This story is inspired by Beautiful: The Carole King Musical (actually, though, I was sitting in the theatre watching it when this whole story formed in my mind and it was all thanks to the musical). I do not own Austin & Ally nor do I own anything relating to Carole King (honestly, though, the story doesn't mention the musical at all). I just write.
The story is AU, some references to the plot of the series and the musical and I try to keep the all of the characters as in character as possible, in the given situations. Anyway, I'm hoping y'all enjoy this enough to leave a little review or constructive criticism or anything of that nature. I'm going to attempt to update this weekly until I finish. We'll see how that turns out. As for now, I think I will update on Sunday evenings.
Thanks in advance,
Lauren.
Chapter I
"Dad, come on, I can just feel it. This song could be a number one," Ally says, turning to her father who is sitting on a blue plastic chair in the practice room of their music store, having just finished playing her newest work.
"You're so right. It's beautiful, honey, but you're going to need to sing it in front of people in order for you to sell it. Someone has to hear it and like it before they'll buy it." Lester, her father, says standing up and moving over to the piano bench and putting his arm over his daughter's shoulder. She leans her head onto his shoulder and sighs.
"A dream's a dream. I can still dream it," she says lightly, then picks her head up again.
"You can watch the store today and tomorrow, right? You can get Trish to help you if you like, as well, because I'm going to be in Tampa until six tomorrow night."
"I know, Dad. I'm fine," she says, smiling at her dad. He returns it, knowing full well the level of responsibility his young daughter has. He stands up and gives her a hug.
"You'll get your voice someday. I promise. And for now, just writing the music, giving someone else something to say, is just as good." She leans into the hug more and squeezes her father tighter.
"Thanks, Dad. I'll see you tomorrow. Call me as soon as you get there!"
"Will do, sweetheart." He pulls away from the hug and runs his hand down her head, petting her hair in the same soothing way he's done since she was little. "I love you."
"Love you, too." She walks back over to the piano as her dad walks out and leaves the music store, headed to his car. She sits down and opens her songbook again, figuring she could still squeeze a little more writing time out of this lunch break before she has to reopen the store.
"Hey, Ally. Guess who got a job at that cupcake place all the way on the other side of the mall?" Trish groans, walking in and tossing her cupcake headband onto the counter of the store.
"You?" Ally asks sarcastically, closing her songbook and stashing it underneath the counter.
"Yup. How's it going?" Trish asks, walking around behind the counter.
"Well enough," she says turning around. "Just working on some new songs, drowning in the sorrow that I will never be able to actually sell them or perform them." Trish pulls Ally's head onto her should her pets her head dramatically, mocking the way her dad does it, until Ally shoves her away and smiles lightheartedly.
"There's the smile," Trish says teasingly. "You know there are so many people who would want to buy your songs if you just opened yourself up to it, Ally. You never know, one day Taylor Swift or, I don't know, Maroon 5 or something could be singing one of your songs!"
"Yes, because that's completely plausible," Ally chides.
"Yes it is!" Trish protests, then, giving in, walks back around to he other side of the counter and picks up her cupcake headband. "You know I'm right," she says, pointing the headband at Ally and smiling.
"What I know is that a squared plus b squared equals c squared. What I don't know is that I'll be writing songs for the top recording artists in the world." She smiles back at Trish and is about to start in on another new topic, hoping to move the conversation away from her failings in the music industry, toward something a little more practical when she hears the drums behind her crash as someone starts playing them.
Trish and Ally whip around to see two boys, one blond, one ginger, around the drums with the blond one slamming on them with two corn dogs. Ally immediately runs out from behind the counter and grabs his hand.
"What are you doing?" Ally asks, scandalized by his inability to read clear signs.
"Playing the drums. It's okay - I'm really good!" He pulls his hand from Ally's grasp and goes back to playing the drums, only to have her grab his arm again, this time pulling him from the chair and pushing him toward the front door.
"Goodbye. Please. And read signs more carefully." Ally says.
"Stop, wait," Austin says, pulling himself to the side and grabbing a trumpet. "I can play anything, trust me." He starts playing the trumpet, then adds another one in front. "See, one trumpet through another trumpet. Impressive right?"
"Incredibly," Ally snarks.
"And look," Austin says, tossing the trumpets down onto the counter and grabbing a harmonica, "I can play this too!"
