What kind of a man names the band The Smoochers? Could you be more disgusting, more cheesy and lame? He could've called it The Masons, I think that would win by far.

And what kind of a name combination is that? Mason De Souza. Mason De Souza. Every time you say it it sounds like a name for a weak person. Mason De Souza. If I say it one more time, I'll just end up imagining him as a homeless dude pretending to be a US veteran with no legs. Pretending! Yes! That lame!

So, I'm supposed to meet with him in ten minutes and because I am not pathetic, I don't show up in front of his office, begging for his attention. No. I will come at 5 p.m. sharp and if he won't have time for me at that right moment, I'll make him beg that I stay. He has a wedding band for fuck's sake, he needs every gig he can get.

There are no cool cars here in this parking lot. My Julia is a real attraction here, my lady in red. I can only assume he has something like old Renault Clio that's barely functioning, or worse, an old Fiat that makes farting sounds when you start it. Well, my Julia is like a kitten, purring lightly, but can roar like a deadly feline!

A lot like Annabelle, actually.

I check the time again and only a couple of minutes separate me from the meeting with this... guy. I'll call him guy for now and will get creative later.

I leave the car, but before I do that I check myself in the rearview mirror.

I look fucking amazing.

And apparently his office is on the second floor. Lame. Mine is up, hiiigh up in the skyscraper. It really shows how important you are in this world, doesn't it, guy!

I stop in front of the office, and there's a part of me that wants me to back off. There's a good question - why am I even here? Patty and Danny would never hire this band, and this is Annabelle's ex! I won't go home and tell her that today I had a meeting with her oh-so-fantastic ex-boyfriend, while she has probably spent the afternoon daydreaming about him! Again.

There is no good answer, but there is a simple one. He's Annabelle's ex. He's the one that dumped her. I can't imagine anyone in their right mind do that! The worst of it all is that she can't seem to forget him... I'm here to see what is so unforgettable about this lunatic.

I guess I can say he has a quality about him that attracts women, but Annabelle isn't just one of those that fall for a guy just because he seems nice. I think her standards are pretty high, and they should be. She should know her worth, and given she didn't simply succumb to me when we first met and resisted, I think she does know it. But then the moment he calls, she comes running. I don't really know what to think.

I almost gag when I see that they have the band's name engraved on a plate they've installed on the door. When I knock I seriously consider turning around and leaving. Meeting him won't change how Annabelle feels. God forbid she should ever find out about this little stunt of mine.

The guy that opens the door isn't him. It's just some average guy who probably plays synth in the band and is still desperate to get laid.

"Hi, you must be Mr Price, correct?" He asks and once he speaks he actually doesn't seem that bad. Maybe he does get laid anyway.

I nod like I'm too proud to respond with words, but he doesn't notice that. He just happily invites me in, and the only reason why he's so excited that I can think of is probably that they suck and haven't played anywhere in a while. No shit, Mason De Souza is their frontman. Annabelle herself said that when she met him she thought they sucked, he especially.

The air re-freshener is everywhere. I hope they can open some windows otherwise I'll suffocate on a scent of summer apples.

The door at the end of the hallway opens, and lookie, lookie, it's the sucker.

"Mr Price, glad to meet you!" He smiles widely and is more than eager to shake my hand. I can't say that the feeling is the same.

I'm taller than you!

I smile as well, politely more than anything and give him a complete and honest answer, "Trust me, the feeling is mutual."

He shows the way to the office and when he's looking away from me, I eye him from top to bottom. Cheap clothes. Understandable, he has a wedding band, and I assume that's his only source of income. Apparently he doesn't know how to shave either, he has a patch of a few days old stubble right under his right ear. And his shoes aren't polished.

Annabelle, why him?

Mason sits down behind his desk that doesn't impress me at all. The one in my office is bigger and nicer, and clearly more important. And it's definitely not on a second floor!

"So, you're getting married!" He smiles and kind of takes me by surprise, which is fucking weird. I know he has a wedding band, so why else would I be here?

Okay, let's have some fun!

