chickadee
New Yorker
Thanks for all the feedback as usual, you all rock. I now have a question for you all - after the last chapter where Rachel found herself liking Bono a bit much, would you guys like to see a straightforward nice fic involving Rachel and Larry (with stuff happening along the way of course) or would you be more interested in some sort of love triangle? I'm not even saying Bono would be involved, I am just interested to see what you think would be good. I'm open to all suggestions as I haven't quite decided yet myself.
Anyway, on with the fic so far, which of course ain't the slightest bit true.
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Chapter 8
I bet you’re wondering how my week’s been. How have I passed the time while waiting for Larry to return to this country and maybe phone me? It’s been tricky, but I did something very rare for me – I went job hunting.
Yes, you read right, folks. I got off my arse, printed off a CV (admittedly, a dull-looking and short one but it’s the thought that counts) and went into town to hand in copies or fill out application forms. A couple that looked promising were one in a bookshop and another in the exact same coffee shop where I met Larry and Bono the first time. I know; fate has a weird way of coming around in a circle.
I desperately need money, so I really hope something comes from my attempts. If all else fails, I suppose I could always ask Bono if he needs a professional groupie but I doubt I’d be the first on his shortlist even if he did.
No, don’t worry. I haven’t developed a stupid crush on Bono. One member of U2 is plenty to be dealing with, I think, don’t you? And I’ve kept in mind what Edge said to me, and of course he’s perfectly right. He’s EDGE, how can he be wrong? It wouldn’t have happened anyway, me falling for Bono, because every hour of my waking days has been spent thinking about Larry. Again.
Dudes, I have got it Very Bad Indeed.
Even Molly has started avoiding me. You know it’s bad when your cat won’t stay in the same room as you for longer than it takes for you to utter the word ‘Larry’.
There is one other thing. Remember how I said my dreams hadn’t been too bad since I was mugged? Well, turns out I have some sort of delayed reaction to traumatic events, because from Monday night until the present (which is Friday, weekday-fans), I’ve been suffering from steadily worsening nightmares. They’ve been truly dreadful. I’d never woken up screaming before but I did on Wednesday night, that one was the absolute worst. Larry didn’t come in time and well, the mugger did some pretty nasty things to me.
Last night when I woke in a cold sweat, I got up, came downstairs and watched some TV with hot chocolate and Molly, who must have foregone her temporary intolerance of me to give me some cuddly comfort. I thought it’d be fun having the house to myself but I swear it is starting to send me round the bend. Further round the bend.
And now it’s Friday. L-Day. The day when Larry arrives and all is right with the world. Hmm. Somehow I doubt that’s true, not when his presence is going to give me a whole lot of new things to worry about. Especially if he does call and ask me out. What on earth do you wear to go out with Larry? I don’t do dressing up, I’ll tell you that now. In summer I might put a flower in my hair for a laugh but I mean that’s as far as it goes.
See? Freaking out already and nothing has been arranged. Except perhaps my nervous breakdown. Any time soon.
Fortunately, mid-afternoon my friend Adele comes round to save me from killing myself with an ice cream scoop. Adele’s great, really, but you’ll notice I’ve only mentioned her once so far. This is because she is officially loved up with some guy from her college and she doesn’t have time for her mates these days. Oh, but she’ll be pissed off she’s missed the gossip when she finds out what this mate has been up to!
“How’s Dan?” I ask as we sit down to ice cream and chocolate flakes in the living room, music videos playing in the background.
“He’s fine,” she smiles. “I think we’ll end up getting engaged, you know.”
I think I might be sick on Molly at that news.
“Ooh, look, U2!” she squeals as the video for ‘New Year’s Day’ comes on screen. “This song is fab, isn’t it, Rach? And they’re all pretty hot.”
I can’t help grinning at her complete state of unawareness. “Adele? Something I have to tell you.”
“Okay, in a minute, just gonna watch Larry…”
I roll my eyes. “It’s about Larry, you idiot.” This makes her sit up and look at me, puzzled. “Um, yeah. So on Saturday I… bumped into Larry and we went for coffee and he’s back today and might phone me.” I stop, realising I’m babbling, but apparently Adele has got the gist, because her eyes are as wide as saucers and her short dark hair is nearly standing on end.
“You’re joking, right?” she demands, sounding quite upset, actually, and I shake my head slowly. “You’re going out with Larry from U2?”
“No!” I protest. “I’m not going out with anyone. It’s all up in the air. I’ve no idea if he’ll remember me. But he was nice and we had a good time. Who knows.” I try to sound nonchalant because her increasing incredulity is grating on me a little. Unless I’m being paranoid, she is shocked that someone as boring as I am could interest Larry Mullen Jr. enough to make him want to see me again. That’s my own thought exactly, but you want a bit more in the way of moral support from your so-called best friend, don’t you?
