Serena Vox
ONE love, blood, life
Thank you as usual to dianepm for being my awesome beta.
Disclaimer: Don't own them, don't make money from this, never happened.
Warnings; Language, little bit of violence.
---
It was late afternoon already and here Grace was, coming in the front door with a little more than she left with. A couple of books Bono had bought for her and instructed her to read when she had the chance, were in her arms. Both of which by authors she hadn't recognized, granted she wouldn't recognize a famous one either with her history on books. She walked through the living room, reading the back of each one. Her father rustled a bit, setting down the television remote and stood up.
“About damn time. Don’t you remember me telling you that you had things to do around here?” He asked, more of a scold than anything.
She stopped in her tracks, tearing her eyes from the hardback cover and looked up into her dad’s spectacled eyes. They were filled with anger, disappointment...perhaps even distaste? “I’m sorry, I went into the city and lost track of time...”
“Put those down and get some things done around here.”
“Sorry,” She apologized again, setting her books down onto the table. “What did you need me to do?”
“The usual,” He replied, sitting back down in his chair.
Greaaat, that means dishes, sweeping and all.
She sighed, heading into the kitchen. Doing the dishes had never been a long task for her at all. She was rather quick with them and most any chore given. It was just a matter of how many that she had to do that dictated the amount of time it took her to do them all. Her cell phone beeped in her pocket, indicating she’d just gotten a text from somebody. Ignoring it, she continued to clean up around in the kitchen, organizing the canned foods, cleaning out the refrigerator of past date items and the like. Her father didn’t even speak two words to her all the while she went from room to room getting things sorted.
“Don’t forget to put the dishes away,” He reminded her, causing her to roll her eyes up while her back is turned to him.
Anything else, your royal highness?
“I know,” She said with her best effort to not be sarcastic to his demand.
She shuffled back into the kitchen, grabbing for the semi-dry dishes and begins to put them away one by one in their respective places. Pots and pans go over the shelves, silverware into the drawer, bowls, cups, plates and mugs into the cabinet. Her father shifted about in the other room, but she paid it no mind whatsoever. He then came into the kitchen and watched her, making sure she put everything in the right spot. God forbid she mess up.
Her glance met his briefly as she put the plates away, the last two in her hand. One, then he suddenly spoke up.
“I talked to your mother today.”
Grace’s face went pale, her hand began to shake. Did he just say what I think he said? She felt the blood draining from her face and the last plate slipped out of her grasp, falling to the floor. A loud shatter resounded through the room as the dish broke into a few large chunks and a bunch of smaller ones. She turned so that her back faced her father, squeezing her eyes shut and mentally cursing herself. Silence and awkwardness lingered in the air for a moment. Nothing happened. She was afraid to turn around, afraid of that scolding look, those eyes that could pierce her soul with a single stare. Nonetheless, she felt them staring her down.
“Sorry...” She said after a long moment, grabbing a bag to pick up the large pieces first, never once looking at him, all the while he stood there watching. She swept the rest up and threw the shards into the bag, stuffing it into the trash by the doorway, where he stood. She finally mustered the courage to look up at him, seeing a blank, cold stare. Shit.
“Can you do anything right without breaking something?” He asked in a sarcastic tone.
“I’m sorry, it’s not like we’re lacking in any dishes or--” She got cut off by a slap to the face and tilted her head to the side, refusing to look at him. Her hand came up to her face, rubbing the stinging skin carefully. She didn’t say anything more to him for fear of pissing him off even further.
“It would do you some good to get out of my sight. Now.”
He watched her stride past him quickly, not bothering to look at him the entire time. She picked her books up off the table and took them upstairs, going into the ‘safety’ of her room and closed the door behind her. Her eyes watered a little and she gasped for a moment, stepping towards the mirror to look at the red mark on her face. He really had slapped her quite hard. With a shaky sigh, she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, checking her missed text. It was from John again; “Hey. Hope dad isn’t being too hard. See you at work tomorrow.”
She set the phone down on the dresser, as well as the jostled sunglasses off the top of her head, staring into her reflection. The mark was not nearly enough to bruise, however it was plenty enough to be visible for the next day or so. Fuck, if only he wasn’t being too hard. She snorted, sitting down at the dresser and picking up one of the books again, tracing her fingers across the back cover, wanting to just go back to her trip with Bono now.