"Oh, yes. Very exciting."

"I bet your lady was very happy when you proposed," he smiles and starts opening drawers and gathering papers. Please, no paperwork. I'm not signing anything, I'm leaving no evidence behind!

"She was. There were tears and-" What else do women do when they're happy you proposed? Some of them squeal, I suppose "-she couldn't believe it, in general."

"They never do, do they?"

That's obviously a rhetorical question, but... why not make him squirm. Let's see if he ever really had any feelings for her. "Are you married as well?"

Without a single blink, he shakes his head and says he hasn't met the right one yet. Pal, if anyone dodged a bullet, it was Annabelle.

"How come your fiancee didn't come along? Couples usually come together, so we're all happy in the end."

"She mostly has afternoon shifts. But if it helps, I can tell you that she's a ginger, now you can try and imagine as if she were here." And there's the reaction I wanted. Slightly froze there, didn't you, fucker?

He observes me a little bit, and a part of me wants him to come to the conclusion that Annabelle is moving on. Not just that! Imagine him realising she has forgotten about him because she has me to look at. He's an ugly duckling that will drown when there's just a little bit of rain, and I'm the most majestic swan residing in the royal fucking garden.

Yeah, you lost big time, buddy.

He quickly changes the subject and tries to recover from the little shock I gave him. "Anyway, have you seen any of the concerts or how did you find us?"

Really, dude? You call performing three songs that aren't even yours a concert? I feel so bad for you.

"Somebody actually recommended you to us. Then we looked into it together, and here I am." I think that must have been the least detailed lie I have ever told anyone.

He's not bothered by it, he's probably heard similar stories like this one before, and it's not like he can afford to accuse me of being a liar. Though I can't imagine anyone recommending him.

"That's great to hear," he announces and looks at me with twinkling eyes. If he looked at Annabelle like that, I can understand why she fell for him. He looks adorable. Adorable. "When is the wedding, though? Do you have a date set already?"

Did you?

"No, not yet. It's all pretty recent, but we are thinking about getting married next fall. I hope you don't have any gigs around that time?" Of course, they don't. If it were up to me he'd have none at all.

Mason focuses on the computer. Is his business that bad that he has to pretend he's busy? "As I see it here we are mostly booked for spring. There's something about it that makes people want to marry."

That's actually normal, you idiot.

He grins widely and announces it proudly, as if it hasn't been obvious from his earlier implication, "We can book you two for next year's fall!" He clasps his hands as if the business only starts now. He is such a stereotypical corporate douchebag. "Do you have any special songs you'd like us to perform?"

No. "What we like from the 2000s are mostly pop-punk bands, like All-American Rejects or Good Charlotte. I hope you play any of their songs?"

His eyes literally light up. What used to be dark hazel is now almost entirely green. Obviously that was the fantastic flex he pulled on Annabelle. To be honest, even I'm a little taken aback by it. I give him one point for that - one. And minus hundred for being a sleazy dick.

"I'm a big fan of All-American Rejects actually!"

Great... I don't like them anymore.

"We all are in fact, so we have their songs exceptionally well-rehearsed," he fangirls to me with a smile that is similar to the one I saw in Annabelle's apartment. She looks so happy on that picture; happy because of a guy that would sell her kidneys for the band's autograph.

"That's... great." I chuckle so forcefully that he notices it immediately. Maybe he's not a total idiot after all.

But a moment later he smiles to himself and nods. Is he schizophrenic or something? Hearing voices from beyond walls telling him jokes? Should I be afraid for my own safety?

"I see you're very nervous," he says, which.... really doesn't help with the paranoia. "All this wedding business and stuff, it's... a big deal. I've been engaged before and couldn't go through with it."

There's a big chunk of relief in my heart when I realise he's just talking about the wedding and not ghosts of comedians following him wherever he goes. But if I were a cat, my ears would perk up like little signal plates they used back in the late 20th century. He's mentioned his own engagement; that can't be about anyone else but her!

