Perfect Timing

By: Rhuben

Full Summary- [RE-WRITE] Jake Hardin survived through a long string of bad luck and wants to prove that McFly's success wasn't a one-time thing. McFly wants to make their own luck in the drastically changing music industry that no longer relies heavily on CD sales but takes streaming and social media presence into account. Despite changing band directions, and personal stresses pulling them apart, Jake and McFly set out to make a name for themselves years after their first attempt to break into the American market. Maybe this time their luck has changed for the better.

01: Playing Catch

Jake Hardin quickly paced back and forth in the Masquerade Records bathroom, hoping the influx of air would speed dry the large coffee stain sitting over his stomach. With one hand, he held his shirt away from his burning skin, with the other, he fanned the wet spot with an empty, folded box of doughnuts.

"Come on, come on, come on," he repeated as he took his next lap around the bathroom. "Dry, god damn it!" Closing his eyes, he took in a breath of air through his nose and pushed it out of his mouth. Ok. It's ok, Jake. It's just coffee. It's not the end of the world.

It may as well have been the start of it as far as he was concerned. He recognized the pattern instantly; one small slip and the rest of his day would have him looking around corners, walking with his back against the wall, and keeping his head on a swivel for any unsuspecting thing that could pop out at him. Or something he could trip over.

People always said that the world was a dangerous place. His Aunt Martha would drill it into his head. Untied shoelaces could mean broken teeth, or even worse, teeth through lips. Eating left over popcorn kernels could be a choking hazard. Taped over fraying wires of a USB cord could cause a phone explosion. There were small dangers in everyday life and at this point, he was sure he had encountered it all at least once.

Setting down the make-shift fan, he moved to stand in front of the sink. He looked like a mess. And today was not a day to be a mess. Ashley had even told him so that morning as he hopped around her place, trying to put on clothes and rush out the front door at the same time to attend a meeting he was late for. In his rush, he failed to notice the unsecured silicone lid he pulled over the rim of his coffee.

The men's bathroom door burst open and rapid clacking reached Jake's ears. Looking into the mirrors lining the walls, he watched a brunette rush past the urinals, and hunch over peering under each stall before joining him at the sinks. Tossing her hair over her, Katy turned towards Jake and held up a hanger with a crisply pressed white shirt.

"Lucky you," she said with a bright smile, "it's just your size."

"And let me guess," Jake said with an appreciative smile as he took the hanger, "it was the last one." Katy's smile widened. "I owe you big time, dude." He carefully removed his soiled shirt revealing his stained white tank top. "Seriously, you're saving my butt."

"Don't I always?" Katy asked, leaning back against the sink. Removing an elastic band from her wrist, she quickly pulled her hair up into a ponytail. It swished back and forth as she moved. "You wouldn't believe my luck though: class was cancelled, the buses were all on time—"

Jake looked up in shock, "That never happens."

"I know!" Katy agreed. She used both hands to indicate the shirt. "This shirt was on sale, and I made it in time for your meeting."

"I believe it all right," Jake replied, lifting his chin to finish buttoning up his shirt. Sighing, he shook out his shoulders and carefully cuffed the sleeves. "How do I look?" Katy turned around to face his reflection in the mirror. Giving two thumbs up, she smiled. "Really? That good?"

"Stop worrying." Katy tilted her head back in an exaggerated groan, the sound bouncing off every tile of the ceiling. "Here, look." She grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him on the cheek.

Jake quickly jumped away from her, but it was too late. He could already feel things changing. His shoulders settled back more, adjusting his posture. The large framed glasses perched on his nose no longer looked too big for his head, but trendy. Before, his navy-blue dirt stained sneakers were an eye sore in comparison to the rest of his outfit for the day but showed just how much work he was putting forward. It was as if an Instagram filter had been added to his life.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Katy said to him. "Luck isn't some tangible thing. It's a feeling. It's confidence. It's what you make of it. It's – whoa!" She went to put her hand down on the counter and planted it right into a puddle of water. Her hand slipped off the edge and she went tumbling to the floor. Laughing, Jake reached for her, helping her back to her feet.

