Jazz and Liquor ✥Brendon Urie ✥

✥chapter one ✥

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You're the galantine, cold and alone, it suits you well
Won't find me perching here again

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It was his second weekend out and he'd run out of creative but reasonable excuses for his absence. He adjusted his suit jacket and combed loose strands of his dark hair back into place, struggling to remember which explanations he'd over-exasperated. His wife knocked on the bathroom door for the millionth time and knew he had to open up sometime but not without a excuse.

"Brendon, if you're not gonna open the door can you at least give me my lipstick? I'm gonna be late!" June yelled, pounding on the wood like a madwoman.

"One second," he called, fumbling through the vanity drawers for his cologne.

"Brendon, I don't have a second! Open the door!"

"Have you seen my cologne? It's not here." He searched and researched all the nooks and crannies in the small but practical bathroom.

"It's in the bedroom," June replied. "If you opened the door you could get it."

Brendon sighed at his reflection in the mirror and decided he'd wing his excuse; he hoped he'd come up with something good. He opened the door and stood face to face with his wife of two years.

"You look nice," she commented, nodding at his crisp black suit.

"So do you. I'm glad you like the pearls I bought you." He walked passed her to get to the bedroom where he found his cologne on his side of the bed, just where he left it after his last outing. He said he had important work related business to attend to.

He sprayed the crisp smelling cologne on his wrists and neck, and spritzed his suit jacket for good luck.

"Where are you going?" June asked, slipping on her lace gloves.

He turned to face his wife. "Where are you going?" he countered. "You very rarely go out on Friday nights, or at all, really."

"Oh, just a party with some girls from work. I won't be out long." She fixed the feather headband strapped to her head before wrapping her shawl around her shoulders.

"A party? With those rich people?"

"Jesus, Brendon, let's not get into this today."

"It was just a question. Answer it."

June rolled her eyes. "Yes, with the rich people."

"Why are you so obsessed with them? Can't you keep to yourself?"

"It's just a party. Slow your roll, dear."

"It's not just a party, June! It's never been 'just a party' to you! You're always out with those rich people instead of being out with me," Brendon argued.

"In my defense, you're either at work or going out somewhere yourself so it's not my fault."

"Just forget it," he muttered, exiting the bedroom to put his cologne in the bathroom vanity for tomorrow night.

"If you want me to stop partying with rich people then maybe you should make us rich. Just a thought," June suggested, leaning in the bathroom doorway.

"I'm trying," he replied. Brendon hated talking about money.

"Not hard enough."

"I just bought you pearls last week! What more do you want?"

"You bought an entire suit for yourself and I'm supposed to settle for a stupid necklace? A house would be nice, if you need some gift suggestions."

"I can't just sporadically buy a house, June, we don't have that type of money."

"And who's fault is that?"

Brendon looked at June in the mirror and her red lips turned up to a smirk.

"I won't be out long, love. Don't get too drunk tonight." She blew him a kiss and left the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

Brendon drew in a deep breath and held it for a moment before exhaling. He was going to change their money problem and buy June the big house she's always wanted. It was just a matter of when.

He'd gotten a weekend gig at a prominent jazz club downtown after spending most of his time there. Brendon had dreamed of being famous since he could remember and he hoped singing at the jazz club would increase his chances. He knew it was a stretch but it was worth a try.

After he calmed himself, he grabbed his hat and pocket watch and headed to the door.

It was Friday night and the entire city population seemed to be out in the streets going to or from somewhere. A pair of women giggled and waved at Brendon when he passed them by and he nodded back at them. He was well aware of what women thought of him and couldn't help but give in just a little. June was aware of what other women thought of her husband as well and needless to say, she didn't enjoy it as much as Brendon did.

The club was called Sandburg's and it was the hottest spot downtown. Brendon smiled when he saw his name plastered on the marquee as a headliner; or his band's name, rather. Panic! At the Disco hadn't been around long but it was becoming more popular every night. Brendon entered at the stage door and tipped his hat at the female dancers taking a smoke break. They waved back.

He entered the club and was greeted by the scent of cigarettes and liquor. He inhaled and exhaled.

"Whiskey?"

He turned and accepted a glass of whiskey from Angelina, a dancer and friend he'd made at the club.

"You know me so well," he said as he took a sip.

"I also know your bandmates pretty well and they're waiting for you in your dressing room," Angelina replied, linking arms with him and dragging him upstairs to the dressing rooms where his bandmates Ryan, Spencer, and Dallon were waiting.

"It's about time you showed up," Ryan sighed as Brendon and Angelina entered the room.

"It's not like I was late or anything," Brendon chuckled. "Calm down."

"We'll be downstairs setting up," Ryan said, opening the door for the rest of the band.

"I'll be up here changing," Brendon replied, taking a suit jacket off the hanger.

"They seem upset," Angelina said, lighting a cigarette.

"It doesn't matter. They'll get over it once we play our set." Brendon downed the remained of his whiskey and checked himself out in the mirror.

"You better hurry up before they yell at you again."

Brendon smirked. "Wish me luck."

"You don't need any," Angelina said, taking a drag of her cigarette. "Trust me."