Fiction_Online

Subject to Change

By Nopinion

**Phantom Planet fan fiction of the heterosexual persuasion.**

2 3

Chapter 1, with editing by Calijackalope (for the duration of the fic).

Earth shattering percussion resonated behind the studio door. The producer peering on then flashing the lights as a que to stop, "I don't know Jason." He spoke into the microphone, "The crash is drowing out everything, I think you need to back off on that." the drummer nodded and started again.

In another room a massive battle was in progress while the hours of indevidual practice drained away the sencerity of the day.

"Stop! Oh God, I'm gonna piss my pants!" the small brunette sqeeled, the tickling taking away what little breath he had left.

The taller boy gave a final ribbing before backing off and sitting on the warn, soft couch almost as equally out of breath.

"Pizza's gonna be here in about thirty minutes." a much older man said, peaking in from an ajoining room.

"So, Darren, I guess it's good we got that out of the way before you ate half a pie." Alex laughed, "Or you'd of lost more than just bladder control."

Darren shook on the floor still regaining his breath. He pulled himself up, exagerating the exhaustion, till he was on all fours, his forehead pressed into the floor, "Ah, it feels like you kicked me." he laughed.

"Well, if you prefer it that way, I'll bring whips next time."

"Jesus, Alex. What did you do?" another brunette, with blonde tips at the end of his shaggy hair paused at the door.

"Nothing, he did it all himself."

"Sam," Darren whined, "he wouldn't stop." he rolled on to his back, holding his mid-section, "I think I'm bruised."

"I told him not to start." Alex defended, "He poked me."

"Well, food's on the way." Sam smiled.

"Yeah we heard." Alex stated, "So how's that drum line going in there?"

"Absolutely splendid, I've never been privy to such a brilliant display of percussion prowess." he shrugged, "I've been outside."

"So... did it stop raining?"

"Yeah, it's nice and sunny." Sam smiled, pulling a small apple out of the basket.

"Better save room for pizza."

"I don't really want any." Sam shrugged and headed back outside into the sunshine of Los Angeles as the drums were pounded in the studio.

"Hey, Alex." The producer called into the room, "Where's that damn bass player?"

"Outside." Darren and Alex stated in unison.

"Sam!" He yelled out the door, "Get your ass in here and work some rhythm."

"But... but..." He stammered pointing out the door, "She's like a ten."

"Then work fast." He shoved him into the glass room.

"Okay, Jason. Let me hear it, I've got a girl outside." He rushed, hastily pulling the strap over his head and plugging in the chord.

"So, are you gonna come with me tonight?" Darren asked, scooting to the wall and leaning against it.

"Where?" Alex tossed an orange up and down.

"The NPR benefit concert." Darren reminded him, "I have an extra ticket, you know, from before I got dumped."

"Who's playing?"

"Elvis Costello, one of those tenor guys, some others... it should be good."

"Do I have to find a tux?"

"At least a nice shirt and maybe a tie."

"Then no."

"Come on, I don't want to waste a ticket."

"Take Sam."

"He's too pretty, I won't see a girl all night."

"And I'm not pretty?"

"I'll take Jacques, or is he too nerd cute?" Darren mumbled to himself and walked into the production room.

Alex relaxed into the couch, leaning on to his side and stretching out. He sighed and closed his eyes for what he hoped would be a wonderful nap. He was very near his goal of slumber when shouting resonated down the hall.

"Pizza's here!" Darren yelled, swiftly whisking the papers and fruit off the table and onto the floor. The delivery boy slammed the boxes on the table and waited for his tip.

Alex sat up, while the others flopped besides him. Jason came in, sweating in a tank top and scrunched his nose. He peered over Darren's shoulder, skimming the contents. Alex watched him tilt his head, obvious displeasure sweeping his features. He let out a sigh and picked an apple out of the basket.

"Don't bother." He tossed it to Jacques, who was entering, "It's all cheese."

"No," Alex opened the top of a box, "This one's not." He tilted it so they could see it, "Dig in, bell peppers."

"Thanks, I'm really hungry." he grabbed a slice, offering it to Jason. He grabbed one for himself with his other hand.

Alex stared at the boxes and the gluttony that was taking over the room. He machanically extended his arm and grasped the crust of a cheese slice. He pulled it out and examined it. Noteing the crisp brown of the cheese near the bread.

"You gonna eat that or frame it?" Jacques snickered.

"I'm not sure I'm hungry."

"You were starving thirty minutes ago." Darren reminded him.

"I know, that's what's weird." He bit into it, "Maybe I'm just tired of pizza."

"What?" Darren gasped.

"We've had it ten days in a row, the same stuff."

"But it's pizza." Jason stated in awe, "Even I like pizza."

Alex took another bite, "I'm eating it, aren't I?"

Sam crossed in front of the door, clearly on his way outside. "Hey, Samuel!" Alex called, "Pizza's here!"

"Oh no," He stepped back into view, tossing the apple core into the trash can, his hand on his stomach, "I'm full."

"Yeah, of shit." Jason tossed the apple that was by his back up into his surprized, but capable, hands.

"Thanks," Sam jogged out the door.

"She must be good looking." Alex snickered, "Or he'd gorge himself like the rest of us."

"I'll go check." Jason, pushed up the wall, and walked out the room. He peaked his head outside, checking both sides of the building's back ally. He heard a giggle and snuck around the corner. Sam was leaning on his shoulder, the girl in oposing position. Flirting comepletely in his shy, coy method, his hands in his pockets and his feet shuffleing. She was a fit brunette, wearing casual shorts. A centimeter of flesh was exposed above the waisteline. She smiled, and laughed at a joke while he looked away shyly.

