HOME | DD

Description
Chapter Four

Disclaimer: I do not own My Chemical Romance (they belong to Reprise Records), Gerard Way, Tracy Phillips, Forty Deuce nor any other thing that pops up here that would never possibly be owned by a thirteen-year-old kid like me. This is a work of fiction and may never be proven true. (Read “Artist’s Comments” first for the summary and other stuff)

Tracy Phillips sat in front of the dresser, a cigarette tucked in the corner of her mouth. She’d already told herself to stop smoking a dozen times. Unfortunately, at present, cigars were such things she couldn’t live without – but she tries.

“Just for tonight,” she mumbled to herself, staring at her reflection in the glass. “Just for tonight… then, it’s done.” Her eyes trailed all the way to a little packet of American Spirits (her favorite) that lay on top of her desk. “I hope.” Tracy sighed and took a drag on the cigar …and another …and another.

Soon, the feeling of being pulled in began to overwhelm her, like it always did. Her heart beat a bit faster and the smoke didn’t smell that good anymore. Something in her chest tightened almost too suddenly. She shut her eyes, rubbed her temples and exhaled, huge amounts of smoke billowing from her mouth. “Damn it…” she thought.

Somehow, smoking didn’t feel as good as it used to anymore… another reason to really quit. Tracy scrunched it up in her hands, ignoring the searing pain that came from the heat, and threw it into the little trash can by the dresser.

Tracy was backstage at Forty Deuce, waiting for her slot as usual. There, different women wearing different costumes went around, applying make-up on each other’s faces. Swear words were heard and make-up powder was beginning to form some sort of fog around the place. It didn’t help that Ivan Kane was muttering again…

Tracy rolled her eyes and stood up, trying to drown out her boss’ bothersome voice via swimming in her own thoughts. She picked at her hair, fixed her costume and fidgeted with any other possible thing to be fidgeted with. A little tune – David Bowie’s, she guessed – came out from her lips, as she began whistling.

She spun around, making her rear end face the mirror. Now, staring at her posterior was something she KNEW she never did before. Putting her hands to her back, she stood straight up, with her stomach in and her butt and chest out.

“Conscious, much?”

Tracy spun around to see Carolina Cerisola, someone she worked with at the club. She had this look in her eyes that made Tracy grunt. Carolina folded her arms and smirked. “Look, Tracy, there’s no use hiding it,” she went on. “Ever since you met that ‘Gerard’ guy -”

“Gerard Way,” Tracy interrupted, giving her a sarcastic little smile. Carolina gave her a Whatever-Grin. She whipped her curly brown hair around and turned back to Tracy. “Anyway, ever since you met ‘him’, you’ve been acting differently…” Tracy raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

Carolina rolled her eyes and stared at Tracy in a way that made it seem like the answer was totally obvious. Tracy did likewise. Carolina sighed. “You’ve been acting like the way you were the first time you got here. You’ve gotten so conscious and you’ve started fussing about things like your ASS. …You look so preoccupied most of the time and it’s like …you suddenly care how people THINK of you when you’re onstage.”

Tracy frowned and looked to the side. She had to admit it; she noticed the same thing Carolina did on herself too. But she wasn’t going to be defeated. “Um, Car… Look, it’s nothing, okay? Nothing. Gerard’s just someone I met, that’s all. We didn’t even get the chance to really TALK,” she sighed. “He’s a normal guy again; I’m a normal girl again. We get our lives back. He hasn’t affected my life – at all.” She stared at Carolina, hoping to make her understand.

The two girls stared at each other for a few more seconds. Tracy was wishing for Carolina to just go away and to mind her own business. Carolina looked like a concerned mother. Tracy began tapping her foot. Carolina shrugged. “Sure, Trace… Suit yourself,” she stated as she began to leave. Before Tracy could say something like ‘Finally’, though…

“Tracy Phillips?”

