Chapter 1

THIS IS NOT MY FANFIC. REPETE, THIS IS NOT MINE. THIS IS A VERY OLD FANFIC FROM BY USER Nopinion! I AM MERELY REPOSTING THIS FIC BECAUSE I LIKE IT A LOT AND I FEAR THAT IT IS GOING TO BE DELETED. THANK YOU FOR UNDERSTANDING I JUST LOVE THIS FIC SO DAMN MUCH :3

By Nopinion

Original A/N: not too much weezer in this first part, but you'll see 'em soon. I don't know if any of these people exist on the Weezer tour, I don't own anyone associated with the super group in question. R/R if you choose, just know that I return the favor.

The phone was her enemy, but soon, in two days, it wouldn't work anyways. So far it had informed her that her mom and dad were splitting, her brother was in an accident, her sister had her baby, her cousin was getting married, and that she had over drawn on her account, making visiting one, let alone all of her family, impossible. She'd been taking a break from school, working two jobs to make the bills. First her waiting job ended due to bankruptcy, she didn't get her last three pay checks. Then her main bread winner, a lowly secretary position in a law firm, ended due to a cheep bastard dying. She'd already applied to twenty different places, all of a different sort of business. Everyone said they'd file her and call when they needed a position filled. There wasn't anything in a realistic walking range beyond those twenty. Everything happened in one week, emotional overload. Today she wasn't going to answer the phone.

She'd been in school, thirty hours a week, working another forty, and averaging 3.5. She'd been majoring in electronic technology, and had a minor in musical education. She planned on becoming a teacher. Directing a band and choir through God awful songs and concerts and competitions. Maybe open a store in a small community and supplying lessons and guitar strings to aspiring musicians. Or maybe she'd wait tables for the rest of her life. For now, she was asleep in her tiny "apartment". It had one large room that made up life necessities, a kitchen and a bedroom, which doubled as a living room when the futon was a couch. There was a small bathroom that rarely got hot water. Roaches were everywhere. It wasn't like her Colorado home that her parents had raised her in.

The phone rang again, this time an hour latter. It rang and rang. She would not give in. She rolled back over and covered her head with the sheets. Yet another hour passed, sleep barely taking hold towards the end, and the phone yet again rang. This time it wasn't giving up. She began counting the rings, slightly after the tenth and made it all the way up to thirty. She relented.

"This better be a job." she barked into the receiver.

"Well, it's an interview." Mike offered.

"What the Hell?"

"Professor Lidel gave a list of people to some people and we have a job interview. They've been trying to call you all morning."

"What kind of job?"

"That's why there's an interview."

"When?" she started to get up. She stretched out her arms.

"Um, Wednesday."

"Wait...if they've been trying to call me, how did you know?"

"They were asking people, when they called the rest of the list, if they knew you. I guess you got a pretty good recommendation from Lidel."

"Oh." she shrugged, "Can you give me a ride?"

"Car in the shop again?"

"Nope, had to sell it."

"Why?"

"I didn't want to sleep in it."

He was quiet, "Oh." he sighed, "You could have asked me."

"No, I'm too much in debt as it is."

"Okay." He mumbled, "But you know that I'm always here."

"Yeah, I'll see you Wednesday, and come early."

"Why?"

"Cause I don't have a phone starting at six that morning." she sighed.

"Okay, I'll relay what I can until then. Bye."

"Bye."

She walked over to the refrigerator, and opened the door. Eggs and a sickly tomato donned the bare shelves. She sighed and split the shell of one of the four eggs and cut a quarter of the tomato. There wasn't any salt, pepper, or anything else to aid the desperate meal. "What I wouldn't give for some toast." She sighed and cooked her meager breakfast.

She managed to make the food last by eating only twice a day. She had nothing by Wednesday morning. "It's alright, I'm too nervous to eat." she lied to her self. She wasn't nervous; she was more indifferent than she could imagine. Either she got the job and all would be good in the world again, or she didn't get the job and she'd have to wait for the call from one of her applications. Or there was still Mike. He did say he could help her out.

She prepared her self for the interview. For once the cold shower was welcoming to her tired, hungry body. She felt more alive when she came out. Mike was in her room waiting for her. "Turn around." She instructed, getting dressed behind him.

"You weren't kidding about the phone."

"Nope."

"I called at 7:50, and got through, although no answer." He glanced at her, "And again at 8 and you were disconnected."

"I wasn't up till 8:30, must have slept right through your call." She shrugged.

He walked to the fridge, "Should I make break..." the fridge was empty, "Do you need breakfast?" He closed the door and eyed her slim figure.

"Too nervous anyways." She diverted her gaze.

"Why can't you just ask?" He half yelled, "I don't even need payment, it's what friends do."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"I just can't. It'd be like failing." she pulled her wet hair up into a bun, he was shaking his head at her, "Shut up. Now do I look alright?"

