A/N: Okay so I know the name sounds a bit gay but I promise there a deeper meaning behind its choosing, that will be revealed if/when the story progresses; and it's kind of poetic if I do say so myself. So this is my first time publishing my any of my work ever, and reviews both affirmative and critical would be very much appreciated. As with most stories on this site I own none of the characters or content from the Victorious show, I am simply putting my special spin on things. Now on to the story….
Tori's POV
When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up; a cowboy, a superhero, a princess, a rock star? We dreamed big, when we were children and the sky was the limit. All I ever wanted to do for as long as I can remember was sing. Not just sing though, no I wanted to make music that spoke to people, that meant something not just to me but to the people who listened as well, not some love sick cliché bullshit. I wanted people to listen to my music and feel the joy, the hurt, and the hope that I felt and hear more than just meaningless, repetitive words. I wanted to put my heart and soul into my music, to make it honest and real. I can't help but feel just a little sad when I think back on my childhood dream. We all tell ourselves "I don't care how stupid or impossible they say it is, I will be a cowboy, a superhero, a princess someday," and believe it. But somewhere along the way we stop dreaming, we 'grow up' and sell out. We put our so called childish dreams on the proverbial shelf and go after the 'logical' job and make the 'practical' career choice. You forget about the Wild West, hang up your Stetson and become a banker instead. You put the tiara in a box and the ball gown in the closet and become a nurse. You hang up your cape, take off the mask and put on a suit. You sign away your soul and push the honesty and meaning aside and become just another glittery pop star sell cliché. Yes, yes we all sell out in one way or another, forgoing our dreams in order to make money and please the world. I guess we shouldn't be too hard on ourselves though. Toeing the line and 'living in reality' is a lot easier than standing up and going your own way. It's just so much smarter to smile through it and lie to yourself than it would be to go out and find real happiness isn't it; easier, better, smarter, no its just weak.
-Tori Fucking Vega
"Um Tori, darling, what is this?"
I look up from my half eaten salad to see my agent with a paper dangling in her outstretched hand, and a dissatisfied, almost worried look on her botoxed face.
"The answer to my question for the Teen Tune's magazine expo, remember the childhood dreams blah blah blah crap?" I sigh.
"Um yes, I understand that dove, what I don't understand is how you expect me to hand this in. I respect the whole teen-angst thing, really darling I do, but this is just a bit much. Do we need to have talk or something, because this is some seriously dark stuff sweetie?" She cocks an overly penciled eyebrow at me, waiting for a response.
"What? Let me see that," I demand, reaching over and snatching the paper from between her perfectly manicured nails. I don't even have to look to understand her confusion and concern.
"Shit, wrong paper, sorry," I explain quickly, walking over to my oversized Ralph Lauren bag on the counter.
"I've got the other response-"
"You mean the REAL response?" she interjects.
"Yeah sure whatever Roz, it should be riiight-" I trail off as I continue my digging.
"Seriously Tori do you need to talk to someone, because I know this great therapist out of West L.A. , and if what I've heard is true , he's gotten into some pretty famous heads."
I can hear a hint of sincerity in her tone; it both touches and nauseates me. Roselyn A. Haute has been my manger, agent, whatever since day one. She was the one, who for all extensive purposes discovered me. She likes to go around telling people that where most people only saw a small town Florida girl, she had the greater vision to see a star just waiting for someone to show it how to shine. How much of her little hero saga is true, I neither know nor care. She is like family though, like that one crazy aunt you can't stand. She cares about me sure I know, but when it comes right down to it, she cares about money more. We both know it and I've seen it.
"Look," I sigh still riffling through my shit,"I'm fine, it had been a long and exhausting day and I was just ranting okay?" I see her squinting at me out of the corner of my eye as if trying to decide whether or not she believed me; wanting to hurry this little exchange along I break the silence with a sharp repeat, "Okay?"
"Yeah okay hon, whatever works," she mumbles throwing her hands up in mock surrender. God she can be so damn dramatic sometimes.
I turn around "Here ya go the 'Tori Vega' answer, happy now?" I shove the paper in her face making sure to sound as annoyed as possible.
"Ecstatic," she drawls, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now I'm going to go and scan this over to the Teen Tunes office and make some very important phone calls, and I the only thing I want you to do today is sit here in this five star room and relax okay," she grabs me by the shoulders and leads me to the white plush couch on the other side of the room and sits me down.
"I'll even arrange a massage for you later this afternoon with the master of deep tissue Kiko, hmm." She smiles.
"Gee thanks Roz," I say dryly.
"My pleasure dove; after all, we need our shining star in tip-top shape for the back-up auditions tomorrow, now don't we?" She reaches out a red manicured nail and taps me on the nose, twice. I hate it when she tries to be cute. I whip my head back away from her finger and groan.
"Fuc-"
"Tori darling language," she warns.
"Okay MOM," I mock.
"It's bad for your image hon, keep clean."
"Whatever."
"And please dear TRY to get whatever THIS" she waves her finger in the air like she's drawing my chalk outline, "is out of your system before the auditions tomorrow. We want these young nobodies to want to be here and this attitude thing certainly will not help."
I roll my eyes as she turns on her Prada heels and heads to the door. Opening it and stopping just shy of the hallway she turns her head and with her best phony smile says, "Just remember big day tomorrow darling, chow." She blows me a faux kiss and shuts the door.
"Bye," I sneer at the closed door.
