Disclaimer: I do not own TDA.
Just trying to get it all out ASAP.
Gwen looked around nervously, feeling uncomfortable in the sea of people she had somehow managed to get lost in.
She tried to wedge her way out of the crowd, stumbling as her heel caught on the edge of someone's chair and grabbing for a surface to hold onto for balance.
She drew in a sharp breath as the entire tablecloth scooted an inch under her weight, thankfully not toppling everything over in a glass fiasco.
Gwen apologized quickly, hearing the chair squeal across the tile as the occupant tried to apologize.
"Oh, crap, girl! I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"
Turning around, Gwen found LeShawna staring back at her, a look of worry on her face.
Glancing back to make sure everything was okay at the table, Gwen tucked her hair behind her ear as she replied, "Yeah, I'm fine."
"Did you twist your ankle?"
"No, it's okay."
LeShawna breathed a sigh of relief. Resting a hand on Gwen's shoulder, she looked around before addressing the young girl.
"Whatchu doing out here? Why don't you go dancing or something?"
Gwen shrugged.
"Just not in the mood, I guess."
She glanced back at LeShawna, remembering who she had been looking for.
"Hey, have you seen Trent anywhere?" she asked, wanting to hang out with the musician ever since the two had made amends.
LeShawna seemed to be thinking hard.
"I think I saw him getting something to drink, but that was ten minutes ago. Could be anywhere."
Gwen's face dropped. Well, if he had gone for a drink, that meant he was probably near the west wing of the building.
LeShawna sat back down in her chair, but not before catching Gwen's attention again.
"Hey!"
Gwen turned back around abruptly, waiting for her friend's message.
"Watch out for tablecloths!"
The two smirked at each other as Gwen wormed her way back between the crowd.
Courtney whooped in joy as she started dancing more vivaciously, bumping into other partiers that had begun to wonder what on earth was possessing the girl to start acting so out of the norm.
Duncan glanced over in her direction, furrowing his brow as she got more and more into the pounding bass line of AC DC's 'Back In Black.'
Heather, bored and unoccupied, lazily glanced over at him, chin in hand and observing his expression.
She could see the gears turning in his head as he formulated a plan. Presumably the same kind of plan she spent a lot of her time concocting; getting even.
Rolling her eyes, Heather slapped her hand down on the table, catching his attention.
She gave him a look of pity. Glancing back out at Courtney, she took a deep breath and started to explain.
"Putting on a bit of a show out there, don't you think?"
Duncan frowned, turning to his side so Heather couldn't detect the hint of embarrassment lurking in his expression.
"You know she's doing it for your attention. Gonna give in?"
Duncan snorted.
"Like hell. And hey."
He leaned in closer to Heather's face.
"Who's the one walking out of here with a million bucks tonight?"
Heather smirked back at him, with the same kind of BS expression he had handed Courtney earlier.
"Don't count your chickens before they hatch."
She gently shoved Duncan's face out of the way. He did, after all, have garlic breath.
Gwen glanced unsurely towards the long, bare hallway, save for the one, tall wooden doorway that led to the inventory room. Still, by process of elimination, she had looked through all the glass doors that allowed a view into each room in the building (except for the bathrooms), and this was the only door left.
Throwing a look back over her shoulder, she saw the hallway came to a sharp bend where she had passed, the strobe lights the only thing visible from the party. Here, everything was bathed in a warm, even glow emanating from the dome-shaped lights on the ceiling, which was a good five feet higher than the one the party was under.
She walked over to the door and laid her hand on the shiny brass knob. Pausing for a second, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, Trent had already headed back to the studio.
...Well, she would never know until she opened that door.
Creaking the door open, she poked her head in and skimmed over the contents of the room. There were old lamps sitting in tables adorned with dust bunnies, standing out in contrast with the updated alarm clocks sitting next to them. An old couch rested at an odd angle, its seats covered in plastic, forming the thinnest of shields between the fabric and dust accumulating over the entire area.
