Break Out

They were late, utterly and indescribably late.

I paced back and forth by the luggage claim, literally just doing my best not to rip someone's head off. They were such jerks. They were stupid, lazy, irritating wanna-be rockstars. I knew it, and in all honesty, I had known it before I even stepped foot in Baltimore so none of this should have come as a surprise.

So far, i had been trapped at the airport for two painfully slow hours. That's how long I had been waiting for their sorry asses to show up. The actual flight from Botston took less time than that and it just got me even more irritated as I continued to think about it. I was so mad I could hardly control myself, which just proves that I probably do have some anger management problems like Byron, my boss, claims but I don't care. My temper was up and I kept telling myself that the moment they finally were to step through those doors, shit was about to go down.

Just then, I felt my phone vibrate in the back pocket of shorts and I pulled it out furiously. A guy waiting for his suitcase looked at me and took a step in the opposite direction. Good.

Their manger just text me, they're almost there. Control yourself, Blake, I'm begging you.

I sighed in frustration at Byron's text and plopped my butt down onto my suitcase. What the hell did "almost there" mean? Almost there, as in they're pulling into the parking lot, or almost there as in they're about to get into the car.

If he would just trust me, he could give me their numbers and I could ask them myself but no, apparently I had a tendency to offend the customers. Right. Maybe they should all just grow a pair and suck it up. The music industry is a rough place and the sooner they figured that out the better.

Groaning loudly, I threw myself backwards out of a sitting position so I was sprawled on my back over my luggage, head dangling off the end. I could practically feel people's eyes burning holes into my body but I honestly didn't care. They weren't the ones stuck at an airport. They weren't the ones being forced to work with people who clearly held no sense of respect for anyone. In fact, they could all kiss my butt. And that especially included All Time Fucking Assholes Low.

Readjusting myself on the suitcase, I sighed deeply and stared at the ceiling for a moment. If I were at home, I could still be in bed right now. That thought filled me with self-pity and I closed my eyes, feeling the blood rushing to my head, thinking maybe I could just take a nap. Suddenly though, I noticed the light on the otherside of my eyelids disappear with the sound of somone clearing their throat. Opening my eyes reluctantly, I glared up at whoever it was.

Matt, the band's tour manager, was staring down at me with a smirk on his face. The other four boys were standing right beside him and I felt my face grow red when I noticed their eyes take in my outfit. I was wearing high-wasted jeans, a black top that stopped around my ribs and a baggy sweater. Originally, I found no problem with it, especially when it came to comfortable traveling, but now I was thinking otherwise.

"Holy legs," Alex muttered, looking at me with a grin, and I flipped him off. Ok, maybe my shorts were a little too short to be considered a good idea around these boys.

They all chuckled and Matt held out his hand to help me up, which I ignored. Pushing it out of my way, I forced myself to stand, groaning lightly.

"Or you can get up yourself..." Matt said sarcastically, raising his eyebrows, and I glared at each of the band members before returning my gaze to him. Why did they all look so confused by the fact that I was angry? Surely at least one of them, if not all of them put together, could read a clock... right? Or were they really that dumb? I was starting to wonder.

"Do you know how long I have been waiting for you idiots to decide to show up? Two. Hours. That is 120 minutes. 7200 seconds. For that long, I sat here and did nothing except wait for you five to stop acting like a bunch of stuck up, prissy little bitches and get in your fucking car!" I shouted.

The majority of the people within hearing distance gave me offended glares but I didn't give a shit. The guys, on the other hand, all looked at me like I was crazy before busting out laughing. That really didn't make me feel better.

"No really, laugh it up, it's hilarious I know," I spat, clenching my fists at my side.

"Uh it kinda is," Alex chuckled and I shot him a glare, which he pretended to cringe away from.

"Anyway, I'm Matt, that's Jack, Alex, Rian, and Zack. I realize we haven't gotten off to a great start but it really is a pleasure to meet you," Matt said politely, which surprised me a little, and I shook his hand because I didn't want to be too much of a bitch. I thought it was strange that he thought he needed to tell me their names but nodded along anyway.

"I'm Blake," I said, pushing back the part of me that just wanted to hop on the next flight to Boston and never look back.

Jack was smiling creepily at me and I glared at him.

"You're hot," he said after a moment and I stared at him in shock. The rest of the guys tried to hide their laughs, unsuccessfully.

"Well this is great. Really. Now let's go," I said abruptly, picking up my luggage and walking towards the door, not bothering to check if they were following. As far as I was concerned, I was here to help them so they needed me, not vice versa. After I had walked a couple steps, Matt, Rian, and Zack showed up to my left while Jack and Alex appeared at my right.

"You're not much of a people person are you?" Alex asked, obviously enjoying getting a rile out of me. I ignored him.

"Not very patient either?" He paused.

"We could look into getting a therapist for you, if you'd like..."

"Or a stress ball."

I was about two seconds away from punching him in the neck when Zack looked over.

"Alex. Shut the fuck up." Before I could stop it, a giggle burst from my lips and Zack looked at me with a smile, a slight blush filling his cheeks.

After returning his with a small grin of my own, I pulled out my phone and checked twitter while we walked. I pushed my side into the door to open it and steped out onto the pavement, laughing at some of the mentions in my notifications. Considering I worked with a lot of bands, I was fairly well known between the fans and their weirdness never ceased to amaze me.

"Something funny, Blake?" Rian asked, his eyebrows raised, and I could tell that he was genuinely interested, not just being sarcastic.

"Just... well there are some crazy people on twitter," I said, shaking my head, causing all the guys to nod in agreement. I'm sure they were well aware

We were all silent as we walked to the car so I could easily hear when Jack whispered to Alex, "So this is the professional person we're paying so much money to work with?"

Alex must have nodded because there was a moment of quiet before Jack spoke again.

"But she looks like she's like 19!" he whisper-shouted and I rolled my eyes. Did they really think I couldn't hear them?

"For the record, I'm 20. And three months. And I'm the best damn 'professional person' on the east coast, atleast at what I do that is," I stated, not bothering to look at either of them when I spoke. I heard the guys to my left chuckle and Alex and Jack looked at me in awe.

"How'd she hear that?" Alex whispered to Jack, probably too stupid to realize that nothing had changed from now and two seconds ago when I just heard them.

"I don't know, but she's feisty. I like it!" Jack replied, still believing they were being secretive.

"I can still hear you," I sang. The two boys looked at me with shocked expressions and Jack shook his head.

"Shit, man. She's good!"

Matt, Rian, Zack, and I let out one collective sigh.

Oh yes, I could see it now.

It was going to be a long three months.

Blake's outfit

Notes