Disclaimer: I don't own Pitch Perfect or it's wonderful characters, I'm just borrowing them for the time being!
Also, a massive thank you to all those who reviewed! You're all lovely! :)
Chapter 1.
She was glistening
It won't mend your heart if it's only a couple of lines
Milk – The 1975
"Chloe Beale, huh?"
"Yes."
"You bet it'll be easy?"
"Of course."
They are currently sitting in a booth at their favorite local bar ("Robbers"), discussing Beca's newest mission. Jesse, as always, couldn't contain his curiosity from the second Beca walked out of Ms Berry's office, showering her with questions (Beca merely rolled her eyes at him) and pestering her until she'd spill the beans. Of course, since this one was supposed to be top-secret and of high importance, Ms Berry only let her share it with Jesse but outside the office. She didn't want anyone else overhearing (precautions, Little Mitchell).
And here they are, going over the file containing every single thing Beca has to know about Chloe and the Beale family.
Bank accounts, where their houses are, family history (apparently, the Beale family have been rich for generations, with a long line of high-ranking ancestors that had been in the government as governors, mayors and even presidents), current family members, how many cars they owned, where each family member had gone to college (Ivy League all of them, big surprise).
They stumble upon several pictures of the Beale family (all redheads except for a tall blonde one who Beca assumes is adopted) and Chloe herself, who is… ridiculously pretty. The pictures of Chloe indicate that she has red hair, blue eyes and creamy skin. She looks, well, hot.
Apparently she's just graduated from Columbia with a major in Arts and has a part-time job at a nearby Art gallery (owned by her aunt); she swings both ways and she's into horse-riding, accapella (whatever the fuck that is), singing in general and she loves to do charity work around the globe.
Beca snorts at that. As if a rich girl like this one would have such sensibility. Chloe's sister (or so it says in the file), however, does look like the obnoxious rich girl type Beca and Jesse are used to stealing from. With her cold stare, a scold instead of a smile and the aura of superiority around her that Chloe doesn't seem to have inherited (she's all smiles and grins in every single photo).
"She's hot." Jesse points out, pointing at a picture in which the scowling blonde has a protective arm around Chloe's shoulders.
"Chloe's hotter. Plus, blondie here looks like she's into eating puppies and eating the souls of children."
"Funny, you have that in common with her!"
Beca throws an empty bottle of beer at him as an answer; she doesn't want her best friend to sport a smoky purple eye in case he has a mission.
Speaking of which…
"No new assignments for you?" Beca asks as she flips through several pages including Chloe's medical record – broke her arm during cheerleading training once back in eleventh grade, is allergic to nuts and pollen, got hospitalized for drinking too much alcohol at a college party.
Jesse shakes his head, "Nope. Apparently no one in the agency has assignments. Guess we'll just be waiting for you to finish yours. This must be a big one, considering the boss never has me and the others without a job."
Beca has to agree with him on that. It is rare for Harriet Berry to let money slip through their fingers, and there are still hundreds of single rich bachelors and bachelorettes out there, roaming the streets of New York full of a faux sense of confidence and carrying fragile hearts and heavy wallets.
"Harriet did say this was no ordinary mission. Said the Beales took something from her, and before you ask she didn't tell me what."
"Money?"
"No. She said it was more valuable than that. Perhaps diamonds? The fuck would I know." Beca doesn't really care to find out, truly. She's got more important things to be doing – like focusing on this easy-as-fucking-pie mission – instead of gossiping about Harriet's life and secrets.
Jesse thankfully catches her I'm-not-in-the-mood-to-pull-a-gossip-girl tone, because he doesn't push.
"How do you plan on doing it?" Jesse enquires, effectively changing the subject, always eager to know how she'd make girls fall-dead-over-heels in love with her, hoping to catch a few pointers himself. Though, admittedly, he doesn't need to. He may not be as witty or as charming as Beca, but he does have that boyish charm most girls fall for – the boyish charm that promises stability. Except that stability is the last thing they get.
Beca bites her lip in deep thought at the question though, unsure of how to respond. One of her many talents is that she is able to carve her way into a woman's heart as easy as one can say chocolate. But every woman is different. Every woman is an endless world of thoughts and feelings and desires. She doesn't use the same tactic twice. She gets to know the woman first, then uses the weapons she has at her disposal, and then breaks. Effective as that.
