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Post by tatiana4 on Jul 22, 2009 3:23:41 GMT -4
here i am, there you go againAND WE WILL NEVER BE EIGHTEEN AGAIN- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - There was nothing that Madison Sinclair hated more than having to sit out in the hot sun, trying to look approachable, while fourteen year old girls came up to her and asked her when Skyline was coming out to sign things and pretended that they were interested in buying things. This job…she had never wanted it. She was doing perfectly fine living in Los Angeles, living the life that she wanted. But then, her stupid father had to go and invest in some very risky stock, and they had lost nearly everything. Not their home back in Missouri, but Madison had to give up her apartment, and with an unpaid internship, there was no way that she would be able to stay there. She wasn’t about to go get a job flipping burgers or something equally as disgusting, so she took the only route she could think of - - she asked the executives at Past Twelve Records if there was any way she could get a paying job around, at the very least as a copy girl or something equally as demeaning…but no. They gave her a job alright, for a normal person. But Madison did not like being in the heat, she did not like being around sweaty people, and she did not like having to share a bus with lots of other people. She missed her apartment and her long hot showers, being able to sleep in, being able to do whatever she wanted. This was…this was torture, in short form. She had to listen to the band, as they could fire her any minute. She had to sit around doing their bidding, or rather, selling shirts that were mostly stupid and ugly anyways, and she had to do it with a smile. That was perhaps the worst part about this whole thing, having to appear happy in a situation that made her want to run a screwdriver to someone’s head. Preferably whoever’s stock it was that made her family’s bank account run dry, leaving her in this situation in the first place.
Madison had to get up earlier than nearly everyone else, having to be at the merch tent and set up by the time the gates opened at eleven. She rose, tiptoeing to the bathroom so that she could take a shower in peace - - she changed into a green tank top and jean shorts, both of which had probably saved her life out here. She had never been a fan of shorts, ever, but they really did make the summer more bearable when you had to sit outside for ten hours a day. Once out of the bus, she headed off in the direction of the tents, quickly finding Skyline’s in the sea of tarp and shirts. It was one of the only ones that was colored black, to go with the whole, dark brutal theme of their music. Madison personally hated that type of music, completing the circle of irony that came with this job. She would have been a little happier about this situation if she got to work for a band that she actually liked, say Pushing April or Divide By Zero. But no, she was stuck working for one of the only bands on Past Twelve Records that she actually didn’t like, more like hated. It wasn’t anyone in the band in particular, but the style of music was revolting in her opinion. That’s probably another reason why she didn’t get along with the fans - - she at least pretended to like the music when around Sam and the rest of the band, but as soon as their backs were turned she would cringe at the thought of the deathly screams and heavy power chords. Whoever actually enjoyed listening to this music had to be deaf, or just stupid. Sure, the band members may have been good to look at, but that was no excuse or reason to listen to this crap.
Once at the tent, Madison messed around with the shirts a little, sorting them out so that the sizes were easier to find. She hated that they always got messed up, and while there was no one around, she would organize them better, even though her system would be completely null and void after everything got jumbled together again on the trip to the next venue. She finished and rested her legs on the bar under the table, waiting for this day to be over so that the summer could finish as well… maybe then she’d have enough money to at least get an apartment with someone else for a year or so, to finish her internship and all that crap. After a couple hours of half assed trying to convince scene queens to buy t-shirts, or to at least tip a dollar so that they could get a super cool sticker, Madison was exhausted and sick of this all. She leaned back in her chair and threw a shirt over her face, screaming into it to get a little bit of her aggression out. She looked back up and sighed, realizing that it was only one PM right now and she’d be stuck doing this until at least nine… at least then she would have a few hours rest? This just seemed never ending and completely unproductive, just moving around and doing the same thing every single day. How could people stand it? Especially the band members, who had to basically sing to the same crowd and be asked the same question and be stuck in the same sticky, hot mess that came with the summer. At least she got to sit behind a bit of shade, even if she did have to deal with the stupid little teeny boppers that came for the hopes of meeting Travis Covington and hoping that he’d propose or something. Sure, she wasn’t out of her teens yet, but she had hoped that she wasn’t nearly as bad as the annoying, pink haired little girls who attended things like this.
