Calhoun O'Connell

"You can take that half-baked idea and shove it up your ass, Derek." Vólkov was standing rigid with his arms crossed and his eyes all wrenched up. "There ain't no way in hell I'll ever consider going on tour with you douchebags."

He looked calm, like what I was saying was going in one ear and out the other. "Come on, Calhoun, stop lying to yourself. You know that as long as we stay here we're not getting any better." In the other room I could hear the rest of the band start mumbling apprehensively. I pointed at Vólkov.

"Some of us have better things to do with our lives than waste our talent on a bunch of nobodies with shitferbrains. I'll think about it, but I don't like the concept of being stuck in a minivan with all of you on some kind of dumbass college roadtrip."

He grinned slyly. "And what do you think you are, Calhoun?" He tutted. Sometimes that hot pink head of his was a lot more trouble than it was worth to keep around. "You can't make a name for yourself with that kind of attitude. Like I said, stop shittin' with yourself. We have songs to rehearse here."

I gave him a fierce glare and stalked out of the living room and back into the garage where the other guys were standing idly. Bjørn, the guitarist, had pulled up a chair and was resting his feet on an amp, headphones in the jack as he picked at the strings. Tony, on drums, was leaning back in his seat, and Novak was using his keyboard as an elbowrest.

I walked up behind Bjørn, grabbed the back of his chair and pushed it down, making him fall out of his seat with the guitar on top of him.

"We have a lot of work to do," I announced. "'Cheap Wine and Bruises.'"

The rest of the band was staring at me. "Now," I added impatiently.

"Hey, guys, I've been thinkin' lately, uh," Derek started, "maybe we could go cross-country or something, yeah? Kind of get ourselves out there?"

"Hell yeah," Tony said, dropping his drumsticks and starting to get up. "Maybe we'll meet some guy from a record label or something on the way. You never know, right?"

I glared at Vólkov, shaking my head so only he could see it. My brows were knitted together, and my mouth was in a deep frown. He looked at me, but he was still smiling enthusiastically so I mouthed "no" right at him. He raised an eyebrow, but the smile was still there, albeit a little less enthusiastic. I motioned 'come here' and pointed to the living room. His eyes followed my gestures, but he didn't make to move.

So I did the sensible thing - I got angry and stormed away. Now Vólkov followed me, making sure not to blow his nice-guy cover.

"Dude, what is it?" he asked. He leaned against an end-table and raised his eyebrows.

I sighed into my hand and looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Cross-country? What the hell? What gives you even the slightest notion that that might be a good idea?"

"Calm down, man," he said, "I've got the money, I've got the wheels. What's the big deal?"

"What's the big deal, Derek? The big deal is that you just pull this stupid idea out of your ass and expect us to eat it out of the palm of your hand. Remind me again, would you, who is the leader of this band?"

"Dude, Calhoun, calm down. I was just telling you guys an idea of mine."

"Well, you know what? You can take that half-baked idea and shove it up your ass, Derek."

((A/N: Due to some confusion when I posted this on other websites like Neopets (lolol) and Gaia, Calhoun is the one who's shooting his mouth off. He's talking to Derek Vólkov, who brought up the idea of going on a tour of sorts. (: I think it might be clearer in the next chapter.))