Ivan Kane, everyone’s favorite boss. He stood there in his suit and glasses (Tracy still wondered why he loved wearing SUNGLASSES at night), eyeing a little clipboard. Tracy raised her hand, a flat look on her face. Ivan turned to face her and nodded. “You’re up next,” he said, pointing behind his back. He looked at the clipboard and then at her, eyeing her from head to toe. “…You should really start fixing yourself,” he said curtly and then left. Everybody went back to their normal routines – except for Tracy.

She stood there, staring after the door and making mimicking sounds. “‘You should really start fixing yourself,’” she mocked. Grunting, she went back to the mirror and studied herself. This was really starting to get annoying. She tied the back of her hair up in a messy heap, opened her drawer and took the make-up out. Somehow, she was beginning to dread the sight of them.

Tracy settled down on the little soft chair in front of her dresser and began putting on some make-up. As she did so, the things Carolina had said earlier started floating around in her head. The uncomfortable thing about it was that all the things she had said were true.

It was true that she was becoming very self-conscious. It was true that she’d gotten so preoccupied with her own thoughts. It was true that she suddenly started caring how people thought of her onstage. It was also absolutely true that all this had started when she met Gerard Way.

Another uncomfortable thing was that all the things Tracy herself had said were mostly lies. It wasn’t entirely true that she had gotten her life back. It wasn’t true that Gerard hadn’t affected her life at all. Also, it was most certainly not NOTHING. Gerard might have played a very small role in her social existence, but he had definitely taken a huge part of her mind.

As the lights dimmed, Tracy couldn’t help thinking whether he would be back here to see her again. She ascended the stage and soon, the spotlight shone on her. People began screaming and chanting her name. Striding forward in a graceful dance-like stance, her icy blues scanned the crowd of fans, smokers and a few drunken people. Gerard, nor his “friend”, was nowhere to be found.

Tracy heaved a sigh, put on a smile and swung along wildly to the music, wondering what the audience thought of her.

After the show, Tracy sat silently in her car, looking up at the dark night sky. She tried to make out a few constellations, but couldn’t. She had never seen one in her life. Not even the Big Dipper, which was probably really common. She wasn’t even sure which month it usually came out and it was currently September – the last Friday of September. Sighing, she snuggled up in the front seat and turned on the radio.

Tracy was outside the club building. A couple of people were still back inside, but she preferred to be outside, soaking in the cold evening air. She was leaving soon, anyway.

So far, nothing was good on the radio. The new bands weren’t attracting any attention and the old bands were somehow losing their touch. More radio stations came and passed, most of them with sappy music.

“…a new band called Pencey Prep. Hailing from New Jersey, these young lads…” Tracy raised an eyebrow. She stopped in that station and gave their music a shot. Their song was called “Nineteen” with millions of shouting parts in it. Other than that, though, it sounded pretty fine and the instruments were put to good use. She shrugged and started the ignition, having no such luck in finding the constellations.

“Did I think she’d be here?
Did I fool myself again?
I think I did.
I think I fooled myself again.
Again. Again. Again.
I fooled myself again.”

The song blared out on the radio, with the lead singer screaming like he meant it. The guitars were very good, but the drums were simply awesome. Soon, due to the fact that most of the words were being repeated again and again, Tracy found herself singing along with the stereo. Her smooth voice disappeared into the cold night as she drove on to the hotel she stayed in.

BZZT.

BZZT.

A monotonous buzzing pierced through the silence. Tracy rolled around in her bed, ignoring the sound.

BZZT.

Tracy groaned, took a pillow and smashed it over her phone. …Only muffled humming came of it. “Agh, dammit…” Light stabbed through the darkness as Tracy turned her bedside lamp on. She took her phone from beneath the pillow and looked at the light blue screen. It had the words “DAD CALLING” in big block letters. Tracy’s mouth fell open – this was extremely uncalled for. Her dad, the famous football coach, Wade Phillips, rarely called. It was either he called on holidays or on her birthday, but NEVER on ordinary days… Reasons as to why it happened like that were unknown, even to Tracy. She loved her father very much, and she knew that deep down, he did too… It was just a wonder why he didn’t show it that much.