“I see. Well, I hope it goes well.” She forces a smile through her surprise and turns back to the TV, where ‘New Year’s Day’ is nearly finished. “Did you meet the others, too?”
Uh-oh. I know that tone of voice. It’s the same one she used when we were fifteen and I ruined her favourite skirt. (First and last time I wore a skirt, just for your information. Utter disaster.)
“Um, yeah, kinda.” I stare at my ice cream, which is melting. “Bono was there the first time, and when I went along on Monday to give Larry my number, I met Edge. They’re really nice,” I add, knowing too soon that this is the wrong thing to say.
“Right. You met U2, my favourite band, and don’t even invite me along?”
I feel annoyed. Do you think I have a right to be annoyed? Please tell me I’m not being unreasonable here. “I’m sorry, but you weren’t my main priority,” I snap, putting the bowl down and folding my arms in a classic defence manoeuvre.
“Apparently not, no,” Adele retorts. “That’s a good way to treat your friends.”
I am open-mouthed by this point. Seriously, she hasn’t been in touch in over two weeks because her parents went away too and she’s spent the time skiving off college and in bed with her boyfriend. Talk about a hypocrite.
“That’s rich!” I say, my voice going slightly shriller than I’d have liked. “You have no idea what I’ve been doing lately! You don’t even know I got mugged on Saturday!”
Adele stops, mid-insult, and stares. “You what?”
“Don’t pretend like you care,” I grump, standing up and almost tripping over Molly. “All you’re bothered about is the fact I didn’t immediately think of you when I had a million other things to think about! And U2’s not your favourite band, you only have their albums ‘cause you fancy them!”
That’s my ultimate comeback. It might sound rubbish, but Adele does not like to be accused of merely fancying a band (even though she does it all the time). Which is why I am not the least taken aback when she slams her bowl down in the kitchen, grabs her coat and storms out of the house via the back door.
“For God’s sake,” I groan, hugging Molly close to me and wondering if that was all my fault and whether I should chase her to apologise and make up. It’s not as if I have tons of friends beating down my door to hang out with me.
Tragically for my friendship with Adele, the telephone rings at that precise moment and I actually drop the cat in order to race into the hall and pick up the receiver.
IT MIGHT BE LARRY. (I bet you figured that already.)
I clear my throat and adopt what I believe to be my best phone voice, while my heart hammers in my chest. I can hardly stand it.
“Hello?”
TBC! Oooh cliffhanger! Lmao.
Anyway, on with the fic so far, which of course ain't the slightest bit true.
****************************
Chapter 8
I bet you’re wondering how my week’s been. How have I passed the time while waiting for Larry to return to this country and maybe phone me? It’s been tricky, but I did something very rare for me – I went job hunting.
Yes, you read right, folks. I got off my arse, printed off a CV (admittedly, a dull-looking and short one but it’s the thought that counts) and went into town to hand in copies or fill out application forms. A couple that looked promising were one in a bookshop and another in the exact same coffee shop where I met Larry and Bono the first time. I know; fate has a weird way of coming around in a circle.
I desperately need money, so I really hope something comes from my attempts. If all else fails, I suppose I could always ask Bono if he needs a professional groupie but I doubt I’d be the first on his shortlist even if he did.
No, don’t worry. I haven’t developed a stupid crush on Bono. One member of U2 is plenty to be dealing with, I think, don’t you? And I’ve kept in mind what Edge said to me, and of course he’s perfectly right. He’s EDGE, how can he be wrong? It wouldn’t have happened anyway, me falling for Bono, because every hour of my waking days has been spent thinking about Larry. Again.
Dudes, I have got it Very Bad Indeed.
Even Molly has started avoiding me. You know it’s bad when your cat won’t stay in the same room as you for longer than it takes for you to utter the word ‘Larry’.
There is one other thing. Remember how I said my dreams hadn’t been too bad since I was mugged? Well, turns out I have some sort of delayed reaction to traumatic events, because from Monday night until the present (which is Friday, weekday-fans), I’ve been suffering from steadily worsening nightmares. They’ve been truly dreadful. I’d never woken up screaming before but I did on Wednesday night, that one was the absolute worst. Larry didn’t come in time and well, the mugger did some pretty nasty things to me.
Last night when I woke in a cold sweat, I got up, came downstairs and watched some TV with hot chocolate and Molly, who must have foregone her temporary intolerance of me to give me some cuddly comfort. I thought it’d be fun having the house to myself but I swear it is starting to send me round the bend. Further round the bend.
