"So this is it," I said looking at a building. This was where the studio office was for thr said studio was. I was calling it said studio because Dean refused to tell me which record company we were being signed to. I breathed and we entered the building. I was so nervous, my heart was probably beating a thousand miles per hour. Wait, what? I don't even use miles! Oh god. I'm rambling.
"Okay. He said the 18th floor," Dean said, pressing the button. I looked around me and took in my surroundings. The last moments I would have as a normal teen would be in an elevator. That sounds so weird. The elevator dinging brought me out of my thoughts.
"Woah." The corridor was long and white with several gold, silver and platinum records upon the walls. The dark marble floors made our footsteps louder than needed, making the butterflies in my stomach go from metamorphing to billions of full grown ones. I looked at my top, and took in the words, "Sugar, we're going down." I inwardly groaned. I really hope we weren't getting signed to a HUGE record company.
"I swear to god, Dean, you tell me right now who we're getting signed to, or I'll bite your head off," I growled. "Relax, we're hear already." Dean opened the door and a guy, the owner I presumed, got up and said, "You made it! Sorry, I still haven't had any coffee yet," while I just played with my fingers awkwardly. I would look up, but if it was someone I admired, I'd die.
I looked up and suddenly realized how idiotic my top must've looked. Fate behold, Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III was standing in front of me. He must've noticed my top, because he was smirking in my direction and said something about Patrick, but that was all I remembered before I fainted.
***
"Is she alright?" Someone unfamiliar asked. "Nah. This is kinda normal," I heard Ryder whisper. I realized what was going on and opened my eyes and jumped up as if a weeping angel was about to send me back in time and feed off my unused energy.
"Y-y-y-you'rePeteWentz," I said quickly. You know that feeling where you have a giant lump in your throat and you feel like you can't talk at all or you're going to cry or something? Yeah, that's what I felt like.
"Okay, now that we're all conscious, can we please get signed and discuss... whatever people discuss at these things?" Ryder said, practically itching to leave. I looked at her and realized she had to go pee. "Just go," I sighed. "THANK FUCK!"
"Here it is. The standard Decaydance contract," Pete said, placing a bunch of documents. "Dean, can I talk to you for a minute? Alone? In private? Away from everyone?" I asked. "Okay, but I seriously doubt that you're getting out of this," Dean warned.
"I'm scared," I whispered. "Oh god. Not this again. Look, sure, you're smaller than all of us, but you're awesome! You're basically a Welsh Hayley Williams; you take song lines literally, and you're a real rebel! You'll be fine." "Promise?" "Promise."
We went back and we signed the contract, all four of us. Officially a signed band, and to the record company owned by one of my heroes.
"Now, is there anything I should know, in general about you guys?" "Dean tends to lose his phone a lot," Ryder said, slightly bored. "I have high coeliac, so I can't have gluten. And I suck at being formal, so interviews are going to be terribly nerve-wrecking." "Okay then."
"How long are you guys in the US for?" Pete asked, with a mischevous look in his eyes. "I have no idea how long these people are here for, but I'm staying until the 20th of August for my brother's wedding," I explained, trying to read the records on the wall. "Wedding?" "In Pakistani tradition, if you're 25 and not engaged, you're considered doomed to be forever alone. Of course, that only applies to boys."
"Anyways, we were going to leave in a couple of weeks, but we still haven't bought the return tickets," Josh said. "Good. There's an opening on Warped for the Kia Soul stage, and you guys need a little bit of exposure," Pete explained. My jaw dropped to the ground.
"Warped? As in, Warped Tour? With bands like All Time Low, Peirce The Veil, The Summer Set, We Are The In Crowd etcetera, etcetera?" I asked. He nodded. "Kinza, I swear to The Rev, if you faint, I will not wake you up," Ryder said sternly. "I'm not going to faint. However, hyperventilation is a possibility."
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"Ugh! How is it so busy at half eleven in New York on a Sunday?!" Ryder said after another (most likely her 23rd, but who's counting?) failed attempt to flag down a cab. "Step aside and let a frequent visitor handle this," I said. I wolf whistled as loud as I could and did a signal to hail a cab, and luckily, someone was nice enough to stop.
"Where to?" He asked. "Definitely not 221 B Baker Street, I can tell you that," I mumbled. "Uh, 56th on West," I said. "Alright then," he muttered to himself. Just then, my phone rang blaring Hush Hush by The Spill canvas.
"Hello?" "YOU FUCKER! WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME YOU WERE IN NEW YORK AND IN A BAND WHO WAS GETTING SIGNED?!" A familiar voice yelled. "Get your arse to Sam's house. We're almost there, I think," I said, looking out the window. "About that..." "You're already there, aren't you?" "Maybe. Just hurry up! I look really awkward just standing outside your house since nobody's here." "Sure, sure." "Just hurry up! Bye bitch." "Bye hoe," I said laughing and cutting the line.
"Who was that?" Dean asked. "Myra," I said simply. "Who is?" Dean said, expecting an explanation. "She's my best friend. She moved to New York around five years ago," I explained in a 'Duh' tone. "I thought I was your best friend?!" Ryder said in a mock hurt. "Aw sweety, you're my other best friend," I said, as we cracked up.