"It's a wonder you didn't crack your head open," he said. "Dude, we had an agreement."

Katy's upper lip curled. "We can only trade our luck when situations call for it," she recited, deepening her voice to mock his tone. "Not just to get what we want." Jabbing the air with her index finger, her eyes lit up. "This counts. This meeting is huge. I'd be crazy to be selfish and keep that luck away from you."

Nostrils flaring, Jake twisted his mouth to the side as he took in the site of his young cousin. She was in college now, no longer the frizzy haired young girl, but a sleek, confident young woman who was chasing her dreams studying fashion. He wasn't exactly sure when it had happened, but she had grown up and turned into a beautiful young lady. He was proud of who she was becoming; no longer the tomboy who was teased and bullied by kids in her class, but someone who had goals and dreams she wanted to achieve.

"What's the point of having this luck if you can't gift it to anyone? I mean, we wouldn't be in this position if Ashley didn't let you use it to have a great show with McFly years ago."

"We gave you that luck for a reason," Jake reminded her.

"So, you two could suck face," Katy asked, making a face. She shuddered mockingly. "I still have nightmares about that. Just so you know." She lifted a finger in the air. "And, I still think she's the lucky one. She's got a pretty great guy if I do say so myself."

Jake smiled. "Thanks, squirt."

The two of them settled into silence. Jake finished buttoning up his shirt and used his fingers to fix his hair again. Katy jumped up onto the counter and crossed her legs at the ankles, swinging them back and forth. Jake smiled at her reflection as she twisted around to watch his own.

"Hey, Jake?"

"What's up?"

"If my parents were alive, do you think we'd still be tight?"

Jake rolled his head on his neck and regarded his cousin. She had been so young when her parents had died. But him, she had known her whole life. He had nearly killed himself just trying to make it to the hospital in time for her birth. There was nothing on the Earth that would have stopped him from getting there.

"Of course!" he replied. "We're buds. Family. I'd go to all your soccer games, all your birthdays, make sure you had the coolest Christmas gifts. Nothing that's a choking hazard or anything dangerous like that."

"Oh, of course not."

"But you'd have the coolest bike around. With the handle-bar tassels, and the card clipped into the spokes to make it sound like a motorcycle." He put his hands to his chest. "Even I was jealous."

"Yeah, because you had to walk everywhere."

Jake pulled his mouth to the side. "Yeah, well, it costs money to put air in your tires," he said, "and it costs money to replace them after they get a flat, and it costs money to replace them after they've been stolen." He sighed. "Again." He planted his hands on the counter and bowed his head before he lifted it and gave a dazzling smile. "How do I look?"

"Like a million bucks," Katy said.

"If only," Jake laughed. "Now get down before you break the sink."

Katy stuck his tongue out at Jake but did as she was told. With a loud crack, she swayed backwards, wind milling her arms. Jake grabbed her wrist, pulling her forward and back on balance. Katy let out a loud gasp. "My shoe!" Lifting her foot, her broken heel flopped back and forth. "These were new."

"So, thanks again for the luck," Jake said quickly. He kissed her temple before stepping past her. "Sincerely. I'll be sure to give you the luck back ASAP."

Balancing on one foot, Katy gave him a pained expression. "Just make sure you have a great meeting," she said, "that's how you can make it up to me. I can't wait to hear all about it."

"Don't forget to tell Aunt Martha your plans for the day," Jake said as he pulled open the bathroom door. "If you need quiet, feel free to hang out at the penthouse. Ash says you can go over at any time. Wherever you go, let me know as soon as you get there, ok?"

"Penthouse, huh?" Katy asked. Her eyes flashed mischievously as she spun the keys around her finger. "You mean you and Ash haven't flooded this one yet?"

