'd rather run away, but seeing as I don't want my identity to be exposed, I shall have to face Chace's wrath. Chace ushered the 'ruffians' - Heehee. Now I'm not the only one getting scolded - out of the room, leaving me and Lance alone. Tyson decided to tag along, probably to egg on the guys for being 'street ruffians', yes?
Ah, crap. Chace's way of talking is rubbing off on me.
Then, I realized my situation. Lance was there, reading a book quietly, while I, Kaitlyn Hunter, had instant super-sweaty palms that usually happen when I'm nervous. Well, hell, I am nervous right now.
I should confront him. "L-Lance...?"
Dammit. Don't stutter, me! It's a sign of weakness!
Lance looked up from his book. "Yes?" he answered in his deep tenor voice, "How may I help you?"
No turning back now. "I just wanted to ask you..." I stared at my hands. "Did you-?"
"I'm back!"
We jumped at the sound of Jay's voice. He was grinning, his school basketball T-shirt replaced with a cleaner, newer T-shirt. He picked up a chair and promptly placed it in an empty space between Lance and I and sat down. "What did I miss?"
"Nothing, really." I replied, relieved - because I wasn't actually ready to ask Lance about the thing that happened last night - and annoyed - because he interrupted me when I was going to ask Lance about the the thing that happened last night. "That was fast, by the way."
Jay stuck up his nose in the air with an indignant 'hmph'. "I am the King of Quick Changing. That's what you get when your sister brings in crazed fan girls early in the morning for eating the last of the dessert from the night before."
I took a quick glance at Lance as Jay went on to say no matter how evil his sister was, he still loved her and whatnot. Lance had gone back to his book - Dracula this time - as if I hadn't been asking him a question before.
I got bored of Jay's incessant chirping on how popular he was with his sister's friends, so I experimented with the box of masks that Chace had brought with him when he came.
"You shall be using the one with the black crystals, oui?" Chace's voice spoke into my ear. I jumped, but Chace expertly avoided colliding with my head/shoulder/whatever by withdrawing his head.
"No way in hell am I going to use any of these," I said defiantly, "Can't I stick with the one Jay gave me?"
"You will use one of these masks that I especially picked out for you!" Chace insisted, "After all, it is the least you could do for me after all that help I gave you!"
"Chace, ignore her. Please work on her to match the rest of us handsome people," Jay piped up, "But please, she's not too used to you yet despite the fact you gave her that three-hour-makeover a few months ago, so tone down with the theatrics, will you?"
Chace turned to look at He Who Has Spoken. His expression was overflowing with dramatic emotion. "My creativity must not be suppressed!" he announced with a flourish, "The beautiful people you see around you-," I looked around to see only the guys. Huh. He must be talking about some other people. "-will not exist without my unique and matchless personality, as well as my unlimited talent at making people beautiful!!"
I... see.
You know, I can totally picture Chace wrapping on a feathery boa, dressed in a skirt and parading around in five-inch heels, looking totally at ease with the world, just like Miss Jay in ANTM. Of all stylists from on the the guy's dad's company, the Gyles girls sure picked a flamboyant one to work with.
"Well, we want your unique and matchless personality to adjust accordingly to the person you're going to work on," Jay replied serenely, as all the other guys nodded in agreement, "She's lethal. She could kill any of us if she wanted. Not that, of course, she would kill me. Right, Kitty?"
I snorted. "You must be joking. I'd rather kill you than kill an ant." I answered, "After all, you're the one who stalked me, robbed me, then held me captive."
I got an indignant 'hey!' from Jay as Chace pulled me away from the band, pulling curtains across the middle of the room separating us from them. Actually, I have no idea how the curtains got there. Chace's creepy that way.
"But you just made me change like, five minutes ago!" I protested as he dragged me past the curtains.
"Quiet," Chace chided, "Fashion is an ever-changing whirlwind; a force of nature! You are in no place to question it,"
O-kay. I'm just going to shut up now, because the man is giving me the Look.
Chace made me sit in a chair, and I did so quietly as he worked on my face with lip gloss, mascara and all that weird you-know-what-I-wanna-say. I'm not sure why I need the eye stuff, though. I'm going to wear a mask, after all. I could hear the door open, and giggles of girls could be heard from the other side.
"I'm afraid the area beyond the curtain is restricted, ladies," I heard Leo say smoothly. "But I'm sure that's nothing for you, is it?"
"After all, we're all here," I heard Jay put in. I swear, I think he winked at them. I don't know how I know, but I just do. My suspicions were proved as I heard a few girls giggle shyly.