"Not sure yet. May improvise. It says here," Beca starts as she reads a page that has her daily schedule (how the fuck did Harriet get her hands on all these files? It was certainly the biggest piece of information Beca has ever had to learn of someone), "that her shifts at the gallery are every Thursday and every Saturday from 5pm to 9pm. She sings accapella with a bunch of weirdos every other day from 6am to 10am. And there is no way in hell I'll get up that early, no. So, the best option is to go to the goddamn gallery" She says, a strategy already forming in her mind. She'd have to do a hell lot of research on art and paintings and all that bullshit, because the only thing she knows is that Van Gogh killed himself and that Frida Kahlo's husband was a cheating bastard. Fan-fucking-tastic. "Since tomorrow is Thursday, I can swing by at seven."
"You don't sound too enthusiastic." Jesse points out with that dorky grin on his face that indicates he's eager to make a stupid joke about her poker face when it comes to dumb shit like art.
"That's because I'm not. Order me another beer, will you? I'm going to get drunk before learning all about Monet and Hermione and Moran and those painters."
When Beca gets home, it's half past midnight. It is completely dark except from the light coming from her room, which she leaves on due to the fact that she tends to get home when there is not a single light to guide her more often than not. She's not that wasted, though. She is not as reckless as usual when it comes to getting ready to embark on a new mission, and thankfully enough she is not a lightweight like Jesse. She had to drop him off at his apartment and made sure he actually put on pajamas instead of his Peter Pan costume, which he tends to do when drunk (long story).
She kicks off her combat boots and tiptoes towards the kitchen, aching for a glass of water and perhaps three bars of chocolate.
Her apartment is not small by any means. It's actually prominent, but not the kind of apartment you'd see habituated by the high society. It has a single bedroom, a bathroom, a huge living room, a kitchen (albeit small) and her 'study' (which isn't a study per se, it's where she reads, listens to music really, really fucking loudly and pretends the world outside doesn't exist).
With the amount of money Harriet pays her for doing what she does, one would expect Beca to have bought something bigger. But she likes it small, she likes it simple. Besides, cleaning a fucking enormous place? Not time for that. She prefers to spend her money on… other stuff.
Beca retreats to her room once her stomach's desires are settled and gets rid off her clothes, putting on a simple shirt and boy shorts to sleep in.
"So, Chloe Beale. Look what you're making me do. Google about freaking paintings and their famous painters." Beca once she has her laptop on her legs, every single window opened with a different painter.
It is thanks to her missions that Beca has learned things she never would've bothered to learn otherwise. To woo a British girl named Ella who was into cooking and a complete tourist (she wore I heart New York hoodies every single time she went out), Beca had had to learn the proper way to boil water and to cook a pizza in the oven and so on. To make a girl named Rachel who was into drama and all that bullshit, Beca had had to learn every single Shakespeare book in existence by heart. Quoting it during sex gave her points, so it wasn't a complete waste of time.
When Beca knows she's learned all there is to know (thank you, photographic memory), she turns her laptop off and drifts off to the land of the dead and dreams. Dreaming about a pair of haunting blue eyes is not on her 'to do' list, but that is exactly what she gets.
Thursday evening arrives soon enough, and Beca finds herself choosing the perfect outfit to wear for her visit to the gallery. She's not at all nervous, but it is extremely difficult to find something in her clothes that doesn't scream 'raging lesbian about to steal your money and your car'.
She ends up picking a black skirt, a white blouse and a blue blazer.
Great. She gazes at herself in the mirror and curses. She looks like a lesbian in a poorly written comedy about geeks who sing.
Whatever. She still kills it.
Beca hails a cab after walking out of her building, not in the mood to walk god-knows-how-many-blocks to get to a stupid gallery. She's not wearing heels, though, but she is still too lazy to do so.
She gives the driver the address she obtained from the C-file and relaxes, texting Jesse to let him know the mission is on like Donkey Kong. (She does actually text him that, as embarrassing and lame as it may sound). He replies with a thumbs-up emoji and a 'Good luck – not that you need it – try not to be an asshole'.
Two things she notices when she gets to the gallery: it is freaking small to what she had originally anticipated, and it doesn't look as fancy and pristine as other galleries and museums in New York. She wonders momentarily if she has the wrong address, but catches the hint as soon as she lands eyes on a small poster by the door of the small building that reads: 'Beale Family Gallery – open only for those who have a passion for paintings and a unique experience!' It almost sounds like something Disneyland would say in one of their advertisements. Beca pays the driver and gets out of the cab, fighting back the urge to set herself on fire.
