Ribcage: An Andy Biersack & Ashley Purdy fanfic. ~ON HOLD~

Dirty secrets, somebody leaked it

I'm dancing in Andy's boxer shorts and Juliet's sports bra, by myself. Everyone was gone when I woke up, but I felt happy. I felt okay, for once. Safe, even. It wasn't my usual playlist, but then again, I wasn't feeling like my usual self.

"Trim it, prim it, dress it, mess it, yeah now that's my shit!" I shouted along with the song. 

I saw a car pull into the parking lot we were parked in, and because I was basically naked, I reached over to the windows and pulled the blinds down. The song changed, and it made me hanker for a cigarette.

I figured I should just go buy my own, using my fake I.D. I searched for my shorts, and found my wallet nesting in the back pocket. I took off Andy's underwear and slipped on my shorts, going commando. I'd find my underwear, but ya know, laziness. I considered finding a shirt, but it was a duo gas station and Burger King. Not exactly classy.

I shoved my phone into my pocket, and headed for the front door. I stopped in my tracks. Shit. I forgot I don't have any money. I smirked, and looked under one of the bunks. I pulled out Andy's duffel bag, and traced the dragonfly image on the side with my finger. I then unzipped it, and tried hard not to laugh as I examined the contents.

There was a notebook, laid on top of Andy's crumpled overalls. Andy always pretended to be a hard-ass, at least around Ashley. Every page had a poem, and a name for the title. I smiled, assuming they would be love poems.

But this, as with all things, upon further inspection, it wasn't what it looked. The poems were written with hurt behind the pen. I felt a chill run down my spine. The smile fell from my face, and the words flooded my brain.

One stood out to me the most, as it was the simplest:
"Sometimes you can't let go of what makes you sad.
Because she was the only person that made you happy."

I shook my head and placed the photos back in his bag, and looked through the pockets. I found a ten dollar bill. Jackpot! I tried to clear my mind, to ignore the words that represented the crumbling relationship that I stumbled upon. I shoved the bag back under the bed, and I plugged my ears with some night-core hip-hop stuff.

I finally got out the door, and walked into the convenience store. I heard someone shouting behind me, and pulled out my earbuds. I shrugged it off, and turned to the counter. As I had hoped, the store was nearly empty. The guy behind the cash register was playing Pokemon Go, and I sighed.

"Excuse me? Sir?" I squinted at his name tag. "Mister Michael?" He looked up at me, and put his phone in his pocket.

"Sorry. What can I do for ya?" The guy pulled on his long hair, and smirked.

"Can I get a pack of menthol's, please?" I asked with a smile.

"Gotta see some I.D., sweetheart." He said, and I couldn't help but notice how ridiculously tall he was. I  pulled out my fake I.D. and placed it on the counter.

"Got a school one for me to compare to?" He asked.

"What? No. Can I just get my cigarettes, man?"

"I'm just fuckin' with you." He turned around and looked. "So, you that girl, from that interview?"

"Um... yeah. How'd you see it?"

"My girlfriend showed me. Lot of the fans think you're just an actress, including her." He whispered, and nodded his head to a tall girl with bright pink dreadlocks sweeping the candy aisle. "Marlboro's okay?" He asked.

"Yeah, that's cool. Why do they think I'm only acting?" I asked, and he shrugged.

"Miranda! C'mere, babe." I bit my lip, scared that I as about to get beat down or something.

"Wassup? This girl givin' you a prob- oh my gosh!" She exclaimed, and immediately hugged me. I awkwardly patted her back, and gave Michael a look. She pulled back, and her boyfriend asked her why people think I'm an actress.

"Oh. No offense..." She said, and crossed her arms. I felt threatened, and ready to run off with my tail between my legs. "But you're just so not his type. Sorry."

I furrowed my brows. "Huh? I didn't know he had a type..." I tried to act like the situation worried me, but it really didn't. I don't know why, but I just don't care if she thinks I'm not Ashley's kind of girl. 

"Yeah. He usually dates thick girls, you know, the porn-star girls." I giggled, and shrugged.

"I guess he did fuck a lot of bimbos. But why would the guys pay for a fake girlfriend? I don't get it."

"Lotta people think it's 'cause he got back with Kina like, last year and she got knocked up."

"Kina? He doesn't talk about her."

"C'mon, are you, like, lowkey, a actress?" She asked, leaning against the counter.

"No, I'm not an actress. I swear. I gotta go. Here's ten bucks, keep the change." I shoved the money into Michael's face, and he handed me my cigarettes and my I.D. in a small plastic bag. He slipped a lighter in with it, and winked.

"Wait, can I get an autograph?" Miranda asked.

"Uh, I guess." This is weird. She smiled, and handed me her phone case. "No one's asked me for that before." I signed it quickly, and gave each of them a brief hug.

I popped my earbud back in my left ear, and walked to the bus. I breathed deeply, and tried to avoid looking at the group of cholos and thugs staring and shouting at me.  I reached into the bag and lit a cigarette. I regretted my decision to wear such a skimpy outfit. I felt the cold festering in my soul, and tried to block it out by turning my music up.

"MAMASITA! Lookin' for a good time, ey?" One cholo said, and I rolled my eyes. I was determined to ignore them.

I couldn't ignore the way he was approaching me.

"Excuse me." I said, trying not to offend him. I was only trying to make it back to the bus before the boys came back from wherever they were.

"Naw, It's okay babygirl. Where  you goin'? Wanna join our little party?" He asked, as he stepped in front of me. I took a deep breath. There was no way to get out of this. He wasn't going to leave me alone, and the bus can't go anywhere if I don't know to go, or where my companions are.

"Let's go, mami. You'll love Rimmy!" He smiled creepily, showing off his gold grills.

"Uh, no. I'm good, thanks."

"Okay, I ain't gon ask again." He said, and grabbed my wrist.

"Get the fuck out of here, leave her alone!" I heard Michael shout, his head poking out the door. "We'll call the fuckin' cops on you!"

The guy latched onto my wrist shouted something in Spanish to a man wearing a thick gold chain. Someone said "Fuck the police! It don't matter!" This erupted the whole cluster into chaos.

Someone else screamed at him, "Let her go! I don't want to get Maria deported!"

The man holding my arm let go, and go into one of the cars, and within seconds, all of the guys were gone.

"Holy fucking shit." Michael said.

"Yeah, I know. Maybe if I weren't dressed like a fucking slut..." I said, blaming myself. Of course, it is my fault, but whatever. At least I didn't lose my cigarette.

"No, look to your left. At the Burger King." Michael said in a low voice, and then beckoned for Miranda to follow him outside.

And, of course, all the guys were eating in Burger King, and were just now exiting. 

Great timing.