Maximum Ride is property of James Patterson. Kisha, Chris, Ahsik, Dr. Washington, Lash, Aaron, and Malissa are property of ME! Kumali is property of Jwan! Backlash is property of Dad!
Okie dokie! A new day dawns as does a new fic! If you read the summary, you know what it's about. As seen above, I have lots of OC's. For anyone familiar with my other MR fics, "A Blessing In Disguise" and "I'm So Hungry I Could Eat A Backlash," it's a lot like A Blessing In Diguise. The chapters with circulate between Fang and Max and Kisha and Deveann. Usually my commentaries aren't as long and aren't as formal. The Fang and Max chapters will always be in Max's POV unless otherwise stated, just like the Kisha and Deveann chapters will always be in Deveann's POV unless otherswise stated. Now that I'm done with the formal introduction, on to the fic!
I yawned, stretching and getting out of bed. I could hear his beautiful voice belting out from across the hall. He was always so loud in the morning. I smiled a little to myself. Today we were going to record his latest song, "Bring Me Down." I buttoned up my blouse and slipped on the formal burgundy jacket that went with it. I pulled on my stockings and stepped into my knee length, also burgundy skirt. I strapped on my black high heels and ran into the bathroom to deal with my hair and make up. My lipstick was a light brown to match my hair and eyes. I brushed out my hair and fluffed it out, turning right and left, deciding I'd need to have it layered soon. I picked up my purse, pulling my organizer out of it and looking at today's schedule. We only had five minutes to get out of there and, assuming there's little traffic and we get to the studio on time, ten minutes to eat breakfast. For me, a cereal bar and a cup of coffee. Fang had always been a pickier eater, though. I flew out my bedroom door, locking it and rushing to Fang's door, rapping anxiously on it.
"Hold your horses! I"m still getting dressed!" I flushed slightly at the prospect. Manager or not, I could not have chosen a better looking client. I know about 3,394.5 (one was in a car wreck and lost an arm and a leg) fans that would agree.
I sighed, "Hurry up in there! We have to get-"
"To the studio, yeah yeah."
"And we have-"
"To rehearse."
"Matt-"
"Will be waiting."
"What about Emily, you-"
"Promised I'd be there," He opened the door, flashing me a pearly white grin as he slid past me over to the kitchen, "And I will be. I always am."
"Don't get too full of yourself, Fang."
"Chill out, Max," He instructed, grabbing a bowl and taking some strawberries and cream and pouring them in, "Hey, where's the-" I handed him the sugar bowl, "Thanks," He said as he poured a third of it into the bowl.
I rolled my eyes, taking a bite of my Cheerios's (c) cereal bar and washing it down with a sip of black coffee. We finished with two minutes to spare. We ran down the stairs fueled on caffeine, high fructose corn syrup, and my nag power. We climbed into the front seats of our car and sped off. Fang wasn't the safest driver, or the most sane driver, but he got us there on time, no matter how many cops may have been on our trail by the time we arrived. We composed our features before stepping inside. We came to the studio, just in time. "You never fail to amaze," I whispered to him, entering, "That's why you're my client."
"No," He corrected me, "that's why you're my manager."
"I think we both know the real reason we work together."
"Because you have trouble tolerating most other people?" He joked.
"Besides that."
"Yes, of course." I had him do a few warm ups for me before we started to record. Matt looked like he was having fun on the drums and Emily was flipping out about getting to play bass to Fang's guitar. But I was enthralled by being the manager to his voice. It hypnotized girls of all ages through out the globe. Of course, I didn't just manage his voice. It was his body, too. I owned him. Of course, I'd always had a certain degree of authority over him, but never this much. For the last year we'd been getting deals out the wazoo. He was climbing the charts like nobody's business and I got to see to it what took him higher or made him sink.
But this was my favourite part, watching him do his thing. I listened contentedly to the lyrics he brought to life.
