The Mortician's Daughter

"Okay," I said. "Well." I drew in a breath. "What I meant was... we really don't have anything in common. Except the obvious writing thing. That's...about it. We don't even talk, really. I mean, we used to, before we started going out. Yeah, we talk about stuff like me asking him for his keys and him saying, 'I love you,' or something, but, you know, I'd like to talk about...movies or books or music. I'm obsessed with music. But the majority of my music gives him headaches. And vice versa. I hate all his stupid pop and oldies stuff. And I love reading. But he rarely reads unless 'he has time.' I mean, it really shouldn't matter. That stuff's not important, you know? But to me, it is. I just... I love talking about that stuff as opposed to just physical stuff all the time, and I want someone I can talk to easily for the rest of my life, not someone who spends our life in silence... Anyway, there's that, and the whole obvious thing about me not quite fitting in with his crowd. His parents hate me.

"Sorry to bore you," I continued. "But you asked. And I guess there's nobody else who cares."

He didn't say anything. "Guess I bored you to death," I went on after a moment.

"No, you didn't," Andy said. "I'm just thinking about what you said."

"Okay..."

"I think you're right. You know, that kind of thing might not be important to everyone, but communicationisimportant in a relationship, and if it's important to you, it matters period."

This time I didn't say anything. How did he know the exactly right thing to say?

"Have you talked to him about how you feel?" Andy asked.

"What, are you on expert on my relationship now? It's not that simple. Of course I've talked to him. But that's the whole problem I just got done telling you about: we don't talk. I'm like, 'we need to talk more, I hate this' and he's like, 'Sure. So how was your day?' and then I tell him and ask how his day was and he tells me, and that's it. We have nothing else to talk about, besides the paper, because we have nothing else in common--"

"Surely there has to be something else?"

"Nope. Aside from the occasional movie, there's nothing. Except somehow there's this amazing chemistry... I don't know, I may be only 17 but I can safely say that I am madly in love with him." And no famous rockstar who was a total stranger would change that.

"Yeah, I know the exact feeling," he said.

Then Andy stretched, putting his feet in my lap. Uh, a little comfortable with strange women, are we? Just because I pour out the dark secrets of my love life to you and just because you are the most gorgeous guy on the planet does not give you any right to do stuff my close guy friends would do... I mean, yeah, I could see myself having a close brother/sister relationship with this guy if he weren't famous, but sheesh.

"So, can we start your interview now?" I asked. I pushed his feet out of my lap. He sat back up on the desk.

"Sure. Ask away."

"All right, so first off, just for the record, since I and your fans already know this--then again, the purpose of this is for those that aren't fans to read it--I have to ask... Is Andy Six your real name?"

He laughed. "No, of course not. It's Andy Biersack. That's German, by the way."

"Knew that and knew that," I mumbled as I wrote it on a notepad. That became too much, so I searched through Peter's drawers until I found a high tech recorder to indulge my laziness. I knew everything about him thanks to Sabrina, who, alongside writing Mrs. Andy 6 on all her old stuff (now it was Mrs. Ashley Purdy), wrote Mrs. Andy Biersack to trick people like me out. "Like I said, I'm simply inclined to ask all victims that. For the record."

"Mmhmm," he said, crossing his legs and making me really aware of those tight leather pants.

I cleared my throat. "Okay," I said. "Next question."

------------------------------------------------------------

"Here," I handed Peter the flash drive. He looked at me kind of quizzically. "The feature's on there," I explained. "You're the editor. All stories, articles, advice columns, poems, etc. pass through your hands before publishing, printing, and going to the administration for approval, else there's trouble," I quoted the rules.

He smiled and snatched the flash from my hands. "So, tell me, love," he said as he loaded my story onto his computer, "how did your interview go?"

