Life on the Murder Scene

“Ready to go?” Gee questions, walking towards the front of the bus in his skeleton onesie. I can’t help but smile. Mikey and I had purchased that for him this past Christmas. Gerard seems to really like it.

“Let’s do this,” I answer back, linking elbows with my brother. He smiles down at me before taking a long drink out of his beer can.

All five of us walk off the bus into the hot, California morning. Instantly, I get an uneasy feeling. This is obviously not a great part of town. I worry about the kids who have to come this way for the show. Across the street from the bus parking, sits a brick building. The windows are boarded up, graffiti covering much of the outside. Two burly men stand leaning against the doorframe, eyeing our small group. Gerard stops, glancing around at our surroundings. I shrink into Mikey, wishing for the familiar dangers of New Jersey.

“Better stay on that side of the street motherfucker,” one of the men calls over to us. “I’ll knock you out.”

Not knowing what to say, Gerard gives them a thumbs up before leading the group towards a big white tent set up for breakfast and the set assignment meeting. Frank, noticing how uncomfortable I am, slides his hand in mine, giving it a squeeze. I instantly feel a little better. Frank may be small but he spends a majority of his day in the gym lifting weights. He won’t let anybody hurt me.

“Do you want a bagel?” I question Frank, desperately wanting to be able to do something productive. My anxiety is eating me alive right now because of the encounter earlier. If I just keep standing here I’m going to explode.

“No, but maybe get some fruit. I’ll eat some of that and coffee if they have it,” Frank responds, eyes never leaving the guy announcing the playing times.

Nodding, I wander over to the table full of food. Grabbing a big plastic cup, I fill it with the limited fruit selection; some grapes, pineapple, apple chunks, and strawberries. At the end of the table sits a large, metal thermos. I fill up a cup with the black liquid and head back to Frank.

The guitarist takes the steaming cup from my hand, blowing on the contents for a second before taking a few long, greedy gulps. I eye him the entire time, waiting for the realization that the coffee is almost boiling and void of any sugar to sink in. It takes a total of twenty seconds. Frank swallows hard, tongue sticking out, taking in big gasps of air. I giggle a little before taking the cup back and lifting it to my lips. Iero should have known better. I’m a Way, we drink our coffee black.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Frank hisses, leaning his shoulder against mine and grabbing a few grapes from the fruit salad I’d thrown together.

“You know I drink my coffee black,” I respond back.

“I thought you knew we were going to share.”

“I thought you knew I wasn’t accommodating.”

“I thought you grew out of being a brat.”

“I though you knew me better than that,” I shoot at him.

While we were pretending to argue I hadn’t noticed or bodies shifting closer and closer. I’m now standing almost forehead-to-forehead with Frank. His lips are inches way from mine. I think back to earlier and instantly shift away, shoving a piece of pineapple in my mouth. Frank just smirks at me, taking an apple chunk and slowly sliding it between his lips.

“I could get to know you better.”

“Don’t be gross,” I answer, rolling my eyes. This is better, normal. Frank and I shooting insults at each other, him coming back with some weird sexual comment that hardly goes with the conversation. It isn’t that I like this normalcy better; it’s just that that’s what I’m used to. Anything else sends my heart racing and thoughts spinning through my head at a million miles an hour.

“We are tent number seventeen. We sign until twelve and then we play at one-thirty. Some guys invited us to play kickball in the warehouse tonight,” Mikey explains as we walk through the rows of merch tents that are in various stages of being set up.

This gets a collective nod from the group. I follow behind slowly. Usually I go and help the roadies with set up or go and make sure that the guy’s instruments are in tune. Although I’m sure it’s safe, I don’t really want to go wandering around by myself. The incident this morning has left me shaken.

“You going to hang out while we sign stuff?” Gerard asks as we reach our tent.

I nod before setting to work on hanging up the various shirts for purchase as well as the prices on the corkboard lining the back wall. I take inventory or what we have left in each size. The guys all sit behind the fold out table covered in a black tablecloth.

As I go to refold a shirt, Frank grabs my wrist, “Wanna sit?”

“There isn’t anymore chairs,” I respond back.

