Note: hi friends I'm back! Can't wait to share this new story with you all. It's a fake dating fic that I went absolutely wild with. I think it's going to be a lot of fun. Check me out on ao3 for some other stuff I've written and always feel free to send me stuff, ideas, or if you wanna talk. Thanks and lmk what ya think lots of love -katie
what happens on the third floor
/
"Oh great, so now this my fault?"
"I never said it was your fault! God, do you always need to make everything about you?"
"Well maybe if you didn't leave me to do all the work every fucking time so you could go off and screw your girlfriend—"
"Here we go again with your shitty mouth, no wonder everyone thinks this is on you!"
"You are just as shitty, don't start this."
"I haven't started anything. If you remember correctly, we're in this whole mess because of the fact that I never start anything. I always let you do that."
"Look at you, making this whole thing seem like my fault again. 'Oh look at me, generous and kind, letting the nice intern do all my dirty work!'"
"You are a mess."
"You know what, screw you. I quit."
Worst last words she's ever thought of. Who walks out of a building after being fired, yelling, "SCREW YOU I QUIT"? She's heard her fair share of last words, and dammit she fucked hers up. If she was going to be kicked out of that place any day she at least wanted to do it with a bang, something for those preppy assholes to remember her by.
Remember her, they would. But not for epic last words.
Maya has been in LA for three going on four years now and she loves it just as much as she hates it. It's got flaws, everything on this planet does. But she'd pick it out of all the flaws the world has tried to stick her in. But three going on four years or not, she's still that kid with messy blonde hair from New York with that god-awful big mouth. And she'll argue to her grave that the people here just don't like her and they're jackasses who use 3 different forks to eat a meal and she uses her hands and a college meal voucher and they don't like that kind so that's why the kicked her out.
But her 'boss' swears it's the scandal she printed before they wanted it printed that has the media in hysterics.
Oops?
Maya knows she has a big mouth, but she learned in high school that her big mouth could look a lot better on paper than it did yelling at those punks in the hallway. So she got her mind set on being a writer.
She's in college, a senior now, in her dream city, LA, and she was working her dream job until she fucked that up. (But she didn't, she swears that wasn't her fault at all, preppy assholes).
Above Publications Company is one of the biggest news offices in the California, not to mention the world. Runs all the stories that people want to listen to in all their award winning, million-dollar magazines and online columns they run. The best of the best work there. Sure, there's other companies just as successful and noteworthy in their publishing, but Above is elite. The office shimmers and sparkles. They get all the Ivy kids. You make the big bucks. They're a rich people's company (which is why she keeps referring to them as the preppy assholes as opposed to just the assholes there's a clear difference).
Normally, these things wouldn't bother her, god knows she's the furthest thing from a preppy asshole (the preppy part, at least) but her stay in the college dorm would be coming to a close very soon, and LA apartments aren't looking cheap.
The internship she had gotten at Above was perfect. She'd complete her time filling cups of coffee or making copies or answering calls or whatever it is interns are supposed to do and little by little the big guys in the suits would start to notice her pieces and "Why don't we run this in the daily column on our website?" and next thing you know, she'll be a big guy in a suit, working full time at one of the best media companies in the world and sending any money she wasn't busy rolling in on her gorgeous marble floors of her mansion back to her mom in New York.
But she got stuck as the intern for Farkle Minkus. God, anyone but him and her plan would have worked perfectly.
Poor dumb kid is brilliant beyond his years but he's still a poor dumb kid and you can tell his brilliant brain wants anything but to be stuck as an editor for some tween pop magazine but he could not hold any other job and his dad is part owner of the company so here he is. He's got a hot girlfriend though. So she hears. (She's probably a robot).
Farkle and Maya had fun in the office, and that's why at first she thought she literally could not get a better internship. But for as fun and brilliant as he is, he has made it clear that he doesn't want to write and print and edit and publish and spread anything, so Maya would do it.
He would fill the coffee and make copies and answer calls and start card games when they should have been at meetings and take lunch breaks at the wrong times and that was it. The fact that he ever did anything.
Maya, again, thought of this as a blessing, as she'd have the big guys see all her work, she'd get a job like it was nothing. But Farkle wanted his job too, needed it, and he'd take all the credit for her good stuff.
But he was fun, he was a friend, and he was doing his part to slip in a good word on Maya here or there with his dad because she was fun and a friend too, so it was fine. It was all fine.
But like I said, he did nothing. Literally nothing. And nothing didn't help when this happened.
It started when Maya and Farkle were racing down the office hallway in their desk chairs. They rolled down the hallway like it was their job, laughing until tears formed in their eyes and their stomachs hurt. But they choked the stomach thing up to 50/50 laughter/hunger.
There was a meeting Farkle was supposed to be at in 20 minutes. And they were hungry.
So the chairs went back and they raced each other to the elevator and out the door, down the streets, who needs a cab, down another street and another and then they were sitting, eating, laughing, forgetting about the meeting in 20 minutes that now happened 50 minutes ago.
It was fine. They do nothing.
