A/N: It took me a while to figure out that A/N means "Author's Note". Anyway, I hope every is having fun celebrating during the holidays. I'm in a badass chick mood, so I decided to update this story. Thanks for the story alerts and etc.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Chapter 2

"Wake up." Frankie opened her eyes to see Kendall Knight standing over her with a frying pan in hand. She was almost certain that he was going to use it to clap her over the head. Frankie figured that she must have had a freaked-out expression on her face, because he backed away, hiding the skillet behind his back. Frankie raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"This isn't a weapon," Kendall reassured. "I was making omelets. Well, trying. Anyway, we have to head to Rocque Records in a little more than half an hour." Frankie brushed her covers off of her and sat up in her bed. "The bathroom's open for you to take a shower." He lingered for a few seconds, watching Frankie gather her things, but then he left. Frankie looked over to the other side of the room. To her surprise, Katie Knight was still asleep. She'd barely even noticed she was still in bed.

Frankie walked into the hall and came up to the door that hid the bathroom. She tried to turn the doorknob, but the door wouldn't open.

"Who is it?" the voice inside said teasingly. Frankie rolled her eyes. She didn't have to see who was in there to know it was James. The day before, when Frankie had arrived, he'd spent the whole day flirting with her. Normally, she wouldn't mind that. He was hot, for Pete's sake. But James just anticipated that she would adore him. That was a major turnoff.

"James, I was told that I could use the bathroom," Frankie said calmly. She wasn't angered easily, having little brothers and all. "I'll only take a few minutes. My record shower time is two minutes." She sighed loudly when the door didn't budge. She looked to her left and saw Katie had been standing beside her.

"Where did you come from!" Frankie exclaimed. "Ugh, never mind. Can you get James out?" Katie nodded, stepping in front of her.

"Hey James, Logan broke your lucky comb," Katie said, cupping her hands to the door. James snorted from inside.

"I have it right here, Katie," James responded. "I'm done anyway." The knob twisted and the door opened. James was wearing only blue jeans and a belt. There was a towel on his shoulder, but that barely covered his bronze chest and flat stomach. It was difficult not to gawk at someone that good-looking. Even if he was James.

"Having fun?" James asked, snapping Frankie out of her trance. She ignored his comment and marched past him.

"Thanks Katie," Frankie smiled. She closed the door right in James' face, feeling quite satisfactory. Frankie looked at her reflection in the partially fogged up mirror. She cringed at how messed-up she appeared. The ponytail her hair had been was less than impressive and her eyes looked dead. It was amazing how James could flirt with her even when she looked like crap.

She stripped herself of her clothes and stepped into the shower. It was more of a stall, like the ones in the school locker rooms. As the warm water hit her body, she suddenly worried about what Gustavo Rocque would think of her. She'd lied and told him that she was twenty-one over the phone because he didn't believe a young drummer could be serious about the job. Frankie frowned. Did she even look twenty-one?

Frankie stepped out of the kind-of tub and wrapped a towel around herself. She shook out her dark hair. The wet strands came down on her shoulders as she finger-combed them. It still looked a little damp, so she wrung it out the best she could. She brought it into a chignon. It still looked wrong to Frankie. She grabbed the drumsticks from her pile of clothes and stuck them into the bun. Perfect.

Afterwards, she put on a crisp, white button down shirt and dark, worn shorts. Her suspenders hung by the sides of her bare thighs. The tie hanging from her neck didn't fit her at all. Frankie pulled it off and made it into a make-shift scarf. She grinned at her reflection and got out of the bathroom. She dropped off her pajamas onto her mattress in Katie's room and spotted her plaid trapper hat. Should she bring it? She held it in her hands, cocking her head while debating this. It wasn't exactly a professional piece of clothing. But then again, neither was she.

Frankie strapped on a pair of too-small Doc Martens before heading to the kitchen. She expected hustling and bustling, but everyone seemed to be taking their time. Frankie liked that. She was pretty laid-back.

"Where's your mom?" Frankie asked Katie. Katie held up a finger, signaling her to wait. She swallowed the bagel she'd taken a bite out of and took a swig of her orange juice.

