The Only Hope for Me is You-Frerard

16-Frank

New York isn't necessarily my favourite place on earth. I'd say New Jersey is. But Gerard and the band are here, so I suppose I like New York well enough. I like any place where Gerard is. I get to see him every day, so I'm not complaining.

    I think the turning point in our career, when we know we're going to make it in some way, is when we're booked at an infamous club called Big Daddy's. I've heard of the club before, but I never once dreamed that I'd ever get to play there.

    Gerard keeps trying to insist that I do vocals for the band, but every time, I refuse. I sing backup vocals instead. He can be the frontman. I honestly don't mind standing in his shadow.

    The club is sort of disgusting, but then, I've never been to a club that wasn't. There are neon lights flashing over an otherwise dark space. There's a main stage and a dance floor, and a few couches and chairs around where people sit, drinking alcohol and smoking cigarettes. I can smell the smoke, and my fingers creep in my pants pocket almost of their own accord, looking for my pack. I curse softly when I don't find one.

    There are a few more private rooms branching off the main club space, where I'm sure people are doing drugs. I bite my lip and force my hands to stay on my guitar, so I don't scratch. I'm also wearing fingerless gloves to deter me.

    The announcer steps up onto the stage and announces our band name, "My Chemical Romance" before we step up onto the stage, before an uninterested audience.

    We chose the band name about a week ago. It was Mikey's suggestion. He thought of it because he'd been working at a Barnes and Noble before the band, and he'd come across a book by Irvine Welsh entitled "Ecstasy: Three Tales of Chemical Romance". He suggested it, and we all agreed, because we all thought it was very beautiful.

    I loom out over the dance floor, which is empty. Our music isn't exactly dance music. I see people sitting on the chairs and couches, and God do I ever need a cigarette.

    After, I tell myself. You can smoke all the cigarettes you want after the set.

    The first song we play is Our Lady of Sorrows, and a few people in the audience actually take notice. About halfway through our set, Gerard flirts and manages to get a girl in a black party dress to buy him a beer. It occurs to me to be jealous, but I push it down when she comes back with a cigarette, which he hands to me. Gerard doesn't like girls anyways.

     During the intermission, I sit on the stage and smoke, shitting techno music blaring around me. I've lost track of Gerard, and I know that Ray and Mikey are in the bathroom making out. I don't know what happened to Matt. So I sit alone on the stage, looking out over the sea of people. A crowed has gathered.

    Some girl, another one, comes up to me with a whole pack of cigarettes, and I say something flirtatious about blessing her soul before she walks off. Having groupies is okay. I don't even have to get my own cancer stick. Someone else will run off and get me something intended for self-destruction.

    Gerard returns to the stage then, smiling widely. "Who was that girl?" He asks, slurring slightly. He grips the edge of the stage and try to hoist himself up, but falls. He starts laughing.

    "A fan, I guess." I say, taking another drag of my cigarette. Gerard is drunk, and it's stressing me out. I don't like it.

    "We have fans." He says, and then he really starts to laugh. He's standing in front of the stage, grabbing my leg to keep from falling. "We-" He's about to say something else, but instead he starts giggling again, and takes a sip from his beer bottle.

    "How much have you spent on beer?" I ask disapprovingly. I don't care if I sound like his mother. His mother wouldn't be impressed by this display, and she'd be right not to be.