A/N: First published on the Official Unofficial System of a Down Website.

Caiomhe

I sat, back to the front door of my little house, transcribing guitar tablature to standard sheet music. The lead guitarist of Gruesome Uproar, Sam, was sitting on my Jennifer convertible. He watched me with interest as I scribbled on three sets of paper.

"I am sssooo happy you went to college to learn this stuff."

I scoffed and gave him a glare. At the age of thirty, I had done for myself. Manager of a top ten band since my first college graduation, I had a job, friends, and a nice fat paycheck. Most of it seemed to go to bills and such, but there was always some left over for the studio that was being constructed in the basement. It was almost finished, and quite comfy.

Suddenly the door, behind me shook. I swore; the nice fountain pen had leaped out of my hand. It spilled ink out.

"James, yeh piece of gick. Use the other door," I said, trying to prevent the spill from going much farther. I managed to save the sheet music, can't say much for my notes. The TAB was saved on the computer, so I could print out another copy.

"Come on, Caoimhe. Please?"

"No."

"Pwease?"

"Stop being a chiseller and use the other fecking door."

I heard a sigh and muttering. Yeah. There was defiantly more than just James, Johnny, and Keagan. Again, probably a shiny new toy. It started to annoy me. New girl every week. And they fell for it.

The back door opened and I could hear James swearing. There were male voices in my kitchen. I looked at Sam, who shrugged in response and handed me his copy of the TAB. I resumed my work.

"Johnny, I'm going to need you TAB, as soon as humanly possible please. Keagan, I'll need your music. I would like to have just one piece of music this time, instead of twenty different versions. I am not speaking to James at the moment."

I didn't look up, but suddenly there were two new pieces of music sitting in front of me. I guess my tone clued them in that I was slightly more than pissed.

"Daron, John, this is our manager, Caoimhe Mahoney. Extremely Irish, extremely pissy, but extremely talented in her areas of expertise; she's worth her paycheck. Caoimhe, I would like you to meet Daron Malakian and John Dolmayan of Scars on Broadway. We're talking of collaborating for a song or two."

I nearly dropped my fountain pen again and swore. I looked up at smiled. I had several papers drying around me, I couldn't move. I held up an ink stained hand and smiled.

"Sorry about early. Pleasure to meet you," I said, throwing my Irish accent out the window. It came out when I least wanted it to, aka; tired, angry, careless, drunk…

I went back to the sheet music and continued to copy it down. I finished the guitar part and managed to get halfway through the bass copy before James started whining about his hunger pains. I stood and placed sheet music down to dry and washed my hands. Everyone followed me into the small kitchen. I turned to glare at them.

"Tiny kitchen was not made for six hungry men."

Johnny, Sam, John, and Keagan left, leaving James, Daron and I. Daron had sat down at my table and was looking at the drying sheet music. James was rifling through my cabinets. I smacked his arm.

"I'll fix something. Why don't you go ask everybody what they want?" I suggested. He left, muttering about something. I sighed and shook my head with a small smile. Sometimes I couldn't believe him. Acted like a child despite his grand stature.

"I swear I am his mother."

"Wow," Daron said. I looked up from washing my pen of excess ink and at him. I hadn't heard him speak much; then again I wasn't paying attention. I dried off my hands.

"Wow what?"

"This music…"

"The actual music? Hmph. This is one of their singles. They want to do something for charity, so their compiling some of their songs into book with all fancy paper."

"Hmm… Interesting. It's beautiful penmanship."

I smiled and walked over to where he was standing. I only had two parts done; it was beginning to bug me. I had another two weeks to finish it, but Gruesome Uproar had two shows to attend. I was left with organizing that. And, I was supposed to fly to Boston a day after Christmas, then to Ireland the day after that.

Joy to the world.

"Thank you. It took me forever to perfect it, and even so, this is my third copy. Multitalented manager at your service."

"CAIOMHE!! FIVE CHEESEBURGERS!!" James roared from the den. I bristled; I had to set my pen down carefully before I snapped it in two. I calmed myself down to continue talking with Daron.

"Want a cheeseburger?"

"Nah… Been trying to eat healthier."

"I have veggie burgers. Just like regular burgers with chunks, lot healthier too."

"Really? Sure."

I started cooking the burgers and fries, still chatting with Daron. He was quite interesting. We talked about music, which soon evolved into family. I knew enough about Daron, he was bloody famous. The manager was famous only amongst the organizers of the music biz.

"Me dad's from Cork. I was born there, in Ireland. Moved to Boston when I was seven, so I still have the accent occasionally. What about you?"

"First generation American. My parents are Armenian. I lived here my entire life. Made System, then Scars."

"So you're a Hollywood boy, eh? I remember in high school in history our history teachers just glazed over so many things. Oliver Cromwell was the first thing I remember, Da' was so angry. There a few more, but there were a couple of Armenian kids in my class. The teacher said, 'There was Armenian genocide in Turkey. Well… It didn't fare well for the teacher."

I nodded, setting his burger down in front of him and called for the boys. I leaned up against the counter while the bulls stormed in and then left. I picked up my plate and took the other seat next to Daron to continue talking.

"What's sad is teachers over in Massachusetts have to teach what's given to them for the standardized testing. It's state wide and unfair, because kids with mental disabilities have to take the same ones as kids with out."

Daron pondered this. It was quiet for several, awkward minutes. I heard laughing from the other room. God knows what those eejits were doing.

"So things can be completely skipped over? And kids are penalized for have a mental disability?" he asked. I nodded. He shook his head. I frowned and leaned back, my appetite leaving me; my heart was racing. I reached for a pack of gum I had left and took out a piece.

"What's that?" Daron asked, looking at the Big Book of Band Jokes. I laughed and handed it to him.

"Present from the guys," I explained. Eight years out of a marching band and I was still missed it. I was a teeny bit obsessed. I opened it and started reading some jokes.

"What do a vacuum and an electric guitar have in common?"

"What?"

"They both suck when you plug 'em in."

"Aw, that's terrible."

"There all that way."

He laughed, and I cracked a smile, and he placed a hand on mine. Our conversation grew more intimate. I felt my stomach flip. I came to a sudden realization; I was flirting Daron Malakian.

Another day, that would've been fine, but not with my boyfriend. He was jealous enough because I worked with an all male band. I felt the blood run from my face.

"Caoimhe, are you alright?"

I shook my head. The door behind me opened and I must've jumped a foot the air. It was Brian. I pulled my hand back as if scalded and looked down at my meal. Brian ignored me and went into the refrigerator. I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding as he left.

"Who was that?" Daron asked, suspicious.

"My boyfriend," I whispered, poking at my fries.

Dictionary:

Caiomhe- pronounced KEE-va, stems from Irish Gaelic caomh meaning beautiful.

gick- Irish slang for crap and related

chiseler- Irish slang for baby, child

eejit- idiot