Author's Note: Yeah, another DTMG fic. Ideas keep pouring these days for them, help. It was the siren call of the BJC, I couldn't not do it!
It hadn't been that long of a road – he was barely in his teens – but it sure felt like it sometimes. JTT's list of accomplishments brandished in front of the entire world to see was big indeed, but his personal one, the one he kept close to his heart, was not so stellar from start to finish.
He had always been a weak kid with too feminine features, as shy as his voice. His feelings displayed towards the outside world always seemed like a watered down version of the real thing (limp, wimpy, toolbox they called him). He tried not to hate himself, so he was always stuck somewhere in the middle.
By the time he found his own spark of inspiration, the flame which it came from had gone out already and he could only pick up from the ashes.
Yet as he stood on that stage in a restaurant in Hollywood surrounded by artificial lights, with his arms up towards the ceiling… As he stood with his idol's figure behind him, like an all-powerful shadow guardian… Surrounded by his fans who cheered for him on and on and on…
He now could say that he got a glimpse of what it was like to be wanted. He could see why Billy Joe Cobra had kept his fame close and his fans even closer.
That night, he felt just a little bit closer to the sky.
(Rewind)
"No!" The manager rubbed her temples with finely manicured nails and sighed tiredly. "This isn't working."
Jonah Tyler Taylor ("Jay-Tee-Tee", now his stage name) stared apprehensively, feeling small and awkward. The paranoid fear that he blew it bad enough to get kicked out efficiently nibbling at his brain.
She turned towards the band from within the recording room. "Let's take a breather, guys. See you in ten minutes." The members slowly removed themselves from their instruments and walked out of the room. And the boy stood still in that interval, gripping the fabric of his pants, fists close to shaking, glaring helplessly at nowhere in particular.
When silence enveloped the room, the woman relaxed her posture and let herself fall gracefully into the armchair. As the boy finally came out of the recording booth, she looked at him from behind her framed glasses. "Jay…"
"I'm sorry." He blurted out, voice soft and weak. He tightened his fists uselessly. "I try to make it work but… I just… I don't know why I screw up."
The woman just looked at him, lips pressed thoughtfully.
"I know you can do better than that. We all do. What's happening?"
"I…" the boy struggled against his tight throat. "I don't know." He looked up dejectedly from behind pale bangs, eyes large and fearful. "Maybe… maybe I've hit my limit."
"Nonsense, dear." His manager responded firmly, sitting ramrod straight, legs crossed. "You're just starting your career. You and I both know this isn't the end of it for you. Now what's this about?"
She turned to press a button and the recording started. Jonah Tyler heard his own singing voice and he became aware of what she meant. It sounded awful. The voice recorded sounded bland – as he always feared, having such a low vocal range, but this time it was (probably) worse. He flushed in mortification as he became fully aware of his mistakes, clumsy cracks coming up in the most unwanted places like a rookie's mistake. Goodness gracious, he could hear himself inhaling (deeply, grossly noisy) in his attempt at getting out the next notes louder and it. It was. Plain awful.
"Okay, okay!" he exclaimed, red-faced in his embarrassment. "Please stop that, I get it, please."
The woman pressed another button and the recording stopped playing. She placed her hands primly on her lap, one eyebrow raised, expression not unkind.
Jonah took a deep breath, trying to not notice the burning in his cheeks.
"I just…" he swallowed, apprehensively. "I just wanted to do it right."
"Do it right?" she questioned him, leaning slightly forward, curious as to what he meant.
"Like… like how he meant for it to sound like."
Silence.
"Jay…"
The blonde boy swallowed, gaze now towards the ground. "I guess I'm just not good enough to do it in the first place. I mean…" he looked up, and he looked so small, with something akin to crushed dreams in his blue eyes. "I know nobody can compare to him, to what he was but…" his chin dipped low once more dejectedly "I'm his biggest fan. I respect his work too much to believe I'm anything close to what he did. His work is great and it's…"
"… Jonah…" the woman tried to cut him off, concerned as she saw the expression on the boy's face. He now looked close to heartbroken.