He looked at her, her clothes hanging off of her. A nice pair of slacks, a button-down shirt, and a slimming mid thigh jacket, "That's a man's shirt."

"I know, how does it look?" She sighed exasperatingly.

"Amazing, you're always amazing." Something in his eyes made her glance swiftly away and try to divert his attention away from her.

"Let's go." she mumbled walking past him.

It was obvious that the office was rented only for the interviews. The secretary desk was bare of personal items, a name tag, and instead of a regular humming computer there was a laptop. The waiting area was comprised of six folding chairs and a coat rack that was permanently hung on the wall. The secretary was calmly reading a book when they approached.

The secretary held up a finger, folded the page and laid her paperback down, on the desk, "Good morning." she smiled at them, "Names please?"

"Mike Wilson, and Joanne Puchelli." Mike said for them both.

"Please spell Puchelli." Joanne complied, "Oh, here you are. Please have a seat. Mr. Wilson, you may go in when the current person leaves, and then you Ms. Pichelli after him.

They took their positions on the wobbly metal chairs and calmly waited. Joanne pulled her well used Rubik's cube and began twisting it into different patters, getting one side and part of another. Mike watched her and pointed out ways she could like some up. Together they twisted the blocks into green with some blue and red and then back into a frustrating mess.

The door opened, and a slightly less formal looking college boy stepped out, shaking his head and sighing as he passed by. Mike looked at Joanne, she smiled in a reassuring fashion. He took a big breath and entered the room, shutting the door behind him. His papers in hand.

Joanne was joined by another man, checking in at the desk and sitting a chair away from her. She continued with her cube, not taking much notice of the man beside her.

"Confusing buggers, aren't they?" and accented voice commented.

"Mmmhimmm." She kept her eyes on the plastic.

"Do you always bring that with you to interviews?"

"I take it everywhere. It's a good time killer."

"So... do you know what this is about?" he scooted into the seat next to her. He smelled slightly of gel and after shave.

"No...what?"

"I don't know either, just wondering if someone had any idea what we're doing here."

"I think it has something to do with electronics."

"Really? What makes you think that?"

"I was recommended by my professor of electronics."

"Hmmm...I was recommended by my uncle, he's a music teacher."

"So, music and electronics. Maybe we'll be roadies." She laughed.

"That would be awesome."

"It won't happen." she assured. "Not in my luck."

"Sorry to hear that. And I really had my hopes up." he slouched back into his seat.

Mike came out, a big grin on his face, "You're next, Ms. Puchelli." He held the door for her.

The inner office was just as bare as the waiting area. Nothing on the walls, nothing but papers on the desk. The man behind it watched her glance around the florescent lit room. "You're not a serial killer, are you?" she asked, standing behind the chair in front of him.

"Why would you ask that?" The man looked offended behind the desk.

"I heard that serial killers don't decorate their rooms." She smiled at him and watched him laugh.

"No..no... just a temporary measure." He chuckled, "Please, sit Ms. Puchelli."

She took her spot. "It's very nice to be here."

"Liar." He chuckled again, "You're just as annoyed with all the secretive stuff as I am." He was dressed, not as she expected, in a polo shirt and jeans, she could see his legs sticking out on her side of the desk, "You come highly recommended."

"Yeah, I guess so. I'm sorry about not answering the phone, it's been a very bad week." She apologized.

"How so?" He asked, writing down something on a sheet of paper.

"Just several stressing factors piled up, " She smiled.

"Well.. Lidel tells us that you are his top student, but you don't have the grades to show it. Why is that?"

"I'm working my way through school, I work too much for some homework assignments, but I do well on tests."

"Yeah, high scores." He looked at the papers, "Lidel says you're very quick on your feet."

"Pardon?"

"That you respond in a manner that insures a fix will promptly be made."

"I wouldn't be a good judge at that, I've watched very few other do their work." she cringed.

"You are also taking classes in music?"

"Yes. Production, performance, teaching techniques."

"Teaching, do you want to teach?"

"Yes, eventually."

"Where are you currently working?"

"I'm unemployed, at the moment." She watched him intently for a reaction.

"Why did you leave?"

"One place went bankrupt, the other my boss died."

"Two jobs?"

"Yeah, a lot of luck." She smiled at him.

"Well, we'll give you a try. How's Monday for a run through?"

"For what?"

"For Weezer's surprise show at the Philmore."

"Weezer?" She smiled, excited, "Roadie for Weezer?"

"If you work out on Monday."

"Thank you so much, Mr.?" She stood up to shake his hand.

"Ross."

"Mr. Ross."

"We'll be in touch."

"Oh, wait, I don't have a phone anymore, can you relay messages through Michael Wilson?"

"Um...sure." he scribbled down this note and put her file back down on the desk."