DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN VICTORIOUS OR ANY OF THE PEOPLE MENTIONED. NEITHER DO I OWN THE SONGS: L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S BY NOAH AND THE WALE AND YOU GIVE LOVE A BAD NAME BY BON JOVI.

PART I - LOVE ME SLOWLY

"L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N.

You've got more than money and sense, my friend
You've got heart and you go in your own way"

It was another rainy Monday in Vancouver. Most citizens were used to that weather, and it didn't bother them, but Beck wasn't like that. He looked out the window of his office, taking another sip of his strong coffee. When he was younger he used to love rain, it gave him inspiration to write. Nowadays he didn't have time to do so, much less the inspiration he needed, considering all the stress he was surrounded with. Rain reminded him of different times, times where his worst nightmare was becoming exactly what he was now.

He heard a couple of knocks on the door, followed by a head popping inside. "Excuse me Mr. Oliver." He turned around, listening to the familiar voice of his assistant. "Mr. Harries wants to see you in his office."

"I'll be right there, thank you Elena." She nodded, walking out. He finished the hot beverage, and walked out. "Would you grab another coffee for me?" He asked his assistant, and she nodded like she always did. She had been working for him for over a year, and had never said more than a few sentences. He checked the time in his Cartier watch, it was ten AM sharp. The meeting he had to attend was only at noon, why was his boss asking to see him?

"Mr. Harries is ready for you." Tamara, his boss's assistant said, opening the door for Beck.

"Beck!" He exclaimed, getting up for his desk. "The men I wanted to see."

"Hello Mr. Harries." He said, analyzing his bosses office. Mr. Harries was a short men, who carried himself like he was six-foot tall. He had black hair and very white teeth. And his left hand was always occupied, holding a glass of forty-year old whisky. He had a wife and four kids, and three lovers aside.

"Why are you calling me Mr. Harries, feel free to call me Steve." He went over to his desk, and pressed a few buttons on his phone, connecting him to his assistant. "Tamara will you pour Mr. Oliver a glass of fine Whisky."

"Right away Mr. Harries."

He took a long sip off his own glass, and left it at the edge of the table. Tamara walked in, and took it. Giving her boss a refill, and Beck a brand new glass. "Don't worry boy, it's five PM somewhere." He said, grabbing the glass and taking another sip. Beck wondered how he could drink so much, and yet always seem sober. "Now, let's talk business."

"Don't worry Mr... Steve... I have everything ready for the meet-"

"Forget about the meeting, Ronald can take over for you." Beck looked at his boss, confused. "Mrs. Trump called me."

"Mrs. Trump?" Beck said, with wide eyes. Ivanka Trump, daughter of Donald Trump. The man who owned the empire Beck worked for. To get a personal call from one of them meant one of two things. He either did something really bad, or something really good.

"They're offering you a position as CEO in Chicago." Steve smiled, and Beck took a sip of his whiskey. "You're playing in the big leagues now. Welcome." He raised his glass, and the two men toasted to their jobs, and six digit salaries. "C'mon, I'm taking you out to celebrate. Have you ever been to 'The Avenue'?

"Lisa likes brandy and the way it hits her lips
She's a rock 'n' roll survivor with pendulum hips
She's got deep brown eyes
That've seen it all"

Tori looked at herself in the mirror. Her waist-length hair was curled, and sprayed with glittery hairspray. Her skin covered with glowy body spray and fake tan, and very tiny black lingerie. She grabbed the matching garter belt and stockings, and put them on, ready for the show. "Lisa, you ready baby?"

"'Course I am." She said, smiling as she let her stage name sink in, giving her the personality she needed to go out there. Tori liked poetry, chamomile tea and folk music. Lisa liked Brandy and Rock'n Roll. Tori wondered if the roles had inverted. If she was more Lisa than Tori. "Play my song honey!" She said, as all the lights faded out, and she walked to the stage.