"Hey, Romeo." He nudged his back, "You sure you don't want something more to eat?"

"Naw, thanks. I might take this lady out to coffee." He smiled, turning to her, "If it's alright?"

Jason sighed and returned to the bulding, "She's not a ten, but she's not bad." He sat on an empty foot stool and grabbed another piece of pizza. "Maybe tomorrow we should get Chinese?"

"Sam!" The producer yelled outside, looking for him in the alley.

"Yeah?" He peaked from behind the corner.

"We're gonna lay that track down."

"Okay." He pulled a pen from his pocket, "Um... how old are you?" He suddenly thought to ask.

"Oh, I'm seventeen." he cringed.

"Damn." He sighed, "That would make this illegal." He scribbled his signature on the paper, "But, you might be able to sell this someday." He offered it to her, "When we're more famous."

"Oh, okay." She frowned, taking the paper.

Sam turned a walked back to the studio door, head hanging, watching his feet.

"What? Wouldn't go to coffee with you?" the producer held the door open.

"Couldn't, she's too young." He pouted.

"What's that?" Alex asked, talking on the phone, "Isn't that what our manager is suppose to do?" he laughed, "I know, he's a horrible writer." He pulled out a piece of paper, from a sketchbook, "Okay, oh, yeah, un-hun," he made a list, "Well, I doubt we can help. You guys are the ones that know these kind of people." he set the pencil down, "Yeah, thanks, bye." He looked at the rest of the band, finishing their meal, "That was Big Bobbie, he says we need a press secretary or something. Someone," He picked up the list, "that knows how to write, can type, is familiar with music, knows how to deal with radio stations, tv stations, and other official media. Preferably with some internet and web experience."

"So... what about Suzanne?" Darren asked.

"She's busy with all the DVD crap and she's always saying how she wants two more arms." Alex said, "The record company is giving us the go on who we want." he stood up, "But we need an album to tour on first." He grabbed his lyrics folder and headed into the studio room, the rest following.

"So, Jacques? What about tonight?" Darrne asked.

"Sure, I guess. Not like I'm doing anything."

"There's the spirit." he smacked his shoulder.

"Where is Suzanne?" Jason looked around, "She hasn't been around lately."

"Dunno, guess she's on vacation." Sam shrugged.

"Well, should we do an add?" Alex asked.

"I guess so."

They all plugged in, getting out the notes they'd indevidually taken during the initial jam and the one on one practices. Alex coughed a littled then settled himself in front of the main mike.

"We are doing it all at once right?" He made sure.

"We don't to it any other way." Darren hit him in the head with a crumpled piece of paper.

Darren leaned against the bar, his tie in his pocket, the collar to his shirt unbuttoned. He glared out onto the floor. Between the fancy tables with white table cloths, Jacque was beeing preened by several women. They tucked his hair behind his ears and gently patted his shoulder. He was making them laugh with his comments, soaking up the adoration. He signed a few bar napkins, and laughed hartily and with confidence.

"Am I safe with no one?" Darren asked rhetorically, turning and ordering a beer.

"Bad night?" He didn't even look at where the voice was coming from.

"At least Costello did a good set, but that tenor. I don't get that guy."

"Well, NPR has to reach out to a wide audience." he felt her arm next to his. "I had to fight them to get Costello."

He turned and looked at her. Blond hair straightly dropping into added curls at the base of her neck, slightly freckled nose, and grey blue eyes stared at him along with a sly smile, "You work for NPR?" He asked, shocked, she nodded, "But you're not almost dead."

She laughed, "If they don't get new blood in everyonce in a while, there'd be no one left." she played with the chain of her necklace, "But I'm gonna take a break, give them a chance to miss me."

"Oh really? So what do you do at NPR?"

"I write little press releases, answer questions, you know, like the secretary everyone makes do jobs that weren't required upon hiring."

"We've got one of those, and now we're looking for another." He raised his eye brow.

"And who's we?" she turned so she was leaning, her elbow on the bar.

"Oh, um... Phantom Planet. We're a rock band, we'll be touring soon."

"I've heard of you, got that actor, right?"

"Ah, Jason Schwartzman." He nodded, "He's our drummer."

"And that?" She pointed to Jacques.

"I don't know him." He lied, "Why, you think he's cute?"

"Not my type."

"Well, then. He's one of our guitarists." he smiled, making her laugh.

"Glad to see there's no competition between friends." She ordered a glass of water. Which arrived in a plastic bottle. "So you're what? The pianist?" she looked him up and down.

"Um, no. I play guitar." he suddenly felt self consious, "Why?"

"Just don't strike me as a rough and tumble rock guitarist."

"Oh, you should see a show!" he smiled, "I've got scars. I'm not usually found in collared shirts."

"So... about this job."

"Yeah, right the job." He smacked the bar's edge, "How about you and me get out of here and get some dinner?"

"Oh, I can't."

"Oh," he mumbled. His face drooped, the smile turned into a frown.

"I've been stuck with some more crap, I'll be here all night and surely into the morning hours. Part of that young secretary bs again." she smiled, touching his shoulder, "But maybe some other time?"

"Yeah, maybe I'll see you around." He smiled.

"Oh yeah, sure." he put a number down on the napkin, "That's my home phone, I don't know what else I could give you."

"I won't pass it out, I promise." she folded it and gently pushed it into her purse, "It was nice meeting you... um?"

"Darren." He shook her hand.

"Meghan." She smiled and walked away.