This call, though, appeared to be MUCH unexpected.

With shaking hands, she pressed a button on her phone that would make her answer the call. “Uh… hello?” she began, her voice trembling as well. A firm, male voice answered on the other line. Tracy couldn’t help but smile. “Dad?”

“Hello, there, Tracy… How are you?”

Tracy grinned to herself. It seemed like her heart was going to pop any minute now. “Oh, Dad, I’m… I’m okay… Very… I’m - Why’d you call anyway?” Her dad’s time was different from her time, so it was excusable for him to call so late at night. “No… rephrase that… Dad, I’m just…” She wasn’t able to finish her sentence; she bit her lip.

“I just wanted to know how my little girl was doing…” her dad stated. Tears began to well up in Tracy’s eyes. Stuff like this normally didn’t happen… She couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Dad, I’m fine! I’ve got good friends; my cousin, Jennifer, she’s been… around… I’ve met some new people…” – she grinned at this – “…And my job’s been…” She stopped and thought. Burlesque dancing wasn’t as good as it used to anymore, for some reason. “Um, my job’s been… terrific,” she lied.

Luckily, her dad didn’t notice the change in her voice when she went to the part about her job. “That’s great, Tracy,” he said. “I’m so glad you’re having a good time there…” A tear drop fell from Tracy’s chin, down to her bed sheets.

“I hope I can visit you sometime, but coaching has never been this tiring… Your old man’s really aging…” It felt good to hear his voice again.

Tracy shook her head and interrupted her father. “Dad,” she started to say, squeezing her covers. “Dad, I’m just so happy you called…” More tears fell from her eyes. She lay down in her bed. The last thing she remembered hearing that night was her father telling her he’d be on the phone until she was silent. Then he’d know she’d fallen asleep…

Description
Chapter Four

Disclaimer: I do not own My Chemical Romance (they belong to Reprise Records), Gerard Way, Tracy Phillips, Forty Deuce nor any other thing that pops up here that would never possibly be owned by a thirteen-year-old kid like me. This is a work of fiction and may never be proven true. (Read “Artist’s Comments” first for the summary and other stuff)

Tracy Phillips sat in front of the dresser, a cigarette tucked in the corner of her mouth. She’d already told herself to stop smoking a dozen times. Unfortunately, at present, cigars were such things she couldn’t live without – but she tries.

“Just for tonight,” she mumbled to herself, staring at her reflection in the glass. “Just for tonight… then, it’s done.” Her eyes trailed all the way to a little packet of American Spirits (her favorite) that lay on top of her desk. “I hope.” Tracy sighed and took a drag on the cigar …and another …and another.

Soon, the feeling of being pulled in began to overwhelm her, like it always did. Her heart beat a bit faster and the smoke didn’t smell that good anymore. Something in her chest tightened almost too suddenly. She shut her eyes, rubbed her temples and exhaled, huge amounts of smoke billowing from her mouth. “Damn it…” she thought.

Somehow, smoking didn’t feel as good as it used to anymore… another reason to really quit. Tracy scrunched it up in her hands, ignoring the searing pain that came from the heat, and threw it into the little trash can by the dresser.

Tracy was backstage at Forty Deuce, waiting for her slot as usual. There, different women wearing different costumes went around, applying make-up on each other’s faces. Swear words were heard and make-up powder was beginning to form some sort of fog around the place. It didn’t help that Ivan Kane was muttering again…

Tracy rolled her eyes and stood up, trying to drown out her boss’ bothersome voice via swimming in her own thoughts. She picked at her hair, fixed her costume and fidgeted with any other possible thing to be fidgeted with. A little tune – David Bowie’s, she guessed – came out from her lips, as she began whistling.