They come back into the office, rather, she does, because what else could they possibly have to do for the day? He'll run down the street to pick up his girlfriend and she'll run back inside to get the books she left in his office that she needs for her classes tomorrow (because she still takes those, you know, college) and that'll be it.
The elevator ride is less fun when you're doing it by yourself, but she's imagining the way she'll do it as a big guy in a suit someday, and that'll be fun, whether it's with Farkle or not. It'll probably be with him; she'd be his personal assistant forever if they offered it up for her. She was bummed at first that he got all the credit, but he didn't gloat, he didn't take extra money or promotions or anything, he just wanted to keep his job. She respected that. She admitted it was kind if fun, like publishing under a pen name, a pseudonym. It was exciting to see which of her friends would figure out it was actually her work, one by one, they'd call and say "That Farkle Minkus guy sounds a lot like you in this article about the new Snapchat update!"
She click-clacks in her flip flops (because why the hell not, she's not getting paid) back to his office and grabs her books and papers. But then, under the pile, she sees some prints, an article they were supposed to have on the website by the end of the day.
It was 5:30. If the article isn't in soon Farkle would get in trouble. She has a thought. A bad one, but what would you expect. I know you barely know her yet, but I do, and it wasn't as bad as it could get. She had reasoning: she didn't want Farkle to get fired because he didn't do his job, ironic, but true. Technically, she wasn't supposed to do these things without him there, what did she know, little intern girl from the wrong side of the tracks trying to get on the right one? But Farkle, we've stressed, is too smart for this job, can't be bothered to do it, he's out having fun with his girlfriend. She should put it up for him.
These were her favorite articles to write. Juicy ones. Pop-star gone bad. She and Farkle keep tabs on how many dirty stories they can scrape up on all the stars, but Lucas Friar, oh man, golden bad boy. He needs his own separate tally chart. Three days ago, Maggie from down the hall printed up the story for them and Maya took it to write it. A good one. A headliner, it could be, if that princess from another country wasn't married and apparently that trumps bad-boy drama for the headline.
She'd put it up on the website. No harm, right? I mean, harm to him, duh, because the glorious dirt they'd managed to find on his cocky mega-star ass was just that, glorious and dirty, talk about preppy asshole, but it wouldn't harm her or Farkle.
She decided she'd do it. If the news broke that she was able to do this all on her own, god, she'd have that job tomorrow and be in the mansion next week.
She logged onto his computer and searched for the file. They had 3 versions saved. She was just trying to remember which one was the right one when her phone rang. Isadora, her roommate, was calling to say her ex-boyfriend decided to drop in again but this time he did it when no one was there and he trashed the place and gosh darnit, Maya, why haven't you taken the key back yet, my lava lamp goo is all over my giant periodic table!
"Sorry, Is. He's a dick. Just because he's mad I wont suck his anymore doesn't make him any less of one."
"You're gross. But I told you he was, like after the second date."
"I know, this is not the time to rub in your smart brains, okay? Fuck, I need to get that key back."
"Yeah, you're three months and our ripped green rug too late. I'm getting a new roommate."
"You've said that for 4 years."
"I'm really gonna do it. One more visit from Josh—"
"We don't say his name!" She screeches, and looks up from the computer, a break in trying to crack the password on these documents so she can figure out which is the final edit that she has to publish. Stupid passwords. She really can't remember anything now, especially when Isadora brings up the black hole in her life that is her ex.
"You can't file a restraining order if you can't say his name."
"Shut up, I have to send this article in and then I'll be there to help clean up. Go get us dinner." She'll go with the third one. It's got the latest update on it, it has to be the last one the edited. She clicks it and lines it up for online publication.
"Do I have to do everything?"
"I'll give you a hug!"
"Gross, but I'll do it anyway."
"God, I love you. Wait, the article is going to be up in 40 seconds. Look at it."
There's a pause on the line and Maya hears her click some keys and then, "Ooh, Fuckboy Friar is back! God, it's like he's flirting with me through the screen. Is it hot in here?"
Maya chuckles to herself and starts to pack up her stuff. "When I make it big here, I'll be sure to set you two up," And she's coming up with some sort of other comeback when Isadora screeches a very loud, very bad word through the phone.
"What? What is it? What's wrong? Is he back again? God, I'm gonna beat him up…"
"No, Maya. This article is screwed up."
"Yeah, you know that. This kid is so screwed up, I almost feel bad for making a mockery of him in the media so often. I think he needs a hug. Everything is fixed with a Hart Hug."
"No, Maya. You screwed up."
"A typo? Shit, I thought I picked the right one." She mumbles under her breath as she starts to turn the computer back on to see what she posted.
"Worse than a typo, dude. Did you write this when you were drunk?" Her roommate nervously chuckles to herself, half-joking, but that's when it hits Maya.
They did write something, last night, after Farkle took her to that secret office party and they got trashed, wasted and they ran in here to write up something, gives these preppy assholes a piece of their mind, as well as Fuckboy Friar.
