Panic

2. define bad?

“That was...,” Johnston murmured in thought.

“Weird,” Kyle supplied.

“Incredible,” I suggested with a shrug.

“Incre-,” Trey began before shaking his head. “How is Johnston being attacked, in any way ‘Incredible’,” he asked looking at me as if I had grown a second head.

“It was only a suggestion,” I grumbled as I narrowed my eyes in the direction of the jerk.

As I was brainstorming of all the different ways that I could ruin Treys life Johnston suddenly spoke up.

 “Did you see that chick? I thought she was going to eat me,” he said as a notable shiver ran through his body. “Where were you guys,” he suddenly yelled. Raising his hands to shield his face he let out a pained groan. “My ‘macho man’ reputation will be forever tainted,” he cried.

“It’s going to be alright Johnny,” I cooed as I leant across the coffee table and placed a hand gently on his thigh. “When we get back to the hotel I’ll shout everybody free manicures. Sparkly sapphire nails for everyone,” I screeched, my voice raising a few octaves as I did so.

“Just imagine how much fun we’re going to have,” Kyle added, his voice laced heavily with sarcasm, as he not so subtly rolled his eyes. 

“And if you’re all on your best behaviour,” I continued without falter. “We can spend the rest of the night shoving chocolate ice cream down our throats while watching the Twilight Saga...on repeat,” I finished giddily, jumping up and down in my seat.

As soon as the words ‘Twilight’ and ‘repeat’ escaped my lips Johnny’s head snapped up. I watched with a triumphant smirk as Johnston’s once royal blue orbs narrowed to ice slits, his mouth pulling down to form a frown.

“Not funny Scanter,” he spat as he leant back into the couch. “I could’ve died out there. Why didn’t you come save me?”

“We were going to man,” Kyle reassured him with a shrug of his shoulders. “It was just that Danny and his crew beat us to it.”

“Yeah yeah,” he muttered as he sent a cold glare around the green room. “I saw you all struggling to contain your laughter.”

“Be honest John,” I said with most serious expression that I could muster, “you would have done exactly the same thing if a fan tried to attack me.”

“He had better not,” Kyle cried, his voice wavering slightly as he tried to rein in his temper. “If any guy even thinks of laying a hand on our girl then he will have us to deal with.”

“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” Trey laughed, slapping his friend on the back.

“I second that,” Johnston quickly added, obviously feeling slightly left out from the current male bonding.

“And I third whatever you were talking about,” our manager Thom boomed as he collapsed onto one of the leather couches. “That was a bloody brilliant performance gents.”

His plaid t-shirt was wound tightly around his bulging waistline, the material struggling to stay together in one piece as he shuffled around in the chair. The man was no older than my father yet his unhealthy diet of McDonald’s, alcohol and cigarettes made him appear at least double or triple the age. A thick layer of wiry hair coated his chin and up above his upper lip, probably more than what was on top of his already bolding head. Once he was seated comfortably he glanced around the room at his precious moneymakers, a small smile lighting up his pudgy features.

“The crowd,” he commented as he let out a low whistle, “incredible yeah?”

“Incredible,” I began, mimicking Trey’s earlier comment while I sent a blow to his ribcage, courtesy of my elbow.