She was paid a lot to do that. A lot more than what she would earn if she did local commercials that wouldn't give her half percent of the salary she had now. Some would say she had a shameful job, she preferred to think that those who said that were only intimidated by her. She was every man's wet dream, and what every girl aspired to be.

That was her Lisa side talking.

She left Tori for the times she really needed her. When she visited her parents, and had to tell them all the great amount of money she made was from singing in the Indie café every Wednesday. When she told her nieces to follow their dreams, and that everything would work out. When she told herself that dancing for middle-aged men in tiny underwear wasn't as bad as the seventeen year old girl who lives inside of her think it is. The naive seventeen year old who thought it was easy making it in Hollywood.

"Shot to the heart and you're to blame
Darlin' you give love, a bad name"

The lights go back on, and all the girls are on the poles dancing to the business men in 'meetings'. Except for Tori, she was in the middle. She was the star.

"Who's that one?" Beck asked to his previous boss, pointing at the middle of the stage. A girl who rocked the floor and poll like no one else.

"That's Lisa." He told him, as a girl with nothing on her but an apron gave him a glass of the finest booze in the house. "You know what, I'll pay you a private dance with her. And you better enjoy it, she's the most expensive here!" He got up, and followed a woman inside the VIP room.

Beck looked up the stage, astonished with the woman up there. The confidence only she had, hypnotizing him like he never thought it was possible. "Mr. Oliver, we have a room waiting for you." Beck followed the same woman who lead Steve to the VIP area, only he went to the opposite side. He didn't even want to think about how much that girl cost. "Lisa is getting ready for you Sir, would you like another drink?"

"Whisky." He said, and she walked out with his glass.

"Working at a nightclub that was called the avenue
The bar men used to call her "little lisa, loney tunes
She went down on almost anyone"

Tori got off the stage, satisfied with her performance. She always rocked it. "You have a private consultation in room thirty-seven." Roger, her boss said. Rubbing his thumb and index finger together. "Big cash." She smiled, nodding. "Go get changed, Stella is already boozing him up."

She changed her previous 'clothes' to the really expensive lingerie, that managed to be even smaller. A black thong that had cost more than her first pearphone. And covered herself up with a see through baby doll, before re-doing her makeup. Tori didn't really like one-on-one dances. Most men who went in there were too drunk to do anything to her. But there was always one client who confused her for a hooker. 'You can watch, but you can't touch.' She would tell them, but at that point they didn't care. After the first time things started spiraling down in a bad direction, she made sure they improved the security in that place for the girls. "I'm ready to go."

"You're getting a high paycheck tonight!" Roger told her, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards him. "Make it shine in there."

"I always do." She walked past him, with a sad gleam in her eyes. That phrase once meant something a lot different to her.

"An angel's smile is what you sell
you promise me heaven, then put me through hell
Chains of love, got a hold on me
when passion's a prison, you can't break free"

Beck sat back on the black leather couch, halfway through his third glass when she walked in. She walked in, and he thought how the dim light didn't do justice to her. Dim lights were made to hide something, he thought she should be in clear, white light. Nothing hiding at all. "What's your name?" She asked him, walking towards him. She grabbed his tie, and loosened it.

"Beck." He said, and she smiled.

"That's a nice name." She told him, running her index finger in his jaw line. He raised his hand up to the girls face, but she took a step back before he touched her. She climbed on the table, which had a pole on it. "Aren't you too young to wear a suit?" She asked, doing her tricks on the pole. Swinging and going up and down, watching her client drool over her.

"Mr. Trump says I'm a prodigy." She arched her back, holding on to the pole and going down. Until she was lying on the table. Reaching for the end of her babydoll, and pulling it over her head.

"Mr. Trump." She said, getting back up. "I'm impressed."

He watched her do her thing, he didn't want to call it a dance. It was the most erotic thing he had ever seen. "I feel like I know you." He told her, being honest. Now that he looked up close, he thought her face looked familiar. He couldn't figure out from where, he had never seen anyone like that. Her eyes though, they brought her back.

