Pictures And Some Memories

Forty Two: Circles.

The loose gravel in the private parking spaces behind the gallery crunched under the Mustang's tires as I carefully parked in the same space I always claimed. I leapt out of the driver's seat, slamming the door behind me. It rattled me enough that the curlers still pinned in my hair shook, threatening to fall if I made one wrong move. I looked toward the unassuming beige and sighed – in just minutes, I'd be confronted with Larkin again, and I felt woefully unprepared. Somehow I'd managed to divert his attention over the last few days but there was no avoiding him today; launch day was supposed to be exciting and yet my heart raced like my life depended on it.

Instinctively, I reached for my cigarettes and lit one instantly. Alex narrowed his eyes my direction, the disapproval thick as I got my nicotine fix. But instead of a lecture, he stood a safe distance away from the second-hand smoke.

"Where's Baker?" he asked after glancing around for his truck. "Shouldn't he be here by now?"

"He's taking Nick to his sister's for the night," I answered softly. Since I invited Jourdan and her mother to the gallery last minute our planned babysitter was now preoccupied. So, Zack had to drive an hour and a half west so Nick could spend the evening with aunt Zena and her three boys. Thankfully, they'd made up since their last fight and welcomed Nick over for the evening.

"Good, good," Alex murmured, nodding. He and I looked so vastly different side by side. My hair in curlers and oversized NYU shirt and running shorts were a far cry from gallery ready. Meanwhile, Alex looked as if he'd raided Pete Wentz's closet – plaid button down, leather jacket, crisp black skinny jeans and a pair of Nike's that he certainly hadn't broken in yet.

I felt like a physical representation of the anxiety I felt – juxtaposed next to the cool and collected Alex Gaskarth made it even more apparent.

As if he sensed my spiral, he crossed his arms and gave me a knowing look. I wined, unable to help myself. "Listen, I know you can hold your own, but I'm only a few steps away tonight," he assured me instantly. "Tonight is going to be great. You just wait and see."

"But the leak –"

"Doesn't even matter. How many reporters have come by so far and not even mention it in your 'before' interviews? I promise, no one is going to think bring up that bullshit tonight."

"I sure hope you're right," I mumbled.

"And if Larkin so much as looks at you the wrong way, say the word and the guys and I will fuck him up. Zack's been teaching me jiu jitsu, so you know we can flip his world to shit pretty quick."

He was so earnest, but I couldn't take him seriously at all when he said that. I pictured Alex trying to flip Larkin over and immediately cackled, unable to help myself. Not that Alex couldn't pack a punch – he once broke a guy's nose during our first week of Warped Tour after he witnessed a guy try to grope me at our merch tent. But the absurdity of it all – man, it really got to me.

"I truly appreciate the thought, I do," I gasped between laughs, "But we should really come up with a code-word. Just in case I need an escape plan."

"'Please, oh please, help me, all-mighty Alex, the bad man has captured me!'" he supplied without skipping a beat in a cartoonish voice. I narrowed my eyes. "No, no, too obvious."

"Well, so is cuh-caw, but that's never stopped us before," I joked back.

"But this is much more serious than a bird noise, Andi. We're like secret agents – we're playing to win, not some child's game."

"Oh my God, are we ten years old? What do you mean, secret agents?" Erik called as he strolled over, coffee in hand and a wide grin on his features. "The code word is obviously Fireball, guys."