Tell me something I don't know
Tell me something I don't know how to deal with
Give me something I can't handle
Bring me down
I need to fall
I don't know what it's like
To fail
I want some imperfection
I want a weakness
Bring me down
Overwhelm me
Bring me down
Tell me something I don't know
Tell me something I don't know how to deal with
Give me something I can't handle
Bring me down
I'm tired of running in the right directions
I don't want to be the fastest
Every once in a while
I need to trip
Every once in a while can you remind me
What it feels like to fall
Tell me something I don't know
Tell me something I don't know how to deal with
Give me something I can't handle
Bring me down
Tell me something I don't know
Tell me something I don't know how to deal with
Give me something I can't handle
Bring me down
Forget worry
Who cares about me
I'll always land on my feet
So trip me
Bring me down
Tell me something I don't know
Tell me something I don't know how to deal with
Give me something I can't handle
Bring me down
The song came to a close and I was left in a mental stupor. In complete awe of his magnificence. He smiled at me, flipping his shaggy emo hair off to the side, in front of his right eye. I shook my head to clear it and clapped for him. Such was the life of the common manager. He packed up his guitar and came out to meet me. "Hey, Nick!" Fang turned, "Wanna pick something up from McDonald's?" Matt called.
Fang shook his head. "I gotta go."
I nodded along, "Yeah, sorry, Matt! He's got a photoshoot for some cologne next, we might be able to catch up with you for dinner, though."
"That sounds great!"
"Ah, actually, also negative. We already had some dinner plans, remember?" Fang winked at me. No, I didn't remember, but I guessed if he didn't want to eat with Matt, then he didn't have to.
"Oh yeah, is tomorrow okay?" Matt nodded.
"I'm free twenty-four/seven. Never hesitate to call." We waved and left for the photoshoot.
They were always like my own personal heck-in-a-bottle. Fang, shirtless, with water all over him. Oh my gosh... It makes me hyperventalate. I think he notices, and getting the wind knocked out of you by your client's good looks is not respectable managment behavior. In the middle of the shoot he came up asking for a drink of water. "So, why so reluctant to go to dinner with Matt?" Fang shot me a grin.
"I have some reservations somewhere else."
"Huh? You do, when did you do this?"
He shrugged, "A few months ago."
I nearly choked on my gum, "A few MONTHS?!"
He nodded, "Yeah, every other place I'd thought of was booked full for the next half year, they only had one more spot for this evening. It's amazing I got in. Even after I told them who I was, most of them didn't even bother to recheck the schedule."
"Where are we going?!" I cried.
He chuckled, "You'll see."
I opened my mouth to argue but he got up to continue the photoshoot. I grumbled, confused as to what he was getting at. Soon, the shoot ended and he put his shirt back on and combed his hair back into a neat, multi-coloured clump in front of one eye. "Should I change?" I asked.
He looked me over, "Yeah probably." He stopped me, took off my jacket and undid the first button of my blouse. He ruffled my hair and helped me into the car, "Now you're fine."
I internally moaned, this was going to be fun for the WHOLE family. We drove for about a half hour before stopping. I looked up to see the fanciest place in the tri state area. "Did we... run out of gas?"
Fang laughed, "No, Max. This is where we're eating tonight."
I took a moment to take it all in. "This was the LEAST fancy place that you called?' I stuttered.
Fang shook his head disdainfully, "Yeah, sorry."
"It's... wow..." He chuckled, getting out and coming around to open my door. He led me inside where the waiter took us to a private booth towards the back. The waiter lit a single candle in the middle of the table.
"Would you like your wine now or with your food, Monsieur?" Wine?!
Fang waved his hand dismissively, "With the food, please. She's in shock."
"Of course, sir." And he walked off.
I leaned into him, "What the heck? THIS place?! I can't even pronounce
the name of this restaurant!"
"It's Amour de Fleur." He told me, "Flower of love."
I hesitated at the name, "Oh," I said finally.
Soon, the waiter came out with menus. Everything on the menu was thirty busks or more. I gaped at it. Fang stifled a laugh, "It's all been saved up for, don't worry. Pig yourself out." I rolled my eyes, he was sooo formal. I ordered some crab legs and crab cakes that were forty-five dollars. Fang got the flounder.
When the waiter came out with our food and wine, I decided to ask.
"So... what's the occasion?"