And now it’s Friday. L-Day. The day when Larry arrives and all is right with the world. Hmm. Somehow I doubt that’s true, not when his presence is going to give me a whole lot of new things to worry about. Especially if he does call and ask me out. What on earth do you wear to go out with Larry? I don’t do dressing up, I’ll tell you that now. In summer I might put a flower in my hair for a laugh but I mean that’s as far as it goes.
See? Freaking out already and nothing has been arranged. Except perhaps my nervous breakdown. Any time soon.
Fortunately, mid-afternoon my friend Adele comes round to save me from killing myself with an ice cream scoop. Adele’s great, really, but you’ll notice I’ve only mentioned her once so far. This is because she is officially loved up with some guy from her college and she doesn’t have time for her mates these days. Oh, but she’ll be pissed off she’s missed the gossip when she finds out what this mate has been up to!
“How’s Dan?” I ask as we sit down to ice cream and chocolate flakes in the living room, music videos playing in the background.
“He’s fine,” she smiles. “I think we’ll end up getting engaged, you know.”
I think I might be sick on Molly at that news.
“Ooh, look, U2!” she squeals as the video for ‘New Year’s Day’ comes on screen. “This song is fab, isn’t it, Rach? And they’re all pretty hot.”
I can’t help grinning at her complete state of unawareness. “Adele? Something I have to tell you.”
“Okay, in a minute, just gonna watch Larry…”
I roll my eyes. “It’s about Larry, you idiot.” This makes her sit up and look at me, puzzled. “Um, yeah. So on Saturday I… bumped into Larry and we went for coffee and he’s back today and might phone me.” I stop, realising I’m babbling, but apparently Adele has got the gist, because her eyes are as wide as saucers and her short dark hair is nearly standing on end.
“You’re joking, right?” she demands, sounding quite upset, actually, and I shake my head slowly. “You’re going out with Larry from U2?”
“No!” I protest. “I’m not going out with anyone. It’s all up in the air. I’ve no idea if he’ll remember me. But he was nice and we had a good time. Who knows.” I try to sound nonchalant because her increasing incredulity is grating on me a little. Unless I’m being paranoid, she is shocked that someone as boring as I am could interest Larry Mullen Jr. enough to make him want to see me again. That’s my own thought exactly, but you want a bit more in the way of moral support from your so-called best friend, don’t you?
“I see. Well, I hope it goes well.” She forces a smile through her surprise and turns back to the TV, where ‘New Year’s Day’ is nearly finished. “Did you meet the others, too?”
Uh-oh. I know that tone of voice. It’s the same one she used when we were fifteen and I ruined her favourite skirt. (First and last time I wore a skirt, just for your information. Utter disaster.)
“Um, yeah, kinda.” I stare at my ice cream, which is melting. “Bono was there the first time, and when I went along on Monday to give Larry my number, I met Edge. They’re really nice,” I add, knowing too soon that this is the wrong thing to say.
“Right. You met U2, my favourite band, and don’t even invite me along?”
I feel annoyed. Do you think I have a right to be annoyed? Please tell me I’m not being unreasonable here. “I’m sorry, but you weren’t my main priority,” I snap, putting the bowl down and folding my arms in a classic defence manoeuvre.
“Apparently not, no,” Adele retorts. “That’s a good way to treat your friends.”
I am open-mouthed by this point. Seriously, she hasn’t been in touch in over two weeks because her parents went away too and she’s spent the time skiving off college and in bed with her boyfriend. Talk about a hypocrite.
“That’s rich!” I say, my voice going slightly shriller than I’d have liked. “You have no idea what I’ve been doing lately! You don’t even know I got mugged on Saturday!”
Adele stops, mid-insult, and stares. “You what?”
“Don’t pretend like you care,” I grump, standing up and almost tripping over Molly. “All you’re bothered about is the fact I didn’t immediately think of you when I had a million other things to think about! And U2’s not your favourite band, you only have their albums ‘cause you fancy them!”
That’s my ultimate comeback. It might sound rubbish, but Adele does not like to be accused of merely fancying a band (even though she does it all the time). Which is why I am not the least taken aback when she slams her bowl down in the kitchen, grabs her coat and storms out of the house via the back door.
“For God’s sake,” I groan, hugging Molly close to me and wondering if that was all my fault and whether I should chase her to apologise and make up. It’s not as if I have tons of friends beating down my door to hang out with me.
Tragically for my friendship with Adele, the telephone rings at that precise moment and I actually drop the cat in order to race into the hall and pick up the receiver.
IT MIGHT BE LARRY. (I bet you figured that already.)
I clear my throat and adopt what I believe to be my best phone voice, while my heart hammers in my chest. I can hardly stand it.
“Hello?”
TBC! Oooh cliffhanger! Lmao.
More, more! 
I'm loving this story so far...it's really great. 
Keep up the good work!
I agree 
