Chapter 2

I just sit there for a while.

Okay, either Tom's credit card got jacked, or bird-eman is Tom Falcone.

But whatever the reason... They're paid for. I hook up my thin little laptop printer and print them both off.

Then my eye catches something as they come out of the printer: right next to 'ROW 1' on the tickets, it also says 'BKSTG PASS.'

BACKSTAGE FUCKING PASSES.

FOR CUTE IS WHAT WE AIM FOR.

I think I'm gonna scream.

I click back on the private chat button in the taskbar, because it's been blinking orange for the past minute or so.

bird-eman: Stunned?

May-hemAnnie: YES

May-hemAnnie: I LOVE YOU

bird-eman: It's a little sudden, but I suppose I can roll with it...

May-hemAnnie: Platonically, buttwipe. Dang. I mean, what else do you say to a guy who just threw two front-row tickets and backstage passes for your favorite band at you?

bird-eman: So you caught that little surprise?

May-hemAnnie: Which one? There were two.

bird-eman: The backstage passes. But another surprise? What are you talking about?

May-hemAnnie: Ticketmaster always puts the cardholder's name on the tickets. Is that your first time using Ticketmaster or something?

bird-eman: Damn.

May-hemAnnie: If you weren't a fellow admin I'd report you for swearing. Also, you just gave me front row tickets, and backstage passes. But don't worry, I won't tell. About either part. Who you are, and the swearing.

In reality, I am going NUTSOID. Whacko. Loopy. Bonkers. I am talking to TOM FLIPPIN' FALCONE.

From CUTE IS WHAT WE AIM FOR.

And I must ask, how did I get so lucky?

But online? Oh, no, I'm cool as a cucumber.

bird-eman: If you tell me your real name I'll add you to my friendslist.

May-hemAnnie: Take out the [ hem ] and the [ ie ]. Leave the hyphen, and make the a lowercase.

bird-eman: Ummmm... This'll take a sec... May-ann?

May-hemAnnie: You're good. Nobody ever gets that.

bird-eman: Yeah, I'm just good like that. Got a webcam?

May-hemAnnie: Ahyup.

bird-eman [admin] has sent a webcam request.

I click 'Accept' and my webcam tells me it's up and running.

Then Tom (yeah, it is Tom for sure now, I kow that) gets this 'WHOA' look on his face.

bird-eman: If you'll pardon me for saying this...

I smirk and he gives me thins huge, full-blown pearly whites smile. Oh he's just so cute. He turns his head down to type. Hunt & peck much?

bird-eman: YOU'RE EFFING HOT.

May-hemAnnie: Pardon me, I need to turn off my webcam and spazz out now.

bird-eman: NOOOO!! Don't gooo... Feel free to spazz, I get it from thousands of fangirls at every show.

May-hemAnnie: Mmhm. And has anyone ever told you that they're not just screaming for you? Sorry to burst your bubble, darling dear, but they yell for your fellow band members as well. Especially Jeff! He's gorgeous :D

bird-eman: Aww maaaannn!! I thought I was the only one with any fans!

He's grinning his face off.

We talk till the wee hours of the morning, in this case meaning two a.m.

May-hemAnnie: I'm sorry, darling dear, but I have to log off. I have work today.

I stick out my bottom lip and draw an imaginary tear line with my finger down the side of my face.

bird-eman: Whoa, it is late. Or early, depending on how you look at it. But me too, I have a show later.

May-hemAnnie: Chicago! But it's only midnight there...

bird-eman: I meant for you, but you really have done your research! It's so flattering it seems stalkerish... Haha, joking.

May-hemAnnie: So, goodnight, same time tomorrow?

bird-eman: Sure. Goodnight, May-ann.

May-hemAnnie: And you too, darling dear Tom.

He blows me a kiss on the webcam, and I hit the 'Print Scrn' key REALLY quickly and return the kiss.

bird-eman [admin] has logged off.

I log off too, and open up a new canvas in Paint. Yeah, I'm totally old-school that way. I paste the screenshot into the blank canvas and crop out everything but Tom Falcone blowing me- ME!!- a kiss, save it, and set it as my background.

I have to say, he's pretty much totally wicked awesome.

I check my e-mail again, to see if someone's sent me anything in the last oh-three-hours-or-so. There's a brand-new, minute old message from Tom.

To: mayhem_annie @ ciwwaf . com

Sender: tfalc_ciwwaf @ hotmail . com

Subj: my cell number

Body: Call me later, I want to hear your voice. Noon, for you.

Then he has his number.

I scream, probably waking up everyone in my apartment complex. I grab my cell phone and fumble with it, and eventually get his number in there. I e-mail the picture of him blowing a kiss to my cell, and set it as the picture I.D.

And another fun-flled day is over with, so I finally go to sleep- three hours later than I had originally anticipated, but I had a minor- wait- an amazingly awesome setback.