"No, no, no, no. Shit! Shit! Yes, we did, Is, we wrote this article so drunk." She scans over it, unable to move, as she sees the horror that she just published for the world to see. People get updates, reminders, little notifications on their phones that their favorite media site has been updated and they're probably already feasting on this article with all of it's glorious dirt on the girl Lucas Friar played this time and his new driving ticket and how he's spiraling out of control and what the fuck is up with those blue eyes they're definitely fake and his ass is not normal for a male and did you see all that alcohol he was drinking last night and did you know he was just as wasted as the writers of this article?
The article is littered with curse words, flat-out lies, caricatures of their jerky bosses, trash-talking Above, god, this article is above. Above what, she doesn't know, but it's above something, it's disgusting and it's fake and it's dirty, and the people are going to love it. Love it. Everyone loves dirty shit on people, even if they have no idea who Maya Hart is, it says right here she wants to fuck hot Kevin on the third floor and that's some dirty shit and they will love it.
Isadora is screaming something again but she can't hear because she's getting another call. Farkle. Shit.
"I'm sorry, I know, I know, I know!" She pleads before he can even speak and she hopes it'll soften the blow but she still has to hold the phone away from her ear when he screams "WHAT THE FUCK, MAYA?!" that's how loud it is.
"You were gonna get in trouble if the article wasn't published so I did it, but I couldn't remember the password to unlock the files to check which edit was the right one because, god help us, you need to make all your passwords so difficult, and so I just picked the one with the latest update and fuck, I forgot we wrote that masterpiece."
"That is not a masterpiece, Maya, we are so—"
But he can't get the last pat of his sentence in because the aforementioned big guy in the suit barges into the room with innocent Maggie down the hall in his fist and she looks scared shitless, exactly how Maya feels inside, but she's gonna hide it for as long as she can. Which isn't long.
"What is this, Miss Hart?" he booms, dropping the collar of Maggie's shirt and stalking towards Maya.
"I'm sorry, sir, I was just about to delete it and—"
"No, you will not touch another button in this building. You have caused enough damage already."
"I'm sorry," she squeaks, watching her mansion slip away, away, away. She cries.
"Sorry won't cut it, Miss Hart. It's out there. We cannot get it back. Had you and Farkle decided to show up to our meeting this afternoon, you would have found out that this story has been discontinued. We met with reps of Mr. Friar today and they graciously negotiated a deal with us, in which we will from this point forward publish stories that reinforce and better his reputation."
Oh shit.
"Maddie was supposed to pass this information along—"
"Maggie." Maya says, almost subconsciously, because you don't talk back to your big scary boss but despite all laws of human emotions she somehow forgot that and felt the need to correct his ignorant mistake that only a class-A preppy asshole could make.
"That's enough from you, Miss Hart. With this story, not only did you destroy Mr. Friar and this company, you destroyed yourself. I hope this little stunt was worth it." He slams the door on the small office just as Farkle walks past, and after a surprisingly short screaming match, he throws Farkle into the office as well, and storms down the hallway.
Farkle can't even open his mouth before poor Maggie is in tears, sobbing hysterically, because surely this is all her fault.
"No, no. We weren't even here for you to pass the message along even if you had." Maya says softly, her heart breaking (yeah, she has one) for the sweet little reporter down the hall who should not be in this mess.
"I should have called or something. But I was too busy with my boyfriend, if they find out I was with him instead of working like I was supposed to be."
"Hey, we do so much worse than visit our boyfriends when we're supposed to be working, ask the idiot over here who was just with his girl."
"Maya, give it a rest, I'm not the bad guy here! God, you had to do this today, too, because it was our anniversary and we were gonna, you know, but now here I am, just when things were getting…" Farkle starts.
"Whoa, oh my god, I don't want to hear it I already am seething with anger. Specifically aimed at you. So don't push it."
"ME?!" He screeches, and Maggies mumbles, "Maya, Kevin on the third floor is my boyfriend, I'm sorry," and god could this get any worse, this office is getting smaller and smaller by the second, everything's closing in on her, and now she can't even fuck hot Kevin on the third floor and how did Maggie even snag a guy like that but it doesn't matter she's not gonna fuck him she's gonna hug sweet little Maggie while she cries and shoot death glares at Farkle who's looking more pissed off every time she looks at him and she whispers, "it's not your fault" over and over again.
"You're right, Maya. It's not her fault and it's not my fault either. It's all your fault!" Farkle says and god give her strength, she's going to punch him.
And that brings us back to…
"Oh great, so now this my fault?"
"I never said it was your fault! God, do you always need to make everything about you?"
"Well maybe if you didn't leave me to do all the work every fucking time so you could go off and screw your girlfriend—"
"Here we go again with your shitty mouth, no wonder everyone thinks this is on you!"
"You are just as shitty, don't start this."
"I haven't started anything. If you remember correctly, we're in this whole mess because of the fact that I never start anything. I always let you do that."
"Look at you, making this whole thing seem like my fault again. 'Oh look at me, generous and kind, letting the nice intern do all my dirty work!'"
"You are a mess."
"You know what, screw you. I quit."