Jake rolled his eyes. "Byyye," he said wiggling his hand in a wave before holding it out towards her. "Give me some skin." Katy slapped her palm into his and they curled their fingers into a fist, bumping them together. "Have a good day."

"You too."

Stepping into the lobby of Masquerade Records (previously known as Downtown Masquerade Records), Jake grit his teeth as soon as he heard his name called. He turned and greeted Tiffany with a clenched-teeth smile. With his luck, it would actually come across as a genuine smile.

The lobby stretched from left to right, the linoleum and marble counter tops shining as if the building just had its grand opening. On the right side of the lobby a grand piano sat in the middle of a circle of cream white ottomans. To the left was a sitting area. The walls were covered with band photos and action shots of musicians performing. Straight in front of them, sat a long wooden desk with three computer stations situated behind it.

On the wall was a large plaque with the Masquerade Records logo (a giant letter M with a masquerade mask layered over top of it, sitting next to it a second mask decorated with music notes and music staves) the words MASQUERADE RECORDS, and the words and Damon Phillips catch phrase, "Now Hear This" in multi-colors greeted anyone and everyone that walked into the building. The same colors glowed behind the plaque, steadily changing. Even the accent pillows on the couches and chairs were in the same multiple colors.

"Tiffany," he greeted.

"You were almost late," Tiffany pointed out to him, "you know how Mr. Phillips is with his money and his time. We're meeting in conference room five." Jake's shoulders dropped and he nodded his head. "Lucky for you, he's running late. Traffic."

"Oh, thank god." Tiffany stared at him suspiciously. "I mean, I'm glad it's nothing serious." Without a word, she turned away from him.

Jake let out a cleansing breath. That just meant more time for him to go over his pitch one more time.

What the fans didn't understand, was that the music industry was all about playing catchup. Someone could come up with a good idea, and get all the well-deserved recognition for it, and then move on to the next thing when everybody else tries their hand at it too. This wasn't the first-time music acts came together to co-headline a tour. And it wasn't the first time a band was choosing to play every single album in its entirety.

But it was the first time Jake was trying to co-manage three bands at three different stages in their careers: one releasing a comeback album after years of being broken up; one who wanted to play every song off every album they had released; and one who was looking to create an album all on their own including writing, producing, releasing, marketing.

They were not big, recognizable names like Beyoncé, or U2, or the Foo Fighters. They had to work twice as hard and more just to try and get the same opportunities as them. They weren't in the business to fill up stadiums or arenas. And it would be bad form to charge insane prices to make a profit for smaller, more intimate shows as well. No matter how well Jake did in the industry, he was still going home to a small apartment, and on occasion, picking up odd jobs just for some extra spending money.

But it was all part of the job.

The music industry had changed. Streaming was more prevalent, something Jake, nor anyone else in the business, ever had to worry about. It was all about easy access. What was the easiest, and best way to get music into the hands of fans? What was one artist doing that others weren't? And how did you become that one act to get ahead of the curve, and change the way things were?

Because everyone knew that the music industry was such a whirlwind, that if you stopped for even one moment, you were miles behind, and chasing after everyone else.

"The good thing though," he said under his breath as he went through his speech, "is that these three bands don't care about all of that. They don't care about what it is everyone else is doing. They make music because it's fun. They perform because it's fun. They recognize that fans are an important part of it all, even more important now with social media, but it all just comes back to how they feel about their music. How they feel when they're up on stage performing. That is magic. And that magic is what makes them fans."

Rolling his shoulders, Jake nodded his head, pleased with his words. He laughed to himself, just thinking about how much he had to practice getting the words, "Let me introduce you to New York's hottest band," to sound un-rehearsed.

This was still a big deal. Business meetings were often held over video chat nowadays, if you were lucky enough to get past the initial e-mailing stage. And that was even if you were lucky enough to get a response at all. To get a face to face meeting, you had to be doing something right.

Whether or not Katy had passed it along, luck surely was on his side this time. It had to be. He didn't know what he'd do if he failed for a second time.

what are you doing?