Her phone rang, startling her from her thought. She reached down and picked it up, seeing the display read; private. Confused, she answered it, wondering who it would be. “Hello?”
“Grace?” Came the Irish voice on the other end.
Bono!
She let out a bit of a shaky laugh, recalling her scribbling her number down for him. She didn’t actually expect him to really call her. “Hey Bono.”
“Hello love. How are things going over there?”
“They’re...fine,” She replied, hating the lie that was coming out of her mouth.
“Are you sure? You sound sort of...shaky.”
“Y-yeah. I’ll be fine.”
“Reg and I were working on some lyrics, we took a break and I thought I would give you a call to see how it was going,” He said, the sound of him licking his lips could be heard.
That’s odd. It hasn’t even been three hours since he dropped me off here. I don’t think he knows about how harsh...
“Thank you...I’m glad to hear from you,” She replied gratefully. “I just got done doing the things father wanted me to do.”
“Good. I was wondering...” He trailed off, suddenly reminding her of him again.
“Yes?” She almost stumbled over her own anticipation as her breathing hitched.
“Well, would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow?”
Her heart suddenly fluttered a little at his question, her face flushed a deep red as she could see by her reflection. She got up and began to pace around a little, looking at her surroundings nervously. She peeked into her closet, checking to see if she had anything nice to wear because she knew she was going to agree to this ‘date’ with Bono.
“I’d love to,” She finally said, hoping she didn’t come off as too enthusiastic.
“Wonderful. Is noon good for you?”
“Noon is perfect.”
“Great, I will see you then,” He said, adding, “and if you ever need anything, even if it’s just to talk...feel free to call me anytime.”
He gave her his number over the phone, instructing her to write it down and keep it safe. She wrote it on a piece of paper that she shoved into her pocket and they hung up. She programmed the number into her phone, putting it back into her pocket as well. She reached into her closet and pulled out a nice, blue blouse and a pair of her of nicest jeans. Making her way over to the mirror, she placed both articles in front of her and looked herself over.
***
Bono had taken to another evening of roaming the streets of New York, with his cell phone on hand now. He walked along the street, none of his band mates anywhere to be found right now. Nobody paid any attention to him, much to his surprise after the mob that had confronted him outside of the coffee shop. He pulled out his notepad, scribbling down any ideas that come to mind for lyrics. The rest of the band had given him much grief over his creativity, or lack thereof in the more recent years and after the last album, they were looking to redeem themselves. However, that did not seem to be looking very possible with the way that the lead man had been lagging on his lyrics.
He sighed, going over all the hell that his band mate, Edge had been giving him lately about the young woman he’d been talking to. He shook his head and stopped walking to look up at the evening sky. It had resembled the other one from the night before when he first ran into her.
Am I really being such an idiot? It's not wrong to just talk to her and get to know her again, is it?
Looking down at the note pad once more, he scribbled more lyrics down. He recited them over in his head, making sure they fit and crossed out the ones that don't. His phone beeped, indicating a text message and he pulled it out of his pocket, checking the display. A new message from...Adam? He opened it; “Across the street.” A puzzled look crept across his features and he slipped the phone back into his pocket, looking over across the light traffic to see the bassist waving at him. He made his way across the street when there’s no traffic and leans up against the mailbox just outside of the store.
“Haven’t seen much of you lately,” Adam said, putting a piece of gum into his mouth.
“Yeah, been kinda enjoyin’ time to myself.”
“To yourself? What about Grace?”
Bono’s eyes widened. “Grace?”
“There is no need to hide anything from me. Dave told me you had her up in your apartment earlier this afternoon,” He replied, blowing a small gum bubble, but it bursts because of the excessive sugar.
“We didn’t do anything,” The singer said with a sigh.
“Wasn't insinuating that you had. I was actually just going to tell you that I’m not going to harass you about it. Dave wants the best for you, you know that. So please don’t think he’s being too hard on you.”
“I know.”
“So, that’s really her?” Adam asked, resting his elbow on the same mailbox that the lead man was resting against.
“Yeah, there’s no mistake.”
“You should spend some time with her.”
“I have been. She’s very interesting,” Bono replied, placing the note pad back into his pocket.
“What are you thinking?”
“What am I thinking...? I don’t know,” He shrugged.
“Well Bono, whatever it is...make sure it’s what you want,” With that, the bassist walked off into the cool evening, leaving a contemplative singer to figure things out for himself.