Chace worked with my hair, twisting my locks in all sorts of directions until I felt like tearing out every single strand of it.
Finally, he held up a super teeny-weeny, revealing tank top. "What do you think of this, Kaitlyn?" he whispered with a happy grin.
I screeched like a banshee as Chace dared asked my opinion on the tank top. "Do you think I'm going to perform in front of innocent little children and adults or going to go to some dark alley and lure pedophile old men as a prostitute!?"
I heard collective gasps from the Giggles Club and Jay said, "Hey! I wanna see kitty wear what you're showing her!" He stuck his head through the curtains, and I heard Jordan take over his distracting duty.
I shrieked, but thank God I was still dressed. I instinctively grabbed the prosti-top and threw it at Jay's head. Chace starting pushing Jay out, saying, "This is a sacred place for an artist and his work of art! No sacrilegious people allowed!"
"Hey! This top is sexy!" I heard Jay remark. He's probably holding it up for the whole world to see. Well, not the whole world at least. The whole room.
"Agreed." I heard Leo say. I swear, I'm going to kill them.
Chace firmly pinned the curtains together with a safety pin and turned to look at me again. "Put this on," he ordered, throwing a long piece of fabric at me.
I looked at him with the largest and most innocent eyes possible. "What if the work of art can dress herself?" I asked.
Chace rolled his eyes. "Well, the work of art did that this morning, and look how it turned out." he paused to look at me, probably imagining my Bobo t-shirt. "Apocalyptic, my dear."
Apocalyptic? I ignored his verbal smack-down, because I'd rather not do anything too conspicuous when the Giggles Club is here.
"Well then, please get out so I can change in peace." I asked him, my voice still sweet and sugary.
Chace rolled his eyes yet again. "Looking at you naked is hardly going to excite me, darling. For one, you're still an adolescent and I've seen women naked who're much much more sexier than you are, and two, I'm gay. Looking at you is like looking at a dog for moi."
A dog. Really? I refrained myself from giving him the finger and letting loose a torrent of cuss words forming in my brain. "Well, I'm sorry I give you the impression of a dog and that I'm not sexy, but I'd prefer to keep my naked body's image to myself, thank you very much." I said pleasantly.
Chace grumbled some incoherent words. "I was going to turn around while you change and watch for either Jay or Leo, if they try anything funny," he turned to poke his head out of the curtains. "You hear that, boys? Come one step anywhere near this curtain, I'll assure you, you'll have a good and long career as a soprano duo."
Now, if he weren't so verbally abusive, we'd be best bosom buddies.
I pulled on the white round-necked tee and then the ash-gray strapless dress. Wow, pretty conservative this time. Chace turned me around and beamed.
"Ooh la la! Trés bien! You look wonderful!" he exclaimed, then turned around to dig into the box of masks. He pulled out the mask that he had mentioned before, and it was, of course, cat-eared. It was entirely covered in black crystals. He made me hold it in place as he delicately guided the ribbons around my head and fastened it.
"Sit down," he ordered, pulling out a box from nowhere. I swear, he could be the next David Copperfield if he wanted. He keeps doing enigmatic things without an explanation for them.
I obeyed meekly, and he knelt down, taking one bare foot in his hand. You know, if he wasn't gay, he could be Prince Charming and I'd be Cinderella. But, you see the case, don't you? He's gay and probably taken.
He slipped my foot into a small flat-soled shoe that looked two sizes too small for me. I gasped as it fit perfectly. "Never doubt the powers of lé great artisté,"
Oh sure, lé great artisté. "So, am I ready yet?" I asked.
"Of course! Your appearance is finally presentable!" Chace announced, unpinning the curtains as I stood up. Finally. I get something else other than, 'FASHION DISASTER!'. "Oh booooys! The vocalist is ready!"
I assume he used 'the vocalist' instead of my name because of the Giggles Club's presence.
I stepped through the curtains, and a bunch of girls of various ages - Probably kids from the orphanage - eyed me; some with distaste, some with pure curiosity.
"Hi?" I said tentatively. Jay and Leo, as charming as ever, both stood at either of my sides, and draped their arms around my shoulders.
"Meet the Lightning Kitty," Jay introduced with a flirty smile, "She's our newest member, so play nice."
"She's rather shy in front of people she doesn't know." Leo added, winking at me. I felt a tad bit reassured as I recognized his way of telling me everything's fine. "So, if you ladies don't mind, please leave. We have some pre-show things to talk over. See you in half an hour!"
I sighed audibly as the last girl left and the door closed. Under a disguise makes me feel quite hypocritical. I have no idea why.