"It's perfect the way it is and it's his." breathing deeply as he tried to calm his loudly beating heart, eyes glassy and slightly rosy cheeks. "It's his." That word seemed like his answer to all the questions he was ever asked. The two occupants of the room looked at the each other in the eye for a few tense moments.
"How could I ever be so arrogant to change something so iconic and take it as if it's my own achievement?" (He felt like such a child, like a toddler clumsily trying on his dad's clothes, the coat draping over his tiny shoulders which probably will never grow that much from now on anyway. The kid who just wanted to feel closer to the person whose form had once been draped in that finely tailored cloth, who smelled like the scent now permeating the expensive fabric. It was like trying to grasp onto a long gone shadow.
It was the only thing left from him anyway. )
He wiped his nose with his sleeve like the little helpless kid he still felt like at that moment. Nothing changed. How could he ever think things would shift so quickly? Did he think that a grand shadow's own clothes would feel more comfortable than within his own still awkwardly-growing skin?
Did it ever hurt his idol as well when he had to put his big boy pants? It always seemed to him like he had his life together from the very start; it was hard to see him as struggling through anything. And it's not like Jonah Tyler will ever get any answers to his questions anyway…
And he'll never forgive himself for that. If only he had been stronger, maybe he would've had the chance to meet him in the flesh, somehow… Perhaps he might've had a different outlook on life if he had had that. (Just that, if only he had that. That was all he had ever wanted…)
"Jay, your voice is not the same as his. As sweet as your admiration is for him as a fan, that doesn't mean you should strain yourself to do as he did. I don't even think you could and it's not fair towards yourself to try and change that."
The boy nodded faintly in response, gazing at the carpet under his fancy shoes.
"I just… I'm afraid I'll mess it up. My voice is… it's just not the same as his, it's not even close. And-and the song doesn't have the same impact! It feels like a joke, like I'm taking something that's not mine. I have so much respect for… for his work. I wouldn't want him to think that… to think that I don't." He was rambling but he pressed on, then noticed the prickle in his eyes while taking a deep shaky breath. "Because I do, I really really do."
It was silent in the room for a few more seconds. She looked at him, searching his face, lips pressed into her usual thoughtful expression.
"I've met him a few times."
Jonah ignored the spike in his heartbeat at the thought, trying not to fist his hands too tightly in mindless, grief-stricken jealousy.
"And… do you think he'd be upset if…"
"If you changed the song to suit your voice?" she puffed out a small laugh at that, shaking her head amusedly. "He'd throw a fit."
"He… I- what?"
"Jay…" she took off her glasses and started polishing the lens with a handkerchief. "He was a diva, a primadonna, a selfish single-minded showboating brat, don't ever think otherwise." She admitted, the motion of her hands mechanical and precise. "He was very territorial. And he was proud of everything that had his name on it." She fogged up the lens with her breath and polished it some more. "Both the good and the bad."
He didn't know what to say to that. His palms were sweaty and didn't know in which direction to look anymore.
"So you're saying… I should drop the song altogether?" he swallowed apprehensively, but determined to find out. It was a sobering idea, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. He didn't want to back down from this idea altogether. It was the small attempt of a fan to show honest gratitude for an idol's lifetime legacy. It didn't feel right to just let it go.
"I think if he were alive to see this cover of yours, he'd be indignant and groan and complain and basically throw a major storm at the mere mention of your name for a while." the woman continued, polishing her glasses attentively. "He'd probably even call you names, whine about how you ruined his song and proceed to add you on to his personal enemy list." He felt like sinking into the floor and becoming one with the carpet.
"He-he would…?" he asked weakly, feeling slightly faint.
"Oh yeah, I think I knew him well enough to guess that's what he'd do. And then maybe… you know, he would get pretty competitive when all fired up. Oh boy, remember that long feud with Miss Bla Bla? Maybe he would've felt it was a personal challenge like that as well." She shrugged nonchalantly. "Who knows?"
"Oh…" Jonah flushed brightly at that. "I… I don't think I'd stand a chance against him. Ever." He laughed weakly, shoulders tense and knees limp. "I… I would never try to be so rude to my lifelong idol."