"We don't wake her up this early in the morning," she replied. "She gets feisty." Frankie smirked and sat down next to her. The boys were all leaning up against the kitchen island stuffing their faces in toaster waffles. Katie rolled her eyes. Boys.

"Nice scarf," Carlos said to Frankie in approval. "The hat's cool, too." Frankie smiled back and started to butter up a piece overdone toast.

"I can do better," James pointed out. Kendall jammed an elbow into his ribs to shut him up.

"That's real big talk coming from the boy in ladies' jeans," Frankie laughed. James eyes widened as he looked from Frankie to his pants. He stuffed his plate into Logan's arms and speed-walked towards Frankie, pointing a finger at her. Frankie gave him her most challenging look.

"These are men's skinny jeans," James argued. He moved closer to Frankie, making him seem even taller than he was. He wiggled his hips in a way that was probably meant to be alluring. "You know you love it." Kendall stepped into thin space separating the two, putting a hand on James' chest.

"We should be going now," Kendall said through gritted teeth. James shrugged and followed Logan and Carlos out of the kitchen. Frankie gave him a look.

"I can handle myself, Kendall," Frankie said. "Katie, when we get back, I'd love it if you could show me around the Palm Woods. All that unpacking yesterday left no time for anything." Katie nodded and said goodbye to Kendall. Frankie and he trailed behind the rest of Big Time Rush, who had just broken into a full-on debate over something trivial.

"You ready to meet the great Gustavo Rocque?" Kendall asked. Frankie bit her lip and tugged on one of the pom-poms on her purple trapper hat.

"As long as you guys can pretend I'm twenty-one," she murmured. Kendall frowned, his bushy eyebrows coming together in confusion. "Never mind. I'll explain in the car."

BTRBTRBTRBTR

Frankie stood uncomfortably in the middle of Gustavo Rocque's office. It wouldn't have been so awkward if he would stop staring at her with his little, beady eyes. She gave Logan a questioning glance, but he just shrugged.

"So you're Francesca," Gustavo finally observed, breaking the silence. James snickered from his position next to Kelly Wainwright. Frankie shot him a murderous look. He batted his eyelashes in a seductive way that caused shivers to race from Frankie's left earlobe to her right pinky toe. Damn her teenage girl hormones.

"It's Frankie," she corrected. She was pretty sure she'd pointed this out in their phone conversation. Francesca was what her mom called her when she avoided doing her chores.

"Right," Gustavo grumbled, slipping on a pair of shades. "You'll meet the other background players later. I already have your drumming samples, so that's done." He tilted his head to the side and stroked his hairless chin. "But you're not as horrible-looking as I thought you'd be."

Frankie gave him a tight smile and tried to take this as a compliment. Maybe she could've worn some makeup. That is, if she knew how to apply it correctly.

"I have big plans for you," Gustavo continued. He crossed his meaty arms and pursed his lips. He turned to his assistant, who immediately took her phone out of her pocket. "Kelly, schedule a photo shoot for her for next week." Frankie was confounded. If she wasn't actually a part of Big Time Rush, why did she need pictures taken of her? She started to ask, but Gustavo interrupted her.

"Dogs, into the recording booth." They did as they were told with no objections. Gustavo told Frankie to head into the back with the rest of the musicians. Most of them were much older than her. They waved politely as she settled into her seat in the rear. She saluted them in a friendly way before picking up her drum sticks. Frankie marveled at the wicked drum set she was allowed to use. It was gold, flecked with lots of different colors that rained down the sides like confetti.

Frankie placed the drum tabs for the song BTR was going to sing in front of her, examining them several times. The guitarist and bass player began to strum and the keyboardist joined in a few seconds after. Frankie nervously counted the beats in her head, waiting patiently for her part to come in.

As soon as she was given her cue, she started pounding the cymbals and let the melody penetrate into her. Her hat's pom-poms was probably flying and her arms were probably flailing. But Frankie didn't care. She rocked, and that was all that mattered. The song slowly came to an end and Frankie raised her head. Everyone was quiet until Carlos started applauding.