-
"Great show!" a guy dressed in a business suit said as the guys and I got off stage. I could see Gabriel a little way off with some other guys dressed with t-shirts that had 'SECURITY' printed across their backs, handling the various photographers clamoring to get to us with a couple of other people that volunteer in the orphanage. Well, by us I mean the guys. I don't really think they're at all interested in me.
"Thanks," Jay answered smacking a high-five into Leo's palm as they celebrated the success of the performance.
A woman, probably in her twenties, came running up to us. She was wearing a volunteer's shirt. "Oh, it's you! I'm sorry, I never expected the event to be this big! We're rather short-staffed because we underestimated the crowd today," the poor woman sounded extremely flustered and embarrassed; she looked near the tears, "We especially didn't think this many reporters would come!"
I'd really like to go sit her down somewhere quiet and educate her on the mysterious powers that five extremely attractive teenage boys can have.
"Sorry," we all chimed together sheepishly, "We'll talk to the reporters for you,"
"Well, if that's the case, please come over this way," the volunteer sounded extremely relieved as she gestured over to a group of chairs, "You can use the lobby,"
"Word your sentences carefully, guys," Jay warned - pretty smart of him, considering his mental aptitude. Then he seemed to have remembered I was there, "And girl," he added hastily.
"Nice save," came my sardonic comment.
I was walking behind them, and Tyson fell back to match my painfully slow pace. He leant over to my ear and said, "We don't normally do this, but it's kind of our fault that the paparazzi are here... it's unorthodox, since we're not even real recording artists yet,"
Ah. So that was it. Tyson and I caught up with them as they were getting settled into the chairs. I took a chair next to Jay, since Leo was sitting in the middle. Gabriel, and the business-suited guy from earlier, led the reporters towards us, and I could lip-read him.
They were saying that they weren't to take any unauthorized pictures and also to not fake any statements, because if not, the Lightning Devils would personally sue the felon. Ooh. Never knew Gabriel could be such a bad-ass manager-in-training.
"That's a manager that my father hired to give Gabe some hands-on training," Jay whispered to me, seeing the way I was watching Gabriel and the other guy.
"Oh," I looked up at the approaching onslaught of camera-laden people, "Look. They're here,"
"So, this is your first official performance for the public?" a reporter asked.
Leo nodded. "Well, you can say that. We have performed many times in public before, but this is the first time someone's asked us to perform. So, yes, we consider this to be our first official performance."
"Why haven't you signed with a record label yet? I believe you have been approached with many offers?" another random reporter asked.
Jay's turn. "We're still young. We still have to go to school, so we're not thinking of this for the time being. Maybe soon into the future, you may be seeing us collaborating with the world's top bands!" he said, grinning that signature devil-may-care grin of his.
"I'd love to collaborate with Lady Gaga," Jordan joked, and he high-fived Tyson as he said this. Really, Jordan? As eccentric as the woman may be, she could take your comment personally in the wrong way and sue you or something!
So much for wording our words carefully.
"Speaking of collaborating," reporter number three piped up, "This girl you have with you. She is the new vocalist, isn't she?"
"Well obviously," Jay said in a bewildered amusement, "What did you think she was doing up there? Making a speech?"
The other reporters laughed, and reporter number three looked slightly embarrassed. "Hey man, no offense, yeah?" Jay asked, playfully punching the said reporter's shoulder good-naturedly.
Hmph. Jay obviously knows how to word his sentences 'carefully'. "So, any chance of revealing her identity to us?" reporter number four asked, holding up his camera hopefully.
"Sorry, no," I answered, putting my input for the first time, "I'm not comfortable with seeing myself all over the news. I'd like to be less conspicuous."
I think the reporter was deaf, because he acted as if I hadn't spoken and turned to face Lance, who was quiet as he always is. What an ass. "Lancelot Montague. The keyboardist, I'm assuming?"
Uh, duh? It's not like the person working magic at the keyboard was somebody who happened to look like Lance.
Lance, obviously not familiar with sarcasm as I am, nodded. "Yes. Yes I am."
"So, I've heard from some sources," the reporter continued, "Is it true that you're a former child from this orphanage? A former orphan?"
Wait. What?
Lance was an orphan from this very orphanage?
How come I never knew that!?
I looked at the other guys; except for Gabrel, they all had tense expressions on their faces. Why didn't they ever tell me Lance was adopted? It's not that bad. But judging by the looks on their faces, my thoughts were otherwise. Something's up.
Lance, expression still stoically neutral nodded. "Yes, yes I was an orphan. I was placed here when I was younger, before I got adopted,"
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