And with her terrible last words she storms out of the office, screw big boss man that is surely firing her right now at this very moment, she's gonna storm out of here like she owns the place. Farkle can go get fired too, or better yet, they'll keep him and he'll actually have to do some work, and Fuckboy Friar, good lord, she doesn't even have enough fucks to give all these people getting in the way of her LA dream.
Her dorm is trashed when she gets back, as trashed as she was when she wrote that article that ruined her life, and god, how is she going to even curl up into her bed and sob her eyes out when she doesn't see it under the mess her ex left.
"If it makes you feel any better, some guy named Kevin stopped by and asked if I wanted to go out for dinner. I think he was looking for you."
"He has a girlfriend!" Maya sobs into her pillow on the floor and she feels her goddess of a roommate put a blanket on her and after she can cry and breathe at the same time, she falls asleep.
/
"I miss you so much." She hears Farkle whisper into her hair when he scoops her up into a hug two weeks after the incident.
"I miss you more. We were so fucking mean to each other last time we were together."
"Yeah we were, I didn't mean any of it."
"Me either."
"Get a room!" Maya's roommate yells from her bed, barely picking her head up from whatever nerd book she's reading now. She could have graduated college last year. Maya gets all mushy when she confesses she stayed just to be with her another year. "Seriously, you are flashing serious heart eyes at each other right now."
"This is my room, Isadora," Maya yells back.
"I still can't believe you call her Isadora," Farkle wrinkles his nose and hops onto Maya's bed.
"That is her name."
"No, she's always been Smackle. Look at her, she's much more of a 'Smackle' than an 'Isadora'," Farkle and Maya both look at her, cock their heads to the side, and sigh. Farkle and Isadora are old academic nemeses. What a coincidence.
"Whatever, who cares what we call me, spill the juicy details: how did they kick you out? Has the company gone bankrupt? Did Friar ask for my number yet?" Smackle/Isadora jumps on her bed excitedly. Maya is continually surprised by the fact that she isn't the journalist of the pair of them. She loves gossip.
"I was not kicked out. I wouldn't be here if I was," he sneers at Smackle, (I like that better, so that's what I think I'll use) before continuing, "and if there is anything Above is good at, it's twisting. They have twisted every drop of that story dry and they've come out with only minor scratches and bruises. Honestly, it could have gone much worse, but like I said, assholes are good at covering their asses."
"Preach, brother!"
"And Maggie's okay, I know you were wondering. She stopped coming into work shaking last Wednesday." Maya lets out a sigh of relief. "But for everything they saved, they lost 2 good things, the first being the mega-talented Maya," (stop, you're making her bush!) "and Lucas Friar."
"Oh god, what happened?" Maya almost yells with excitement; she hates that company but she will never hate juicy drama. Fuckboy Friar still has a tally going on how many bad-boy acts he commits, though he's been rather quiet since the incident.
"Did you hear anything about the deal?" Farkle starts, and Maya nods, referencing the yelling the boss man did at her right before storming out of the office, but Smackle is out of the loop, she makes that very clear with some yelling, so Farkle continues to elaborate, "Lucas's management team met with Above that day, at the meeting we skipped, and they struck up a deal. I don't have specifics, but basically, we got a shit ton of money and Lucas got a good rep. We'd publish stories and articles and interviews that made him look really good. We'd bolster his reputation, fix it up until it was nifty and clean and beautiful like his eyes, god just let me have this man crush, and he'd be on the right track. Apparently, this big new movie series wants to hire him, but him being such a copyright bad-boy would carry with the movie. He's got millions of fans, but this movie franchise is supposed to be so big, it can't rest on his fans, they need billions of fans, and if he keeps drinking and dropping girls, fans are not going to support the movie, not to mention all the staff that won't work on the movie if he's on it."
"Yikes."
"I know. So his management team had the right idea coming to us, we'd make him look good and if he kept it up for a while, there'd be no scaring away of fans and the movies would be fine. But then we…"
"Yeah."
"So they obviously took their money back and stormed out. A little more elegantly than you, but they were still hella pissed."
"I mean do you blame them? You stripped away every redeeming quality that kid had left, except for his looks. Maya, honey, your writing is good, but not so good that you can make his holy abs be any less sexy." Smackle chuckles from the bed and scoots in closer, ready for more of the dirt. Maya rolls her eyes.
"I've got nothing else." Maya and Smackle moan in disappointment and Farkle throws his hands up in defense, "Team Friar ran out of that place and no one has heard from them since. They've been so low on the radar not even Chris can find them."
"No! Creepy Chris?!"
"No where. Who knows where they'll turn up next? Maybe their new plan is to just hide out until the movie premiere."
"Won't work. We'll find him eventually." Smackle says and sits back in her bed, the fun stuff over. "And then he'll look into my eyes, see his beautiful reflection in my glasses and trick himself into falling desperately in love with me.
"Alright, well I can't wait for Lucas to fall in love with you so I can live off your wedding gifts. I'm gonna need a job until then." Maya says and Farkle looks up.