"You haven't figured it out? You mean you don't remember?!" He cried, a little too loud for a formal dinner.
"Shh! Does it look like I remember?" I hissed.
He shook his head. raising his glass. I followed suit.
"Happy eighteenth birthday, Maximum Ride." He clanged his glass against mine..
"Eigh-Eighteen?" I stuttered, watching him take a sip of wine. That made Fang SEVENTEEN. Fang, you're a minor! and neither of us are of legal drinking age!" I whispered harshly.
"Max, it's your BIRTHDAY. Loosen up! A glass won't get us drunk, much
less kill us!" I didn't ever drink any, Fang only took the one sip, seeing my unease. We talked about the family back at home and reminisced. When we left, Fang left a generous tip and lead me out to the car. "Now for phase two," Fang said snidely.
"Fang, how much money did you spend on me tonight alone?! Your college fund?!"
"About," Fang chuckled, "But college could never give me half the pleasure I get from spoiling you. Besides, you need a break," He
dropped a kiss on my cheek, helping me into the passenger seat. Around twenty minutes later we pulled up in front of an old dance studio.
"Fang, what are-" He put a finger on my lips. Silently, we strolled through the abandoned lobbies. Finally, we came to a room bordered by mirrors and dimly lit by candles. Just then beautiful music started playing, drawing my attention to the string quartet at the far right end of the room. "Oh, Fang, I-" He dragged me out to the center of the room and began to waltz with me. He sang along to a song I vaguely remembered writing at the age of ten for Fang on HIS birthday. It was upbeat and the melody was sickeningly sweet, as was to be expected of a ten year old. Then the tempo slowed drastically, leaving Fang and I to sway back and forth in the middle of the room.
"Sweet ain't for me, hon
That's why I got you
Cuz no one can hurt me the way you do
Your cherry lips dance over my chocolate ones,"
He sang. I'd never heard this song before. All I could venture was
he'd written it. But to compose it as well, all for me? Well, I felt more than a little flattered. I leaned against his shoulder, trying to catch my breath, "Fang, this is... amazing!"
He rose his eyebrows, "Is it? Will then you'll LOVE phase three."
'"Ph-phase THREE?!" I murmured.
Fang sniggered, "Why so surprised? You didn't think this was it, did you?"
"What more could you possible do?!"
His eyes suddenly turned serious, "Max, you have no idea how neglectful I've been this past year. Today," He smirked, "tonight, sorry, try not to be a manager. I'm just Fang, you're just Max. Okay?"
I bit my lip, "In that case, yes, you're being far too neglectful. Where are the diamonds?!"
"They're coming," He said calmly.
My eyes widened, "I was just kidding!" He laughed, spinning me and then pulling me back to him. He place my hand on his shoulder and inclined his head. His sweet breath fanned my lips.
"Thanks, boys," he whispered and the band stopped playing.
"Huh?" I breathed.
"C'mon," He pulled me back out to the car. It was only a ten minute drive. We soon pulled up to a large hotel. Fang helped me out of the car. "Hurry, the pool closes in an hour an half," he said with a suggestive wink.
He pulled a key card that said "7" out of his back pocket. "But Anne-"
"Don't worry about it, I told her we wouldn't be coming home tonight," He paused, "Or any other night this week..." He added.
"A week!" He showed me to our room. He walked over to the mini fridge and tossed me a coke.
"Your bathing suits are in the bathroom," he pointed to the door to the left of the entrance.
"Swimsuits?!" I questioned.
"Mmhmm," He mumbled, "Your pick."
I shook my head taking a sip of the coke and walking into the bathroom. On the counter was my plain navy one piece, beside it was a moss green one piece, but it had so many cuts in it that it looked more like a bundle of bandages. I chose the navy blue one and stepped out of the bathroom, sipping my coke. "Aw, you're wearing that one?" I squealed with fright and jumped, spilling my coke all over me. "Ha ha! Now you're not!" I rolled my eyes and walked back to the bathroom, changing into the other. I tell you, a BIKINI would have covered more. Ugh... I felt so exposed.
"Alright, come on," He grabbed my arm, trying to pull me out the door.
