“Fanfic” by Sarah: Kami Glass and the Nosy Parkers

“As your singer-slash-band-manager and thus obvious leader,” said Kami, “I’d like to hear a little bit less lip about the posters and the costumes being quote-unquote unbelievably shameful and embarrassing. It hurts my feelings.”

“I didn’t question anything,” said Holly. She had her tongue sticking out as she carefully bedazzled her guitar.

“That’s because you’re the best band member,” said Kami, and Holly beamed.

“I wouldn’t question the costume if I’d got one,” said Ash.

“Do you want to sell tickets?” Kami asked. “Have you seen Magic Mike? Because let me tell you who did: everybody.”

“One Direction always wears shirts,” Ash muttered.

“Not always,” said Holly, and when Ash shot her a look of deep betrayal she smiled sweetly back.

“Thank you for being the only one besides me who ever provides valuable input, Holly,” said Kami.

“I’m willing to compromise on fishnet,” Ash suggested desperately.

“You don’t expect me to ask Angela or Holly to wear clothes that they might feel uncomfortable in, thus tacitly supporting centuries of women’s bodies being commodified and put on display, do you?” Kami said severely. “I couldn’t do it. That would be very wrong. Somebody has to take the bullet, and it’s going to be you guys. This isn’t a bandemocracy, Ash. This is a bandictatorship.”

“You could ask, but you would be very disappointed by the answer,” Angela said darkly. She appeared to be napping on a drum.

Kami looked at Ash’s horrified face and relented.

“I don’t wish to be a cruel bandictator,” she said. “One of you can wear this waistcoat. Please note: I would strongly prefer if you did not button it up, and I have ways of making you sorry.”

She laid a black silk waistcoat down on the floor. Ash met Jared’s eyes. Ash looked away from Jared’s eyes because they were terrifying.

“How do we decide who gets the waistcoat?” he said.

“I don’t know,” said Kami. “I can’t be expected to decide every little thing, I have a band to run! Fight for it or something.”

Jared put down his tambourine. The tinkle as it hit the tabletop was, against all odds, slightly menacing.

“This is rank favouritism,” Ash muttered.



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