"That, my dear, I have all covered." He pulls out some papers and hands them to her. "You are going to work for The Enemy."
"No way."
"Yes way."
"Guys who is 'the enemy'?"
"How did you—?"
"It's just an interview, but you'll get it. My dad knows people."
"You didn't have to do that."
"Guys, answer me."
"Of course I did. You're too talented to get stuck at Above anyway."
"I'm gonna cry. You're too good to me."
"GUYS WHO THE FUCK IS THE ENEMY?!" Farkle and Maya snap their heads at the sudden scream from Smackle.
"Jeez, take a breath, Is. It's Black Diamond Media."
"No way! No way! Oh my god, you guys!" she screeches, dripping with sarcasm and mockery.
"Shut up. This is huge, Black Diamond is one of the biggest entertainment media outlets in the world."
"That's exactly what you said about the last place, Maya. What makes this any different?" She raises an eyebrow.
Farkle takes over here, "The CEO of Above fired his brother from the company a few years ago. He was brilliant, a great manager, extremely creative, everything Mr. The Boss was not, and that made his weasely ego scared. So he kicked him out. And instead of pleading to get back in, he opened his own company, thus creating The Enemy."
"You don't hop from one to the other. You pick a side. The brothers have this crazy rival going on now, and while Above is still at the top, they're teetering. Black Diamond is huge, they're genius, and they're this close to one-upping Above."
"Oh, okay. So you're in. You're gonna get your revenge," Smackle says and nods mischievously.
"Something like that. I have to get the job first."
"You will. Tomorrow." Farkle says and the two girls gape.
"TOMORROW?!" they both scream.
"Yeah, it's gonna be great. You got this. Don't say I never did nothing for ya. Anyway, I gotta go. This was nice. Coffee, all three of us, next week. Bye." Farkle stumbles up and out the door, waves, and then that's it.
Tomorrow. Things are gonna change. She'll be fine. She's not doing nothing.
/
She's up at 2:37 and 4:09 and 4:12 and 5:40 and 6 and could someone up there please help her sleep more than a minute tonight, she needs it. The biggest day of her life is tomorrow, yikes, today and she cannot keep her eyes shut. She's jittery and shaky, she's sweating, then she steals Smackle's blanket, she's pacing around the room and then she can't keep her eyes open. This is ridiculous.
At 6:47 she decides it is not worth it anymore and she goes to the showers. She hopes it will wake her up but nothing, it does nothing and she's pacing again, throwing clothes everywhere as she tries to decide what she should wear.
"None of that. You can't wear anything you own. You look like a mess. Ripped jeans, t-shirts, paint everywhere. No. Take something of mine." Her roommate is up, collecting the clothes strewn around the room and placing some more professional options on her bed. Maya looks at them and they're all much better, but she can't wear that.
"Is, I feel like I'm going vomit all over everything. I can not get myself to squeeze into one of those dresses. I don't even think I can go. Feel my head," Maya presses her hand against her sweaty forehead.
"You are tinier than me, in a nice way, Maya, and you take showers that reach temperatures that don't compare to the Earth's core."
"Is that hot?"
"Very." Smackle shakes her head and put together a different outfit for Maya, consisting of her own clothes, professional or not. "You're getting worked up over nothing. You're fine."
Maya shakes it off. She's gonna do this. She's got this! She knows she's just thinking she'll throw up because of nerves, but she knows that even if she did, she'll be fine, because she's Maya freaking Hart and she's getting that job.
The walk to the Black Diamond building is long, but relaxing. The air is cool and her sneakers are comfy. She shakes a little less. Farkle calls on the way to make sure she's going through with it and why did he ever doubt her? And then five minutes later he calls again because he needs to be really sure, like really really really, that she isn't bailing. And she's not, dammit, she's opening the shiny glass door right now.
And she feels like shit.
God, she feels so sick still, but that's not even the worst of it. The building is immaculate. If you thought Above was stellar, this place is a different galaxy. Not the same though. They're not preppy assholes. They're probably some degree of assholes (aren't they all?), but this place is insane. Everything is modern and slick, too cool to be a place that has the power to both destroy and build careers with just 26 letters. She walks up to the desk, signs in, and is pointed, barely greeted, toward which set of elevators to use. She presses the button, feels queasy, and then she's on the third floor.
The third floor at Above had one hot guy. Black diamond has so many. It must be a job requirement. She's not getting this job, she's convinced, in her ratty sneakers and baseball tee.
She walks up to yet another desk, but this time, the secretary all but kisses her in greeting. So freaking bubbly, god it makes her sick. (She's lying, this girl was cute, and she can't admit it).
"Hello! Welcome to the third floor. I'm Riley, they stuck me out here because I used to talk too much during interviews. Not that you care, but I'll keep telling you anyway because you seem to not have many words inside you and I've gotta make up for that. You have a pass?" She beams and Maya has so many words for her. So many. She hands her the paper the front desk in the lobby gave her.