"$30 please," the cab driver said bluntly. I threw the change at him and jumped out of the car, almost tripping while running into the lobby. I pounded the elevator button, but found it too slow for my excitement. I snuck around back and ran up the emergency stairs. I prayed that all the Gaelic football I played would pay off.
I saw a very nervous Myra standing awkwardly outside Sam's apartment, so I took the opportunity to creep up on her and I jumped on her back. "Hi," I said giggling. "You fucker!" She laughed as I unlocked the door, still on her back as we entered.
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We spent all day messing around and catching up and just being normal people. I introduced Myra to the rest of the guys and she basically exploded with questions. The funniest one was when she suspected Ryder and Josh of dating and everyone started with their own explanations of why Josh and Ryder would never date, even if it could stop the Time War.
When Myra had to leave, I begged her to stay, but she told me her mom said she HAD to go home. She could've taken the subway, but NOOOOOO. She wanted to go with her mom. "Tomorrow. 11:40 sharp," I said. She rolled her eyes and left.
"Uh guys?" Dean said. I nodded, not looking up from my copy of Cell by Stephen King. "Pete says he has a 'surprise' for us." "Well tell him that if he gives us any more 'surprises', he's going to pay for a trip to the ICU," I muttered. "Okay, Pete says this is the last one." "YOU TEXTED HIM THAT?!" I shrieked, grabbing his phone. He nodded and took his phone back.
I grabbed my bottle of peanut butter and scooped a moundful out and stuffed in my mouth. I always ate when I was sad, worried or at an emotional point in anything from relationships to OTPs.
"Goddamit!" I heard Sana hissed. "What's wrong?" I asked. "Bridal stuff," she sighed and just slumped onto the couch. I just stared at her intimidatingly and she started her explanation. "Well, I have no bridesmaids, no bridesmaids dresses, I haven't even got a wedding dress and I don't even know if my parents are coming. I'm a complete failure at planning weddings."
"But I'm not!" I piped up. "I could do it for you! And as for the bridesmaid dresses, who are your bridesmaids?" I asked. "No idea," Sana said, massaging her temple. "I've always wanted to be one," I said dreamily. "Great! And what's your friend's name? The one that was just over?" "Myra?" "Yeah! Her too! And my brothers could walk with you," she said happily.
"Okay, but you might wanna actually ask your parents if they can come first, because then if they can't, then one of your brothers is going to have to walk you down the aisle," I told her. "Yeah yeah. So what happened at the meeting?" Sana asked eagerly.
"Well. I inconveniently wore a 'Sugar, We're Going Down' T-Shirt, and it turns out we got signed to Decaydance," I started. She gasped and I continued. "After I saw Pete Wentz, my nerves got the best of me and I fainted. After I was conscious, we signed and he told us that we needed exposure so now we're going on Warped to play the Kia Soul stage," I finished.
"Well that was a lot more than I was expecting. When do you guys leave?" Sana asked. "Like, in three days. We're leaving from somewhere in New Jersey, you know, that place that sounds like Sherlock Holmes? Yeah, they have a show there," I explained while smothering my Oreo with Peanut Butter.
"Are you performing on the 13th?" She asked casually. "Nope. We're gonna just get into the whole vibe and act normal. Hopefully, none of our fans will notice us," I said. "Will you be back in time for the wedding?" "DUH. It ends on the fifth. Wedding's on the 10th, right?" She nodded and we flipped on the TV.
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"YOU'RE MY HUSH HUSH ALIBI!" My phone blasted at 3 AM. I groaned and blocked the noise. I realized it was my phone grabbed it from under my pillow and pressed the answer button.
"Whoever this is, I will murder you with my bare hands for waking me up at 3 AM," I growled. "Well, someone's pissed," I heard Pete say from the other line. "Well I'm sorry if I wasn't planning on waking up this early!" I hissed. "Chill. I just wanted to know something about the album," he said. "Can't it wait?" I whined. "No."
"What is it?" I whispered. "Are you a fan?" "A fan of what?" "Fall Out Boy," he said. You could hear the smirk in his voice. "Why would you give a fuck?" I whispered sleepily. I heard whispering and it all seemed to click. Someone was with him, and who else would be up at this time? "Hi Patrick," I smirked victoriously.
"Damn, you're good," I heard Pete mutter. "Would you guys just let me sleep?! I am not fainting again," I mumbled. "You fainted?" Patrick asked. "It was Pete's fault. He smelt like spider pee," I said. "Huh?" "Sweaty socks, rotten tomatoes and vinegar. Believe me, it's not a pleasant smell. Now GOODBYE," I said before cutting the line and going back to bed.
I seriously hate Pete for waking me up this early.
Hello my lovely calculators! I know this chapter is WAY overdue, but at least it's published. I have my final exams next week so this will be the last update until the 16th or the 17th. I hope you enjoyed, and once again, you can thank Sanya for making me update :)
There's a picture of Pete on the side and the song Hush Hush by The Spill Canvas, as well as the external link to Myra's photo <3