"Thanks, Carlos," Frankie laughed. Gustavo didn't give her any feedback. He told the band to progress into their next song. They recorded six more tracks for the album, which took about two hours. Some songs had to be redone or changed because Gustavo didn't settle for average. He wanted perfection. In the middle of another song, Gustavo told everyone to stop.

"STOP!" Gustavo hollered. Frankie flinched, dropping her drumsticks in the process. "Musicians, you can leave. Except you, Frankie." Frankie peered up at Kendall for help. Was she being fired?

"I wanna talk to you in my office," Mr. Rocque said, glaring at Frankie. She tentatively stood up and followed him out of the studio. As soon as they were out of the room, Big Time Rush raced to the office door to listen in. Carlos pressed his ear against the solid wood. He scowled when he heard nothing.

Inside, Frankie had sat down in the not-so-comfortable chair in front of Gustavo's desk. She observed that her seat was several inches shorter than Gustavo's, giving him a superiority complex. He wasn't saying anything, just writing something down on a half-sheet of decorated paper. Frankie couldn't tell what it was, but something was telling her it wasn't anything good. She jumped up and landed on her knees. Gustavo dropped his pen in surprise.

"Please don't fire me, Mr. Rocque!" Frankie exclaimed desperately. She clasped her hands in front of her chest. "I can do better, I swear! Don't send me back to Michagan!" Frankie stopped abruptly when Gustavo handed over the paper he'd been writing on. Her eyebrows came together in confusion and she took the slip, bringing it closer to her eyes.

"This is a check," Frankie said, as if he didn't know. Gustavo rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

"Are you done stating the obvious?"

"But I—I thought-"

"I know what you thought," Gustavo interrupted, his expression softening, "And that was stupid. You're talented, and doubting yourself shows weakness. No one who works for the Gustavo Rocque is a weakling. Now read the check." Frankie did as she was told.

"This says two thousand bucks," Frankie said, figuring it was mistake.

"Again, are you done stating the obvious?" Frankie's eyes widened with realization. She clutched the check in her hands and began to jump up and down. She couldn't help it. This was definitely a pleasant surprise. Gustavo just barely smiled (but he still smiled!) before his face muscles succumbed and went back to his signature scowled.

"I have big plans for you, Frankie, don't forget that," Gustavo deadpanned. "Remember the photo shoot for next week. And take off that silly hat. It's not professional." Frankie grinned mischievously and pocketed the check.

"I'm not professional," Frankie pointed out. She opened the office door and all four members of Big Time Rush fell into the room. They smiled sheepishly and Gustavo just rolled his eyes.

Frankie's POV

We took a limo back to the Palm Woods. I kinda freaked because that was first limo ride. Like, ever. It was amazing! But I had to sit next to James, who wouldn't stop harassing me.

Mrs. Knight was awake when we stepped into 2J. We had to come through the back because a limo in the front of the hotel would attract attention, so I still hadn't gotten to introduce myself to any residents. Everyone was heading to the pool, but Kendall's mom suggested that I check in with my mom. The two of them had really bonded like crazy. Probably because they were both single mothers with children. Mrs. Knight almost convinced her to come, but I managed to fix that. That could've been a nightmare (No offense, Ma!)

I lied down on my bed next to Katie's and dialed my house number. My mom's voice entered my left ear. "This is Frankie. I just want you to know that I just made two grand today. Isn't that awesome?"

"That's great, honey," she answered. Her voice was muffled and I could hear my little brothers screaming something in the background. I felt a little sorry for my mother, having to stay home with them all day. But she had friends from her book club almost every night, so the guilt passed. "You're putting that money away for college, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am," I mumbled. The visions of furry trapper hats and new drum sets dissipated.

"So tell me about those boys you live with," mom said, gossip taking over brain. I rolled my eyes. Instead of telling me to stay away from boys, my mom always took every chance that she could to urge me to date.

"Well, there's Kendall," I replied, "He's the first one of them I met and he's really nice. He's a big fan of hockey, like the rest of them, but it's his true love. Logan is a braniac, but in a good way. You'd like him. Carlos is a giant ball of energy and he's super fun. He had me laughing all yesterday. Oh, and there's Katie, Kendall's little sister. She's so chill." I refrained from telling her about James. He didn't deserve to be included in our phone convo.

