|
Post by Brodie Dhonchaindh on Apr 14, 2007 18:27:22 GMT -5
She had stepped off the bus an hour ago and had already had her first fight. It was apparently too early to be drinking, though Brodie couldn't stand the thought of being sober. Stupid people trying to tell her what to do. She was getting pissed off with everyone already. Too many people. Too many people all with there stupid jobs. What the hell did she do? Throw herself around on stage and then pose for some photos while men chanted at her. What the hell was she doing here. Why the hell was she doing this?
She picked up the bottle of vodka and started walking. Her manager was yelling at her, telling her to get her ass back and apologies to the staff members for the verbal battering she had just given them. Though that wasn't Brodie's style.
She was a fucking bitch.
She knew it.
And so did everyone else.
She just had to live to that reputation. She had to live up to it and fulfill it because thats what the press wanted. The band weren't knowen for their music, more Brodie's drunken antics and numerous arrests. People were all ready betting how long she would be able to be here without getting arrested.
"Brodie get your fucking ass back here!"[/i] "Fuck off you fucking bastard! I don't fucking care! Leave me the fucking hell alone! Leave alone, I don't want to see any of your fucking faces! Your all a bunch of fake bastards!" She yelled loudly back at the entourage of staff who were now saying there prayers as Brodie grew every more pissed off.
She walked away, vodka bottle in hand as the yelled warning reached her ears; "Don't fucking come back high!"[/i]
With the state she was in they would be lucky if she made it back at all. Mind you its not like she actually liked any of the staff. She was starting to think she was just a tool for some big record company to make money off.
She was always a tool.[/size]
|
|
|
Post by Pete Wentz on Apr 15, 2007 10:04:36 GMT -5
[/i]. 'P3d0' was Jon's nickname for Pete, and what was all it was ever meant to be, but now it had gone a bit too universal for Pete's liking. Hyped up on caffeine and his medication, Pete walked through backstage, looking in every room for Jon. What was he going to do when he found him? He didn't really know. When Dirty had left his favorite hoodie in another country when they were on tour Pete had shaved half of his hair and beard off. Yeah, that was Pete being pissed. Pete pushed a door open, sighing and looking back as he heard some shouting. Pete wasn't one to stick his nose into other people's problems, especially if they were band related, but by the sounds of it the problem was a member of the band. Pete looked around and then down another corridor, seeing a girl. He recognized her, he'd seen her band play a little while earlier with Patrick. Pete had made the off-hand comment that she clearly seemed to be attempting to murder her bass. Pete wondered exactly how long her basses lasted before she needed a new one, and by the sounds of it her management really were getting tired of her actions. Pete could tell she was drunk, despite being straight edge himself. Pete just shrugged to himself, it was nothing new, the anarchist rockstar, drinking and taking drugs. Pete couldn't say that he wasn't friends with people who did drink - whatever floats their boat, he supposed. Pete just didn't like being out of control of his own body, it was a severe problem he'd had, causing him to double up - or even more - on his dosage of pills before flying on an airplane because he hated not being the one flying it. Pete turned around again and started looking in the rooms again, slightly less angered than before, but desperate to find Jon all the same. Or, in fact, anyone from Panic! At The Disco for that matter. It had been Brendon's birthday recently, and Pete hadn't seen much of them. In all honesty, Pete hadn't seem much of his own band either, but that was how things went, he supposed. [/size][/blockquote][/ul]
|
|
|
Post by Brodie Dhonchaindh on Apr 15, 2007 10:29:42 GMT -5
This was getting stupid and it was getting her down. Even her band mates had noticed the change in her since they signed to a major label. They were pushy. Pushing her in to places she didn't want to be. Brodie knew she was no size zero pop star and she didn't want to be. She was the loud bitch from 2nd*R who was vicious on stage at the best of times. There was something she hated about this place. There was nothing she wanted more than to go out and play to that crowd. Though she knew something would over shadow the music - she would. Brodie detested how she was seen as the 'front man' even though she just played bass but at the same time she knew she had to do it. To keep her friends where they wanted to be. Not where she wanted to be. Though she didn't really realize that if she sat them down seriously and talked to them, explaining that she wasn't happy with the label they were on her band would listen to her.
