A Star Is Born
Author Note: I'm not sure if I should continue this, but I just felt like writing it.
Chapter One: The Masked Singer
"I dunno, Rick," came the unsure voice of the exec at Rick's label Big Machine Records. Negan - the slimeball exec - fiddled with his mustache, and twisted his body in his chair. He knew that the song was a bonafide country hit, but as his beady eyes landed on the man in front of him, he wasn't completely sure about that.
Rick Grimes had it, that thing that makes someone a star, but Rick Grimes also had a basketful of baggage. His recent ex wife was a country legend: Lori Ackerly St James, and they'd just had a very nasty, very public divorce. In that divorce, Lori had been caught cheating on camera with Rick's main guitarist and childhood friend Shane Walsh. The news of their fight after a long night of drinking had been splashed across every tabloid magazine imaginable. And Rick, well Rick had had to go to rehab for alcohol addiction, which was something that Rick refused to admit was even a problem.
Just a week ago, Negan had greeted him in front of rehab and asked him to start work on his next single. He hadn't had a new album in four years and his fans were growing stir crazy. Rick had gotten to work on his new song, but now, as Negan listened to it, the song was missing it - that thing that turned catchy tune into hit.
"What's wrong with it?" Rick asked, frustrated. He'd played the song nearly one hundred times, but even he knew it needed something, he just didn't know what.
Negan sighed, placing his hands on the front of the table. His tight leather jacket squeaked as his arms struggled to bend. "It's just missing a female voice, I think. It needs a hot piece of ass to really deliver that final hook. We need fresh blood on this track."
"I could ask Dolly to sing -"
" - I don't want Dolly, Debra, or Billy Jean. We need someone new on this, and I need you to recruit her," Negan grinned to himself. "How 'bout you go to a few bars, check out the scene here in Atlanta, and then come back here when you've found her, 'cause if you don't…," Negan trailed off, leaning down to pull out his recording contract. "We're gonna have to drop you from the roster…"
Rick stood, angry, conflicted, confused. Drop him? After Taylor Swift left the label for Republic Records, Rick was their most lucrative artist. He didn't understand. "What do you mean drop me?"
"I mean exactly what I said, Rick Grimes. It's been four years and you haven't made one album. You're writing for other artists, but they aren't hits. You're going to rehab and bringing bad press. At this point, you're lucky that we haven't already fired your sorry ass," Negan said, and then got up. "Like I said, bring me back a hit maker, or you're off the label."
:
Rick scoped the bar. He'd heard that the Northside Tavern was the most popular live bar for aspiring artists in Atlanta, and so he'd come out. Admittedly, he was feeling desperate, and weak, which was unlike him. He'd been feeling this way for awhile now, ever since the divorce, or maybe even before that. It was just that somehow, even though Lori had done all that wrong to him, he was the one left ruined.
He sighed, his eyes scanning the room. He lowered his hat, trying desperately to "blend," but falling short when a young blonde approached him. She was bright eyed and bushy tailed; her light green eyes shone brighter than a lighthouse in the dead of winter, and he knew that she knew exactly who he was. His body froze because it was the first time anyone had approached him post rehab, and he dreaded the disappointment, he honestly dreaded talking to people right now. He'd done enough of that in group therapy.
"Are you - oh my God you are!" She squealed, her voice akin to nails scraping against a chalkboard. "I have, like, all of your albums and you, like, made me want to be a country singer.."
Internally, Rick groaned. Of course she was a country singer, of course he inspired her life. Having fans apparently couldn't inspire his musical abilities, or keep his label loyal. "That's nice."
"Thank you!" The young woman said, her zeal was inspiring, and it made him miss when he had that. "I'm Jessie by the way, but I'm thinking of changing my name to Lady J."
"Do it, sounds great," Rick hummed, feigning interest.
At this point, he was hoping the young blonde would catch a hint and leave, but she didn't. Instead, the room filled with a nearly dreadful silence, as everyone whispered amongst themselves about the next act. According to Jessie, she was a mysterious singer who wore a mask and sang here exactly once every three months. Her voice was compared to Ella Fitzgerald, Adele, Whitney Houston, and Amy Winehouse, but nobody could ever get a name, much less a face.
Rick was intrigued.
" - And nobody has ever seen what she looks like?" Rick questioned Jessie, cutting off whatever she'd been previously yapping about.
"Nobody. I think the alter ego thing is so stupid, like this isn't Hannah Montana. You're singin' at a bar in Atlanta, not Madison Square Garden, am I right?" She quizzed him with a sudden hard edge to her voice. He detected jealousy, but it wasn't something he cared to delve into much deeper.
He just nodded again. "Yeah. Do you happen to know her -"
He was cut off by the sudden opening notes to "I Put A Spell On You," by Nina Simone. A woman stood on stage with a multi-colored Venetian Colombina mask that covered her dark eyes and nose. Her hair was dreaded, and fell in mesmerizing waves around her face. Her lips were painted cherry red; they were full and succulent like a peach in the spring that Rick long to sink his teeth into. Her aura was intoxicating, and not a word had come from her mouth. She stood at the mic, eyes boring into his own as she commanded every person in the room to silence with her mere presence alone. This girl is a star, Rick thought to himself. She's the one.
A genuine smile spread across Rick's face for the first time in months. He felt excited; he felt... nervous. And, for the first time in years, he felt inspired. He wanted to write on the walls about this woman. He wanted to touch the stars with her. He saw her tight red dress, and her creamy brown skin spilling out of her top. He saw her long legs, which lead into a pair of black Doc Martin's with chains criss crossing on the sides.
This woman, she was -
I put a spell on you
Because you're mine
Her voice. Her voice came and sucked his soul right out of his body; her voice was low and husky, yet warm and silky like honey. Her tone transported him to the 1940s, when women soothed and shook the world with their voices. He imagined this must've been what the first crowd who heard Aretha Franklin live must've felt like. This only enforced his what he already knew. She was the one that he'd been searching for. She had it.
:
After the performance, Rick stuck around until nearly five in the morning. He'd asked nearly everyone in the bar about her, but nobody seemed to know who she was. Forlorn, he'd decided to give up and go sit by the bar. He felt that familiar burn in his throat, but managed to resist when a young bartender came over with a knowing look on her face. She looked familiar to him somehow.
"Well if it ain't Pretty Ricky," said the voice he now recognized as his near sister Maggie Greene. Her father Hershel had raised Rick on his own after his tragic childhood, and Rick had even started a duo band with Maggie's younger sister Beth Greene, who went on to become a pop singer.
Rick just shook his head. "And if it ain't stank nose Maggie Greene."
"You call me that again and I just may kick your tail right outta this bar," Maggie said. She was still a spitfire and full of the same country sass that he remembered. "I'm tryin' to figure out why you're in here, after everythin' you been through lately."
"Well, I sorta have to be. I'm lookin' for the next big thing, and I think I found her," Rick sighed. His eyes glazed over at the mere thought of the masked goddess he'd seen earlier in the evening. "Do you know who that masked singer from earlier was? I have a song for her to hear, and an opportunity of a lifetime if she's interested…"
"I know her," Maggie replied, her vague tone only intrigued him more.
"Well, how about you introduce me to her. She's perfect - she's everything. I think she'd be the perfect addition to this record I wrote and -"
" - She's not interested," said a voice from behind Maggie.
When she came out, it was none other than the woman from before.