"I heard there was one more boy," my mom said. I groaned. Did Mrs. Knight have to tell my mother everything?

"His name is James," I admitted. I lowered my voice even though no one was listening to me. "He's a total jerk and a narcissist." I didn't add that he kept trying to flirt with me for some reason. I guess I don't want my mom to get all, you know, motherly.

"That's too bad," mom said. "But all the others sound delightful. Oh! Jimmy, don't pull Carey's hair! Sorry, Frankie. Gotta g-"

I smiled and placed my phone onto my bed. I didn't miss her brothers at all. I changed out of the clothes I was wearing and into a navy blue string bikini. I pulled a pair cutoff cargo shorts with loads of zippers over the boy shorts. On top, I wore a sheer gray t-shirt that had to be at least four years old. I hurriedly fixed my drumstick bun and zipped up my black gladiator sandals.

I jumped when I saw James lurking by the front door of the apartment. He was only wearing a pair of board shorts that were hanging awfully low on his hips. I noted his six-pack and then mentally kicked myself for noting the six-pack. Then I noted his pecs and mentally punched myself. I might've gone and noted his biceps, but he was already doing that himself. I fought the urge of even rolling my eyes at him. In a weird way, he still found satisfaction in that.

"I hope what you're seeing pleases you." He was so pretty…until he opened his mouth.

"What do you want?" I sneered.

"I wanted to be the first one to see you in a bikini, but unfortunately, you're all covered up. Want me to fix that?" He reached for the hem of my shirt and I sprung away from him.

"You're such a pig," I muttered, sneaking under one of his muscly arms and into the lobby. He followed me there, of course. As I stood in line for smoothie, pulling my wallet out of my front pocket, James remained beside me. The boy was relentless.

"Is it your sole mission to make every chick fall in love with you?" I snapped, suddenly feeling very angry at the person taking their sweet time ordering their drink.

"Yeah," James replied with absolutely no shame. "It usually doesn't take any effort." The dude in front of us finally finished and I sighed in relief. I asked for strawberry; James did the same.

"We're not together," I stated. "You can wait your turn, like everyone else. It's not like you're more special than anyone else here." If that comment had hit him hard, he certainly didn't show it.

"And you are?"

"I never said I was."

"You implied it." I was silent after that. James smiled at my lack of a comeback. "You know, I just don't understand why you aren't into me. I mean, you're bitchy, but you're also bangable." I wanted to show James another meaning of the word "bangable". It involved his head and anything that could crack it.

"That sentence made absolutely no sense," I said. "Since when does being an attractive girl cause you to be affected by the Diamond Charm?" I took my strawberry smoothie from the guy and handed him a few crumpled bills. All of James dollars were crisp and new. Figures.

"Since always," James scoffed, as if even asking that question was idiotic. "Seriously, what is it about me that's such a turn-off?" I studied the bemused expression that had painted his face. It was actually sad that he had no idea what his flaws were.

"Well, you spend more time looking in the mirror in an hour than I do in a year," I started. James picked up a straw from the stand and calmly sucked on his smoothie. "You use words like "bangable", you're always so impressed with yourself, and your ego's bigger than Gustavo." James cocked his head as a smirk tickled his lips. I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows in a "you-want-me-to-go-on?" sort of way.

"And those are bad things?" James laughed. The laugh resonated in my head. It was loud and annoying, just like him. It made me so peeved, and I could feel something in my brain snapping. On impulse, I unscrewed the sip-top cap of my smoothie and emptied it on James' precious hair. James let out a high-pitched shriek as the pink goop cascaded down the sides of his head. A chunk of mushy strawberry fell onto James' shoulder. James' playfulness had gone, and it had been replaced by a look of pure hatred. And I hated to admit it, but I actually felt threatened.

James reached up and wiped some of my drink off of his face. He shook out his stained hand, causing the stuff to fly everywhere.

"You know, Frankie," James said, lowering his voice and coming closer to my face. He smelled like strawberry and Cuda man spray. "Karma's a bitch."

Boy, was that the truth.