"You ready to party, man?" Bob cooed loudly over the music as he and Frank pull up beside the club, a screaming abundance of people, mainly teenagers, lining up outside of the closed doors.
"Absolutely," Frank replies absentmindedly, rolling his eyes as he opens the car door. Frank really wasn't one for parties, but everyone knew he was going to be there. It was hardly as if he could back out now and disappoint his fans.
The pair got out, leaving the keys in the ignition so Frank's valet could take care of parking it, "Well let's do it!" Bob grinned, excitement flashing over his teeth. "You know, out of all of your cars, Angelina's my favorite," Bob decided.
"Angelina?" Frank enquired, clearly knowing nothing about the situation. Bob turned his head as the stood outside of the doors to the club, his eyes following the car they'd arrived in. "Yeah. I mean, look at her. Hey, does that new valet look a little shifty to you?"
Frank sighed, "No, not really."
"He looks a little shifty to me," Bob squinted as the valet drove around the corner and into the parking lot.
Frank patted his friend's back, guiding him with one hand as he turns around, "Come on, Bobert, let's find you a real girl."
"That is a real girl!" Bob defended, feeling accused. Moments later, he pauses, facing the rows of people. "Oh, wow. Look who it is: Frank Iero's girlfriend, the fantabulous, fabulous Jamia Nestor!" Bob bowed his head towards Jamia, who was signing and taking pictures with various people in the crowd.
Frank was almost certain that she loved the attention she received from being Frank's girlfriend more than she actually loved Frank, but he brushed it off.
"Fantabulous, fabulous? Dude, what the fuck?"
Bob shrugged, "Spur of the moment, I guess."
Frank smiled lopsidedly as Jamia approached them, "Hi, sweetie." She kissed his cheek, awaiting a reply.
"Hi," Frank responded momentarily, gaze scanning the ground as if to avoid her eyes.
She smiled uncomfortably, looking at Bob, "Bryar." Jamia's words were flat and they cut directly through the night's air, a verbal blade to kill any possible scintilla of 'fun' that once existed.
"Yeah," he rolled his eyes. Bob was used to the cold attitude she had towards him, and so learned to expect it. He wasn't sure exactly what he'd done to provoke her to act this way though. Bob was a nice guy, or at least that's what he'd been told. It didn't make sense, but then again, Jamia as a whole doesn't necessarily make sense.
Frank grinned at his girlfriend, wondering how he managed to get so lucky, "You look beautiful tonight." He looked over her quickly once again as if to make sure he meant what he said, or maybe just to confirm that she is indeed real.
"I know. Wait until you see what I'm wearing tomorrow," her eyes lit up with excitement for a moment, although soon dulled down once again after Frank's next word.
"Tomorrow?" It was a question, and it meant that Frank had forgotten Jamia's birthday after all.
Her face dropped immediately. "Tomorrow?" She tried to coax him into remembering something, although soon came to the conclusion that it was going to take more than that, "My birthday?" Frank's face lit up slightly as he remembered, and he wordlessly apologised, cursing himself for forgetting his girlfriend's birthday.
"Baby, you promised you were gonna sing," Jamia pouted, clinging onto Frank's arm.
Frank sighed, knowing he was relatively busy tomorrow, "Right. Hey, I'll be there. Absolutely." He didn't need this, not at all. Frank knew that come early afternoon he'd already be exhausted and that this is a terrible idea in every sense of the word. On the contrary, he knew he couldn't disappoint Jamia, not this time. It was bad enough that he'd forgotten her birthday, his girlfriend's birthday – who does that? So, as if the action would improve the situation whatsoever, he simply agreed.
Frank supposed she already would've announced somewhere online that he'd be performing, and he suddenly felt it to be his responsibility to actually carry out doing so. The last thing he'd want to do is disappoint his fans.
"Okay," Jamia flashed him a winning smile, and he suddenly felt like he'd been fucked over. Frank supposed that maybe he truly had never agreed to this, and that she was simply trying to guilt-trip him into performing because she knew he'd forgotten, or at least something along those lines. Regardless, he knew the smile wasn't completely genuine and that she had something planned, he just didn't know exactly what.
His thoughts were soon interrupted though, yet again, "Wait, something's wrong," Jamia announced, gaze darting towards the road as she appeared to be searching for something.
"Yeah, you're here," Bob scoffed, earning himself two irritated sideways glances before attempting to redeem himself with an explanation, "What? It's guys' night out!"
"Where are the paparazzi?" Jamia whined, lifting her foot and applying an unnecessary amount of pressure as she brought it back down to collide with the ground.
Bob bit his lip, cussing, "Fuck, you did not blog again, did you?"
A trail of paparazzi vehicles pulled up beside them, and Bob rolled his eyes. Jamia grinned, turning to face the hordes of people with large, expensive cameras that were vehemently rushing towards the three of them. Many clamored to get to the front, determined to take the absolute best photos they could muster.
"There he is, let's run!"
"That's so weird. Hi," Jamia giggled, her iron grip clinging to Frank's shoulder as she posed, using her free hand to push her dark hair behind her ears.
"Look right there!"
"Just like that," orders were shouted, lost in the gentle breezes before they could reach the ears of Frank, who was far too determined to leave and had no intention whatsoever of following the orders of the paparazzi.
Frank raised his hand in a feeble attempt to hide his face from the cameras, "Alright, back-back up, guys," he warned idly, although it had little-to-no effect on their predators.
The photos set his anxiety reeling, and Frank's stomach flipped, unsettled at the thought of people taking photos of him without his explicit permission. He didn't want this, not at all. In fact, Frank felt as if he truly were going to through up purely from the uneasy feeling of the situation.
"Back... Back up! Back the fuck up!" He spoke up again, voice sterner than before as he backed up himself, heading for the closed doors of the building.
