Through the Compact Disc
Okay, I last updated this in, what, September? And I'm still getting those moldy pizza stains off of my pants… yuck, where do you people get this stuff? Yes, please forgive me. Please! Trust me, you won't have to wait any longer, this is the second to last chapter. Besides, the next chapter is already written. Anyways, I changed my pen name just a little. The "Love Football Head" thing was a little childish, so it's just going to be BLFBH. Yes I know it's always been 'LFBH' but… meh, you understand right? Here are your replies to reviews, guys.
Missing: Meh… that poll thing ended up being useless. When I finally got the will to write it, it wasn't anything like the poll. But thanks anyways, and thanks for reading.
Luzer: Um… yeah. I do know this person. Don't ask. She knew Fran was dead before I ever even wrote that chapter, so this person was yelling about it 4 chapters early. When I told her that she just said "Oh… oops?" But then she chased me around her house. She's such a cute little mad thing, isn't she? runs from now even more angry Luz
Demile: I'm so sorry I leave you hanging all the time! I'm such a procrastinator! But VdayII's next chapter is almost done, okay? It should be up after this one if my schedule goes right.
Queen Kay: looks at black suitcase and moves it behind a table with her foot What million dollars? Thanks, I love writing all the angst in the story. Angst is just so much fun.
Everyone: I just hope that you all are either still on this site or on my author alert list… I can't say how utterly bad I feel for leaving you like that! Anyways, even shitter chatter. Let's get it on!
Helga
If my present problems weren't enough for me to handle, I wouldn't have known. But then I had to get a call from my manager about one of them, which only intensified the situation. Someone down there must really hate me.
"Miss Pataki, you have to speak with the press," he told me. "If you don't, you'll end up in more tabloids by tomorrow. They're already going to put this on VH1."
"Right now, I have higher priorities than telling the rest of the world about myself," I said.
"Helga, you must. You could make a simple statement on paper if you wanted to, but we have to counter this blatant attack on your image."
"You know, this would actually fit my 'image'," I argued. "I mean, love struck teenager finally gets faceless crush when she's famous. But anyways, someone I know has just died. I have a lot of work to do today, not just for the concert, but for my friends too!" Exactly. The concert was tonight, and I had an entire song to organize. Also, I wasn't going to just let Arnold and Deana alone after all of this crud. On the other hand, I probably should. They might not want me there.
Okay, so I wouldn't go find Arnold. That left more time for me to do the song before eight o' clock came around.
"Look, I'll make a statement if it'll stop this," I finally said. Another way I could help Arnold, even just a little. He didn't need people going down his back about cheating on his late wife. My stomach turned just thinking about Francesca again.
"That's great! When will you do it?"
"I don't know. Whenever you see me. Get Entertainment Weekly or People or whoever to come over to the stage, but only one! I have to prep the band for another slot."
"Okay I'll get right… wait, another slot?" I almost smiled at his annoyance. "Since when did we have another slot? Where will it be? What song are you going to put in it?"
I had no time for this right now. "Good-bye," I said, slamming the end button on my phone so hard I was afraid I broke it.
I was still in the hospital. It was about an hour after dawn judging by the view outside a window. I was too tired to check a clock. An ambulance had already come to take Arnold and Deana home. I let them go first, and paid for the use of an emergency vehicle for private use, because they needed home more than I did. An ambulance would take me to my hotel as well, to avoid the crowd of photographers.
I felt like I was slowly going crazy with everything that was going wrong, and everything that had gone wrong that I had to fix. Too much was already beyond repair. If it hadn't been with my undying love, Francesca never would have been jealous and run away. If it hadn't been for those crazy men she knew, she wouldn't have married Arnold at all.
Didn't that almost make the crash a good thing? If she hadn't been in that unconscious state, she would have continued a lie. Trust me, I know just how bad lies are.
The price she paid for the horrible truth did not follow the rules of fair karma at all. And it simply wasn't right.
Her last request to me was to tell Arnold by singing this song she wrote. I didn't think I could do such a thing to him, but she told me to. She probably didn't know she'd be dead, and that fact would make the impact even worse on Arnold than if she was alive.
A nurse came up to me and told me that the ambulance was prepared to take me to my hotel, and from there I'd take a car to the Hillwood Amphitheater, where my concert would be. I'd have to write an entire song within that time.
Yay for me.
Arnold
Dad unlocked the door and I ran upstairs immediately. After all of this stuff about tabloids and hospitals and crap, I just wanted to be alone to cry.
Once I reached my room, though, I wasn't as sad as I was angry. I growled deep in my throat and threw myself onto my bed, screaming into my pillow. I just kept screaming and screaming, the sound ringing inside of my head so much that the thoughts and memories were drowning out.
Finally, I stopped. I was so exhausted, but I wanted to keep screaming. I couldn't, though. All the anger was out of me and now I just felt like dirt. I didn't even feel like crying.
Why did she have to die? Why did any of this have to happen? She was just fine! She was lying there and talking with all of her wounds healed… then she had to have that internal bleeding. You can't stop that, apparently.