She spun around, making her rear end face the mirror. Now, staring at her posterior was something she KNEW she never did before. Putting her hands to her back, she stood straight up, with her stomach in and her butt and chest out.

“Conscious, much?”

Tracy spun around to see Carolina Cerisola, someone she worked with at the club. She had this look in her eyes that made Tracy grunt. Carolina folded her arms and smirked. “Look, Tracy, there’s no use hiding it,” she went on. “Ever since you met that ‘Gerard’ guy -”

“Gerard Way,” Tracy interrupted, giving her a sarcastic little smile. Carolina gave her a Whatever-Grin. She whipped her curly brown hair around and turned back to Tracy. “Anyway, ever since you met ‘him’, you’ve been acting differently…” Tracy raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

Carolina rolled her eyes and stared at Tracy in a way that made it seem like the answer was totally obvious. Tracy did likewise. Carolina sighed. “You’ve been acting like the way you were the first time you got here. You’ve gotten so conscious and you’ve started fussing about things like your ASS. …You look so preoccupied most of the time and it’s like …you suddenly care how people THINK of you when you’re onstage.”

Tracy frowned and looked to the side. She had to admit it; she noticed the same thing Carolina did on herself too. But she wasn’t going to be defeated. “Um, Car… Look, it’s nothing, okay? Nothing. Gerard’s just someone I met, that’s all. We didn’t even get the chance to really TALK,” she sighed. “He’s a normal guy again; I’m a normal girl again. We get our lives back. He hasn’t affected my life – at all.” She stared at Carolina, hoping to make her understand.

The two girls stared at each other for a few more seconds. Tracy was wishing for Carolina to just go away and to mind her own business. Carolina looked like a concerned mother. Tracy began tapping her foot. Carolina shrugged. “Sure, Trace… Suit yourself,” she stated as she began to leave. Before Tracy could say something like ‘Finally’, though…

“Tracy Phillips?”

Ivan Kane, everyone’s favorite boss. He stood there in his suit and glasses (Tracy still wondered why he loved wearing SUNGLASSES at night), eyeing a little clipboard. Tracy raised her hand, a flat look on her face. Ivan turned to face her and nodded. “You’re up next,” he said, pointing behind his back. He looked at the clipboard and then at her, eyeing her from head to toe. “…You should really start fixing yourself,” he said curtly and then left. Everybody went back to their normal routines – except for Tracy.

She stood there, staring after the door and making mimicking sounds. “‘You should really start fixing yourself,’” she mocked. Grunting, she went back to the mirror and studied herself. This was really starting to get annoying. She tied the back of her hair up in a messy heap, opened her drawer and took the make-up out. Somehow, she was beginning to dread the sight of them.

Tracy settled down on the little soft chair in front of her dresser and began putting on some make-up. As she did so, the things Carolina had said earlier started floating around in her head. The uncomfortable thing about it was that all the things she had said were true.

It was true that she was becoming very self-conscious. It was true that she’d gotten so preoccupied with her own thoughts. It was true that she suddenly started caring how people thought of her onstage. It was also absolutely true that all this had started when she met Gerard Way.

Another uncomfortable thing was that all the things Tracy herself had said were mostly lies. It wasn’t entirely true that she had gotten her life back. It wasn’t true that Gerard hadn’t affected her life at all. Also, it was most certainly not NOTHING. Gerard might have played a very small role in her social existence, but he had definitely taken a huge part of her mind.

As the lights dimmed, Tracy couldn’t help thinking whether he would be back here to see her again. She ascended the stage and soon, the spotlight shone on her. People began screaming and chanting her name. Striding forward in a graceful dance-like stance, her icy blues scanned the crowd of fans, smokers and a few drunken people. Gerard, nor his “friend”, was nowhere to be found.

Tracy heaved a sigh, put on a smile and swung along wildly to the music, wondering what the audience thought of her.