"Yes, but can you pay for it?" she asks, taking the instrument from his lips and wiping it with a tissue from under the counter.
"No… but when I become a famous singer I can pay for all the harmonicas I want." He said matter-of-factly.
"Yes, and when that happens I'll be glad to sell them to you," she replies with an exasperated smile, attempting to move the conversation closer to the door.
"Fine. But it's true. I'll buy that harmonica one day."
"Thanks, oh gracious oracle," she replies, waving them out the door and returning to the violated harmonica sitting on the counter and to Trish standing behind in the same spot she'd been.
"That was weird," Trish says. "But the blond was kind of cute. The ginger was too tall."
Ally nods and takes the harmonica from Trish's hand.
"Watch the store, please? I'm going to go wash this and I want to finish something I was working on earlier. So long as you don't have to get back to work, that is?"
"Nah, I don't care about work all that much," Trish replies, waving a hand in disinterest. "Can I hear the song, though?"
"When it's done," Ally says teasingly, waving the harmonica and ascending the stairs to the bathroom and practice room.
"Yeah, yeah," she responds, pulling out one of many magazines from under the counter and flipping through the pages, looking up every so often to see if anyone has come into the store.
A little while later, Trish making her way through a third magazine, the same two boys walk back into the store.
Barely glancing up, Trish speaks to them. "Yeah, no. You two gotta go. I'm watching the store and I don't feel like helping people and you two didn't make a very good impression last time we met."
"Oh come on," the redhead says, stretching the "on" to emphasize his mocking frustration.
"Fine, whatever. Just don't break anything." She waves them off and goes back to her magazine, glancing up every once in a while to make sure that neither of them is about to break anything.
"I'm gonna make, make, make you do a double take," Ally sings, slow and steady. It's good, the best song she's written by far, but it just isn't right and she can't quite hit on what's missing. She turns the page in her songbook over a few times, as if inspiration is lying between the pages, if she looks hard enough. That is, until she heard a clap from behind her.
"Wow, that was great," the boy says, pushing himself off of his oh-so-cool position leaning against the doorframe and walking into the practice room.
"You are not supposed to be here," Ally says, standing straight up.
"That song was really, really good," Austin says, walking over to her, stretching his fingers over the songbook. Ally cringes at the sight but lets it go, hoping to make their exchange brief.
"Yup, I know, thanks very much, have a nice day," she says, filling in more and more phrases just to keep him from speaking again while she tugs him back toward the door, but he won't budge, his hands still strolling up and down the pages of her songbook.
"You know what would make this song really good? Making it faster. Oh, and changing some of these sad, depressing lyrics to something a little more upbeat, you know, something like… something like…," he pauses, not quite sure where to start, then reaches down and grabs her hand from his wrist and pulls her down onto the piano bench along with him. "Something like this," he says, spreading his hands over the keys.
"Flip a switch. Turn on the lightning. Get it right. Show 'em how it's done." He starts singing, turning to Ally and back to the music every chance he can. She has to admit, it's good, probably better, than what she has
"Da da da. No matter da da da, girl you know, you've got a number one," he turns to Ally and smiles. "See, that line was inspired by you."
"You're cocky," she says teasingly, then more seriously, "Are you that good with coming up with lyrics on the spot all the time?
"I'm okay," he replies. "I kind of just feel what sounds right in each spot. But I can't write music for crap."
"Well, that's okay," she says. "I"m good at that."
"Really, now?" He questions, raising an eyebrow. "I guess we'll have to test that out with a trial song, perhaps?"
"Perhaps," she responds, then stands up. "Great, but now you really have to go. Go find your ginger friend and do something more productive with your time than bothering poor over-worked sixteen-year-old girls."
"Will do, Sergeant," he replies, heading toward the door, but then stops short. "You know, I'm sorry to say but I never caught your name." He holds out his hand to her as she walks toward him. She takes it in hers and shakes it once, noncommittally, then smiles.
"Ally."
"Well, it's nice to formally meet you. I'm Austin," he says, jokingly. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then, so long as you're not too over-worked, partner." He leans down and takes a scrap of paper and a pen from the desk, scribbles down his cell phone number, and hands it back to Ally.
"I wouldn't count on it," she answers, taking the paper, then she closes the door to the practice room behind him.
Thank you for reading. Don't be afraid to leave a quick comment or suggestion. Thanks for reading. Chapter two is all ready for next week.
