The Mortician's Daughter ♥ Andy Biersack
Chapter 2

"Hello?" I cradled the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I teased the back of my hair.

"Want to do something tonight?" Peter asked.

"Oh, I guessI forgot to tell you. I scored that interview. Tonight." How had I forgotten to tell him? Maybe because we never really talked about anything important anymore. Except journalism, but even then, he was always off far away doing something for said journalism, so I hardly ever saw him anymore.

"Why at night?" he asked. "Why couldn't it have been earlier today?"

"Because the guy I'm interviewing's band has a concert and he wanted the interview afterwards. He's semi-famous, so I couldn't complain. I just took what I got."

"He is not just semi-famous," Sabrina said from beside me, "he is drop dead gorgeous, sexy, hot, beautiful--"

"Says you," I said.

"I'm gonna rape him," she said. "When we go backstage for the interview and he pulls us to the side I am going to make love to that man."

"At least wait till I'm done interviewing him"

"What?" Peter said.

"Nothing, hun. I was talking to Sabrina." Sabrina tapped the top of her wrist in a time gesture. "I gotta go. I'll call you. Love you!"

"Love you, too."

I hung up and gathered my journals, camera, bag, and dumped a few extra pens in there. "Okay. Let's go."

"Now, word of advice. Don't say anything about the whole your dad is a mortician thing."

"Why not?"

"You were wondering why he acted so weird when you said something. His ex-girlfriend's dad is a mortician."

"Oh." I kept my eyes on the road.

"Yeah. He wrote 'The Mortician's Daughter' for her. He loved her so much. He was going to marry her and everything. She's such a stupidhoe. He still loves her."

"That explains a lot," I said as I pulled into the concert hall parking lot. "But you can't possibly know what transpired between them."

"Transpired?" she shook her head. "You and your SAT vocab. I know enough. Oh gosh I can't believe this!" she practically squeed.

"They do live in Hollywood," I pointed out.

"Well, yeah, but now they're trying not to play quite as many shows so close to home."

"Whatever," I said. I slammed the door as loudly as I could.

Sabrina was jumping up and down until she realized it would ruin her hair. "Ah, dang it, I should've brought hairspray!"

"Hairspray at a concert, really?"

She was wearing a t-shirt with the whole band on it, and booty shorts that said Andy was here. She went around to the back of the car and pulled out a poster that said Marry me, Andy!

"Fangirl much?" I mumbled.

She ignored me and pulled out another poster. This one said Marry me, Ashley! And yet another one that said Proud SandraSexual!

"Sheesh."

"You got your backstage pass?"

"No," I said, holding the badge around my neck up, right in front of her face. "I left it in my locker yesterday," I said sardonically.

"Okay," she said. "Jeez. It's a concert. You could be excited."

"Oh, I am excited. I have waited my whole adolescent life to do this story."

"You never even wanted to be a journalist until your boyfriend was. You still don't want to be a journalist."

"You don't know that," I said, walking away from her and toward the building. She ran to catch up.

We walked in. The bass from the band that was playing thudded through the floor and vibrated through my body. It was really loud.

"Hey," I yelled. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom, okay? I'll find you."

"The line is gonna be killer," she yelled back. "I'll be up towards the front."

I waved a little with my free hand and rushed off to the bathroom. She was right; the line was horrible.

Surely there was another bathroom somewhere. This place had so many levels there was bound to be one somewhere, if I didn't get lost. Or go somewhere illegal.

I went up some stairs where I entered a hallway that had all kinds of records on the wall, along with framed pictures of who I guessed were music artists getting handed big plaques.

I stared at them while I walked, looking to either side of me and figuring the bathroom, if there was one, would be on those sides somewhere.

Suddenly I smacked into something, and my stuff went flying. Papers, everywhere.

Ostensibly I had run into someone.

"I am so sorry," we both said simultaneously, me as I bent to pick up my stuff. "I was just looking at all the..." We both trailed off as we cracked up.

I looked up...and oh my God. Lo and behold, there was one of the most gorgeous men I had ever seen in my life (besides Peter...cough cough) standing above me.

"Sorry," he said, bending down to pick up some of my stuff.

I took a closer look at him and did a double take. "Andy Six?"

He gave me a little salute with two fingers from his temple. "The one and only, in the flesh."

His voice was deep, rich. His hair was a lot longer than the MySpace pictures; it was even longer than mine. He had, of course, stitches going from one side of his mouth almost all the way to his ear, like in the pictures. He had on more black eyemakeup than I did (which was a lot) and his nails were painted black and chipping, save for one lone red nail on his ring finger. The most stunningly beautiful ice blue eyes I had ever seen. Dear God, Sabrina was right...he was gorgeous.

"Raven Burke," I said quickly, moving all my stuff to one hand and holding out my left.

"Ah, the living mortician's daughter. The one who's supposed to interview me after the show."

"The one and only," I said, quoting him. "That is, if you have a voice left."

He laughed, genuinely. He reached out to shake my hand that I was still holding out. Then he stood up, still holding my hand, and pulled me up along with him.

"I really am sorry. I'll help you pick all this up."

I shook my head. "I got it. Don't you have a show to put on?"

"I have time. The band that's on right now still has another set after this."

It got quiet for a minute as I picked up a journal. Then I said, "Well, why aren't you backstage with your band?"

"So the interrogations start already." I couldn't tell if he was serious or not. He laughed. "I'm kidding. I just...like it in here. Looking at all of these. Very calming before the show."

"You seriously get nervous?" I asked.

He smiled, and with the stitches it look sort of creepy yet extremely sexy at the same time. "No. That's not what I meant." He looked down at a piece of paper he was handing to me. "You write music?"

I quickly snatched the paper from his hand. "A little. Not very good."

"Are you kidding me?" he took the paper back out of my hand and read it again. "This is great! Dude, would you mind if BVB used one of your songs on our new album?"

I snatched the paper right back. "You're kidding, right?" He looked extremely serious. "I'll think about it."

Suddenly his phone buzzed. It was a droid. He looked at it, then texted whoever it was back, his black chipped fingernails flying.

"Jake is getting pissy. I gotta go. I'll see you after the show."

"See you," I said, but he was already gone.

I sighed and headed back down to the show.

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Sabrina had managed to get us spots right at the stage. She looked like she was going to pass out from being in such close proximity to Andy Six and Ashley Purdy. Especially when Andy reached down and grabbed hands; I thought she was going to die when he touched hers. God knows what she would have done if I had told her he had touched the majority of my stuff.

"I love you, Andy!" she screamed. She looked like she was about to burst into tears.

"One final fight for this tonight. Whoa." He smiled, that creepy yet sexy smile as he sang. He came to the very edge of the stage and looked down at those of us in the front. Then he winked...at me?

"Oh my God!" Sabrina yelled. "Andy Six just winked at you!"

So I wasn't imagining it. But why the mess would he wink at me out of all the people here?