Sorry, Anna… it was too… not for this point and time for the story. Maybe later.
And I'm sorry if this chapter seems kinda jumbled, but I was just having trouble getting it to flow right.
And to return to it now, months later I believe. I'm so sorry for being gone soooo long.
I've been caught up with school stuff and working on a Dragon Age fanfic. Even if you haven't played DA:O any of my loyal readers would probably really like the fanfic I'm working on.
It's looking to be really long. If you count front and back of the paper as separate, then 146 pages so far and only about halfway through it. Not sure what I'm going to title it. May be Forever the Pup (which should give a hint to anyone who's played the game what origin my character came from), but I'm still not sure.
Venomaze
Chapter Two: Center of Attention
Lupo
Fueled on the sweetness that was caffeine threaded Code Red Mountain Dew, I stood up from the kitchen bar to follow Fang and Aidan out to Fang's mustang. We were headed to a birthday gig for the star quarterback, dressed for the occasion. It was a little chilly, so what was originally supposed to be a performance on the stage in the town park was now moved to the inside of a popular hub rented out for the arrogant 'stars' party.
We got a lot of gigs like this, Venomaze being one of the best (who am I kidding, the best) in our town. A lot of people asked me why I let them name the band Venomaze. Truth be told, I came up with it. I liked the idea of using the last names, but how could you possibly fit 'Greyback' into that? So I just told them to go with their last names. I didn't need to be mentioned in our title; I was already the only girl in our group and was known for having the perfect voice and perfect body.
Though, being known as perfect isn't as fun as you think. Especially when everyone has their own opinion of perfect. I was the perfect performer, loving to be the center of attention yet not wanting to be the only one known. I may have the so called 'perfect' body that media was pushing for, but I think that was just pretty genetics fault. And so what I had a good voice? I had years of training and practice, which can make you pretty damn good at something.
It also came with expectations. All the guys at school who hadn't spoken to me before thought I should be easy because of the way I liked to shake my hips when I sang. All the girls thought I should be a bitch, or peppy, or overly excitable. All the teachers thought I should be hard to handle or constantly in the office…
Okay, but it was only sometimes for accidently breaking something when horsing around with my buds.
Wow, way to rant, Lupo…
Anyway, because of the chilly weather, I was tucked into a form fitting dark green sweater and flared light grey jeans. My feet were slipped into plain healed black boots and my hair was up in a high ponytail. I had only gone with eye makeup today, doing a somewhat Egyptian look with the eyeliner and accenting my golden eyes with a silver shadow. Over my sweater, I was wearing a white leather vest with metallic studs decorating it, zipped halfway up to make my bust look bigger.
What can I say? If you've got it, flaunt it.
Aidan had his hair in a tangled choppy mess, going with his regular dulled punk look. He was wearing some flaming skull t-shirt, just tight enough to show some muscle, under his leather jacket. His jeans had some wear and tear in them and his red and black converse were obviously worn some too. He had the sloppy grin on his face that he usually had before a gig and his blind eyes were covered by sunglasses he would no doubt discard before the performance.
Fang was dressed up nice, but still in his common black. Dark jeans, black fitting shirt, black zip up hoody and black Nikes. Yet, somehow, he seemed to make it look performance ready and neat. I guess it was just the regular Fang charm.
Aidan threw himself into the back of the car, stretching out as much as it would let him. I climbed into shotgun, buckling up as Fang slipped into the driver's seat.
After a few minutes of driving through the streets that led to The House, Aidan sat up and buckled his own seatbelt. "Didn't Sean ask you to write a personal song for him?" he asked me, tapping on the console in between Fang and me.
"Yup," I answered, popping the 'p'.
"Did you already send the music to the band we're using?"
"Yup," I answered again.
"Are you expecting us to sing backup?"
"Unless you think you can read my mind on the notes, then let's go with a no."
"We've done it before," Fang pointed out.
