Dislclaimer: I don't own Pitch Perfect or it's wonderful characters, I'm just borrowing them for the time being.
Everybody's got a story to tell
When you're looking up at heaven
But you're stuck in hell
Plat the Game – Kodaline
For Beca, there is just something so addicting and fulfilling about watching people pass by from her comfortable spot on a (admittedly very) rusty park bench. Moms rushing with their kids to get to school on time. Men hurrying to catch the bus, silently praying they won't get fired for being a little bit late. Teenagers fleeing from their responsibilities and deciding to ditch school to smoke pot in the park. The typical college student hoping against all hope that the professor wouldn't yell at them for turning in a half-decent essay. It's endless amusement for Beca, if truth be told, to imagine what their lives are like, what they had for breakfast, what are their hopes and dreams. Their fears.
She takes a drag on her cigarette and breathes out the smoke with a sigh of satisfaction. She's not a morning person, but there's just something about watching people at 8am, looking worried as hell and cursing their lives. There's also something about watching the sunrise and pretending her life is as normal as theirs. When in reality, it isn't. Far from it.
"Fuck." She curses, way too loudly for her liking, startling an old couple slowly walking by, when she feels her phone vibrate in her pocket. Beca drops her cigarette and stomps her foot on it, offering the old couple an apologetic smile (which looked more like an apologetic grimace), before answering, "Mitchell here, what do you want?"
"Always so polite, Beca." Says the voice on the other end of the line, making her roll her eyes. She'd recognize that voice anywhere, primarily because she's spent ten years of her life hearing it. She even got to be a witness of the squeaky pre-pubescent sounds.
"Seriously, Jesse, I'm not in the mood for this. Either you speak or I hang up." She says, keeping it real and keeping it simple. She hates it when people interrupt her free time, plus there is a hot barista waiting for her at her favorite Starbucks down the corner and she doesn't want to be late for that.
"Always a sunshine, always polite." He taunts again, and a sudden urge to throw her phone and aim it at the lake overcomes Beca. "All right, fine, don't you dare get rid off your phone by throwing it against the wall or something like the last time. The boss has a new assignment for you. Says this one is big and really, really important. A real treat and a challenge. A real one."
Beca arches an eyebrow at that. Usually the assignments she gets are dull and boring and she ends up completing them within a week, maybe two. But the boss is never one to joke around when it comes to big things.
"I'm listening."
"Yeah, so, I can't talk about the details because, well, she didn't share them with me. Said it's for your ears only, and it'd be up to you whether to share the info with me or not." Jesse says, and she can almost picture him pouting like a baby, with that puppy look on his face, the one he uses when he wants something. It never works, but she lets him think it does because she doesn't want to see him cry. "She expects you in her office in half an hour. Don't be late, you know she's as patient as you are."
"Nobody is less patient than I am, Jesse." She states matter-of-factly and stands up from her spot on her favorite bench, "I'll be there."
"You better. Oh, and bring me a coffee, will you?"
"No." She says before hanging up.
Beca starts walking down the park, running a hand through her hair every now and then (because goddamn stupid wind). Her plans were slightly shifted, but she always manages to do everything she wants in time and have a little fun in the middle.
It is normal for Starbucks to be extremely crowded, especially in the mornings, and when she looks around and sees how full it is she realizes she arrived just in time for rush hour.
She gets in line, subtly checking out the girl in front of her, who looks way too immersed in her book to pay attention to anything else. Long red hair, long legs, torn out Converse, wearing a dress even though it's fucking freezing outside thanks to the stupid wind (which probably means that the girl is not into the typical weather dressing standards). Interesting.
Beca hears the girl order (cinnamon dolce latte, two sugars) and can't help but feel like a stalker, so she decides to focus on looking around the place in hopes of catching sight of the reason why she's here in the first place (to get some sugar, mind the pun).
"Hi, can we help yo- Oh. Beca. Hey." Greets Donald, an all too familiar guy that kind of hates her guts for getting what he can't. Oops. "She's in the back." He adds the last part with disdain, making her smirk. God, how she loves when guys that claim to be stuck in the friend zone hate her for not being stuck in that imaginary world.
"Is she? Nice. Can I have an espresso, please? Make it extra strong." Beca kind of hopes that he doesn't try to poison her drink. Again.