"Okay, Miss Maya," Riley says as she scans the paper, standing up from her purple chair, "Let's see why you're here. Oh! Lucky you. I've been dying to see what's going on in there all day. Girl after girl they're sending in. They all come out in tears. I can't think of anything worse. Red room, last door on the right." She points down the hallway behind her.
"It's a job interview." Maya doesn't know what makes her continue the conversation, that was the perfect point to cut it off with this sunshiney girl, but she does anyway, and that'll haunt her forever (dramatic, but kind of true).
"Oh really?" Riley says, her curiosity peaked, so she keeps on walking with her. She looks Maya up and down, and without missing a beat, smiles brightly and says, "You'll get it."
"I keep hearing that," Maya shakes her head.
"Well that means you've got a lot of people who believe in you. And one new friend that's just got a hunch." Oh god, not a friend. She didn't need that. No. "I'm not allowed to go in, but don't forget to tell me all about it before you leave. And try to smile. I promise you'll be fine. They can only make you cry if you let them." Maya cracks a crooked smile that doesn't even show her teeth. "Ugh, you're beautiful. Go get 'em, girl." Riley waves and bounces away, leaving Maya speechless.
She twists the door handle, and walks into a very red room indeed. The walls are bright, blinding, hot. No wonder they do interviews in here, scare the shit out of everyone, weed out the weak. There's nothing but a large TV screen and a long black table with chairs in the room. And one person.
"Another one? They haven't given up yet?" Mystery man drops his head to the table and sighs. Maya is stuck in her speechless mode. "Maybe we should try guys. You never know, maybe he's into something like that? Ugh, this is ridiculous, I'm just so…" he looks up and clenches his fists, shaking his head. Then he looks at Maya. "Shoot, where are my manners, this mess isn't your fault, you're supposed to help us. I'm sorry. You can have a seat. The Assholes stepped out for a second. Needed a bathroom break after the 30th consecutive interview and they all leave together. Freaks. Probably robots. I hate them."
Maya sits down nervously and watches mystery man pace the room. "If you don't mid me asking, who are 'The Assholes'?" she can't help but laugh when she says it. She hopes this is not a part of the interview.
"The stuck up bitches and occasional dicks, the bitches make sure they don't stick around too long, on this idiotic management team."
"Oh my god, I called them the same thing at my old job. Asshole is just such a great word, isn't it?" she relaxes back into the chair as the mystery man comes to sit next to her.
"Yeah, finally someone who gets me. You work in publicity?"
"Technically, no. I'm in college to be a writer. I like media journalism, that's how I got an internship at Above."
"No way, you're from that hell hole?" His eyes seem to pop out of his head, but he's got a huge smile on his face.
"You're looking at the very girl who made it the hell hole it is now."
His mouth hangs open, Maya laughs, then he says, "'Maya Hart wants to fuck hot Kevin from the third floor'?"
"The one and only."
"Dude! You're a boss! I'm Zay Babineaux and I am a huge fan." He shakes her hand just as The Assholes come striding in, stony-faced and no-nonsense. Their noses up in the air and their heels clicking in time to the beat of Maya's heart. They don't give her or Zay a second glance. They instill terror. They could dominate the world. They don't crack one bit of emotion. They are robots.
And though they scare the shit out of Maya, to the point where she sees why all those other girls could cry, Zay doesn't miss a beat. He's up out of his seat, chasing the Army of Assholes down the red room, yelling, "This is it, you guys, I got her. Blink so I know you're listening, and so I know y'all are human. You guys gotta remind me sometimes." But they keep walking, clicking, instilling all things terrifying. He's not phased at all. He's tapping on their shoulders, squirming in and out of their battle formation. They're not phased at all.
And that's when she sees it. Etched onto the sleeve of one of The Assholes's black jackets is a small word.
Friar.
God, no. She's in for it now. This is no interview—this is her death sentence. She's not making it out alive. Shit. She has the shittiest last words.
This is Team Friar, dressed head to to in tantalizing and terrifying black, sleek, swift, straight from hell. And Zay, god, she should have known. Fuckboy Friar's best friend, his right hand man, he's with him everywhere, no matter what mess he's in, there's Zay, an angel most of the time because with all of Maya's snooping she knows Friar could do so much worse but Zay has it under control, well, as best he can do. Maya gives him a ton of credit.
Maya can't get any words out. She wants to say she's sorry or something but she can't. She will come out of this room either crying or dead and either way Riley won't get a story. God, she's sick of telling stories.
Zay is back at the front of the room with The Assholes, poking and prodding them with questions, begging them to listen. They continue to stare her down, like they have computers in their eyes that are analyzing her.
He stops next to the woman in the middle, the one that really rains down hell, you can tell, her eyes, you know? The queen bee of the army, Zay pesters her, "Hi, Jenny, honey, can I call you Jenny?"
"Jennifer."
"Jenny, okay. Listen, I have made it abundantly clear that I do not like you guys. At all. I said we fix this problem by finding a new you, and you said we'll just find a new me instead. It's very generous that you've let me stay, but you see that I'm still letting you pick a new me, so give me this. Let me pick her."
