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A story called 'Four'

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Volume: One Issue: Three < Pistol > [24 Nov 2003|12:21am]

        The interview was going along nicely… aside from the fact that every time my eyes met Timmy’s hazel ones, I blushed. I felt so much like a school girl with a crush. It was embarrassing… I hadn’t felt like that in… years… so I wasn’t exactly sure how to deal with the feelings. Then… I noticed that the guys seemed to be getting bored… and I realized I was asking all the stupid boring questions that all interviewers ask… so I decided to spice things up… in a weird way.
       “Okay… what’s your favourite kind of cheese?” They both stared blankly at me. “Well… my favourites are mozzarella… and extra extra sharp cheddar.”
       “Hey! Me too!” Timmy exclaimed, smiling at me.
       “Um… I’d have to say… Bleu cheese.”
       “Ew… Bleu cheese is moldy.” Timmy commented, shifting away from Padraic… but smiling all the same. “That’s just nasty, man.” I couldn’t help but laugh. I felt the same way. I glanced at my watch, the interview had been going for about half an hour… I knew that I had more than enough info to type up for my article.
       “Okay boys… one last question. Insert suspenseful music here…”
       “Dum Dum Dummmmm!” Timmy laughed. “Sorry… I was inserting… music… inserting some suspenseful music.” He blushed.
       “All right… I’m sure there are many many people wondering about your personal lives… and since we’ve mostly been discussing your upcoming studio time… it’s time for a personal question… I’m sorry… I have to ask this… are either of you seeing anyone, romantically?”
       “Nope.” Padraic announced, proudly… yet with a tinge of sadness.
       “Okay… Timmy?”
       “No, I’m not. Are you?”
       “What?” I was shocked.
       “You interviewed us… it’s our turn to interview you…” I wasn’t sure if I liked the glint in Timmy’s eye as he said that… but his smile put me at ease.
       “Yeah! So are you currently seeing anyone? Your diehard fans are dying to know.”
       “I’m not currently seeing anyone… aside from the 2 goofballs sitting in front of me.”
       “Oh… I see… Hey!” Timmy pouted.
       “Aww… Next question?”
       “Um… when you showed up… what did you yell at who in what language?” Timmy asked.
       “Wow… 3 questions in one… I’m impressed.” I smirked, “I was yelling at Oliver, my ex-boyfriend and the editor of my magazine, I was yelling in Tolkien’s Sindarian… elvish… because when Oliver and I were together, we were so addicted to Tolkien that we learned Sindarian… and I was calling him a few not-so-nice names… and insulting what little manhood he has… Very small.” The boys laughed, catching the pun in my last statement. For the rest of the time I was with them, the discussion was light and cheery… I could tell they were great guys… especially Timmy. He even invited me to their show tonight. I’m, of course, going and definitely bringing Tanner… I can’t wait.
confused yet?

Volume: One Issue: Two ~Timmy~ [24 Nov 2003|12:14am]

