The Heart Rate of a Mouse (Larry)

Chapter 3: One Ounce of Honesty

"Say one good thing about Texas. Go on, I dare you." I lift an eyebrow at Harry, who tucks hair behind his ear and smiles at me.

The makeup artist covers up an irritated sigh as I move against her will. "If you could just stay still for a while longer," she begs, and I turn to the mirror reluctantly. Ed and Liam are ready, but Cal is still getting his hair done in the chair next to mine. The girl goes back to applying foundation on my face.

"Cowboys are hot," Harry offers, causing me to snort and my makeup artist's eyebrow twitch. In the mirror, Ed makes gagging gestures behind our backs. Harry doesn't notice as his eyes are fixed on me. I shift uncomfortably.

The photo shoot for new promotional pictures is taking place in downtown Dallas on top of a roof. For some reason, a roof says rock 'n roll. Harry didn't lose a bet this time; I asked him to come along. He probably would have come without me having to ask.

"No eyeliner," I tell the makeup artist fiercely when she picks up a pen.

"But it'd really make your eyes pop!"

"I think it'd suit you," Harry agrees.

I glare at the two. "No eyeliner."

Both Harry and the girl look disappointed.

When we get on the roof, the wind instantly ruins any attempts made on our hair. A girl calls us back inside and sprays more hairspray on us, like that could make a difference. The photographer is some Scottish guy who appears to be famous. Ben is excited, and he usually knows who is who in these circles, and he murmurs to my ear that it's Iain Macmillan. When I keep staring, he says, "Abbey Road cover! Family friends with John and Yoko! John and Yoko, Louis!"

"I've met John. I didn't like him."

Cal hears us speaking and joins in with, "I'd call him a right tosser!" His English accent is more than lacking. "If you asked me, someone should put a bullet or two in that guy."

Ben stares at us in shock. "He is going to live forever! And don't you dare say anything this radical in your interview this afternoon!"

Joe and I shrug simultaneously. John was an arrogant fucker, but then again, he probably is rich and famous enough to behave like one. Ben, who famously passed out at a Beatles concert back in '65 from screaming too much, walks away from us angrily.

"Wanker," Cal Remarks, still with a weird accent that makes him sound more Mexican than English. I still manage to chuckle. At least Cal'snot fucking my girl or lying to my face. He's got honest arrogance, and that's something. He still has his moments.

The four of us stand in a group, waiting for Iain and his assistants to get ready. Ben and Harry are standing by the door leading to the roof, Harry nodding as Ben points at us, clearly sharing his vision of what the pictures should look like.

"Why's the fag here?" Cal asks from beside me, trying to light a cigarette, but the wind keeps blowing out the flame of the lighter. Miraculously, Cal has lost his moment.

"Do you have to call him that?" Spencer asks tiredly. He has always been the open-minded one among us. I bet I'd win that competition now.

"I invited him," I inform the rest, looking each of them in the eye, daring them to say something. It doesn't take a scientist to notice that the only person I have been spending time with recently has been Harry.

Cal mouths "oh" and curses as the wind blows out the flame again.

Ed hasn't been paying attention as he says, "This one will be it. The Picture."

Ed has always talked about an imaginary, legendary picture of the band, that one shot that will keep the spirit of us alive long after we're gone, guaranteeing immortality.