It was then that she spotted a member of Skyline; each member switched off days coming and hanging out at the merch tent at a random hour each day, hoping that the draw of a spur of the moment signing would help to sell more products, because everyone knew that the only way bands actually succeeded on this tour was by selling as much junk as humanly possible. As he came closer to the stand, she realized it was none other than Leon Delcambre… great. She leaned forward and banged her head on the table, making sure that he knew that she was not excited by this appearance. “Wonderful.” She said rather loudly, earning a few sideways glances from the girls who were slowly closing in on him. There was something about every member of this band that just attracted fan girls like flies, Leon being one of the worst of them all. He had an attitude, and most girls found that hot - - it would be a lie to say that Madison didn’t, but she didn’t fawn over him or give him the attention that he knew and was so used to. She would rather call him a pig and throw something at his head, because that could at least keep his stupid, giant ego in check. She was sure he had giant other things too, but she was too prude-ish to even think about that. “Don’t be hitting on the fourteen year old girls this time please, pedophile.” She commented rather loudly as he got closer, chucking the sharpie that was hidden in one of the tubs at the back of his head. “Be useful for once, please.” She added with a roll of the eyes, sitting back down in the only chair behind the merch tent. He would have to stand, thank you very much.
notes , this has been sitting in an open word document for way too long, and i'm way too excited about being able to post this... ): tagged , that would be ellie as leon delcambre. <3 words , 1,320. heh.
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Post by leon emerson delcambre on Jul 26, 2009 20:08:05 GMT -4
It was so damn hot out. The kind of heat that was, personally for him, fucking unbearable. He couldn’t stand it. Sticky, humid, and shit. The fact that he’d just been on stage, jumping and thrashing his little heart away for rehearsals didn’t help all that much. The boys of Skyline were known for the wild antics on stage though. The head banging, the screaming, the bashing. He fucking loved it all. Except when it was under conditions such as these. Really, he shouldn’t have been so aggressive, but fuck, it helped. He was naturally a rather aggressive sort of guy. Too much testosterone probably. Yeah actually, that was it. Music though, it was his goddamn outlet. Getting up there on that stage, and just looking out at the sea of flailing arms and fans crying out his name. He didn’t do this solely for the music. Let’s be honest, he wasn’t really that kind of guy. He was in it for the fame, too. The glory he knew it would give him.
Sighing, he left the stage, rehearsals finished, and after all was said and done, he felt dehydrated, and a little dizzy. Make that really fucking dizzy. He placed a hand over his chest, right over where his weak ass heart pumped wearily. It felt strained. Pumping twice as fast in attempts to catch up at the pace he was going. He really shouldn’t have been out there, playing on stage. He just loved pushing himself to the limits, didn’t he? Seeing just how far his heart could go before putting out. Not many knew about his shit heart condition. Basically, Sam really, if he thought of it. Sam and his family. It wasn’t something he enjoyed talking about. He hated being weak, appearing vulnerable. This was the one thing that made him become all that he hated. So of course, Leon Delcambre made damn sure that nobody knew that sort of shit about him. Hospital stints well, he chalked that up to his drug habits, to his addictions, to everything else but that.
It had to be the heat though. The downside to fucking having shows outside. Really, who’s idea had that fucking been? He was sweaty and shit now, the droplets coating the line where his hair met his forehead. The sun beating down on his pale shoulders, and tracing along the bridge of his nose. It didn't help that he was wearing jeans. Black skinny jeans to be exact. Then again, he wouldn't be caught dead in a pair of shorts. Him? Yeah, definitely not. Leon made sure he was never caught in anything less than mediocre. It’s safe to say he’s one of he few boys who really gives a shit about what he wears. He was raised that way. It was all about looks, all about wearing the most expensive shit possible, and those sort of habits were hard to break.
He rolled his eyes as cobalt eyes spotted the gaggle of girls heading his way. You'd think a guy like him would fucking love the praise, the attention, the girls drooling at the mere thought of him, but goddamn, they were annoying as fuck. High squealing voices, and grubby hands clawing at his expensive clothing. They were all the same too. Same generic bullshit leaving their mouths. Sometimes he wondered why the hell they were there. For the music? Half the time, they didn’t even know what damn instrument he played. They were the reason they were hitting it big. So it was a bittersweet ordeal. Then again, there was the other side to it all. If he needed a good fuck, they were easy. I mean, most of these girls would jump at the opportunity of become his groupie whore. Of course, he took full advantage of that.