"Uh, NO! I'm not leaving without a towel!"
"Max," he sighed, exasperated, "they have towels at the pool."
"I'm not leaving without a towel!"
"We don't have any towels!"
"Then you're going out and buying me one! I'm not leaving without a towel!"
There was silence, "Fine," He said, "There are some in the closet."
I glared at him, "You're a bad person," I scolded.
He raised his hands innocently, "No cameras, I promise I"m clean." A camera taped to the door fell beside his feet. I scowled at him. "I have no idea where that came from, I swear."
"Oh yeah, who did that, Mr? Jesse McCartney?" I put my hands on my hips.
Muffled snickering could be heard from down the hall. "OMG! It's Jesse McCartney!" Some girls screamed.
"Oh, crap!" Someone hissed followed by brief pitter patter.
"That never happened," Fang noted.
"Deal," I agreed. I followed him down to the pool area but he pulled me away from the pool and into the hot tub. "Aren't hot tubs generally
for more romantic settings?"
"Yeah, so? We're close enough. Don't you feel a connection between us?"
"It's just hormones, Fang."
"No, I think it's more."
"Pretty sure it's just hormones."
"Coulda sworn it was more."
"Well, then you swore wrong. Just like you could have sworn all your fans were girls."
"We aren't talking about the Detroit incident! Besides, that guy was running completely off of hormones."
"No, I think it was more."
"Pretty sure it was just hormones."
"Coulda sworn it was more."
"Well, you swore wrong," Fang mimicked.
There was a long pause, "Wanted you to sign his underwear," I said quickly.
"Shut up!"
"Boxers or briefs?"
"You were there, you tell me."
"Yes, you WOULD remember that. You do so love it when I wear normal clothing."
"It's a nice break from pantyhose."
"Stockings," I corrected.
"They're pantyhose, Max."
"Well, I'd prefer it if you called them stockings."
"Why? They ARE pantyhose. They are hosiery."
"It has the word panies in it. As in girls underwear."
"Really? I would have thought you would call those thongs."
"They were a gift! I didn't even put them on!"
"Ah, but you still own them."
"How would you-"
"I had to get your bathing suit from somewhere."
"Stay out of my dresser!"
"I thought you burned that poster of Jesse MacCartney? So, who's hotter, me or Jesse?"
"I thought we weren't talking about the Detroit incident."
"Oh, yes, that's right. So, answer your own question. Jesse McCartney: Boxers or briefs?"
"Breifs..." I mumbled.
"Oh yeah, you never answered me. Who's hotter, me or Jesse?"
"Fang, I-"
"Oh yeah! You said me! I rock!"
"Idiot. So... a whole week, huh?"
"Yeah. Tommorrow we have breakfast in bed-"
"Bed? Beh-DUH? D? No, S? Like, only one? What happened to my bed?"
"I lit it on fire and threw it off a cliff."
"Whatever. I'm beat, let's go to bedsssss."
"You just can't handle my hotness."
"Shut up." As we walked, I tried to remember the last time we'd had fun, just the two of us. Then it came to me. Never. We arrived at the room. "Fang..." I stammered, scanning the room, "Where is my bed?"
"I was just kidding!" He cried. A pair of briefs on the floor caught my attention. "Fang" was written elegantly in red marker.
"You signed them?"
"That's not me, I don't write in cursive." Again, snickering rang from the hallway.
"If you see a scandly clad Jesse McCartney, please alert security," The intercom informed.
"OMG! It's Jesse McCartney!" A girl squealed.
"Crap!" The voice hissed once more.
Fang opened his mouth to comment," No," I interupted," Just go to bed. I'm taking the floor tonight."
It's a rather long chapter, I'll admit. And yes, a lot of Jesse McCartney bashing. I, personally, have nothing against him (or any animated characters he plays), he was just the first person I thought of. In case you didn't figure it out, Jesse was the guy that wanted his underwear signed by Fang and he's the one that keeps making all the weird things happen such as beds disappearing and so on. Thus ends the first chapter, thanks for reading! Please Review! Kisses! (Kisses is my closing, just ignore it if at all possible.)