Finally I am alone. I lean my head back and close my eyes. Well if I'm going to be out at auditions all day tomorrow, I am going to sleep all day today. I take a deep breath letting myself relax into the pillowy cushions. A few more silent moments and deep breaths and I've drowned out the world. One more and I'm in my happy place letting the warm memories wash over me like waves over sand. I can see it all my home, my first piano, my friends. I don't want to but I feel the corners of my mouth begin to curl into a smile anyway. 'Damn when did I become so cynical,' I wonder momentarily before returning to my musings of what almost seems like another life. As I sit there comfortable in the warm light of my memories, I begin to fall further and further away from the world, until finally I am asleep.
Jades POV
"I cannot BELIEVE we are actually going to New York to audition for TORI FREAKING VEGAS world tour! Are you excited, tell me you're excited about this!?"
I laugh at my hysterical passenger as we make our way down the jersey turn pike.
"For the hundredth time, YES Rob I am so freaking excited I can't even believe it."
"Good because this is just too much, too damn much eek!" he squeaks waving his hands around. I don't even have to look at him to know he's bouncing in his seat, this kid.
"Ya know Rob; I don't think you could be anymore gay right now if you tried."
"You haven't seen Rex during Pride week have you," he laughs.
"No why?" I chuckle
"Three words Rainbow-Body-Glitter."
"Oh wow, touché."
He sighs, "You gotta love a guy who can rock a tool belt and body paint, mmm."
"Wasn't that a Village People motto or something," I laugh. I love this kid truly
"Hey don't hate on one of the best bands of the 70s."
"I feel like you're only saying that because of the impossibly tight pants."
"All I'm saying is, it certainly didn't hurt." he throws his hands up.
"Roberto Antony Shapiro, I swear you're more female than I am sometimes."
"Well Jade Alexandria West, I will take that as a compliment."
I shake my head and smile at his impossibly up beat come backs. I mean I'm not a raging cynic or anything, but it's safe to say perky is defiantly not my thing.
I can count on one hand the people who can use my full name a get away with, and most of them are family. Rob and I met in 7th grade math when he moved to our small town and bonded over our mutual hatred for the subject. It was your typical outcast story really, he was the scrawny, nerdy looking kid with the glasses and the Jew -fro and I was the pale faced, dark-haired girl with the black nails who scared people. We became bonded for life when I became the first person he came out to in 8th grade. Honestly though, even in 8th grade it wasn't that much of a shock; Robs always been kind of flamboyant so to speak, so it really wasn't that big of a stretch. After that we became what he calls b.f.f.f.e.s; Best Friends For Fucking Evah! We've both kind of mellowed out over the years, my look has gone from being straight up child of darkness to Goth with an earthy twist; and Rob well he got taller and gained a little muscle and a boyfriend. We tell each other pretty much everything, there's only one other person closer to me than Rob.
When I heard about the Vega Tour auditions coming to New York, I knew there was no way I could get out of town without taking him with me. It wouldn't have been much fun without him with me anyway. Rob and I have been singing together since the 7th grade talent show, but me, I've been singing since birth. There's not a time in my life I don't remember me singing, well almost. I sing in the shower, in the car, at work, hell have the time I'm doing it without even realizing it. Music's kind of my thing, I got my first guitar at age 6 and I've been hooked ever since. It's my passion and this is my chance to get my foot in the door. If I can pull this off I may be well on my way to my dreams.
I am suddenly pulled from my musings by a scrawny finger tapping my shoulder.
"Hey Jaade, guess what I brought?" he drawls.
"What."
"The Rent soundtrack! Perfect for a long car trip!" he squeals excitedly.
"Oh my God you didn't!"
"Oh I did, you wanna listen?" he asks excitedly, practically jumping out of his seat. Yeah I like musicals, what I can't have black nail polish and a heart.
"So I can hear you sing "Over the Moon" 50 freaking times," I laugh as he gives the patented Shapiro pout.
"Oh come on you know I'd make a kickass Maureen!"
"Oh dear lord not this again."I groan.
"And I'd kick Joanne's ass and lock Mark in my basement!" he finishes.
"Wow we just went from Rent to Little Shop of Horrors somehow." I state with fake shock.
We look at each other and bust laughing at the total weirdness of this conversation.
"We are so weird!' I struggle between laughs.
"No we're fucking awesome." He laughs doing his best diva snap and faux hair flip.
Our laughter dies down and the car gets quiet. After a few seconds of silence pass he looks at me concern etched in his poignant features.
"So did you talk to him before we left?"
I knew he would bring this up. I turn my head slightly to see a face filled with love and concern and I cannot help but answer softly, "Yeah I went and saw him for a little bit."
"And?" he drawls
"And I think he's okay with it," I sigh heavily.
"Yeah," he reaches over and nudges my arm, "Well I think he's damn proud." He pinches my cheek.
"Don't make me break that," I warn, playfully swatting his hand away.
He laughs and things get quite again.
"Thanks Rob"
"No problem Jay" he replies putting his hand on my shoulder. We exchange mutually warm smiles before his attention is suddenly diverted to the radio.
"OH-MY-GOD I fucking LOVE this song," he screams reaching for the dial, "It's my straight-up diva jam, 'I'm so fancy, you already know'" he sings along with the radio as I simply smirk and stare at the road. I really don't like Iggy Azalea; I mean much respect for the whole white female rapper thing, but what is with that ghetto ass voice of hers'. Normally I would change the station to something more along the lines of Nine Inch Nails or Evanescence, but I leave it be and let Rob have his moment. "Who dat, who dat, I-I-I-ggy, who dat, who dat, I-I-I-ggy." He sings snapping his finger in a z formation. I smile at my overly perky friend and settle back into my seat, "This is gonna be a long ride," I sigh. New York and Tori Vega here we come.
A/N: So did you like it? If you did and you want more, leave me a review and let me know. If not leave me a review anyway, good criticism is always appreciated. Thanks