Here's My Kiss to Betray - An Andley Story.

Five. - Arrive Promptly!

[ This Chapter's Point of View ; Andrew's Point of View. ] [ TW ; Eating. ]

Turning over, I grumbled softly in my sleep. After a few minutes, I woke up, batting my eyes at the blank chalky white ceiling of my apartment. The walls were embellished with mnemonics of how much I am loved; as well with pictures of me with my mother and father. I smiled at it, admiring it for a few seconds before swinging my long legs on the side of my bed, practicing a cat-like stretch. With assistance of my bedside table, I slowly gathered myself to stand up on my feet, rubbing my eyes. Stumbling to the bathroom, I supported my weight with my hands on the edge of the sink, I felt sick, groggy. My prominent cheekbones poked out through my pale flesh, as well as my ribcage. The guys had noticed I hadn't been eating as much as I should be on tour, but, emphatically, there was no viable option other than fast-food; which I am entirely no fan of. You can't even watch your weight by trying to eat healthy on those menu boards- it's all detritus. I haven't gotten my appetite back yet, either; but I mainly want to look apt for the fans. They're jumping and screaming for the whole band, indeed, but if I gain weight will they look past me as if I am transparent..? This always gets to me. I shook my thought-filled head and checked my alarm clock for the time. It's four-thirty, shit! I grabbed my makeup case and applied a porcelain foundation to my dermis, setting it lightly with the matching packed powder. Swiftly slicking my mascara wand into the tube I applied two thick layers; as well as a thin line of eyeliner. With immense posthaste, I threw the makeup case into my large black bag along with my binder, flipping through the pages to find the realtor's phone number, placing my finger to my tongue to get a tighter grip on the pages. After scanning the pages thoroughly, tracing the lines with my finger and dialing the number, I breathes out a sigh of triumph. After a few rings, I heard a voice chime on the phone;
"Crye-Lieke Realtors, Commercial Real Estate Agency. All of our realtors are official members of the National Association of Realtors. This is Jessica Halifax speaking, how may I assist you today?" I coughed into my elbow to clear my throat.
"Hello, Jessica, I very much thank you for your assistance over the phone today. I am calling to refer of the small cottage home being sold on Harvest Creek Road, house number 206, in Los Angles, California." Her tone of voice seemed to change, as if she was taken aback by my politeness.
The rustling of papers came through the opposite end of the call; as did the sound of pencil markings being written on paper.
"Who is speaking with me?" I heard her sigh softly.
"Andrew Biersack."
"Okay, Mr. Biersack, is it only you who is interested in this home?" she said as I heard more scribbling. I grabbed my binder and flipped to a free spot in my loose leaf notebook paper section, ready to jot down any imperative data.
"No ma'am. My friend, Ashley Purdy, is also interested in being my roommate in this house."
"Alright. I am going to transfer your call to a realtor who is nearer to your exact location. Thank you very much for calling, Mr. Biersack, it was pleasure to assist you today. Please stay on the line," she said, I'm sure I could hear the stuffing of papers into a binder. I nodded.
"Ditto, Jessica. I immensely appreciate your aid today," I said, coughing away from the phone into my elbow. I heard the reiterated realtor scheme sentence over again as the line picked up. A high pitched, squeaky voice rung across my side of the line.
"This is Charlotte Scott speaking, how may I assist you today?" she said, quite cheerily. I once again repeated what I said to Jessica.
"Oh yes, you're the transferee! Would you like to schedule an appointment to view the home?"
"Indeed, ma'am."
"What time would be convenient to you both?" she asked, referring to Ashley and I. I flipped a few pages in my binder, revealing the time slot page in which there were columns of times where I was supposed to be. I searched for today, which was Tuesday. Band practice at five-thirty, nothing else.
"About, four-thirty? I am busy at five-thirty."
"Indeed, that time is free, I will see you at four-thirty, Mr. Biersack! Thank you for calling Crye-Lieke Realtors," she said before hanging up the phone. I nodded, hanging up as well, before calling Ash.
"Ashley?" I said with a cough. His voice rung from the other line.
"Four-thirty, you must arrive promptly at the address I will send you via text message. Understood?" he laughed softly.
"Yeah, Andy."
"Good. I will see you then," I said, closing my eyes, hanging up. I got dressed and begun to do a few chores and errands before I had to leave. Walking down the stairs of my apartment, I got in my car with a sigh, leaning my elbows on the top of the steering wheel, hitting my head against the horn, biting my lip roughly.