Tonight was Helga's concert, of all things. I'm surprised she isn't postponing it, but then again it's a huge concert. And despite all of my other emotions about this, I'm still looking forward to it. I don't know if we'll even end up going. Dad and I are pretty messed up right now… the stupid photographers and writers are not helping at all.
But I'm going to have to get over myself sooner or later. I can't begin to let myself die, because then I won't be able to stop. I have to focus on something. That's the only thing that got me through her injury, and I was still worried because I wasn't focused enough. I thought she would live, and then it was sucked right out of my hands.
Dad must feel terrible about it, though. Especially since all the rumors are about him. He would never cheat on my mother. They both were in love… he still loves her, and I know that somewhere she still loves him, too.
There's really nothing to feel sad about. But I am, and there's no use in stopping it. I just have to control it and help my dad.
So after about ten minutes of being up there, I walked out of my room and went downstairs. I saw Dad sitting there, staring at the coffee table. I moved over to him and saw what he was looking at: the three tickets we won. One of them was supposed to be for Mom, but obviously not anymore.
"Dad?" I asked, my voice raspy from my screaming.
He looked up at me and smiled. "Hey, Deana," he said, and he patted his knee for me to sit on. I did so. "Can I ask you something?"
"Yeah, sure," I said.
"Do you want to take someone to the show tonight?"
I cocked my head with curiosity. He wanted to go to the concert, after all of this? Well, I guess I should invite one of my friends… Tessa, perhaps. She's in love with Helga. "Yeah, sure. Tessa Brander?"
"Okay. Call her and ask if she wants to go."
I nodded and gave him a smile, just to make him happy. "Thank you, Dad," I said before moving to the phone in the kitchen.
Arnold
About five minutes before Deana came down, Helga had called to ask if we were still coming. I told her that we would. I said Francesca wouldn't want Deana to give up something she loved for this.
Then she told me something strange. She told me that she knew Francesca would want me there, and him specifically. She wouldn't tell me why, and it sounded like something she knew for certain. So now I'm lost, but I'll put it behind me.
I went up the stairs and entered my room… then I stopped short, my heart beginning to hurt. Emotionally. Even though Francesca had packed away most of her clothes and belongings, the room still smelled like her. I could sense her, how she spent every night in this room, and now she never would again.
I sat on the bed, feeling empty and forlorn. I've been feeling like that a lot lately, which is very uncharacteristic of me.
Then again, this has never happened to me before. And no matter how many "bright sides" there are –how could there be any?- I'm still going to feel this way.
I don't think I'll ever be the same.
Helga
"Listen, I know this is serious short notice," I said to the band that plays the music to my songs. "This is important, though. More important than pretty much this whole concert. No matter what anyone tells you, you're going to learn how to play this music by tonight. Is that clear?"
None of them answered. They all just looked closely at the scrawled sheet music I'd written for them.
I sighed. "Look, I'll pay you out of my own pocket if you'll just-"
"I'm in," said Brian, my bassist. The rest of them agreed, and I smiled. We immediately got to work practicing the song, going over the chords and beats that I'd made up in about two hours. Man, I love being creative.
Halfway through a rehearsal of a different song, someone over the speakers said, "Miss Pataki, an interviewer and cameraman are here to interview you for E! On MTV."
I sighed. This meant I had to stop rehearsal for an hour or so. Well, it was only eleven am. I had a few hours to kill, I suppose.
"Yeah, I'm on my way!" I yelled towards the sound control box. "I'll be back later, guys. Take a break."
In time I was in the hallways where the dressing rooms and supplies rooms were. I was standing in front of some E reporter and a man with a giant camera. I already knew what they were going to ask me and really didn't want to go through the process, but I had to follow protocol or they'd talk about it on the air. Beings a celebrity really bites.
"Can we make this quick?" I asked. "I have to do a lot of rehearsals for the concert tonight."
"Don't worry, this won't take long," he said. "Anyway, what do you have to say about the rumors that you and this Arnold Tiller, who you've had affection for for years, were taking part in an affair?"
"What happened is that my friend," I said, exaggerating my words, "was upset over his wife's previous car crash. I was consoling him and the paparazzi manipulated the event to cause controversy, which in reality is just sick. The man's wife was unconscious suffering many injuries," I was starting to get uncontrollable in my rambling. "In fact, she's passed away from those injuries. Arnold and I were most certainly not having an affair, since I've only seen him recently after over a decade of not speaking to him. The press went too far to exploit this family in such a tragic time, and it's only added stress to them. So now I just hope everyone knows that I'm most likely never going to be with Arnold and am definitely not with him now."
The interviewer stared for a moment after I finished, and it was then that I realized I'd just announced that Francesca was dead to the whole world. Great.
"I'm sorry for the loss," he said.
I had to smile, just a little. So some people in journalism were decent. "Thanks."
After that I went back on stage and finished rehearsing.
A/N: Well, not the longest chapter, but the next chapter is literally twice as long. A good chunk of it is the two song lyrics I've written for the story. So enjoy, review, and stay tuned. For once, I'm not lying when I say it will be soon!
No, seriously. It won't be long. Really.
You Gotta Love Me (or I may just pull an uber long hiatus again)
BLFBH