It was almost funny how four words could get Tom Fletcher's heart racing. One single tweet and so many thoughts plagued his mind. Were they angry words? Disappointed? Curious? Who could really tell within text?

If everyone knew why he had had just "taken off on a jet plane," and the reason that he was now in the "Big Apple" (his tweet was really just the apple emoji – or maybe it was a tomato, he tweeted it through a case of jet lag), their minds would be blown.

It was flattering, but also kind of crazy, the kind of attention he could get by a simple tweet or a post on Instagram. Both good and bad attention. He was just some guy who wrote and played music that people loved - that he loved - in a band with the three greatest guys he had ever been fortunate enough to meet. A guy who needed a break here and there to be in the right head space to continuously put out the great music the fans expected.

Making music was hard. You put so much of your time, energy, and life into something that could either be skipped, or listened to in it's entire three minute and thirty second life – or, if listening to the whole album, over an hour's worth of content.

Holding his phone high above his head, Tom attempted to rub the sleep from his eyes. Sighing through his nose, he squinted at the blurry mass that was curtains, and the sliver of bright blue that was the New York Sky.

New York.

It wasn't unusual for him to take trips to the city for holiday, but it had been a long time since he had been there for business. On a whim, he had thought of going to New York to try his hand at shopping his music around in an attempt to find the right people. He had kind of fallen into the business back in London, how different could it be in New York?

He was naïve. Then again, he was just a kid. A kid chasing a dream.

Early days in the McFly band house were filled with excitement. Not only were they fresh out of their own homes, living on their own, eating whatever they wanted, buying whatever they wanted, but every day they got to write and make music together. How would their music videos look? What would they wear? What would the girls look like? What would it be like to travel and perform the songs to people that knew every single word?

And it was all better than anything they would be doing at school.

It was funny how that one decision could lead up to the most life changing moment of his and his friends' lives. Ok, maybe being kicked out of Busted, starting his own band, meeting Jake Hardin, being signed, getting a show at the Hard Rock Café, losing his drummer, having his bassist puke, and his guitarist get a slap to the face by a guitar string was a series of incidents, but it all worked out in the end. McFly may have been a whisper in the wind as far as the American music industry was concerned, but they still got to do more than a whole lot of other people.

Sure, their album Just My Luck didn't do as well as they had hoped in America, and it had subsequently resulted in an extended break of trying to break into the American market, but this was the time. The days of doing grass roots efforts of promoting music had been replaced by the internet and social media where you can connect with anyone in the world in a second! Social media sites such as Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram made it easier to connect with artists and get snippets of their daily lives. People in America knew who McFly were now.

This time, it wasn't going to take luck to get the results they wanted, but hard work.

Closing his eyes, Tom could see it all before him. A sold-out crowd. Every seat filled with people, with fans, anticipating the first chord that would strike through the constant cheering. He twitched his feet, could almost the energy flowing through his legs that would build and build before the very first, high-flying, iconic jump on stage.

It had only been a year since his last tour, but it still felt like ages since he had performed. It had been about seven years since they performed in America.

Lucky seven, Tom thought, stretching his arms over his head. He let out a shout of pain when his phone slipped from his fingers and dropped onto the top of his head. Maybe not so lucky. He briefly wondered if Jake was around to cause it. Tom rubbed at the sore spot on his head, an attempt to remove the negative thought from his brain.

It was best not to doom themselves now. None of them, not Danny, Harry, or Dougie, thought they would ever get the chance again. Hell, none of them ever thought they'd get the chance to do it all with their friends. On their own terms. After their own experience, and the horror story that was Busted's attempt at cracking America a couple years earlier, they had to lay down the law somewhere. They weren't a boyband. They weren't people to make jokes of. They had put in their dues, and they were going to prove why they deserved the recognition they wanted.