"Why didn't you go through with it?" I just blurt out. I don't think he's intellectually advanced enough to see I'm here to interrogate him.

He uncomfortably looks at the screen as if there is an answer for that kind of situations written on it. He pieces himself back together, but there is no lightness in his voice as it was noticeable before.

Squirm, fucker!

"I just couldn't. She wasn't the one."

But he has the audacity to contact her, seduce her and give her hope? If circumstances were normal, I'm sure Annabelle would have seen that this is nothing more but a ruse of his. But circumstances aren't normal; she's had her heartbroken and I can imagine she sees this as a perfect opportunity to get back a glint of that stability.

She deserves far better than you, you twatty toothpick!

Just like I forced a chuckle out before, he forced a small smile. "I'm sure that you and your fiancee know what you two are doing. There is no need to be nervous."

Your lower incisors are crooked.

"Oh, I'm not worried about that. I don't just give up on people in my life." Like you do. The worst of it all, she would probably take you back in a fucking heartbeat.

Mason stares at me for a bit, but it looks like he chooses to ignore my remark. Ignorance is bliss, true, but it's pathetic that you shut your eyes when the truth is rubbed into your face. Deal with it, average boy, and leave her the fuck alone! She's way happier without you in her life!

"Anyway, uhm, about the songs and the playlist, do you have any particular wishes?" He asks to mask how awkward he is. How did he ever even grow balls to walk up to Annabelle and ask her out for a drink? He can't even look me in the eye without his balls shrinking to a size of raisins.

I have no idea what he is talking about. What special wishes? I just told him what "we" want at the "wedding".

"I see you don't quite understand what I'm trying to say," he smiles lightly. "Let me help you with that," he adds and takes one of the files.

Oh, what do you even know, you fucking moron!

"Both grooms and brides come separately sometimes to organise a special song for their future spouse. It's a romantic gesture, and since you're here alone, I guess we could clear that out, how about that?"

I stare at him for a second or two. Why is he so happy about this. What the fuck is wrong with him? Why does he look like an anime character that wants to save the world with the power of his wedding band?

"I-uh, didn't really come prepared with that." Get off my back!

Mason tilts his head to the side like I'm a man to be pitied. Dude, you're the one with uneven teeth that somehow earned the love of an incredible woman, but you failed to recognise that. I'm definitely not the one who should be pitied here.

"Just tell me what is it she likes then. I'll tell you if there are any songs we perform that would fit her."

Well, shit. He's been with her for six years. If I tell him just one more detail other than her being a ginger, he will recognise her immediately.

And maybe he should. He should see that... she can do better than him. Not that I'm suggesting anything, but... I guess it'd make him think that it was Annabelle that 'settled' for him and not the other way around.

Then again, he left her. He clearly doesn't see her the way I do – which is a harmless crush! But if there's something that I am willing to admit, is that Annabelle is a fantastic woman, and if you let go of a woman like that, you're either retarded or a coward.

I think about how would I even describe Annabelle. There are so many admirable things about her that it's hard to organise my thoughts. And I'm just in the right set of mind, my crush taking advantage of me and practically idealising her.

"She's... She is sweet and soft, very mushy, but in the best way possible. She lets me get away with some things that I say; in a way, I can predict what she's going to do, and the next moment I'm completely baffled; it's like constant exploration. She's very caring and just by being in the room, she makes one feel safe. Her good looks are... in a way deceiving because she looks lovely, sometimes reserved, but she's not afraid to take the stage or to share her mind, and... It's seductive almost. I'm pretty proud when I, for example, introduce her to someone because she's – she's just great, you know? Not a giggly stupid teenager, she just has that youthful quality about her."

I don't know what urges me to say more, but whatever I said... It sounds so cheap... I see and adore Annabelle in my mind, and just as I do that, I think of at least other fifty things about her that are downright fantastic and another fifty that are infuriating, but... in a strange way extremely lovable.