"True," I sighed, "But I don't think you boys want to sing back up for this song."
"Oo," Aidan hummed.
Fang chuckled, "Has someone gotten close to the quarterback?"
"Not in the slightest," I said, tapping my fingers on the window.
Aidan shook his head, "You embarrass the birthday boy and we don't get paid, you're in trouble."
"Don't worry, he asked me specifically to do a song that could be directed towards his ex. You know, Cheyenne the head cheer leader."
Fang breathed in through his teeth, "I bet you had fun with that."
"Oh, I did."
The car ride didn't seem to last long, and when we entered the hub all eyes turned on us. Sean wound through the crowd, grabbing my arm and leading me to the stage. Aidan and Fang followed, but much more slowly than the impatient football star. Before I climbed up onto the stage where the band was waiting, I snatched Aidan's sunglasses off his head.
I stood behind the microphone, looking out at my audience. Sean's ex was sitting among what were probably her friends and was watching me with a raised eyebrow. I winked at her, snapping my fingers to signal the band to start. Just before they did, I popped the sunglasses down onto my face and gripped the microphone, ready to perform.
(Too Cool from Camp Rock)
Too cool for my dress
The shades don't leave my head
Everything you say is so irrelevant
You follow and I lead
You want to be like me
You just don't want to be
Loved and hated
I can't help the way I am
I hope you don't misunderstand
That I'm too cool
Yeah I'm too cool
To know you
Don't take it personal
Don't get emotional
You know it's the truth
I'm too cool for you
You think you're hot
But I'm sorry, you're not
Exactly who do you think you are
Can tell you what you haven't got
When we walk into the room
I'm too cool for you
You're lucky I'm so nice
Even I'm surprised
You are still allowed to be in my crew
Show you how it's done
If you want to be someone
Just watch me and you'll learn some
Me, myself, and I agree
You'll never catch up with me
Cause I'm too cool
Yeah I'm too cool
To know you
Don't take it personal
Don't get emotional
You know it's the truth
I'm too cool for you
You think you're hot
But I'm sorry, you're not
Exactly who do you think you are
Can tell you what you haven't got
When we walk into the room
I'm too cool for you
You see someone upon
Beauty, brains, and talent
Yeah I got it all
Well others have to try all their lives
Still they never get the call
That's the difference between you and me
Obviously
I'm a natural
I'm the real deal
I can't help the way I am
I hope you don't misunderstand
That I'm too cool
Yeah I'm too cool
To know you
Don't take it personal
Don't get emotional
You know it's the truth
I'm too cool for you
Too cool
Yeah I'm too cool
To know you
Don't take it personal
Don't get emotional
You know it's the truth
I'm too cool for you
I finished the note, smiling big and hopping off the stage. Fang and Aidan were going to do a song just the two of them, leaving me time to walk over to Sean. The boy was the regular quarterback, to say the least. Perfect brown hair, bright blue eyes, fair skin, muscles, and undoubtedly handsome. I wasn't a girl to have crushes. Not regularly, anyway. But he could definitely catch my eye.
The birthday boy grinned at me as I approached, thanking me before handing me two twenties. "Here, in advance," he said, watching me place the bills in my back pocket. "I know we agreed on eighty, but I spent the other half doing a big favor for you. If it doesn't work out, then you'll get the other forty next time I see you."
I pushed the sunglasses up on top of my head, narrowing my eyes, "What kind of favor?"
"You'll see," he said, winking before letting his eyes dart over to someone towards the back of the room. This man wasn't a part of the crowd of teenagers, that much was obvious, but he seemed used to them. He was dressed all professional and looked like he did this often.
But he also looked impressed, like he hadn't been expecting much and yet here was what he had been looking for.
Like an agent that just found a new talent.
But, no… it couldn't be. Forty bucks to convince an agent or producer to come out to our town? Yeah right…
Right?
Review. I'm back, so you better review. If you don't, I might just disappear for another… how long was it?