Despite that, Tom, Danny, Dougie, and Harry were masters at not taking themselves seriously. They took their fans' interactions in stride. Interview questions were met with giggles and attempts to shift the attention from themselves and on to others. Awkward was what they did best; if their old photo shoots, and interviews, and on-stage antics were anything to go by. It was part of their charm.

A yawn taking over him – that god damn alien had kept him up late all over again, just watching, waiting – and Tom stretched his arms up over his head, tensing every muscle in his body from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Angling his head to the side, he took in the appearance of his abdominals, the line cut down the side of his thigh, and the pop of his calf muscle. It was a change from his old body. One that, if he stared at himself long enough, he would start to see make an appearance again.

Inhaling sharply through his nose, Tom relaxed his body, shaking his head back and forth. He didn't want to fall back down that hole again. It had already taken him so long to crawl back out. Five years. Things had been shrouded in so much darkness for so long, at times he wondered if he would ever find the light again. With his friends' help, even from thousands of miles away, he got the strength to keep going. He wasn't alone. He had never been. He just had to keep reminding himself of it.

Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, Tom pulled himself to his feet and removed his glasses from the nightstand. Perching them on his nose, the world came into focus and he set off to find a quick change of clothes. Everything had been thrown out of his suitcase and strewn across the floor of his hotel room. A quick sniff test here and there, and he found a clean shirt to thrown on, jumping into his jeans he wore the day before.

Making sure to grab his hotel key, he stepped out into the hall and shuffled towards the elevators. Ghosts of laughter surrounded him, reminding him of all the crazy nights on tour daring his friends to streak, or being dared to do so, and being locked out with nothing but socks. If he were lucky. They could find fun in the most surprising of places for as busy as touring was, there was also a lot of down time as well. "A lot of time to get in trouble," as Jake put it.

The elevator doors dinged, and he stepped off, crossed the lobby, and took the short flight of stairs down into the eating area. He smiled, the smell of pancakes, bacon, and something fruity already hitting his nose. Starting at the drink bar, he filled a mug with hot water and grabbed himself a package of tea. Muttering to himself about the lack of a proper tea being made, he crossed the room to the back corner, and joined the man slumped in his chair, the hood to his sweatshirt pulled up over his sandy brown hair.

"Morning," Tom greeted James Bourne, lowering himself into his seat. "When'd you get in?"

"Morning," James replied, reaching for his own steaming cup. He took a sip and licked is lips. "Late." He shook his head, angling his gaze upwards to the high windows. "This is crazy. I really can't believe it."

"I know," Tom agreed. "The last time we were both here was just for holiday." James nodded solemnly.

It was a holiday for him, but work for James. He had worked so hard putting out his own music any way that he could, to anyone that would listen. Tom had been just as shocked as the fans when he found out about Busted's split. He didn't hear about it until after the whole world did; McFly was too busy filming their own music video. Only when they were taking a break and he checked his phone messages did he hear the news straight from James himself.

Tom started bouncing his knees. He bent over his tea, stirring in the mixture with a small spoon. The steam covered his glasses. He used a finger to clear the lenses before looking up at James again, who was already watching him.

Silently, James tilted his chin downwards just slightly in a nod. In return, Tom jerked his head upwards in the same fashion. Over the years, they had gone their own way, but here they were now meeting each other in the end.

Things were finally falling back into place.

He reached for his phone as it vibrated against his thigh.

what are you doing? are we getting new music from you guys? Why are you in New York?!

Excitement.

Tom smiled to himself. If only he had read the whole tweet the first time.

A/N: As mentioned above, this is a re-write of not only my fic that I had posted a little while ago called "Meet You There," but essentially my fics from a long time ago, "No More Secrets, No More Lies" and "Silence Is a Scary Sound." Riley and I have also been thinking about co-writing a new origins fic for this fandom. Plus, we haven't done a co-write in a loooong time, and have recently been talking a lot about how our OCs have and would changed over the start of our "timeline" for them to present time.

Thanks for taking the time to check out this story.

-Rhuben