Disclaimer: Don't own them, don't make money from this, never happened.
Warnings; Language, little bit of violence.
---
It was late afternoon already and here Grace was, coming in the front door with a little more than she left with. A couple of books Bono had bought for her and instructed her to read when she had the chance, were in her arms. Both of which by authors she hadn't recognized, granted she wouldn't recognize a famous one either with her history on books. She walked through the living room, reading the back of each one. Her father rustled a bit, setting down the television remote and stood up.
“About damn time. Don’t you remember me telling you that you had things to do around here?” He asked, more of a scold than anything.
She stopped in her tracks, tearing her eyes from the hardback cover and looked up into her dad’s spectacled eyes. They were filled with anger, disappointment...perhaps even distaste? “I’m sorry, I went into the city and lost track of time...”
“Put those down and get some things done around here.”
“Sorry,” She apologized again, setting her books down onto the table. “What did you need me to do?”
“The usual,” He replied, sitting back down in his chair.
Greaaat, that means dishes, sweeping and all.
She sighed, heading into the kitchen. Doing the dishes had never been a long task for her at all. She was rather quick with them and most any chore given. It was just a matter of how many that she had to do that dictated the amount of time it took her to do them all. Her cell phone beeped in her pocket, indicating she’d just gotten a text from somebody. Ignoring it, she continued to clean up around in the kitchen, organizing the canned foods, cleaning out the refrigerator of past date items and the like. Her father didn’t even speak two words to her all the while she went from room to room getting things sorted.
“Don’t forget to put the dishes away,” He reminded her, causing her to roll her eyes up while her back is turned to him.
Anything else, your royal highness?
“I know,” She said with her best effort to not be sarcastic to his demand.
She shuffled back into the kitchen, grabbing for the semi-dry dishes and begins to put them away one by one in their respective places. Pots and pans go over the shelves, silverware into the drawer, bowls, cups, plates and mugs into the cabinet. Her father shifted about in the other room, but she paid it no mind whatsoever. He then came into the kitchen and watched her, making sure she put everything in the right spot. God forbid she mess up.
Her glance met his briefly as she put the plates away, the last two in her hand. One, then he suddenly spoke up.
“I talked to your mother today.”
Grace’s face went pale, her hand began to shake. Did he just say what I think he said? She felt the blood draining from her face and the last plate slipped out of her grasp, falling to the floor. A loud shatter resounded through the room as the dish broke into a few large chunks and a bunch of smaller ones. She turned so that her back faced her father, squeezing her eyes shut and mentally cursing herself. Silence and awkwardness lingered in the air for a moment. Nothing happened. She was afraid to turn around, afraid of that scolding look, those eyes that could pierce her soul with a single stare. Nonetheless, she felt them staring her down.
“Sorry...” She said after a long moment, grabbing a bag to pick up the large pieces first, never once looking at him, all the while he stood there watching. She swept the rest up and threw the shards into the bag, stuffing it into the trash by the doorway, where he stood. She finally mustered the courage to look up at him, seeing a blank, cold stare. Shit.
“Can you do anything right without breaking something?” He asked in a sarcastic tone.
“I’m sorry, it’s not like we’re lacking in any dishes or--” She got cut off by a slap to the face and tilted her head to the side, refusing to look at him. Her hand came up to her face, rubbing the stinging skin carefully. She didn’t say anything more to him for fear of pissing him off even further.
“It would do you some good to get out of my sight. Now.”
He watched her stride past him quickly, not bothering to look at him the entire time. She picked her books up off the table and took them upstairs, going into the ‘safety’ of her room and closed the door behind her. Her eyes watered a little and she gasped for a moment, stepping towards the mirror to look at the red mark on her face. He really had slapped her quite hard. With a shaky sigh, she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, checking her missed text. It was from John again; “Hey. Hope dad isn’t being too hard. See you at work tomorrow.”
She set the phone down on the dresser, as well as the jostled sunglasses off the top of her head, staring into her reflection. The mark was not nearly enough to bruise, however it was plenty enough to be visible for the next day or so. Fuck, if only he wasn’t being too hard. She snorted, sitting down at the dresser and picking up one of the books again, tracing her fingers across the back cover, wanting to just go back to her trip with Bono now.
Her phone rang, startling her from her thought. She reached down and picked it up, seeing the display read; private. Confused, she answered it, wondering who it would be. “Hello?”