"We let you in here, didn't we?" her icy voice cuts through the air, and Maya can see Zay shift his weight around so he doesn't punch her, right there, right now.
"I know. I know. And I've looked at all the girls. And I'm telling you, I know this is the one." Were they hunting her down or something? Was she on a wanted ad? How much is the reward? Had she known, she would have turned herself in.
"How do you know? You slept through most of the other candidates."
"That's because you freaks sit here in silence! I'm bored!" He waves his arms in the air and still, not one of them moves. "Plus, I know Lucas like I know myself. He's the only family I have. I know what he needs more than he knows it. Look at her, and tell me she's not perfect." He looks at her, his eyes twinkling with something she can't place. He looks so… happy?
"We will have a look." Jennifer cuts into the air again, the room gets tight, Maya can't breathe. What the fuck is going on.
"Oh my god, y'all have been looking at her this whole time!" Zay screeches and walks to the back of the room with Maya. Everything stays silent for a few more minutes and then.
"Yes."
"Yes?"
"Yes. We will use her. She's perfect." WHAT THE FUCK!?
Maya lifts one of her hands, as if she's a school girl in a classroom. Jennifer nods and so Maya manages to squeak out, "Um, I'm flattered, honestly, but I'd kind of like to know what I'm being flattered for?"
And all at once, it's like the room lets out a sigh, everything comes to life.
They all smile, did you know they can actually do that? And the robots have voices too, ones they use very loudly to chatter among each other, Maya can only make out certain parts. "Her voice is perfect too!" "Isaiah why didn't you get her to speak sooner?" "Beautiful!" "Look at the color of her hair! You think she dyes it?" "The eyes, that's what's gonna get us. You can't look away." "Gorgeous." "I can't wait to start with her, think of what we could do." "I call doing her hair." "The clothes will be fun. They're ratty now, but think of what we could do with those rags." "This is it. She's the one."
Jennifer instructs the rest of The Assholes on what to do, their chatter still as excited, they pull out notebooks and charts and papers, making notes and formulating things. Again, WHAT THE FUCK!?
She walks over to Maya right after that, and Maya hopes it's to answer her question, because she needs to know.
"Hello, Miss Hart. My name is Jennifer Jaeger, Head Advisor of Lucas Friar's Management Team. I'm sure you've heard of… the incident." Boy, Jenny, you have no idea. "It was not an ideal situation, but we've figured it out. We are now working with Black Diamond Media, and they have been wonderful to us, really, exceptional people they have working here. They are going to uphold their part of the deal that Above let us down in. They will publish and spread only good word on Mr. Friar. We'll build his reputation to a strong point, where his fan base will stay loyal and hopefully, even grow. Those fools at Above created quite the mess. Idiots." She shakes her head and pulls out some papers from her sleek black folder and pushes them toward Maya on the table. She hears Zay snicker from behind her.
"Due to such a mess, unfortunately, good publicity won't be enough to keep him on track for the movie deal. We've put our brains together and have come up with a plan that should do it. That's where you come in." She looks her up and down, then continues, "You're going to marry him.
Maya's sure as hell saying it, but even here I couldn't help but let out a huge WHAT THE FUCK!? Because seriously, What. Is. Happening.
"I didn't—" is all Maya can choke out, she cannot form words, what the hell. She never agreed to anything like this, she couldn't have even imagined something like this. How? How could this be happening to her?
"I know, sweetheart. I know you're shocked. You definitely didn't come in here thinking you'd get the job, I mean look at how you're dressed. I wouldn't expect you to be the one. Not in a million years. But you have gorgeous eyes, your credentials are amazing, you're the perfect age, and damn, can you write. And Zay likes you. He's usually more trouble than he's worth, but he's a savior in most of our situations with Lucas, so we trust him. You're perfect for this, Maya. Close your mouth and no need to keep so humble."
She's not being humble, she's thoroughly pissed off and confused. And she still feels sick. She can't believe she's here. She should be in bed. Sleeping. Maybe she is? Is this a dream?
No, it's not. Jennifer's icy voice makes that known as she keeps talking, "Now this is not just some fling. There is a strict set of rules to make this work. You'll spend time together for a few weeks, get the public to notice you. Black Diamond will do all the publishing and they'll find ways to cover all other companies that print against us."
"Sorry to interrupt," Maya squeaks, "but, he has a problem with girls. How will getting him another girl fix that?"
"That's why we're making you permanent. You'll spend a long time with him, and to make it known that you are not just another girl, by the end of the month you'll be engaged." And Maya is about to fight her again, but Jennifer already knows the answer, "The people here are already covering up all the stories of the past, making them rumors. People like what's newest. They'll believe anything. If we stick you out there with a ring and say, 'they're in love' and give them some articles to reinforce it, they'll eat it right up. You'll have fan-pages by tomorrow. We build you while we build him and everything will fall into place. Don't worry, it'll be a long engagement. Shows he's steady and committed, but you won't really have to commit to anything. We can easily break everything off right after the first movie premieres."
She makes a lot of sense. I mean, she is a robot.