For a moment she contemplated breaking down but that wasn't her style. Brodie was just one big show. A pretty drunken face for anyone who wanted a photo...and she hated it. Hated herself and hated the world for making her like this.
This place was full of bastards. She could name everyone of them she had fought with in the past, there was a good change past feuds would make there way here and she would welcome them with open arms. She didn't take shit. She never had and never would. Thats what the streets taught you, thats what New York taught you. There was something about Brodie people couldn't get their heads around. Though not many people knew her past either.
There was yelling behind her, Toby telling her to get back there right now, to stop all this crap. That she was being stupid, that she would wreck the band if she walked away from all this. That she had it easy. Brodie hated it.
Why was she the one they paraded around and made a fuss over. She was just trying to make music...but no one cared about that. No one cared about the face she was a good bassist and she wrote good music. No they didn't care about her. No one fucking cared. No one ever had and she hated the world for it.
She kept walking, kept going and looking at the empty bottle in her hand she threw it on the ground, watching it shatter. "Your the biggest fake here." She told her self, frozen on the spot. "Your the worst kind of person."
|
|
|
Post by Pete Wentz on Apr 15, 2007 10:39:17 GMT -5
[/b] Pete joked weakly, looking up at the girl again. She was obviously in a really bad state, and Pete understood how she felt, even if he wasn't in the same position. The idea of feeling like everyone else made decisions for you, and you didn't have anyone to turn to because the industry was a horribly fake place. It was the kind of thing that had started off with him taking a couple extra pills and ended with him sitting in his car in Best Buy and... Pete looked up at the girl again. He was trying to remember if he knew her name, but he'd only seen her band, and he couldn't even remember the name of the band, but he knew for a fact he'd been interested in it.[/size][/blockquote][/ul]
|
|
|
Post by Brodie Dhonchaindh on Apr 15, 2007 10:48:55 GMT -5
Looking up at Pete then back down there was a slight smile. She had heard about the incident where someone had tried to bottle the poor guy on stage, though if she had been there Brodie was sure she would have jumped in and battered the shit out the guy for it - just so she had someone to fight...and not to mention she liked their music even if she wouldn't openly tell people about it. She did own their CD'S though.
Brodie thought about just storming off, about throwing a tantrum and smashing something up. Screaming and yelling because she didn't know what else to do. She didn't know what she should be doing and how she should be reacting to all this. Was she just being naive to think that it was about the music, that it was how she could play and the words she wrote, not how much she drag or how many lines she snorted. She shook that idea off. This whole industry was fake. The whole thing. Full of people who just wanted to make money. There was no pride in music anymore.
For the first time she found herself not wanting to do this...not wanting any of this. "Do you ever find yourself wishing you weren't here? Wanting the days of living out a twelve seater van, crashing on random peoples floors...do you miss it?"
Maybe she was just the only one.
|
|
|
Post by Pete Wentz on Apr 15, 2007 11:02:29 GMT -5
[/b] Pete said. "I miss those days, I miss having a van that broke down every five minutes, I miss playing to ten kids who are so desperately into the music..." Pete told her. "I miss the person I was back then," he told her. Pete looked at the broken bottle and then back up at the girl. Yeah, of course he'd changed over the past few years, no one could possibly stay the same in this position. You had to change to fit into the industry and make sure that that industry didn't consume you. It was hard keeping afloat throughout it, to make sure that you didn't become something 'fake'. How would you even know that anyway? You'd be convinced that you weren't a fake person, you would be totally blind to who you were. Pete knew he had changed, it was inevitable, but deep down inside he was still that kid who pole vaulted into hotel pools and acted more like he was seven than twenty seven. "It's like the worst kind of nostalgia, because when you get to a certain point you can't do anything but go deeper into the industry," Pete said, he didn't particularly like the idea of standing up and talking like this, it made him feel a bit too vunerable, so he backed up against the wall and sat down, at least this would distract him from his mission to find Jon, which wasn't working. He'd just have to see him some other time. The caffeine and the pills were working though, and Pete couldn't even remember what he'd taken and what he hadn't, he'd just taken the pills and sat on the tour bus couch for a while, drinking cup after cup of coffee. "You can't go back, you can't regress to that time when you were in that van or playing in the smallest venues and paying more money to be there than you were getting back," Pete said, not taking his eyes off the broken bottle and the alcohol around it. For a second he forgot that he was talking to a drunk girl, and that she'd never remember any of this. That was a good thing, Pete supposed. [/size][/blockquote][/ul]
|
|
|
Post by Brodie Dhonchaindh on Apr 15, 2007 11:19:06 GMT -5
Brodie watched him sit down and decided to follow suit. Though she did it a lot less stylishly than Pete, but the girl was halfway to trashed so it wasn't really surprising. She looked at the ground, picking up a shard of the broken glass and studying it. She turned it over in her hand. Looking at it from every angle, logging every detail in her mind. She just sat there, wondering how she could relate to it. She was just a shard of what was left of her, other people had been taking the best bits for a long time now. It was sad really if you thought about it. She was a mess. Always had been always will be. That was the way she liked it. Balance and stability were alien concepts. It just didn't work.