After the show, Tracy sat silently in her car, looking up at the dark night sky. She tried to make out a few constellations, but couldn’t. She had never seen one in her life. Not even the Big Dipper, which was probably really common. She wasn’t even sure which month it usually came out and it was currently September – the last Friday of September. Sighing, she snuggled up in the front seat and turned on the radio.

Tracy was outside the club building. A couple of people were still back inside, but she preferred to be outside, soaking in the cold evening air. She was leaving soon, anyway.

So far, nothing was good on the radio. The new bands weren’t attracting any attention and the old bands were somehow losing their touch. More radio stations came and passed, most of them with sappy music.

“…a new band called Pencey Prep. Hailing from New Jersey, these young lads…” Tracy raised an eyebrow. She stopped in that station and gave their music a shot. Their song was called “Nineteen” with millions of shouting parts in it. Other than that, though, it sounded pretty fine and the instruments were put to good use. She shrugged and started the ignition, having no such luck in finding the constellations.

“Did I think she’d be here?
Did I fool myself again?
I think I did.
I think I fooled myself again.
Again. Again. Again.
I fooled myself again.”

The song blared out on the radio, with the lead singer screaming like he meant it. The guitars were very good, but the drums were simply awesome. Soon, due to the fact that most of the words were being repeated again and again, Tracy found herself singing along with the stereo. Her smooth voice disappeared into the cold night as she drove on to the hotel she stayed in.

BZZT.

BZZT.

A monotonous buzzing pierced through the silence. Tracy rolled around in her bed, ignoring the sound.

BZZT.

Tracy groaned, took a pillow and smashed it over her phone. …Only muffled humming came of it. “Agh, dammit…” Light stabbed through the darkness as Tracy turned her bedside lamp on. She took her phone from beneath the pillow and looked at the light blue screen. It had the words “DAD CALLING” in big block letters. Tracy’s mouth fell open – this was extremely uncalled for. Her dad, the famous football coach, Wade Phillips, rarely called. It was either he called on holidays or on her birthday, but NEVER on ordinary days… Reasons as to why it happened like that were unknown, even to Tracy. She loved her father very much, and she knew that deep down, he did too… It was just a wonder why he didn’t show it that much.

This call, though, appeared to be MUCH unexpected.

With shaking hands, she pressed a button on her phone that would make her answer the call. “Uh… hello?” she began, her voice trembling as well. A firm, male voice answered on the other line. Tracy couldn’t help but smile. “Dad?”

“Hello, there, Tracy… How are you?”

Tracy grinned to herself. It seemed like her heart was going to pop any minute now. “Oh, Dad, I’m… I’m okay… Very… I’m - Why’d you call anyway?” Her dad’s time was different from her time, so it was excusable for him to call so late at night. “No… rephrase that… Dad, I’m just…” She wasn’t able to finish her sentence; she bit her lip.

“I just wanted to know how my little girl was doing…” her dad stated. Tears began to well up in Tracy’s eyes. Stuff like this normally didn’t happen… She couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Dad, I’m fine! I’ve got good friends; my cousin, Jennifer, she’s been… around… I’ve met some new people…” – she grinned at this – “…And my job’s been…” She stopped and thought. Burlesque dancing wasn’t as good as it used to anymore, for some reason. “Um, my job’s been… terrific,” she lied.

Luckily, her dad didn’t notice the change in her voice when she went to the part about her job. “That’s great, Tracy,” he said. “I’m so glad you’re having a good time there…” A tear drop fell from Tracy’s chin, down to her bed sheets.

“I hope I can visit you sometime, but coaching has never been this tiring… Your old man’s really aging…” It felt good to hear his voice again.

Tracy shook her head and interrupted her father. “Dad,” she started to say, squeezing her covers. “Dad, I’m just so happy you called…” More tears fell from her eyes. She lay down in her bed. The last thing she remembered hearing that night was her father telling her he’d be on the phone until she was silent. Then he’d know she’d fallen asleep…