"So this is a job?" Maya asks perplexed, because it sounds like she'll just go around parading a diamond that could pay off all her college debt and kiss a hot pop-star.
"Of course. It'll be a lot of work, but we will be helping you through all of it, and we're assembling a new management team for just you, and one for the both of you as a couple."
"God, we really need all of that?"
"I hope you realize how big this is going to be."
"I do. I just don't understand what I'm doing?" Look at her, talking like she's actually going to do this, Jennifer's icy eyes can hypnotize.
"Well, the eyes of the public are always work, but you are a brilliant writer, and we're going to use that to our advantage. You'll publish a column on the Back Diamond website to dish all the juicy facts about fame from the inside."
"Doesn't that go against everything you're trying to do here?" She just doesn't understand this.
"It could, but you'll do it the way we want it to be done. You'll exploit the secrets of Hollywood to make Lucas look like the victim, like Hollywood and fame and publicity have framed him to be this 'bad-boy' that so many people know him as. I think within meeting him, you'll learn that will be a lot easier than you think. He's not what he looks like from the pages of Above."
"Okay, but if I'm writing it, they'll think I'm biased."
"You'll write under a pen name, of course, a pseudonym. It'll add to the suspense, have the public feeding into it all even more. We'll have his reputation fixed on all sides. It should work perfectly."
This is literally insane. She can't believe this is happening to her. The plan is incredibly flawed…
…but?
It's surprisingly genius. As she's listening to Jennifer scare the shit out of her, it actually makes sense. I mean, it's almost impossible to have a monopoly over everything published on a star, but with a company as big as Black Diamond, you could come close. They may not know she was the girl to cause the incident but they must know she has an in at Above. They could use her there, and they could use her for their Hollywood exploit pieces. And she's a blonde living in LA. That works for pop-star relationships, right? They really have this all figured out, and it is pretty freaking genius of them. Robots. Literally robots.
She can't believe she's actually considering this. Not that they asked her, but she needs to figure it out for herself.
She'll get to live in a mansion and write under a pseudonym.
If any job was created for her, this had to be it.
She needed a job. And what the hell. She's living in LA for three going on four years. Might as well jump on the reckless fame bandwagon.
Isadora's going to be so jealous. Fuckboy Friar is going to be her fiancé. How did that happen?
She mentally signs on, because Jennifer would never ask, but she's agreeing for herself, and that's it. Everything's fine. She's doing something.
"Sounds good." She smiles, and Zay jumps up out of his seat in excitement.
"Welcome to Team Friar." He beams. She beams. Jennifer remains a stony-faced bitch.
The Assholes assemble back at the front of the red room, ready to explain all the charts and plans and ideas they were chattering about before, but Maya, as good as she feels about this job, still feels really freaking sick. It's not nerves anymore.
"Could I just, go to the bathroom, real quick, before we start this whole thing?" And Jennifer nods. Maya all but runs out the door, down the long hallway and stops at Riley's desk. She doesn't know where the bathroom is and she wasn't asking the robots because they probably change their oil in the office garage somewhere, so she was planning to ask Miss Sunshine, but the desk is empty.
She paces back and forth for a few seconds, wondering how long she can wait before she collapses. She starts to walk down another hallway to look for it, or maybe to find Riley.
She finds neither. She's shaking now, and god, she feels so sick, she knew it wasn't just nerves and Farkle and Isadora/Smackle pushed her out anyway god this feeling is awful. She's queasy and shaky and sweaty and god this is awful where the fuck is the bathroom she's about to ruin these beautiful white tiles and—
BAM! She runs right into something rock solid, a person, it has to be, and her stomach can't take it anymore, she vomits everywhere. All over his shoes and his pants, on the floor around him, god this is awful, this is mortifying, she is so sick, she's sick everywhere.
She feels empty, she hopes there's nothing left, might as well get it all out now that she's made herself sick all over the place in public, and when she finds the strength to look up, every bit of it is knocked right back out and she feels like round two of projectile vomit is about to happen because holy freaking goodness those eyes.
Lucas Friar's eyes are looking right into hers and holy shit she just vomited all over him.
"Holy shit, I just threw up on you." is what she says to him. God she's terrible at this.
"I think you meant, 'I'm sorry'." Screw you, Friar, she's trying.
"I thought that was implied. I doubt you think I meant to do that."
"I thought the fact that you just threw up on me was implied too, but hey you're blonde, I'm blonde. Good thing we're clearing these things up."
"Fuck, I think I'm gonna—" She feels it coming again.
"You want to know where the bathroom is?"
"Also something I thought was implied, dickhead."
"Woah, aren't you a fun one. God, who hired you?" He laughs, how the fuck is he laughing at a time like this? Then he looks at her eyes, all she can see is his, and then points her down the hallway. "You'll be back to help clean this up, though?"
And he's lucky he can't hear her response as she runs down the hall and into a crystal clean stall that she gets disgusting. Everywhere.
Riley comes in within 5 minutes of her last sickness.
"Hey, at least you're not crying!"
The third floor is a nightmare.