Frank pats his lap. Sighing, I sit down. Frank wraps his arms around my waist, head resting on my shoulder. I instantly start drumming out Headfist for Halos with my fingers against Frank’s arm. He sings the lyrics in my ear, almost instantly picking up on the song. I always thought that was the coolest thing. You could play any part of any of the songs the guys wrote and they instantly know it.

“You should play in one of our shows,” Frank says as I continue to sing along with the song in my head.

“I’m not that good. Plus, it isn’t my thing. The fans don’t come to see some random girl up on stage playing; they came to see you guys. They paid money to see My Chemical Romance.”

“I’m sure they’d all be interested to see the girl who was important enough to get pulled over the barrier to be with us.”

I roll my eyes. This whole thing has been blown way out of proportion. “I’m the lead singer and the bassist’s little sister. Big whoop, lots of people have siblings.”

Frank grins, “Yeah, well, you’re also my girlfriend now.”

“In your dreams,” I giggle back.

Frank looks mildly hurt, “How do you know what I dream about?”

I roll my eyes but give the guitarist a smile before leaning my cheek up against his. Would it really be that terrible if we dated? Frank and I have always found a way to deal with our disagreements. What we talked about and did in his off time wouldn’t have to affect the band. My brothers wouldn’t need to be informed of every aspect of Frank and my relationship. I know that Frank wouldn’t do anything to hurt me either, so that doesn’t need to be a concern. I can’t help but wonder if I should bring it up to him. For a while, that’s what Frank wanted. When we lived together he had talked about making it a permanent thing. At the time, it felt like too much too soon. Sure, I’d know Frank for a while but I hadn’t started seeing him as more than a friend at that point. It wasn’t till about six months into living with him that things changed for me.

As the first wave of kids rushes towards the merch tents, I’m forced to put my thoughts on the back burned. Now isn’t the time. Getting up off Frank’s lap, I begin to attend to my duty of selling shirts and making sure all the guys have working Sharpies. This goes on for about an hour, at which time Big Worm showed up to escort all of us to the main stage.

Although we’ve got an hour before we have to start warming up, all of us sit backstage and listen to Rise Against. Gerard, who went back to the bus, reappears a few minutes later with sandwiches and a bottle of whiskey. We pass the bottle around while eating, everyone just enjoying the music.

As Frank hands me the bottle he stretches out on the floor, resting his head in my lap. I beam down at him, my fingers instantly tangling in his hair. We sit this way until Rise Above finishes their set. Mikey gives me a few questioning looks but I just shrug them off. As all the guys get up to go warm up Frank kisses my forehead.

Bored without all my family around I grab one of Frank’s guitars, starting to strum out a tune I’ve had in my head for a while.

“Marilyn Manson?” a voice from behind me questions, causing me to miss a note. I hate being snuck up on.

Spinning around on my heels I turn to face the individual behind the voice…Bert McCracken. I scowl at him. The singer has quickly become my least favorite person on this tour. Whenever he’s around trouble follows. I wish he’s just leave all the guys alone. They deserve better friends that Bert.

“Wow, I’m surprised you know any other music than your own,” I shoot back.

Bert purses his lips; “You’re cuter when you keep your mouth shut. Where’s your brother?”

“Warming up with the guys. I suggest you let him finish.”

“Or what? You going to beat me up? Call your manager and tell him big, bad Bert is ruining your brother’s life? Get over yourself.”

“No, but I’d gladly shove a drumstick up your ass,” I answer back as the guys come around the corner. Frank and Mikey put themselves between Bert and I.

“Jokes on you Makayla, I’d enjoy that,” Bert answers back before wrapping his arms around Gerard. My brother beams up at Bert like he’s the one who hangs the sun in the sky every morning.

I can feel my lunch coming back up and turn away. Gerard was doing so well today. Sure, he’s plastered, but at least he was smiling. At least he staid with all of us instead of wandering off to be with Bert. I thought maybe we were through the worst of it. I guess that’s what I get for getting my hopes up. Unable to stay around Bert’s negative energy, I walk off, heading down the stairs and into the area behind the stage. Ten minutes later I hear the intro to Helena. I smoke through four cigarettes before the incident.

Notes

I'm on a Marilyn Mason binge. I also watched Life On The Murder Scene again which really put me in the mood to write. This should hopefully be a two chapter update but I won't make any promises.