        “I’m really sorry that she isn’t here yet. She’s usually MUCH more reliable… Well… she WAS reliable… once… before she… Sorry. I’m very sorry she’s not here… yet. I’m going to go try her cell phone again… dammit… she’s probably at Eden’s… she spends all her fucking time there… instead of working. But usually she’s much more reliable. ” Oliver walked away grumbling something about Pistol, the interviewer. I think there might be some kind of history between those two… although I don’t know how a nerdy guy like Oliver, ever could have any kind of history with Pistol. Pistol just seems way cooler than anyone that Oliver could ever get his hands on. Ah well… After he wandered off, Padraic, Jet and I looked at each other and had to fight to keep from cracking up.
       “Wow… I don’t care that’s she is late… I mean it isn’t like we have anything to do for the next hour and a half… aside from the interview.” I commented.
       “Oliver’s always been that way though… if any of his reporters are slightly late he goes majorly anal on them… although, it’s always worse with Pistol.”
       “Why is it worse with Pistol?” Padraic asked.
       “Well… they have a history…”
       “What kind of history?”
       “Well… he tries not to talk about it much… it ended badly…” At that point, Oliver came running back into the room.
       “What the fuck is Eden’s fucking number?” Oliver growled… Padraic and I just looked at him. Jet walked over to him and put an arm around the shorter man.
       “Dude… calm down… I know the number… I’ll call Tanner and see what’s up.”
       “I can call.”
       “No… let me call… relax… before you give yourself an ulcer or something. Go have some coffee.”
       “Coffee… good idea… coffee…” Oliver walked off… rubbing his hands together evilly.
       “I better go make sure he gets decaf.” And with that Jet was gone, too.
       “That was weird.” Padraic commented… running a hand through his black hair, making the “bed head” look be even more spikey and messed up.
       “Yeah… yeah it was.”
       “I wonder what Oliver and Pistol’s history was.”
       “I personally don’t want to know…” Padraic raised an eyebrow.
       “Oh really… Timothy.” I blushed. “And why not?”
       “Shut up… just shut up…”
       “Oh… I see… so /that’s/ why we agreed to this interview… Timmy has a thing for Pistol, eh?”
       “No! I do not have a “thing” for her… I’ve never met her… I’ve just read some of he stuff… and I think it might actually be an interesting interview.”
       “How have you read some of her stuff?” I blushed again… he laughed.
       “Well… last time we were here in Hatsboro, I picked up a copy of OP underground and read an article by her… and it was actually interesting and funny… so… well… I… got Zahc to subscribe… and send me a copy, every time something of hers was printed… so now that we are back… I thought we should give them an interview.”
       “So… you got in contact with Jet… who put you in contact with Oliver… and you requested an interview…”
       “Specifically with Pistol… or not at all.” I smiled, proudly.
       “Timmy… you are one sly fuck, you know that?” I was going to respond but we were interrupted by raised voices outside… suddenly the door flew open and in stumbled a very bedraggled looking Pistol. She glared behind her… screamed something in… some language… ran a hand through her hair and looked at us, blushing.
       “Um… hi. I’m Pistol. I’m going to be… uh… interviewing… y’all… today… which of course you already know… so I’m just making a fool of myself by telling you that…” She smiled, and laughed quietly at herself. “So… Tim, Padraic… shall we begin?”
       “Call me Timmy.” I interjected… Padraic looked at me, shocked… I tend not to tell “outsiders” to call me Timmy… but I just wanted her to call me Timmy… I don’t know why… maybe it’s the way her hazel eyes glitter when she smiles… or how she can look so beautiful in a black hoodie and bondage pants… Shit… I think she noticed I was staring at her… shit… think of a good excuse… something… anything…
       “What brand hair-dye do you use? The red is amazing… I was thinking of dying my hair sometime soon…” I wanted to smack myself in the forehead… way to sound like a geek… dammit.
       “Um… I use Manic Panic… but I like your hair the way it is… you don’t need to dye it.” She smiled at me, and I could feel another blush coming. I self-consciously ran a hand through my messy bleach blonde hair… embarrassed about the fact that my roots were showing. “It looks great right now.” She said, avoiding eye contact and biting her lip, shyly.
       “Anyway… Shall we start the interview?” Padraic asked.
       “Oh… sorry…” She blushed again and started in on her questions.
confused yet?

Volume: One Issue: One *Tanner* [18 Aug 2003|04:39am]