An old TV cerca the 1980's sat about seven feet in front of the couch. It was on, revealing slightly pastel-like footage from The Long, Long Trailer, although it was more the movie quality than the TV itself. Gwen knew from a television one of her friends had when she was little (that had been just like this one) that these sets had been built to last over fifteen years or so, until manufacturers realized they could be making more money by building TVs that wore out in a little under five years.
It took Gwen a second to wonder why it was on when she finally noticed a familiar competitor standing casually behind one of the crates obstructing her view.
Stepping from out behind the crate, she gradually let herself into his view, hoping his peripheral vision would lead his eyes away from Lucille Ball tossing the salad over her shoulder as the trailer shook and rumbled.
Seeing a moving mass out of the corner of his eye, Trent turned to his left and saw her timidly inching closer to him. He smirked his half-crooked smile at her and returned his attention to the TV.
Gwen, feeling more comfortable after his signal, relaxed and stood closer next to him. He sipped lightly from his glass as they both watched 'Lacy' berate 'Nicky' in the coffee shop for sticking her in the back of the trailer.
Looking over at him, she pursed her lips and silently debated whether or not to ask him what had been on her mind for the last few minutes. As he continued to sip from his drink, she figured now was as good a time as ever, especially since he seemed so unoccupied now.
"So why are you hanging around back here?" she inquired, leaning forward a little as she tried to read his expression.
He shrugged, looking down at his drink before taking another gulp. He cleared his throat and answered nonchalantly.
"Just thought it'd be better back here. They got cable."
She smiled slightly, but it soon faltered. The air was suddenly tinged with an awkward silence.
He snorted and shook his head, causing her to snap hers around towards him in response.
"I just can't think of anyone that deserves it less."
She was confused for a second.
"...What, cable?"
"No," he retorted. "Duncan. The money."
"...Oh," she responded, feeling a little bit under attack from his answer.
He slowly shook his head, reaching out towards her and brushing her shoulder lightly before letting his hand drop to his side and putting it in his pocket. It was by this gesture she realized he didn't mean to direct his anger towards her.
"I mean," he continued. "It's not like he's gonna use it for anything important."
There was a short silence as he drank again, his brow furrowing.
"No, wait, that's not right. He can always use it to pay for that surgery to get his head outta his ass."
Gwen snickered behind her hand. He looked at her, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards slightly before raising his drink up to his lips again, but not taking a sip.
Still smiling, she brushed her hands against her simple black dress and wrapped her shawl more tightly around her, tucking the end of the long peice of fabric into the crevice of her crossed arms. He looked over at her quickly, almost scanning her, before turning back to the TV.
She looked back at him, watching the constantly changing light from the TV cast different shadows on his face every time the scene changed. There were only three or so sips left in his glass.
"...You know it's not that I want the money, right?" he asked suddenly, turning his head slightly to the left, not really looking at her when he asked it.
She was caught mildly off-guard, his asking for this confirmation of his character. "Of course not."
He nodded slightly, taking a large swig from his glass, finishing the last of it off.
The setting grew slightly awkward, intensifying madly when Gwen realized so. All of a sudden she felt it would all blow up in her face if she made even the slightest of wrong moves.
He seemed to beat her to it, though; in the next instant she saw the glass go flying across the floor and herself wrapped tightly in his arms.
Courtney hobbled on one leg as DJ supported her on his left shoulder. She had busted her heel and her ankle on the dance floor, causing her to stumble clumsily to the ground in the middle of the crowd that had gathered around her.
And of course Duncan had happened to turn around at that instant, watching her make a complete and utter fool of herself.
"Just you wait," she hissed under her breath over and over, stumbling along into the hallway as she tried to make the turn.
DJ struggled to catch her so she wouldn't hit the floor, laying her to rest against the wall.
Stepping back to inspect her ankle, he winced at the spectacle that her joint had become; it was dark purple, and swelling fast.
"Ouch," he said, as if it was hurting him, too. "...A'ight, just sit here and I'll go get Chris, or first aid, or something. Don't move."