Of all things, why did it have to be paintings? Beca has a grudge against them, a huge one. But this is not the time to dwell on that. She hates everything that has to do with a brush, paint and a canvas.
With her head held high and her smug smirk on place, she walks up to the entrance, expecting some sort of guard to hold her up and scan her for any sign of guns or anything with metal on it (she may have to remove her ear-piercings, damn it) and is surprised to find none. Must be the type of people that have security cameras all around.
She walks in and looks around. There are three doors and a staircase, and Beca curses under her breath because no one bothered to give her a map that showed her how to get to Chloe the fastest. She enters the first room she sees marvels at how many people there are, all of whom are dressed in different styles (some more fancy than others), and they are all gazing at paintings with interest, occasionally commenting on their beauty and making sure to take a good look before moving onto the next one. Nerds.
Beca doesn't spot a redhead with long hair though. She does spot one, but is a guy in what she assumes is barely eighteen, openly staring at a girl's ass. Pathetic. She bumps into him as she walks by, purposely making him stagger a little.
She enters the next room, which is considerably emptier than the first one, and fights back the urge to just yell Chloe's name and wait for the woman to run to her. Looks like finding her would take a great deal of effort and patience. She decides to look at a couple of paintings though, wanting to keep herself distracted for a little while. It's obvious that she won't find Chloe so soon. The woman must be working hard. Doing what? Beca doesn't even know what a person at an art gallery is supposed to do.
The one she decides to look at is full of color.
No kidding.
It's the most colorful painting Beca has ever seen in her life. No trace of black in it, no grey.
It's a painting of flowers. Many, many fucking flowers. All a different color. There are many different shades of red, green, blue, yellow, and pink – any color imaginable. Beca wonders who painted it, because the person certainly managed to catch a glimpse into a rainbow of flowers.
Of course, Beca still fucking hates paintings. But fuck, does she feel like hating this one would be a sin. Not that she'd ever, ever admit that. Ever.
"Do you like it?" Says a sweet voice from behind, and to her own astonishment Beca's first instinct isn't to turn around and punch the person. It's a voice that drips kindness and a good sense of hospitality. It's as if the stranger wants to make sure Beca's actually enjoying herself.
She turns to answer, only to smirk at the sight.
It's Chloe.
And to be quite honest, Beca's relieved she doesn't have to look for her anymore. The woman found Beca instead. What are the odds?
"I do. Pretty colors. Good technique. Beautiful painting." Beca responds, trying not to stare too hard at Chloe's face.
Up close and in person the woman is much more beautiful. She's got that girlish sense to her and a hint of innocence in her beautiful baby blue eyes. The eyes that haunted her dreams the previous night. Now Beca is sure they'll keep on haunting her until her mission is over.
"Really? You think so?" Chloe seems unsure, as if she really values Beca's opinion. She's biting her lip, and Beca assumes that must be some sort of anxious tic.
Beca nods, not sure why but with the need to make sure Chloe feels completely reassured.
"Yes, of course. It's beautiful. The most beautiful painting I've seen here so far." It isn't a lie. And, alright, she hasn't looked at any other paintings but she's not planning to. Her mission is here. No need for more distractions.
Chloe beams at her, and Beca can feel herself smiling genuinely at the way the woman's eyes light up.
"I painted it myself. I was… nervous of putting it up for exhibition but my boss insisted. I've been working here for two months now and never once had I planned on actually letting people see my paintings," Chloe says, glimpsing her painting over Beca's shoulder briefly before continuing, "Not many people have looked at it though… They're all busy in the other rooms."
"I'm sure they will look at it. They'd be pretty damn stupid not to…" Beca reassures her, and suddenly she has the urge to make sure every single person – even the perverted redhead – see the painting and give it a giant fucking thumbs-up.
Chloe smiles widely and extends out her hand, "I'm Chloe."
Beca is smart enough not to say 'I know' (it happened to Jesse during his very first mission, but the guy had been quick to make up a excuse thanks to Beca's aid through an ear peace).
"I'm Beca." She says, shaking Chloe's hand gently and fighting back the urge to kiss the back of the redhead's palm (it'd be downright creepy to do so in the first meeting). "Since you work here, would you mind giving me a personalized tour?"
Chloe's smile is the only answer she needs. "Anything for my first fan of the night!"
And her most devoted one, though Beca doesn't know it yet.