Hi everyone! Thanks for reviewing my other stories, it means the world to me. This is one of two parts, I might post the other later tonight, I'm not sure yet. BTW, if you'll notice, Amber is 18 in this story. I hope that makes some of you feel a little comfortable.
He made his way into the dressing room, watching himself in the mirror as he loosened his tie and undid the top two buttons of his dress shirt. He sat on the couch and started to wriggle his feet out of his shoes. He ran his fingers through his brown hair, disheveling it just enough so that pieces fell into his eyes, and he pushed them back again. He groaned, leaning his head back against the couch and closing his eyes for a moment. It was nice at this time of night; almost everyone was gone, and he could have time to relax in his dressing room without worrying about any interruptions. It was almost better than that damn apartment he lived in; there was never any peace, between the neighbors, their dogs, and their kids. He enjoyed a little craziness just as much as the next person, but it got old after a while.
He kept his eyes shut, and tried to block out the few remaining noises around him. He heard the cleaning crew calling to each other about going home, and the heavy step of their work shoes as they made their way off the studio floor and backstage to put their equipment away. Almost without missing a beat, there was suddenly another sound on the floor just beyond his door; the steady click, click of high heels hitting the ground at lightning speed.
"Damn," he whispered the word under his breath. He recognized that walk. It had to be Velma. She was the only one who approached him with such ferocity, even when he was sure he hadn't done anything wrong. To her, though, everything was wrong, whether you realized it or not. He didn't bother to open his eyes as the footsteps got closer, and finally stopped at the dressing room door before the woman barged into the room. He looked up quickly. "Velma! You can't just-"
But it wasn't the elder Von Tussel woman who stared back at him, fire dancing in her eyes. She looked so angry that he thought for a moment she might try to throw a few punches at him, but who was she kidding, he was a grown man.
"Ah, the devil's subordinate." He smirked at her. "What, your mother was too busy condemning souls to hell to come over here and hang me up herself?"
Amber squinted her eyes at him, stepping into the room and slamming the door behind her. It hit so hard in the doorframe that the furniture in the room shook for a moment. She didn't seem to notice.
"My mother doesn't even know I'm here!" Her voice was shrill, and she looked as if had just swallowed an entire lemon; her face was scrunched up and almost unrecognizable. Of course, he'd seen her mad plenty of times, so this was nothing new. He didn't even bother to stand up as she charged over to him, pointing a finger at him accusingly, "How dare you give my performance away to that bimbo!"
He searched his mind for the source of her anger, and vaguely remembered that he had, indeed, told Shelley she could perform the song that Amber had been slated to do on the show tomorrow. But that hadn't been up to him.
"Amber, I never told you that you could perform that song. That was your mother, remember? Of course she's not going to let one of the other girls have the slightest bit more attention than you, but Shelley knows the song better."
"She does not!" She sounded like she was trying to convince herself, but was so angry that she didn't take the time to realize it. "She can barely hold her head up and dance, much less carry a tune!"
He rolled his eyes, turning his head away from her so that she couldn't run and tell that to her mother. He wanted to tell her to beat it, so that he could have some semblance of relaxation before he had to go home and put up with the paper thin walls that were his apartment building. He opened one eye to peek at her. She was standing still, her hands curled into tight fists at her side. She looked angry, and it amused him. She was so petite, and seeing her shake with anger made her look like a pouting child. He didn't know what had gotten into her, but since she'd celebrated her eighteenth birthday, she'd become a royal pain in the ass. Not to say that she hadn't been one before, but now that she was legally considered an adult, he supposed she thought she had the right to be as obnoxious as humanly possible.
"Okay, Amber, you win. Next time, your conniving mother can make the rules, and I'll stick with them." He sighed and stood, hoping that would make her happy.
"What? No, not next time. There isn't going to be a next time, Corny, if you don't give me that spot back, I'm off the show." She crossed her arms and turned away from him. The sight of it made him smile. He swallowed his laughter down.
"Okay, then you're off the show." She spun on her heels, her face flaring with indignation. Her face was red; it was the angriest he'd ever seen her.
"You do not have the right!" She was livid, and the shrillness of her voice echoed in the small room, "My mother controls this show. She'll fire your ass!"
He gave her a composed look.
"You're the one that said it, Amber. Not me. I'm not telling Shelley she can't do the performance. She knows the entire thing, and she's ready to go on. You can have the next spot. If you don't like it, tough." There was nothing hurtful or insulting about his words, but they came as a direct blow to her self-esteem. She clenched her jaw, her eyes narrowing into blue slits of hatred.
"Are you screwing her?" She demanded the words, her voice loud enough for someone who happened to be passing by to overhear easily. He advanced toward her quickly, his eyes suddenly dark.
"Stop it, Amber. Someone's going to hear you." His voice came out as a harsh whisper, a desperate attempt for her to lower the tone of her own voice. She was just being irrational now, and if someone heard her accusations, he could lose his job, or end up in prison.
"You are, aren't you?!" She was breathing heavily, and looked like she might explode at any minute.
"Of course I'm not." He tried to keep his composure, "Listen, she's got the part, and you can't have it back. You're an adult now, so start acting like one. You can't have everything you want in life. Just because your mother worked her way to the top by screwing every man she saw doesn't mean that's the way it works with everyone. Just because she's teaching you to throw your body around to get what you want doesn't mean everyone else has to."
She curled her lip in anger, glaring at him. Her eyes looked almost black.
"You're an asshole. Don't talk about my mother like that." She was shaking again.
"Then don't act like her." His face was next to hers, and she pulled back so quickly that he thought for a moment that she might slap him. She sucked her breath in quickly, like he'd just delivered a punch to her gut. She clenched her teeth, and he felt his heart pounding. "You need to leave, and you need to go right now."
He expected her to protest, or to curse at him, maybe even spit on him, but to his surprise, she turned on her heels and stomped to the door, placing her hand on the knob. He turned away from her, walking toward his dressing area. He expected her to be gone when he turned around, but she was still there, her hand resting on the silver handle. He watched her expectantly for a moment, and then cleared his throat.
"Amber, I'm not going to apologize. I don't know what you're waiting for."
She turned to look at him quickly.
"I'm not waiting; you imbecile, the doorknob is stuck." She pursed her lips together, looking at him expectantly. "Of course this door is second-rate. It is yours, after all."
He decided to ignore her comment, and nearly pushed her out of the way to open the door for her. He'd lay down a red carpet and rose petals just to get her moving. She rolled her eyes, stepping aside for him to turn the knob. He jiggled it; nothing. He tried to unlock it, but the button wouldn't work. He grasped the handle as hard as he could, and pulled. It fell off in his hand. His stomach dropped, and he leaned down to peer through the hole. It was dark, and he knew the other side of the handle was still in tact. He thought about calling for help, and then glanced at his watch. It was after ten o'clock. Even the janitors were gone. He heard her sigh and shift her weight beside him.
"Just stick it back in the hole," she said stupidly, as if it made perfect sense.
It was his turn to sigh. He was stuck in a room no bigger than his bedroom at home with the girl who had single-handedly managed to drive him completely insane. It was going to be a long night.