A/N: omg im so sorry I didn't update! I giv u permission to hate me in the most fiery of passions! I promise I will update frequently. I really like how I've written it so far [:
starring...
demi lovato- mitchie torres
joe jonas- shane gray
nick jonas- nate black
kevin jonas- jason green
Red, White, Blue, and Stars, Too
Chapter One- America's Bad Boy and Good Girl
Los Angeles, California
"AGHHH! Everything is so freaking wrong!!! Damnit!!" Shane yelled frustrated in his dressing room.
Nate heard the temper tantrum from a mile away and zoomed over and barged into Shane's dressing room.
"What's the matter this time?" Nate sighed.
"Hello?! Do you see my hair?!" Shane shouted sarcastically. Nate's eyebrows furrowed. He saw nothing wrong with Shane' hair.
"Dude, your hair is fine," Nate said calmly.
"No, it's not! UGH!! Freaking gay photos shoots, I hate them!" Shane snapped.
"Ha, yeah right. You love them, you get to be the center of attention…oh wait, you act like that all the time!" Nate scowled.
"Nate, stop being such a pussy, just leave!" Shane demanded making a 'shoo' movement with his hand.
"Fine, why don't you get an attitude adjustment when I'm gone? Or even better, why don't you get a new insult book, because pussy is getting old," Nate said and then the slam of a door was heard.
"I hate my life," Shane muttered angrily. Did he really care about his hair, deep down? No, but he was under some illusion. That everything must be perfect, being nice will get you no where, and staying true to yourself was a waste.
Shane Gray 'The Hot Bad Boy' was depressed, angry, and he's just been plain gloomy since the day after day one.
Connect Three's record label wasn't giving into their songs, and when they did, they made them really upbeat, and changed some lyrics. Shane hated it. They all hated it, but Shane hated it the most. They didn't even get to name the band. The label did.
After three years of being Connect Three, he was a tired, overworked, eighteen year old, who wanted out, or wanted to be the real him in the music business, not a cookie cutter popstar.
Shane stopped believing that he could make the label go his way, so if he couldn't get his way in music, he would be the big troublemaker.
He would give a hard time with everything else, just for payback, and self-satisfaction.
Was he satisfied, though? Nope.
Was he now conceited? Yup.
------
Washington D.C., Virginia
"Oh say can you see that my life truly sucks?" Mitchie sang in her huge, almost all white room, while strumming her guitar.
"You have a great voice," Greg, one of her dad's most trusted secret service men said from outside her door. He was basically guarding it. He was the closest thing to a best friend that Mitchie's ever had. He was only twenty five, so he understood some teenage angst things Mitchie was going through, but he would never understand the amount of pressure and loneliness only the president's daughter gets.
"Thank you," Mitchie laughed, but the smile it brought her didn't reach up all the way to her chocolate brown eyes because when it all comes down to it, having a great voice doesn't really matter when your parents are hardly ever around to hear it.
When they weren't at banquets, or giving speeches at events, he was locked inside the oval office, and she was off trying to promote something for a good cause. America loved them, and they love America, but sometimes Mitchie felt like all of America gets more love than her.
Mitchie also has a reputation to keep up. She's America's Sweetheart, America's Angel, even America's Princess. She was a sixteen year old role model, with millions of little girls looking up to her. It wasn't that hard, though. She was a down to earth, genuine, good girl. She loved making some difference in someone's lives, and she even modeled in magazines sometimes, and gave the money they paid her to charities.
"Mitchie, one day you'll miss this place, and you'll miss me," Greg said seriously; he was much wiser beyond his years.
"Oh, come on, Greg. Daddy will get reelected in a landslide," Mitchie reassured Greg.
"Yeah, but in four more years, its over. This won't be your home, and you're going to miss it, I know you will. I know it doesn't seem like it, but this place is…magical," Greg said chuckling to himself.
"Magical?" Mitchie joined him in laughing.
"Yeah, this place has a certain charm, especially with you here, and I just want you to enjoy the rest of your time here, because if you don't, you'll regret it, Mitch," Greg warned. Mitchie smiled softly, she always one guy she can count on: Greg. He was like an older brother to her, and she was like the little sister who needed some guidance.
"I'll try, but I don't know. Greg, that was real sweet. Now, can you come in here, so we're not talking on other sides of the door?" Mitchie asked jokingly, already knowing the answer.
"Sorry, Mitchie, you know the rules. I must guard this door with every fiber of my being," Greg said dramatically.
"What's going to happen? The most horrific event that could even take place is the maid coming in here with my daily wake-up orange juice, and spilling it all over my lovely hot pink, fuzzy carpet," Mitchie laughed.
