Disclaimer: Yeah, I own nothing. Nothing. NOTHING. Got it?

"Nick! Get your sad, pathetic, ass out of bed!" Upstairs, a disfigured and lumpy shape gave a muffled groan that the woman who called out for him supposed might actually be an answer.

"Nick! GET UP!" There was another grunt and the figure rolled over and glared blearily at the ceiling.

"Why are you still in bed? It's almost noon!" The grumbled noises slowly began to start sounding like words, none of which were appropriate to repeat around small children or priests.

"NICHOLAS LEE GRANGER GET YOUR LAZY ASS OUT OF BED AND DOWNSTAIRS RIGHT THIS FREAKING MINUTE!"

"Fine!" Nick finally roared back in exasperation. He fought with the black sheets that were tangled around his legs and midsection. When he was finally free from the fabric, he stumbled over to his dresser, tripping constantly in his dark room. Black furniture and covers, black carpet, black curtains drawn across the windows, and the midnight blue walls at his mother's insistence that 'Not everything be so dark and depressing Nicky-dear.' He grabbed clothes (black) and stepped into the bathroom.

When he was done doing his miscellaneous bathroom related activities, Nick wound his way through his labyrinth of a mansion and into the kitchen. He didn't even acknowledge the chef that placed down a plate full of breakfast in front of him, he just blearily started eating. As he shoveled what he assumed was some sort of egg that was prepared in a fancy way, the angry woman from earlier appeared. Red hair flaming, square glasses pushed all the way up the nose of her bridge, and her hands placed angrily on her hips. Oh that is not a good stance.

"Nicholas Lee Granger," oh that was NOT a good tone. Not Good Stance + Not Good Tone = Bad Things for Nick.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Fang, Brigid?" Fang asked through a mouthful of some weirdly colored fruit. It might have been a melon, Fang wasn't sure.

"And how many times have I told you that the name 'Fang' is not an appropriate name for a teen idol sensation?" Brigid shot right back. Fang scowled but didn't bother talking anymore. He had food to eat. "What's this?" Brigid asked angrily, pulling a chunk of paper from behind her back and throwing it on the table in front of Fang. Fang picked it up in one hand while he started chugging orange juice. He studied it through half-lidded eyes with a pronounced and only slightly exaggerated yawn.

"It appears that Jen is cheating on Billy with Ryan and that someone named Phyllis is pregnant again."

Brigid rolled her eyes and ground out tightly, "Flip it over."

Fang grunted and flipped it over. "Oh hey look it's me."

"It's not just you," Brigid spat. She grabbed the magazine and started flipping through it pointing at all the pictures of Fang. "It's you, you, you, and YOU."

Fang gulped down the rest of his orange juice and asked, "So?" Brigid gaped and glared for just a few moments.

Finally she sighed. "Nick, do you know how many times you've been on the cover of a tabloid with some random girl in the past month alone?"

"A few," Fang shrugged nonchalantly.

"Seven times with seven girls Nick! Seven! Do you know how that makes you look?"

"Epic," Fang finished for her with a cocky smirk.

"Wrong!" Brigid snapped. "Bad. Really, really, BAD, Nick."

"Why?"

"You're getting a reputation for being a player and it looks bad," Brigid said matter of fact.

"So I like girls but for a limited time only, what's so bad about that?" Fang asked grumpily. Although, that's what he normally sounded like, so it wasn't like there was a whole lot of difference.

"Nick," Brigid said with a sigh running a hand over her face. "I'm going to put this in simple terms that you'll understand." Fang quirked an eyebrow at his publicist. "If I see your face on a tabloid with a girl before the release of the band's album, you're out of the band."

Fang's easy-going nature vanished immediately. "You can't do that," he spat at the red-haired woman.

"I can. I talked with the Band Manager and he agreed to all my terms," Brigid sounded more than just a little smug.

"But the album isn't released to the public until September!" Fang sputtered. "That's three months away!"

"Not my problem," Brigid shrugged, a victorious smirk on her face.

"But Brigid!" Fang protested.

"Not. My. Problem!" Brigid shouted.

"What am I supposed to do the entire summer?"

"Go to Hawaii?" Brigid suggested with a grin and a smirk.

"Brigid," Fang practically begged.

"No Nick. You've got to learn that you're a grown up now and you've got to be held accountable for your actions," Brigid said sternly. Fang was so furious that he couldn't actually formulate a response anymore. Brigid smiled. She'd taken Fang's silence as acceptance. "I'm glad you understand Nick. Enjoy your summer." Brigid walked out of Fang's mansion and into her car.

Fang was left at his kitchen table breathing heavily in an attempt to keep from lashing out. His hand was shaking so much that all the food that he'd loaded onto the utensil dropped back to the plate. Fang threw his fork and knife down in frustration and pushed his chair back with an angry scrape. He stalked down the hallways and quickly found his way toward his homemade gym. A quick change of clothes later and he was angrily wailing on a punching bag.

After thirty minutes, Fang was tired. With a final roar and a punch that had the bag swinging on its hook, Fang finished up his workout. A quick shower later and Fang was scrolling through his contacts absent-mindly. As he flipped through the many names, he noticed that a large amount of his contacts were females. While normally he had absolutely no problem with this, with his current situation, it was less than ideal.

Before Fang could dwell on his contact problem for too long, his phone started ringing. A quick look informed him that it was one of his best friends and band mates, James Griffiths, or as Fang knew him, Iggy. Out front, buzz me in Mr. Grin. Fang rolled his eyes and jogged upstairs to the control panel.

He pushed the intercom button and asked into the microphone, "Someone buzz in Iggy."

"Certainly sir," the gate attendant replied immediately.

Not even two minutes later, Fang's garage door was flung open with a loud bang and an equally loud voice proclaiming, "I am here, you may begin worshiping at will."