"You don't." She said, confident. She lied, that was her job. Men would ask her name, she would lie. They would ask her age, she would lie. They would say knew her, she would say they didn't. This was the first time she actually had to tell a lie after that question. After they told her she was dancing for a 'Mr. Oliver' the name ringed a bell. She didn't really figure out who he was until he told her his name. Beck Oliver, he was a senior at Hollywood Arts along with her sister, Trina. He dated one of the girls from her class, she didn't remember the name of the girl. She did remember his, he had changed a lot. The easy-going, teenage spirit had disappeared from him.

"What's your name?" He asked, and she went sat up on the table, throwing her hair back before answering. Every movement was slow, like she was in a music video. She acted on her own, and it was already enough for him. He couldn't even think

"Lisa."

"Maybe I knew you back in the day." He said, taking his cellphone out. "Come here."

She did as he told her, sitting with her legs on either sides of his lap. "What do you want, baby?"

"Maybe this will ring a bell." He turned to phone screen to her, and she smiled. That was the boy she remembered. Long hair, a crooked smile and eyes full of life.

"I'm sorry honey, I don't know." Tori told him, snapping back into Lisa. "But you sure had nice hair." She ran her fingers through his head, perfectly combed to the side, and short enough that would stay right above his forehead. A business-men haircut. "What happened to it?"

He didn't answer her. A sight, and the melancholic look on his eyes told her everything she needed to know. She slid off the couch, and back to the poll. "Wait..." He said, getting up, dizzy. "You're name isn't Lisa!" He held on the pole, looking up at her. "Hollywood Arts...Twenty twelve or something...Tori Vega."

She looked down at him, shocked. He really did remember her. "You've had a few drinks, haven't you?" She said, trying again. "I think you're done for today." She got down from the table, and he reached for her shoulders.

"No, wait!" She slapped his hand away.

"You can watch, but don't touch!" Lisa was drained out of her. She didn't have the energy to behave the way she was supposed to in front of him anymore. "You do know that every minute you spend in here extra, will cost you fifty bucks, right?"

"I don't care, I-"

She grinned. "Of course you don't care. The prodigy must have a really high salary." He took a step closer to her, though still holding on to the pole. "What do you want Beck?"

"I knew you would remember me Tori!" He smiled. "Can we go out? To talk?" He was desperate, like his world depended on talking to her. Seeing more of her. Knowing what had happened along the way, for her to have ended up in that place.

"No." She looked up at the clock on the wall. "Your time is up. You wanna stay, you gotta give me fifty." She grabbed the babydoll from the table, and putting it back on.

He opened his wallet, and without any hesitation took two hundred bucks out. She took it, putting it inside her garter. "What happened to you?" He asked, and she rolled her eyes.

"I could ask the same." She leaned against the table, crossing her arms. "In that two thousand dollar suit, with whiskey in your hand and big bills on your wallet. You're completely vain." He looked down at the floor, where the empty glass laid. He had no idea how many he had drunk. "I suggest that before you start judging me for being a stripper, buy yourself a mirror. I'm sure you can afford it."

"I'm not judging I..." He was in a loss of words. He scratched the back of his neck, trying to figure out the proper words in his head. "Let's just talk tomorrow. I can buy you dinner."

"Tomorrow's my busiest day." She smiled. "Lisa is the main attraction."

"I'll pay you!" He begged. She took another step back.

"You can't buy my time! I'm not a hooker!" Looking at him with despair.

"Correct me if I'm mistaken," He began. "but I just paid you to spent a few minutes with me."

She looked straight into his eyes. "You're an asshole." He looked somewhat confuse, as she walked out of the room.

"Whoa!
You're a loaded gun
There's nowhere to run
No one can save me
The damage is done"

A/N: So... This is something I really wanted to write for a long time! I want to continue, if you guys want me to! So if you liked this story and wants to know what happens to Beck and Tori give me a follow and review? The Bori fandom has been getting smaller and smaller, so I'm afraid no one will read this. I'm hoping for the best though, and if you actually are reading this, thank you! Love,

- Kiribati