"Oh, that would be so frightening and terrible," Greg said, playing along. They got quiet for a while when Greg announced the arrival of her parents, President Torres and his First Lady, Connie Torres, but Mitchie liked to call them Dad and Mom.
Mitchie quickly ran down the stairs in her pajamas, it was only two in the afternoon, to her parents.
"Mitchie, darling!" Mitchie's mom greeted, and pulled her into a hug.
"Hey, mom, dad," Mitchie smiled brightly. Her dad saluted her, and Mitchie did it back. It was like their secret handshake, only it wasn't a handshake. Mitchie was just so excited that they were home, that she forgot being pissed at them.
"So how was-uh-what did you do this morning?" Mitchie asked, she had forgotten what they had to do this morning, they did have busy schedules, so it' hard keeping track.
"Interview with Good Morning America," her mom answered, "it was fun, but we have some good new for you."
"What is it?" I asked enthusiastically.
"You know the band that you love so much?" her mother asked, smiling, she couldn't stand playing games, and desperately wanted to break the news to her daughter.
"Paramore?" Mitchie asked in confusion.
"No, the other one," her mom said patiently.
"Cobra Starship?" Mitchie asked. Her mom shook her head.
"Metro-" Mitchie was interjected by her mother who lost her patience.
"Connect Three!" her mom announced happily.
"Oh my god! What about them?" Mitchie asked, hope glinting in her eyes at the possibilities, hoping she'd get to meet them, but everything else in her head was unrealistic fantasies, like Shane Gray whisking her away to a meadow to have a romantic picnic.
"Well, tomorrow, which is Saturday, you're dad is having a benefit to raise funds in finding a cure for many diseases-"Mitchie cut off her mother.
"And, and, and," Mitchie jumped up and down.
"At the last minute, we just got Connect Three to perform tomorrow, you know Nate Black, he has diabetes, and would love to help raise money," her mother informed her. The only thing Mitchie could do was what any other girl could've only done at that moment: shriek.
"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, mom!" Mitchie hugged her mom in a tight embrace.
"Oh, you're welcome, Michelle," the mother said sweetly.
"I must go tell Greg!" Mitchie told her mom, and ran back up stairs. Her mother laughed at the goofiness.
------
Back To Los Angeles, California
"Shane! Guess what!" Nate and Jason said simultaneously while hopping into Shane's hotel room.
"What?" Shane asked while groaning. He was playing his acoustic guitar. It was Shane time, and they were interrupting it.
"We're going to Virginia!" Jason announced, a little too loudly, for comfort, causing Nate and Shane to cover their ears.
"Why?" Shane asked curtly. He was starting to get immensely annoyed because he really wanted to be alone.
"We're performing at the President's benefit!" Nate said high fiving Jason.
"Yay, what an honor," Shane said while punching the air in fake enthusiasm.
"Yeah, it is. And we know the most beautiful girl will be there," Nate smiled devilishly.
"And who's that?" Shane asked raising his eyebrows, actually interested in what Nate was saying. He was one to love to have made out sessions with beautiful girls.
"Mitchie Torres," Jason sighed dreamily, and at the sound of hearing her name Nate did the same.
"The president's daughter," Shane said matter-of-factly. He remembered a picture he saw of her as a skinny twelve year old, but he has no idea what she looks like now.
"Yeah, I'd love to just run my fingers through her long, brown locks," Nate said still in a daze. This was not like Nate; he was usually way more reserved and quiet.
"And I heard she likes birds," Jason added.
"Eh, she's not all that," Shane said simply. Nate widened his eyes in disbelief, and Jason frowned, he didn't like it when someone said something about his future best friend. Any bird lover is a friend of Jason's.
"You must be kidding. Here, look at this," Nate said, grapping a picture torn out of a magazine out of his pocket, thrusting it in Shane's hands.
It was a curvy, teenage, Mitchie Torres in a teeny black bikini at the beach. Shane's eyes darkened with lust. He even admitted he was wrong to himself for once. Mitchie Torres was all that. To hide his desire for the Mitchie girl, he had to think of something.
"You carry a picture of the president's daughter…in your pocket?" Shane blurted out, trying to hold back a laugh. Nate just blushed.
"Whatever, Shane, but we're going, so get ready, because we have to hop on our private jet in a couple hours. This benefit is very personal…" Nate trailed off. Nate didn't like talking about diabetes, and that was a line even 'The Shane Gray' wouldn't cross.
"Sure," Shane answered. Nate and Jason eyed him suspiciously. Why the sudden change of mood? And have they actually just had semi-normal conversation with their very lost, disconnected best friend?
America's Bad Boy and America's Angel making out? Hmm… I kind of like that. Shane thought deviously.
and there you go!
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