Her eyes traveled to Pete as her hand closed around the shard of glass, her mind not even registering how the sharp clear material sliced her skin. She turned back to him and spoke, why he hell was she talking to him anyway. Why was she acting like this, he hated her already and she was sure of it. Everyone hated her anyway its not like she even had to try and if she did act nice people would think she was fake. She was fucked whichever way you looked at it.
"Our van broke down at least once a day. We used to end up sitting on the grass bank of the highway trying to get the thing to start as the storm broke and we all ended up soaked. We ended up being late to shows and spending all this money we didn't have on a tour we couldn't afford but the kids turned out so we did it. That was back when music was about the music." She told him quietly only really half with the conversation.
She looked back at her hand and dropped the glass on to the floor. A slight gasp from her lips as she looked at the blood, it trickled down her hand, dropping on to the floor. Since when had t hat happened? Why hadn't she noticed it?
|
|
|
Post by Pete Wentz on Apr 15, 2007 11:31:37 GMT -5
[/b] Pete said. He looked at her cut again and frowned. "I guess we spend so much time wishing we had things better and thinking the grass is greener we forget that maybe the greener the grass gets, the more lost you get in it," Pete said, and he too picked up one of the larger pieces of glass and looked through it at the girl. "What's your name?" Pete asked, realizing now he didn't even know who he was speaking to.[/size][/blockquote][/ul]
|
|
|
Post by Brodie Dhonchaindh on Apr 15, 2007 11:47:53 GMT -5
Brodie just sat there for a moment, looking at the cut and wondering why she hadn't felt a thing. If the drink and the drugs could stop her feeling that - why couldn't it stop her thinking. Why did it hurt to think about everything that was going on. Maybe if she took enough. Drank enough. She would lose herself completely. Better to be empty than feel anything at all.
But Brodie was confused as she watched the blood drip on to the floor. She bled like normal people, she half expected her blood to be green or some strange colour with the amount of shit she had taken in the past and was still on, or to be none at all. It meant she was human. It meant she was alive and to be truthful she didn't really want that. She didn't want the emotions, she didn't want the anger or the pain that sat like a little time bomb inside, just waiting to go off at any moment and the poor person who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Well they would be muttering their prayers.
Brodie just nodded slightly at his statement as her eyes traveled back to her hand, she wrapped her sleeve around her hand and just sat there for a moment. She didn't even feel it stinging. It didn't hurt that was the part that scared her. It didn't matter though. Couldn't matter. She reached in to her pocket, feeling for her cigarettes when she felt her fingers touch a plastic bag, pulling it out she noticed the two pills kept inside it and she smiled.