"Hey idiot," Fang said with an accompanying eye roll. Iggy, in his pale fair-haired glory, was practically the opposite of Fang. Iggy was happy and talkative and could make friends with most anyone, while Fang only really talked around people he knew. Their friendship often baffled people to no end, but they were best friends without a shadow of a doubt.

"What's up buttercup?" Iggy said with a flirtatious smile. Fang blew a raspberry at his best friend and flopped down on an overstuffed couch, the fluffy leather giving way to his weight easily. "What's wrong?" Iggy asked, slightly more serious this time. Something was obviously bothering Fang.

Fang pursed his lips and with a deep breath started explaining everything to Iggy. "So according to Brigid if I get caught on the tabloids with a girl before the release of our album I'm out of the band." At the end of Fang's announcement, Iggy was silent. Fang was stewing in his angry juices, waiting impatiently for Iggy to contribute to the rant inside his head. Hopefully it would be something along the lines of 'That bitch, how dare she?' However, Iggy didn't say anything.

Fang narrowed his eyes and finally snapped, "Well?"

Iggy narrowed his eyes right back and said tersely, "You deserved it." Fang's eyes flew open wide. When he knew that Iggy was coming over, he'd assumed that Iggy would contribute to his side of the argument.

"What the hell does that mean?" Iggy crossed his arms and folded them across his chest. He trained his pale blue eyes on Fang intently.

"What do you want me to say Fang?" Iggy finally asked.

Fang snapped, "What do you mean what do you want me to say? Why don't you just agree with me?" Iggy leaned back on the couch opposite Fang, his arms stretched out across the back.

He smirked at his best friend and said, "Because I think that Brigid is right."

"How?" Fang exclaimed angrily.

Iggy leveled Fang with a hard glare. "You treat girls like absolute shit Fang."

Fang rolled his eyes and groused, "So?"

"So Fang," Iggy drew the words out dramatically. "Sooner or later it was bound to get you in trouble."

"But Iggy," Fang practically whined. "What am I supposed to do for an entire summer without girls?"

Iggy shrugged and said, "I don't know."

"Well what do you do in your free time?" Fang groaned.

"Usually I'm helping you dump all the girls you've been stringing along in your free time." Fang glared at Iggy and was about to start insulting him. However, before he could really get going, Iggy stood up. "Look, I've got to go Fangles." Fang glared at the nickname. "I only stopped by to see how you were doing and if you had any plans. Obviously you don't so come by my apartment in a week and we'll checkup."

"Where are you going?" Fang asked curiously.

"I've got a date," Iggy smirked at Fang. "See you later, Fanganator." Fang watched Iggy walk out the front door, a Gatorade he'd snagged form the fridge in his hands, disbelief evident on the darker of the two's face. Usually he'd be the one with a date to head off to and Iggy would be staying home.

Fang flopped further into the couch and turned his massive television set on. He started aimlessly flipping through the television channels, searching for something, anything, to watch. It was going to be a LONG summer.

With his shoulders slouched and his hands shoved deep in his pockets, Fang knocked on the door to Iggy's apartment. He had been bored out of his skull this past week. There had been absolutely nothing to do and he had no idea what he was going to do for the next two months and three weeks. Fang was brought out of his musings by Iggy opening up the door that Fang had been banging on with an exasperated expression.

"Would you stop it?" Iggy asked crossly. Fang smirked right back and pushed his way past Iggy.

"You got any food?" Fang asked needlessly as he already had the refrigerator open and was rummaging through it without an answer.

"No, sorry," Iggy said, not sounding nearly sorry enough in Fang's opinion.

"Why don't you just hire a guy to keep your food stocked?"

"Why bother?" Iggy asked with a shrug as he sucked a water bottle dry and tossed it into the recycling. "I'm the only person who lives here. And I like doing things myself, unlike Mr. Mansion," Iggy teased Fang lightly.

"What else am I supposed to do with all that money?" Fang asked curiously. "And it's not a mansion. It's just a rather large house."

"Right," Iggy snorted. "And a Great Dane is a rather large Chihuahua."

Fang rolled his eyes and stretched out on Iggy's couch, his arms folded behind his head. "Where're the Gasman and Dylan?" Fang was of course referring to the other two members of their band. The Gasman, or Gazzy as he was sometimes called was the youngest in their little group. Dylan was Fang's age and Iggy a year younger.

"They left on vacation two weeks ago," Iggy informed him incredulously. "They'd been talking about it nonstop for like a month throughout all of band rehearsal. How the hell did you not hear them?"

Fang shrugged and Iggy rolled his eyes. "What are you up to Ig?"

"I'm leaving in a day. Which is why I have no food," Iggy said slowly as if explaining it to a very small child.

"What!" Fang sat bolt upright and stared at Iggy with wide eyes. "You're all leaving me?"

"Yes Fangles, we're all leaving you," Iggy sighed at Fang's dramatics.

"What am I supposed to do all summer all alone with no girls?"

"We've been over this like a million times Fang," Iggy sighed again.

"But I thought you three would be here to help me through this tough and trying time!" Fang exclaimed.

"Bite me," Iggy had had enough with Fang. He had a bag to pack. Iggy was all set to leave Fang's pitiful butt behind in Los Angeles but he just looked too pathetic. "You can come with me if you want," Iggy sighed.

Fang's entire face lit up and he cocked his head to the side in curiosity. "Where are we going?"

"Home," Iggy sighed, a content smile on his face.

HeeHee, so I might have started a new fic. I couldn't help it! Every time I tried to write for my other story, this idea kept nagging me. What else was I supposed to do?

I know the band thing is kind of overused but I really want to try my hand at it and see if it turns out any good. Guess we're going to find out, huh?

You know the drill, write your review and let me know what you guys think.