"Great," I said vaguely. "Read it and see." I wanted to fall asleep on the spot. The concert and meet and greet obviously lasted till around 1, which wasn't bad at all considering, but then the interview that entailed more than just his interview lasted until around 4, and I was up till 5 actually writing the feature since I was on a roll. So no sleep for Raven.

"All right," he said. "Hopefully this can get the green light for this to go in the next paper."

------------------------------------------------------------

Next Day

My dad was at the morgue tonight, wearing his coroner hat instead of mortician, so I had the run of the house and the funeral home.

But before my head could even hit the pillow, my phone buzzed. New text message.

From Andy 6

Oh boy. I had forgotten we had exchanged numbers after the interview--"Don't be a stranger," Andy had said as he programmed his number into my phone.

So seeing as you do not have a twitter & i'm to lazy to get on myspace, i figured this is the best way to communicate. Call me!

The clencher: ASAP.

Then he finished it with AB/A6

Call him? Really? Did he seriously have that much time on his hands? And what the frig could be so important that he couldn't just text me about it, I had to call him? Why couldn't he call me if he wanted to talk on the phone so bad? Was he that lonely?

I didn't feel like calling/talking to anyone! I decided I would just text him back.

Hey it's Raven. What's up?

A few minutes later I got a text back.

Can you call me? My phone is haywire right now for texting they never send in order or on time.

I sighed. Really? Really.

You're a rockstar. You seriously have time to talk? About what? & to me? Really?

It took about 5 minutes until the next text.

Yeah, just having a jam sesh with the guys i'm good to talk. About your article.

Great. Finally I said what I wanted to all along. How about you call me if you wanna talk so bad?

5 minutes later my cell phone rang. I sighed, didn't even look at it, then answered it.

"Yes?"

I heard voices and guitar tuning in the background.

"So I read your story," he said.

"How did you manage to do that?" I asked. "And why would you?"

"I have my ways," he said vaguely of the first question. "And I always like to read articles about me. Just for the heck of it."

Sure. "Whatever you say," I said. "So why exactly did you feel the need to call me to tell me this?" I was only halfway annoyed, but I was acting like I was completely annoyed. Deep down I was actually a little--okay, maybe more than a little--flattered that this rockstar was making a semi-effort to be semi-friends. Not to mention his voice was so deep, perfect, and hypnotic, I was beginning to think I was becoming addicted. Which made no sense, since I'd only talked to him once before and it wasn't like I was in love with him or anything. It was just so lulling...

"Maybe because I wanted to call and tell you almost-in-person how dare you print such falsities about me! You twisted all my words into something they weren't. Oooh, that's good, I need to write that down," he added on a mumble.

"Are you done?" I asked in a peeved voice.

"Almost...okay. Now. I was joking."

"Yeah, I figured that out."

"Actually, I wanted to say that it was perfect. Couldn't have done it better if I'd written it myself."

"And seeing as it was about you anyway... Remind me why you couldn't just tell me all this in a text again?"

"Maybe I just wanted someone to talk to," Andy said.

"Right, because you don't have plenty of people to talk to."

"Okay, or maybe I just thought you needed someone to talk to. From what you told me the other night, you need a good friend, Raven. Someone you can spill your guts to or just talk about the most random shit with--"

"How thoughtful," I said as sarcastically as possible when inside I really was thinking how utterly sweet, "but I have friends," I interjected.

"Sabrina? I know you can't talk to Peter, and if I were you I'd have a hard time getting a word in edgewise with her..."

"I have more friends than just Sabrina, actually. My best friend, Jake, is in Texas right now visiting his family."

"'Jake'. Sure."

"What, you think I'm making him up?"

"Like overprotective Peter would let you have a guy best friend."

"Like you even know Peter! He doesn't mind, actually, since I'm a tomboy and tend to get along with and connect with males better than females."

"Okay then. We're good. So he won't mind you hanging out."

"What is with you? Why do you want to be my friend and/or hang out so bad? I find that awfully pervish..."

Andy just laughed a sexy laugh.

Notes