It was silent as the manager then placed her glasses back on carefully. She looked at the bowed mop of blonde hair thoughtfully.
"But I also think that he'd get over it once you'd let your true intentions be known."
"My…?" he peered up through the bangs on his face. She smiled ruefully at some distant memory.
"Billy Joe Cobra often seemed so very childish, ditzy, stupid even…" She shook her head in exasperated amusement. "He was impossible sometimes. But believe it or not, he knew what kind of world he lived in. Which is why I think he latched onto everything so firmly. He wanted to leave his mark, to let everyone know what's his. I guess that's why he hardly ever forgave the people who crossed his self-made borders. At least not without telling him first." She looked at Jonah Tyler's open face, fondness in her eyes. "Jay…" She put her hand on top of his.
"He always loved his fans. Always. Don't ever doubt that." And he suddenly couldn't seem to be able to swallow anymore, throat constricted.
"So I think that if you let him know that you're aware of what's his, he will forgive you for taking it in the first place."
"I… I don't want to…" he choked out a response. "I don't want to take anything from him, I would never…" he swallowed. "It's not like I can ask him now anyway."
She tightened her grip on his hand, looking at him in the eye.
"I know, Jay, I know. But look at it this way: he was a musician himself, first and foremost. If they left his fair share alone… Well, he genuinely respected other's people's work. And he was never ashamed of showing his support towards them, whatever it was."
Jonah personally though that it seemed way too specific for her to be so sure of all these things in particular about a person who was no longer here. But perhaps that's just a thing that comes from knowing people well in general. He didn't know if he could hope.
"… So, what do you suggest I do about this?" he asked dejectedly, shoulders slumped.
"I think… you should do this song in your own way." Jonah jumped at that, eyes wide.
"But-! You said that he'd be furious!" She waved her hand dismissively.
"Bah, he's six feet under with a million dollar legacy and no living relatives to back him up. Do you really think you have to worry about that?"
"Wha-? Yes, I do." Jaw tense, surprised indignation in his eyes.
The woman paused and then smiled fondly at the sudden fire in such a gentle person.
"…You really do care about him a lot, don't you?" she asked him softly, her hand still warm against his. He swallowed, not knowing how to answer that. They were talking about someone who he had never actually known personally.
"I… I've always known he wasn't exactly the best role model, considering his personal choices and lifestyle." He admitted, looking down at their joined hands. "But I think that's just it." Smiling weakly, he explained further.
"Being weak as a kid didn't give me much reasons to be happy with myself. So I guess seeing someone so open about their own person. Someone so honest of their own selfishness and reveling in it, I… I liked him, I was amazed. For being the way he was, for loving himself just for being him. Just imagine." His blue eyes shone as he recalled.
"A kid who'd thought all his life he wasn't good enough because he was different, to see someone so very proud, proud of being themselves. Thinking they were inherently awesome just for existing. The confidence in his own ability, the power of his own name and… and the utter love he gave to the world despite all the ugly things in it."
The boy swallowed, the whole concept still felt hard to fully grasp.
"He had so much strength. He flaunted himself -flaws included- in front of the paparazzi and never wavered in his beliefs about himself, no matter what others said. When he heard people's bad opinions about himself, he didn't question himself, he always believed they were wrong, not him. He was just so… positive about himself." Jonah swallowed heavily, gazing towards nowhere in particular. "He surrounded himself with images of himself, projected himself everywhere and anywhere. And he never, ever got sick of it. Before I knew about BJC, I never imagined that was possible."
"And I realized… I realized how much I wanted that. To be able to like - to love myself like that. And to draw strength from the ones who hated me, take it as fuel to soar even higher."
As he paused to take a deep breath, the woman bit her lip thoughtfully.
"You know… for a long time, I thought he had been just a clueless brat." She admitted with a sigh, mild irritation on her face. "He was the biggest sensation in the celebrity world. I used to think that he was stupid, thought he should've known better, should've realized that he was too big to let himself get involved into petty things such as feuds over a fashion inconvenience. But then I realized at some point that… whether he realized or not, when it came to street smarts in this industry, he was practically a genius."