"She always has a kind of rhythm in her hips, be it when she talks, sings, cleans, dances or simply exists. And whenever she focuses on something, she'd put her hair up in a ponytail, then she'd let it flow, then she'd start braiding it, and would end up letting it flow again, and then she'd repeat the process. It's... It's easy for me to talk to her. I know she will in a way try to roast me or be funny, but at the end of the day, she will listen to whatever I have to say, or get serious and say what she wants to say. I don't know, she is not my type like at all, but it looks like that's precisely why I find her so attractive – she will drive me insane because... I can't be the only one who sees her for the woman that she is..."

All I see is Mason staring back at me strangely. 'Cause obviously I'm the strange one here.

"Wow," he sighs and it takes him a moment to smile. He looks completely baffled by what I told him, and for a moment, I suspect that maybe he figured out that I'm talking about Annabelle because he seems like he remembered something he regrets – maybe leaving her? "She's a lucky lady."

"She is?" It's only then that I realise, he has no clue this little monologue was about his ex-fiancée. In that case, I'd like that comment that she indeed is lucky. 'Cause she got rid of you!

He smiles softly and he looks... downright stupid like that, like someone trying to appear slightly childish and youthful to get girls. Too bad he doesn't know how to shave and that his incisors are pointed in different directions, otherwise this trick might actually work. He doesn't strike me as someone that gets laid on a regular basis.

"You must really love her."

I – what?

"I beg your pardon?"

Mason lifts both brows and shakes his head with a smile while listing through a stack of papers, which has no particular meaning. "It's the way you described her. You were talking about her essence and the little things."

Uhm, punk, I notice things.

"You asked me about it, what else was I to say? How does she look? I don't believe that someone's facial features can tell you about the person's interests." Choke, bastard.

He blinks at me, visibly confused, and if I'm not mistaken he shrinks in size. After all, I don't know what did I even expect. He's pretty transparent.

"Sir..." He silently murmurs as if trying not to insult me in any way, which I can't imagine happening.

What could he possibly have to say about me that would insult me? What, is he gonna say that my dick is too big?

"Sir, I asked you what she likes, as in what does she like, not what is she like." He shrugs apologetically and adds a tiny smile to his show.

That is bullshit!

Me mishearing him is impossible. My goal here is to investigate him, see what is so damn fantastic about him that Annabelle decided to give him six years of her life, not to daydream about her. My brain doesn't redirect to her at the first possible turn.

"All due respect," which by the way there is none, "I know what I heard. You must've been the one to slip."

He accidentally snickers, which he shows when he smothers his grin as he sees me narrow my eyes at him. "I don't know why... I'd ask that, but it's okay if you think about her a lot. Not all people have that with their partners after being together for some time. Count yourself lucky."

Are you asking for more crooked teeth?

The audacity that this asshole has to preach to me about it! I do not think about Annabelle a lot! Of course, I think of her, but because she's babysitting Devon as we speak, and because this son of a bitch now wants to woo her again, con her into committing herself to him once more! I will not be fooled by his 'Euh, I'm a nice boy-next-door, and for our first date I'll buy you a strawberry milkshake.'

"I don't think about her, and even if I did, I wouldn't consider myself lucky. It means I care about her more than she does about me, and you never want to be the one that cares more. People disappoint."

"That's a pretty... negative way to look at things, don't you think?"

"No, it's realistic. There's a difference." You sleazy, hopeful dick.

Mason purses his lips and decides to shrug instead of going against me. That's the first thing I like about him – he knows his place, and that's the second.

"There is realism and then there's bitterness. Love is not always kind, it rarely is actually. Even Shakespeare wrote about it."

Of course, he quotes Shakespeare.

I am fazed beyond my existence by his kind-hearted and good nature, which borders naivety. If he were a character in a book, he'd be the most boring and mainstream one. It's ridiculous and infuriating. How did he get Annabelle... She is extraordinary, and he is plain, sleazy, empty, colourless.

If he smiles at me one more time, I will leap over the table and choke him. I'm done with his kindness and his little kid aspirations of having a fucking band. I hate him.

"Is there something wrong?"

Oh, wouldn't you like to know, you happy piece of shit?