“Grace?” Came the Irish voice on the other end.
Bono!
She let out a bit of a shaky laugh, recalling her scribbling her number down for him. She didn’t actually expect him to really call her. “Hey Bono.”
“Hello love. How are things going over there?”
“They’re...fine,” She replied, hating the lie that was coming out of her mouth.
“Are you sure? You sound sort of...shaky.”
“Y-yeah. I’ll be fine.”
“Reg and I were working on some lyrics, we took a break and I thought I would give you a call to see how it was going,” He said, the sound of him licking his lips could be heard.
That’s odd. It hasn’t even been three hours since he dropped me off here. I don’t think he knows about how harsh...
“Thank you...I’m glad to hear from you,” She replied gratefully. “I just got done doing the things father wanted me to do.”
“Good. I was wondering...” He trailed off, suddenly reminding her of him again.
“Yes?” She almost stumbled over her own anticipation as her breathing hitched.
“Well, would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow?”
Her heart suddenly fluttered a little at his question, her face flushed a deep red as she could see by her reflection. She got up and began to pace around a little, looking at her surroundings nervously. She peeked into her closet, checking to see if she had anything nice to wear because she knew she was going to agree to this ‘date’ with Bono.
“I’d love to,” She finally said, hoping she didn’t come off as too enthusiastic.
“Wonderful. Is noon good for you?”
“Noon is perfect.”
“Great, I will see you then,” He said, adding, “and if you ever need anything, even if it’s just to talk...feel free to call me anytime.”
He gave her his number over the phone, instructing her to write it down and keep it safe. She wrote it on a piece of paper that she shoved into her pocket and they hung up. She programmed the number into her phone, putting it back into her pocket as well. She reached into her closet and pulled out a nice, blue blouse and a pair of her of nicest jeans. Making her way over to the mirror, she placed both articles in front of her and looked herself over.
***
Bono had taken to another evening of roaming the streets of New York, with his cell phone on hand now. He walked along the street, none of his band mates anywhere to be found right now. Nobody paid any attention to him, much to his surprise after the mob that had confronted him outside of the coffee shop. He pulled out his notepad, scribbling down any ideas that come to mind for lyrics. The rest of the band had given him much grief over his creativity, or lack thereof in the more recent years and after the last album, they were looking to redeem themselves. However, that did not seem to be looking very possible with the way that the lead man had been lagging on his lyrics.
He sighed, going over all the hell that his band mate, Edge had been giving him lately about the young woman he’d been talking to. He shook his head and stopped walking to look up at the evening sky. It had resembled the other one from the night before when he first ran into her.
Am I really being such an idiot? It's not wrong to just talk to her and get to know her again, is it?
Looking down at the note pad once more, he scribbled more lyrics down. He recited them over in his head, making sure they fit and crossed out the ones that don't. His phone beeped, indicating a text message and he pulled it out of his pocket, checking the display. A new message from...Adam? He opened it; “Across the street.” A puzzled look crept across his features and he slipped the phone back into his pocket, looking over across the light traffic to see the bassist waving at him. He made his way across the street when there’s no traffic and leans up against the mailbox just outside of the store.
“Haven’t seen much of you lately,” Adam said, putting a piece of gum into his mouth.
“Yeah, been kinda enjoyin’ time to myself.”
“To yourself? What about Grace?”
Bono’s eyes widened. “Grace?”
“There is no need to hide anything from me. Dave told me you had her up in your apartment earlier this afternoon,” He replied, blowing a small gum bubble, but it bursts because of the excessive sugar.
“We didn’t do anything,” The singer said with a sigh.
“Wasn't insinuating that you had. I was actually just going to tell you that I’m not going to harass you about it. Dave wants the best for you, you know that. So please don’t think he’s being too hard on you.”
“I know.”
“So, that’s really her?” Adam asked, resting his elbow on the same mailbox that the lead man was resting against.
“Yeah, there’s no mistake.”
“You should spend some time with her.”
“I have been. She’s very interesting,” Bono replied, placing the note pad back into his pocket.
“What are you thinking?”
“What am I thinking...? I don’t know,” He shrugged.
“Well Bono, whatever it is...make sure it’s what you want,” With that, the bassist walked off into the cool evening, leaving a contemplative singer to figure things out for himself.
i like it.