“Wait, so who’s this band you’re interviewing?” I asked over my shoulder to Pistol, who sat on a stool in the middle of the work area, swinging her legs.
“Um…” She flipped open her notebook. “Spades Are Trump. They’re hardcore.”
“Oh, okay. I’ve heard of them but haven’t heard them. That’s Drew Collins’ band right?”
“Chelly Jordan’s boyfriend?” I nodded, grabbing the stack of CD’s I had been organizing and wandered out from behind the counter. Pistol hopped off her stool and followed me out on to the store display floor.
“Yeah, it’s his band but he won’t be at the interview. I guess Oliver could only get the drummer, um, Padraic Prince, and the bassist, Tim Kelper to agree to come.”
Oliver is Pistol’s “boss” and ex-boyfriend. Together they had started
Hatsboro’s only underground music zine, OP Underground, although Oliver had slowly taken control of the project, which is one of the reasons he and Pistol had split up. I occasionally would write a few pieces, mostly show and album reviews, but I try my best to stay out of the zine. It’s just way too political for me. It doesn’t help matters much that Oliver is my “older brother” Jet’s best friend.
“Oliver gave you such an important interview?” Up and coming bands were always the best interviews. If the band managed to hold its own in the local scene, chances are the first interviewer got the assignment to cover them until they faded from the spotlight. That’s why Oliver never gave new band interviews to “younger” staff writers or anyone he disliked; which is where Pistol would fall right now. Pistol makes a stellar interviewer so Oliver is stupid not to put her on the rising stars. She’s as witty and spontaneous as they come. Shooting back remarks before you even know what you said to her. That’s where she got the nickname “Pistol.” Her real name is Melanie Clark, but no one who actually knows her besides teachers and her parents call her that. To everyone else she is simply and fondly known as Pistol.
“Yeah,” She shrugged. “He just called my cell phone up the other day and gave me the details. No explanation.”
“Eh…editors are weird in their ways.” We wandered back to the desk and I checked all the CD racks along the way, making sure they were neat and orderly.
“Yeah?” Pistol retook her seat on the stool and I picked up a box of security cases and began counting them into piles.
“Can I borrow your hoodie?” I scowled to myself. Pistol is only an inch taller than I am so we often swap clothes, but my hoodie is normally the one thing I refuse to share. It’s my baby.
“Come on Tanner, don’t be a bloke. It’s freezing outside and I promise I’ll drop it off on my way back home.” Forgetting the cases, I turned to face her, a stern look etched upon my face. She looked up and smiled meekly.
“Fine.” I resigned. I guessed there was more to this interview than she was letting on to. Ah well, I’ll pry it out of her later. “It’s over there, under that HellCat box, by my bag.” Pistol dug through the ever-present mess, finally finding my black Minor Threat hoodie, which was covered in band patches and pins I’ve collected over the years. She had just opened her mouth to say something when the ring of the telephone interrupted. I grabbed the receiver and held up my hand to her, motioning her to hang on just a minute.
“Eden’s Warehouse. This is Tanner.”
“Hey Tanner. It’s Jet.” Jet is a long time friend of mine; he’s always been a sort of protectorate when I can’t handle the world by myself. Tall, lanky, covered in tattoos and with long dark brown dreadlocks and sparkling brown eyes, he’s anything but you’re average Joe. Jet co-owns and manages The Chance Theatre, Hatsboro’s main underground music venue. It holds about 1,700 kids and put on an average of 3-4 shows a week.
“Hey!” What can I do for ya?”
“I’m looking for Pistol. You haven’t by any chance seen her, have you?” I raised an eyebrow to my red haired, blue eyed best friend who sat flipping through the latest copy of Alternative Press.
“Yeah, actually, she’s right here. What me to grab her for you?”
“No, that’s okay. Just tell her to get her ass down to The Chance now. Oliver’s having a fucking bird. Timmy and Padraic are already here and waiting for their interviewer.”
“Shit! Yeah, I’ll tell her, Jet. Thanks man.”
“I should be thanking you, Tan. Oliver is seriously going to kill himself over this zine someday. You’re gonna stop by this week to go over the bookings with Zahc, right?”
“Oh, yeah. Um tell him I’ll call about it when I get off at three.”
“Sure thing. Take care kid.”
“I’ll talk to ya later.” I smiled to myself as I hung up the phone. One of the perks of being so deep into this scene was I knew everything that was going on. What bands were touring, who was recording, when and where shows were, it’s just amazing. The ‘Core kids are awesome too. My cell phone’s always ringing with someone calling to bounce a new idea off me, to ask for a favor, or to just checking and update me on things. This scene is as close to a family as I’ve ever had.
“Tanner! Hello? Earth to Tabitha.”
“Eck.” I spat at hearing my “real” first name. “What, Melanie?” I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Who was on the phone?”
“The phone? Oh, yeah! The phone. That was Jet. Oliver’s freaking out, I guess the two guys you’re suppose to be interviewing are already there and waiting.”
Pistol’s eyes widened with panic as she glanced at her watch.
“Fuck! It’s 11:42, I’m already ten minutes late!” She jumped to her feet and gathered her stuff, throwing my hoodie on over her head. “Bye Tanner! Thanks for everything, I’ll call you after the interview, if Oliver doesn’t have my fucking head.”
I waved to her retreating form before turning back to my work, chuckling softly to myself.
confused yet?

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