I want to get away from this dude. I've seen enough to be completely appalled by him, I never thought that Annabelle was fucking dumped by a cartoon character! I kind of just want to ignore him, make him sweat. It's he who's gonna feel awkward about it, not me. The more he'll sweat and tremble, the better my day will get.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude or intrusive, sir," he begins apologising, which simply makes me hate him more.

Everything boils inside of me. I want to punch him in the throat and listen to him gasp for air, but even then, he'd probably apologise for standing in my fist's way.

His worried hazelish eyes remain focused on me, and when I don't say anything back and just stay quiet, he goes the extra length to make me feel more comfortable. "How about a cup of coffee, hm? Then we can return to our previous discussion."

I don't want a single thing from you!

I'm leaving. Need a damn good excuse, and I don't think telling him that I think Annabelle is calling for me would do the job. I want to hurt him. I want to cause him doubts, I want him to squirm in the middle of the night, and wake up screaming and covered in sweat. I want to make it loud and clear that I'm better than him, I want him to know that.

The only reason I can come up with is that I've left the stove on, which would have exactly the opposite effect. And this sleazeball would even offer himself to run to my apartment and do the job for me.

I try to think of anything else, but there's just one thing I want to say to him and that is to stay away from Annabelle! She does not deserve him and every minute she has spent with him was a minute too long!

"That won't be necessary," I say bitterly, which is apparently his diagnosis of me with his frontman credentials.

He peers at me as I get up from the chair, and it gives me a moment of satisfaction when I see once again that I'm taller than him. Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, fucking dwarf.

Why do I even give a fuck about what he's gonna think? I'll be surprised if he'd get it at all. It's Mason, for Christ's sake, hardly comparable to me. It's not like he's going to see me again, and even if he will, I doubt he'll walk up to me and lash out on me. He's too weak and... too nice for that.

"C'mon, just sit down, sir. I'm sorry for getting carried away."

"As I said, that won't be necessary." I watch him as the colour drains off his face. He actually looks remorseful, like a sad puppy whose owner has left him in a trashcan – and he did nothing! "I don't want a damn wedding band anyway."

I turn on the heel, savouring the image of Mason both startled, shocked and confused staring after me. Why do I even give a fuck about what he's gonna think? It's Mason, for Christ's sake, hardly comparable to me. It's not like he's going to see me again, and even if he will, I doubt he'll walk up to me and lash out on me. He's too weak and... too nice for that.

Leaving the apartment, I close the door by letting it hang and let the draft slam it shut. One hell of an exit! Though I regret not slamming the door myself, that way I would have vented a little bit, but when I sit in the car, I need all my willpower to restrain myself for throwing a bunch of fists at the steering wheel.

I don't love her, but he doesn't deserve her! And the fucking shitface has the audacity to ask me if something is wrong!

As a matter of fact, Mason, yes, it is! Everything is wrong! You are average! You are boring! A mainstream basic little bitch, but you give her one fucking call and she comes running back to you! I'm a fucking stud, sex appeal on fifteen hundred, and she won't even look at me after you crawl back in the picture! You left her, you destroyed her! I opened up to her, I trusted her with the most private things in my life! And you get the whole fucking glory because you took her to fucking Hawaii and you sing in a shit wedding band! You are kind and idiotically trying to please everyone, but I was the one who actually pleased her, and I'm the one worried about her, the one that wants her to be happy in life! But if you open your arms, she runs right into them, and if I open them, she looks back at me from within your embrace! Yes, Mason, everything is wrong! Why are you better than me when you're not? Why do you matter more, when she doesn't matter to you? Why will she kiss you before she'll kiss me?

Why does she love you when she should love me!

A/N: Sooo... Mason, huh? Did you like him or hate him? Nathan says quite a couple of mean things in this one... 

I'm kind of sorry to say that it might take me an extra week to update again. I have a really tough exam, and I hope you understand that I'd for the time being like to focus on that for a short while. It may happen that I will update regularly on schedule anyway, but at this point, who knows what's going to happen.

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~Blackie