DJ walked out of the hallway, back into the maze that was now the party as Heart's 'Barracuda' blasted from the speakers, only a faint beat from her current location. Funny, Duncan had never struck her as the kind that tolerated female-fronted 80's rock. Still, kick-ass riffs were still kick-ass riffs, she figured.
Breathing heavily as her ankle jolted with pain, Courtney leaned back against the wall and rolled her head to one side. She saw a door down the hallway sitting ajar.
Looking around, she slowly started to crawl towards the door, always one to let curiosity get the better of her. Making sure not to move her ankle as she slid across the floor, it seemed like ages before Courtney finally reached the knob, grabbed it, and opened it a little bit more, just enough to stick her head in and look around.
She saw the inventory room stuffed to the ceiling with prop bins, crates tossed about in neat stacks here and there. She also noticed a large, black shadow standing in front of an operating TV. It took her a minute to make out the silhouette of two figures, standing extremely close together.
Courtney rolled back onto the wall, realizing who the two silhouettes were. She was deadly silent as she listened to their conversation, which didn't seem to start until a minute later.
A sharp intake of breath could be heard from the room.
Courtney rolled her eyes, waiting for the conversation to begin. Apparently, though, it was picking up from a break.
"I just think it's a shame that Duncan doesn't care about her," came his reply.
Courtney caught her breath for a second and listened more closely.
"...No, don't say that," Gwen tried to dissuade him.
Courtney peered around the corner and found the two of them locked in a tight embrace, Gwen's hair being tucked slowly behind her ear, their noses touching. Feeling like she really didn't need to see this, Courtney rolled back into her former position, still listening intently.
"Yeah, you're right," Trent agreed softly, his arm resting on her waist.
"...But do you really think that?" Gwen asked.
Courtney was still listening.
"No," Trent said. "But his priorities are mixed up."
Courtney pursed her lips, contemplating the truth in his statement.
"But you don't think he'd really take the money over her, right?"
"Gwen, you and I both know him. He's not letting an opportunity like this get away."
There was no response from Gwen's end. Courtney looked down at her hands in disbelief, vaguely registering that her nails had turned blue from the temperature.
She wrapped her arms around herself for warmth, hearing soft kissing in the room behind her.
It stopped abruptly, leaving a few extra seconds of silence (save for 'Barracuda' thumping softly in the background) hanging in the air like deadweight.
"...did you tell her?" came Gwen's quiet reply.
"I tried, but she wouldn't listen."
Courtney's head snapped back as she remembered the conversation from earlier...
He was infuriatingly calm as he held the Rubik's cube in his hand, slouching lazily in his chair as he tried to speak rationally to Courtney, who was shrieking and shaking in utmost frustration.
"You're WRONG!" she screamed, watching him place the toy down on the table, raising a hand at her to calm down.
"Courtney, just take a breath. Rationalize. Think about it for a second. What do you think he's gonna do, come that ceremony?" Trent tried to convince her.
"What the hell do you think you're talking about? I'm gonna be up there with him, and we're gonna take that money! You know that!"
"Courtney, I know plenty. Look at yourself."
"You're wrong."
"Cou-"
"YOU'RE WRONG!!!"
Couple of days later Courtney and Duncan fell out.
She leaned her head back against the wall as she realized her stubborness had clouded her vision, like it had a tendency to do. Even this time, when someone had only been trying to help her, open her eyes.
Her heart wrenched in pain as her arms dropped weakly to her side. It was only until there was a bout of silence that she realized that something had stopped in the first place. More macking, apparently.
The silence hung.
"...Look, I don't want to talk about this anymore," she heard Gwen mutter softly. "This stuff behind their backs. Just... no more talk."
"...Good idea."
There was a rustle of fabric. Feeling she had heard all she needed to, Courtney got up and left the hallway, leaving them to their moment.
A/N: Wow. Long chapter. Sorry you had to sit through all that.
Third chapter coming up (hopefully before next Thursday)! Happy Belated Turkey Day!