She threw her hands up in the air, exasperation creeping up into her voice.
"He did it all on purpose to make sure everybody knew his name. All of it, every single incident. And I now realize, he did it because he was such a big celebrity. Because that's when "there is no such thing as bad publicity" really does apply, it applies when you're Billy freakin' Joe Cobra! He always made a big fuss everywhere because he wanted to prove the power of his own name and influence and to make sure we never forget it. He was creating his own rules, a world of his own. Thus he became the only one in control of himself. He couldn't be bossed around by anyone. He made boundaries only he could cross. And it was such a smart move, too subtle for anyone to suspect a thing! It was so simple and stupid and brilliant! That slimy snake figured it all out and had us all wrapped around his finger the whole time and it makes me so mad I want to kiss him stupid! That arrogant, clever bastard!"
Jonah felt his jaw going slack as she finally finished her explosive rant. With that glare on her face and her biting, bitter words, she was frankly quite scary.
"Um…" he was practically speechless at this point.
"Sorry, dear." She sighed, flopping back tiredly into the armchair cushions. "I guess this just gets to show you how much he'd left his mark in this industry, even after all this time."
"But oh" a small smile crept up on her face once more, with something in her eyes not far from admiring."He was so charming. So natural in front of a crowd. Completely and utterly disarming. He was unbelievably charismatic when he wanted to be. A people magnet. Confident.He had it all to make it big and he did flawlessly. You either hated him or loved him, but you certainly knew his name. And that was his trump card which he made sure to milk for all it was worth. You couldn't get away from him even if you tried. In my case, I loathe him and love dearly him for how well he played the cards he'd been given." She shook her head, trying to compose herself. "Cobra. Pah, what a fitting name he chose for his stage name. It didn't seem like it at first but… Can't believe how well it actually suits the shameless brat, even now."
The manager then looked at the small boy, all business once more.
"I understand your worry, Jonah. But rest assured, I think I know just the thing to keep the great Billy Joe Cobra from turning in his grave." She smiled at him, finality in the tone of her voice. And the rest of the tension melted away just as one of the members opened the door and asked if they're ready to get working again.
Jonah saw his manager's questioning gaze. He steeled himself and nodded.
"Alright. Let's do it the right way." He smiled and felt the start of something close to excitement."The right way for me."
His debut album quickly became a big hit.
And the day for the opening tour concert in Hollywood finally arrived.
As he opened the door, he took in the inside of the Wi Fri. He took in the colorful furniture, the modern architecture and eye-catching decorations. And then his gaze caught onto something that sucked the air in his lungs.
The revolving door slipped from his slackened grip. He didn't remember how he actually ended up on the other side of the room. Too busy staring at the bright colors on the piece of fabric draped over the background curtains for the stage. A smile slipped onto his face, steadily getting bigger and bigger.
"I see you've noticed our last minute addition." His manager's voice crept from behind his back, composed amusement rippling in it. "What do you think?"
Bold, garish colors, a slightly dizzying perspective, an eye popping background, dynamic body language and a wild facial expression… And with his face on it, practically dominating the entire expanse of fabric with his image … It seemed just the type of thing he'd like.
JTT turned towards his manager with grateful, glassy eyes, heart beating loudly in his chest, ready to burst into song ("You love me, love me, love me…").
And he smiled wide.
"It's perfect."
"Thank you, Beverly Heights.
That song was for someone very special to me.
My biggest inspiration, the late, great Billy Joe Cobra."
He heard the sound of heavy fabric unraveling behind him. And everything fell in its proper place along with it.
"I love you, Billy!"
Looks like I keep slipping into character studies, even indirectly, what the eeefff... :P
Bah, sorry if it seems rushed. This came out so fast, but I worked it out as much as I could. If I tried any harder, it'd all probably turn crappy to the point of no return...
Please tell me if you have anything in mind regarding this fic! Thanks for reading! ^^
(Also, I might make a second and final chapter for this, no guarantees tho...)