He nods and growls to himself, to which her smirk only grows wider.
She pays and moves aside, tapping her fingers on the counter as she waits for her drink. Suddenly, a hand takes hold of her arm and the next she knows she is the bathroom, cornered by a tall busty woman.
"Waiting for me?" The woman slurs, looking at her with a hungry look in her eyes.
Beca shrugs, leaning against the wall with her arms closed. "I was actually waiting for my coffee, not for you." She responds, winking to let the woman know it was a well-aimed joke.
The woman knows, of course, and throws her arms around Beca's neck all the same.
"You're an asshole, did you know that?" She says, making Beca chuckle lowly.
"That's the statement of the century, Stacy." Beca murmurs, only to be silenced at the very last moment by a pair of lips on her own. A very pair of horny lips.
And this is why she loves Starbucks.
Slowly but surely, Beca makes her way towards the elevator, feeling completely smug that she was actually going to be on time even after having some fun in a bathroom stall (not classy, but it does the trick).
"You're not late." Jesse observes as he watches her walk by from his spot in their office (a small room with a simple couch on it, a big TV, some porn magazines and a mini-fridge). "And you didn't bring me my coffee!"
"No, I'm not, and no I didn't." She didn't even get to drink hers, anyway.
Beca knocks on their boss' door a bit too hurriedly, knowing all too well that it'd take the woman hours before she felt it right to let Beca in, knowing how much it annoyed Beca to be kept waiting when it came to important matters.
"Come in and close the door." Says the boss in that husky voice of hers, and Beca wastes no time in getting in (closing the damn door after her, of course).
"Tell me all about the mission." Beca says too eager to remember to conjure her 'be patient, this is your boss, you're not allowed to boss her around' mantra.
"Always so patient, little Mitchell." Her boss, who was examining one of her stupid cat statues in her shelf with love, mumbles. What is this? The 'sarcastically point out Beca's flaws' day?
Her boss turns around and smiles at her at last. It's one of those cold smiles that'd make people shiver all over, but not Beca. She's so very used to this type of smiles, has seen her more often than not, and knows for a fact that that's the only way Harriet Berry knows how to smile. Coldly, without affection, with sick amusement. Something Beca shares with her.
Harriet Berry, infamous con-artist, escaped jail by herself after only a month of being in it. They never got to catch her again. The same Harriet Berry who is the boss of every con person in Manhattan, Pennsylvania and Washington D.C. Harriet Berry, who is past forty and still looks younger than most people going on their twenties (Beca suspects she's secretly a vampire, or that she sucks the youth out of people).
The Harriet Berry who basically raised Beca after her father kicked her out for being gay.
"You know me. Eager to do the job." Beca replies simply.
"Correction: eager to do the girl." Harriet says, and it makes them both laugh sardonically. After their laughter dies out, Harriet goes over to her desk and takes a file (a very heavy one, by the looks of it) and hands it to Beca. "The Beale family, I assume you've heard of them?"
Beca shakes her head, her gaze lingering on the file in her hands for a moment. It is fucking heavy indeed.
"Rich beyond reason. House in the Hamptons, California and Miami. Owners of many foundations that pseudo help preserve the animal life." Harriet elaborates, sitting down on her chair and motioning for Beca to take a seat as well. "This will be no ordinary mission, darling. These people – they took something from me a long time ago. And even though I can't have it back, I know for a fact that I can get a replacement."
"Money?" Beca questions, liking where this is going. She's got a thirst for wronging those who wronged others, but she isn't Robin Hood in disguise and she is not about to pretend to be one.
"It is certainly more valuable than that, Beca, but yes I do want their money. And you know the easiest way to get it." Harriet stands up after having said that, placing her hands on her hips. "You have to promise me one thing first. You'll be reliant, you'll be efficient, quick and you'll not, for the love of God, fall in love."
That puzzled Beca big time.
"Fall in love? Why would I fall in love?" Beca enquired, fighting back the urge to laugh. The idea of falling in love was way more absurd than telling people she actually had a decent job.
"You'd be surprised." Harriet says, and Beca notices something akin to melancholy flash in her eyes for a moment. Though as quickly as it came, it left.
"What's the name of the girl?" Beca asks, moving to open the file so she can find out everything she needs to know about the Beales and her target.
"Chloe. Chloe Beale."