"Oh. I'm Brodie. Time for some fun." She said standing up and grabbing Pete's wrist. "Come and party."
|
|
|
Post by Pete Wentz on Apr 15, 2007 16:32:13 GMT -5
[/b] Pete began, but he got to his feet and stood up, looking at the finger again. It was strange how it was was cut so fine that it wasn't bleeding. Pete looked at Brodie again, not entirely sure if he wanted to indulge in what this girl called 'fun'. However, if he let her go alone she'd probably kill herself or something. She had far too much drugs and alcohol in her system, and if she couldn't feel glass cutting into her then Pete wondered if she'd feel the pain of anything else. She'd feel it after the drugs were clear from her system though, so it was best Pete went with her if it was only for damage control on her behalf. Pete would feel so guilty if he just left and then he heard something had happened to her. "Alright, where we going?" Pete asked. If he had a vague idea of where they were going he'd be able to text Patrick or some one now and tell them that if he went missing for a while he was probably there. Pete always had the worst case scenerio in his head though. "I don't drink... or do drugs... or smoke," Pete told Brodie, thinking he might as well tell her that now before they got to where ever they were going and she found out she was in the presence of a strict straight edge.[/size][/blockquote][/ul]
|
|
|
Post by Brodie Dhonchaindh on Apr 15, 2007 16:45:57 GMT -5
She wasn't quite sure where the hell she was going. She never had an idea. She looked back at Pete and smirked. "I don't know where, I never know where, I just go...just take off and go and hope I land somewhere on both feet." Or at least uninjured enough she would be able to get back up. She had never crashed so badly after a bender she couldn't start again the next day. The strange mixture of alcohol and cocaine rushing though her body meant she was bouncing off the walls. She hated how she needed a drink to get up in the morning and a line or pill to get her though the day - though usually it was the both.
God she couldn't remember how much she had taken. She had been drinking since last night, been high since last night when she went out in New York City - oh how she hated that place - and of course, gotten in a fight with a photographer. Everyone was talking about it. Brodie had just done her job, done as everyone expected her too. She lived up to expectations and that was that. That was her job. She was no musician.
She as still pulling him, a smile on her face as she lead him round the back and kept going then she just stopped. "My place." She stated. It was one of those rare places at a festival that was away from everyone else, still close to all the action yet most importantly empty. "This is where I come when I need some alone time. No one comes round here, but keep it to yourself yeah?" She said as she climbed up a small stack of discarded equipment and settled herself on top of it. She reached in to her pocket pulling out the pills and looking at them though one eye, then she turned her attention on Pete.
"Your straight edge? Dude thats cool." God forbid she would never push him in to something he tried to stay away from. People told her she should be straight edge that she shouldn't touch anything - she didn't have the personality to agree with it. "Thats...pretty...I don't know what the word is." She was forgetting words - god how much had she had? "Dude whats that word...you have my respect Petedude." She told him, pointing a finger and swaying slightly on her perch. The thought crossed her mind that it would not be a good idea to take these pills (what ever the hell they were - she didn't know how or where she got them from.) "As a person and a musician. Your Sig bass is pretty fucking hot! And you know..." She trailed off...looking up and smiling before pointing to the sky. "Ha ha look theres a fucking bird!"
|
|
|
Post by Pete Wentz on Apr 15, 2007 17:00:33 GMT -5
[/b] Pete asked, looking at the pills and then glanced at the bird she'd seen as it flew away. Pete half smiled, somehow wishing that he was that bird, that he had that freedom to go where ever. In some respects he admired Brodie for how spontaneous she seemed to be - the kind of disregarding for where she was going or where she was heading, but in another sense Pete would probably go crazy if that was him. He looked around at the equipment they were on and he looked around the place where they were. He could see a roadie getting some equipment from the parking lot, but the roadie couldn't see them. Pete looked at the pills and then at Brodie, questioning to himself just how drugged up she was. [/size][/blockquote][/ul]
|
|
|
Post by Brodie Dhonchaindh on Apr 15, 2007 17:10:26 GMT -5
Watching the bird fly away Brodie smiled, she wished on some level she could do that. Just get up and leave...get up and fly away from this stupid place and this dank band. Fly away and go to somewhere completely new, where no one knew her and she could start all over again. That way she could end up being someone else. she wouldn't be where she was now. She could start a whole new life, she could have a new name as well. A new history. She could invent herself a childhood.