As he approached the merch booth, his eyes fell upon the one girl who knew exactly what buttons to push; how to bug the fucking hell out of him. Madison. She was a whiney little bitch. In his opinion at least. Wasn’t the least bit different from all the girls he’d grown up around. The Rich snotty whores that had the world at their fingertips. Funny though, from what he’d heard around and from her own mouth, she was broke as fuck. No longer the little rich bitch she’d claimed she was. He found this sadistic satisfaction out of that. You’d think he’d feel sorry for her because fuck if he’d lost all his money, well, it wouldn’t be a pretty sight. Sympathy though was the last thing that Leon felt. He was pretty low at times, with his comments. He was always making sure Madison remembered exactly who the fuck she was now. A poor bitch, and nothing more.
He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he caught that sarcasm. She was feisty, he’d give her that. Not showing any signs of giving in to his silly little charms. He didn’t let it phase him though. He wasn’t about to give her that sort of satisfaction of knowing just how easily she was able to get under his skin. “Good to see you too, princess,” he said loudly back. She was good at irritating him, but hell, he could be better.
He opened his mouth, ready to retaliate on her pedophile comments when the damned marker came his way. Hitting her target. Him. Oh what the fuck, was the first thing to run through his mind. He swore one of these days the girl was going to give him a concussion. Kill him even. The look she had now, he was sure her intentions had been to kill him. But that was Madison. She always seemed to make sure that he knew just how fucking much he irritated her. Now that he thought about it, maybe it would be for the better if she did. Give him a concussion and all. It’d force her to learn her damn lesson to not throw things at people. Especially him.
Normally he’d huff and puff, and through a nasty glare in her direction, but he couldn’t help but laugh though because fuck, it was pretty funny how hostile she was towards him. For no actual reason too. She blamed it on the fact that he was an asshole. He, personally, coughed it up to her being sexual frustrated. Especially around him. He knew she wanted him. Who the hell didn’t fucking want him? It was just a matter of time. She was just being stubborn is all. Stubborn could only get her so far. He could be very persistent. “Jesus christ. You should be saving all that aggression for the bedroom, Madison,” he commented slyly with that cocky smirk placed permanently on peach colored lips and a suggestive raise of his brow. He had way too much damn confidence for just one guy. His ego, well, let’s not even go there.
It was funny though, as much as she denied him, raved about hating him, in his head, Leon knew, or rather loved to think, that she wanted him. The tension was there. At least for him it was. Oh yeah, most definitely there. He was a determined asshole. Set on getting what he wanted. The fact that she claimed that she didn’t want him made this just a bit more entertaining for him.
He placed his hands on the table in front of him and leaned in close to her; face near and eyes boring into hers. That grin still on his lips and eyebrow raised. “What’d you have in mind, huh?” He responded with an air of arrogance, a lick of his pouty lips, and a slow drag of his eyes along her frame. It was a simple question, but considering it was Leon that had said it, it was far from being just a simply innocent question. No, he was referring to exactly how useful he could be. Sometimes, it was shocking how easily Leon could turn something so simple into something so sexual. He was a pig. He really was. Always throwing sexual comments her way. It was entertaining though because if there was another thing he knew about Madison, it was that she was a bit of a prude. Which was a bit shocking to him considering most of the girls on tour weren’t known for being the very prudish type.
Rolling his eyes once more, he cocked his head towards the cooler he knew was sitting behind the merch table. “Now why don’t you do your job, and grab me a bottle of water, Maddie,” he said slowly with feigned politeness. He wanted her to remember exactly who had the power between the two of them. He was the one in the band. She was the one sitting behind some merch table. She was easily replaceable. He, on the other hand, wasn’t.
Yeah, as much damn fun as he had being threatened and things thrown his way, Madison had to remember her place. He was just the person to do it.
tagged tati as madison sinclair word count omg, 1515 notes this is all over the place, you know me the space cadet, but i love them music thank you shuffle credit none!
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