She looked at the pill back, tipped one on to her hand and swallowed it down. "Well its too late now. Mhmm should have found out what it was first." She said but more to herself than Pete. She giggled looking at the people. She could see them, they couldn't see her. "Look at them all." She said with a slightly giggle. "There just walkin' around...doin' what they do then at any moment. Smack. Somethin' could crush 'em right down to size. Yeah?" She said with a slightly dangerous smirk.
Oh how she hated them all. Hated them all with a passion walking around with their perfect lives and there perfect family's and their perfect jobs. Oh they were all a self centered bunch of bastards really. "Look at them...everythin' going' so great wit them isn't. Then I look at me and what have I got. A shitty label who don't give a shit about anything., they'll pull any dirty trick to sell a record."
Oh what had he let himself in for?
|
|
|
Post by Pete Wentz on Apr 15, 2007 17:27:23 GMT -5
[/b] Pete told her, looking at the last pill. He almost wanted to tell her not to take it, but he knew she wouldn't listen and that it would only make her more intent on actually taking it. "Bands get pissed around a lot, the industry is all about money. If you can't sell the units then you're out, no matter how good you are or how loyal your fanbase is," Pete told her. "It's not supposed to be like that, music isn't about selling units, although I'm not going to say that having platinum records isn't a fucking nice thing to have," Pete said. He looked at Brodie and frowned. Would she even remember this later? She was totally drunk and on drugs - chances are she wouldn't even remember meeting him. "If things are that bad then walk," Pete said. "If all your band think that your labels assfucking you then just walk," Pete told her. "What label is it anyway?"Pete watched the roadie walked off the equipment, which seemed to be an amp. Pete looked back at Brodie, studying her face now, taking it in for the first time. Drink and drugs made people look older, much older, for Pete didn't really know what age she was really, but he seemed to be at least twenty five to him, although he would bet his bass that that wasn't actually the case and that she was a lot younger. It was the after effects of drugs that detoured Pete as well, he didn't want to look like he was fifty or something at the age of twenty seven. Pete had a lot of trouble with hs appearance, even at the age of twenty two people were always asking for his ID, convinced that he looked like a seventeen year old.[/size][/blockquote][/ul]
|
|
|
Post by Brodie Dhonchaindh on Apr 15, 2007 17:42:39 GMT -5
Oh Brodie would walk if she could. If she could get up and throw in the towel and walk away to another life she could but this was all she had. This was all she could do. She didn't know anything else. It was sad really...all knew how to do was get off her face. She frowned for a moment, looking at the last pill and her mind willing her to take it. She wasn't high enough. She could still feel.
It was the same very day...she would do this over and over like she was a song stuck on repeat. Every so often it jumped in the middle and she would pass out. Then she got up again and this would start from where it left off. "I would walk if I could...but everyone else in the band is happy. They have there fame, there selling there records. Doesn't matter who wrote them though does it. Lets not even put Brodie on the credits all she does is get drunk and high." Brodie explained in a slightly mocking tone. She looked at him, a half smile across her lips. "I'm just a marketing ploy. No one gives a shit how well I play bass. As long as I get in a fight every now and then."
She looked at the last pill and cracked, she downed it and threw the beg away, letting it flutter in the air, it rose up on a plume of hot air then plummeted to the ground. She knew her fall was coming soon. She just hoped one day she would take enough to do something so stupid it ended all this crap. Even with that thought in her head she giggled, imagining her own death. Oh how blissful it would be.
"Island Records." She answered him bitterly. "But no. No one listened to Brodie when she told them she didn't want to sign with 'em. No one took her advice when she told them they were just money grabbing bastards. I'll make my own label...and I wont treat the artist like fucking shit." She knew she was doing it again, getting herself wound up, getting herself angry but it was a habit that she couldn't get away from. Sometimes she felt like going insane and just killing as many people as she could. "This place is full of motherfuckin' fakes. How many of give a shit about the music, about the people who work hard to make it eh? No there all just worried about their paychecks so they can pay off the mortgage on there fancy houses and there big sports cars and they pollute the world and fucking destroy it."
Ah...he managed to get her started. Big mistake.
|
|