Author's Note: Hi, it's me. Thank you so much for baring with me as I do this editing. Sorry if you hate it. Sorry for the notifs followers are probably getting. I know it probably sucks to get notifications even though the fic isn't actually updating. On that note... Good news! Crash is indeed coming off hiatus soon! I've got the next chapter about two thirds written, and then I'll send it over to my sister to help me edit. Should be up by... I'm gonna tentatively say by the end of this week. (March 19th-ish) I can't say how much I appreciate you guys sticking with me. Thank you.

Keep an eye on my fanfiction profile page for story info/status updates. Also, I'm ectopuppy on tumblr, so come harrass me about whatever. As always, feedback is appreciated!


The next morning, Sam woke up with her head spinning. The sun beaming through the curtains was even more awful than usual. She blinked hard up at the ceiling, trying to recall what she'd done last night. Things started to get fuzzy around the third round of shots. She rolled onto her side, and realized that she was not in her bed, but lying on a fancy plush couch. She looked around and figured she must be in a hotel room.

"Hey, you're awake." Tucker said, pouring himself a cup of coffee on the other side of the room. He gestured at the pot and Sam nodded. He poured a second cup and crossed the room. "You're not much of a party girl are you?"

"Not really," She admitted, taking the cup he held out to her. She took a sip, already starting to feel a bit better. Truth be told, she'd only been to one party before in her life. She figured that might be about to change. "Not that it's a bad thing."

"Nah, but you're definitely fun to party with," Tucker replied, stirring way too much sugar into his coffee. "Oh, by the way, Jazz thought it'd be easier for you to crash here than head home if you were wondering."

"Yeah, figured as much," Sam said, starting to feel a little awkward. Yesterday Tucker had been one of her idols. Today she was making small talk with him, easy as breathing. It was an odd feeling. She grabbed her phone and checked for texts. There were a few from the other band members, but that wasn't what she was looking for. Jazz Fenton's name jumped out at her and she tapped the screen to read it.

Jazz Fenton: Hey, Sam. I've scheduled a meeting with you and Mr. Masters for this afternoon. You're basically guaranteed the job, but he needs to approve you b/c bureaucracy. It's 3pm today.

Sam read the text over and glanced at the clock. It was almost eleven. She hoped she could get ready in time.

Sam Manson: K thanks Jazz. I'll be there. :)

"Got a time for your meeting with the old man?" Tucker asked, taking a long sip of his coffee. Sam looked up at him and nodded, wincing at the dizzy spell that followed. Tucker smiled, eyebrows knitting in sympathy. He knew that feeling well. "You fine if I leave?"

"Sure," Sam said, stretching. "Where are you headed?"

"Hospital," Tucker replied. "Simon, the genius that he is, attempted a double back flip last night and ended up with a concussion."

"I can't believe I don't remember that," Sam laughed, combing her fingers through her hair. Something caught her eye and she stiffened. A male peacock roamed into the room. Tucker didn't bat an eye. "What the-"

"Oh! Meet Andy," Tucker beamed. Sam blinked a few times, and considered just going back to sleep. "Latch decided to rent a peacock last night. It sounded like a good idea at the time. Not so much when I got stuck with it. Simon's out of commission, nobody trusted Latch with it, and Danny and Jazz are staying at their parent's place, so... Yeah. He's chill, though."

"You know what, maybe I should come with you to get Simon," Sam said. She didn't want to stay here with the bird, and if Tucker was returning it then she wanted to make sure everything went smoothly. "I'd kinda like to make sure he's okay, too."

"Sounds good," Tucker said, finishing off his coffee. "We should get going then. The exotic animal people said they'd be coming to collect Andy at the front desk at eleven. Sad to see him go." Tucker added, mimicking wiping tears from his eyes. Sam laughed, pulling her hair back into a pony tail. She stood up, and took one last sip of coffee.

"Let's go then," She replied. She stifled the urge to ask Tucker to help her set the peacock free. She was fine with breaking a few laws for a cause, but she wasn't about to get one of her idols in trouble. "Come on Andy, let's return you to your jailers." That didn't mean she couldn't make any comments, though. Tucker snorted, grabbing his keys off a small table near the door.

"Ladies first," He said, making a grand gesture at the door. Sam rolled her eyes and walked through. "Oh, when's your meeting, by the way?"

"Three," Sam answered. "I need, like, an hour to get ready, so I need to get home by two."

"Sounds good," Tucker said. He shut the hotel door, and it locked behind him with a click. "Let's rock and roll."

XXXXX

Sam looked up at the high ceiling of the record label's lobby. The lobby sported marble floors, stone pillars and an impressive chandelier. It reminded her of some of the self-indulgent, lavish mansions her parents used to drag her to for dinner parties. She figured she should be intimidated by the luxurious look, but she wasn't. Maybe those parties were good for something after all.

"Excuse me," She said, approaching a receptionist. The woman looked up and plastered a smile on her face. Sam wiped a stray hair off her blouse, and continued. "I have meeting with Vladimir Masters at three."

"Of course," The woman said. Sam couldn't tell if the cheer in her voice was sincere. Probably not. The woman tapped a few keys at her computer, and looked back up. "Can I get your name, please?"

"Sam Manson." Sam answered. The woman tapped a few more keys and then picked up her phone.

"Mr. Masters' three-o-clock is here." She chimed. "Mhmm! Will do." She hung up, looking back at Sam. "Take a seat, and someone will be here shortly."

"Okay," Sam replied. "Thank you."

Sam sat down, and pulled out her phone. She scrolled through her texts, and couldn't help the flutter in her heart when she saw the name Danny Fenton. She tapped the name and her nail clicked against the screen.

Danny Fenton: Hi, I heard you got a meeting with Vlad. Good luck!

Sam had to hold back from giggling like a little girl. She was professional, damn it. She took a breath, and typed back a quick 'thank you'.

"Sam, hey," A familiar voice cut through her thoughts. Sam looked up, and Jazz waved to her. Jazz's heels clicked against the floor, as she walked over. Sam stood up and met her halfway across the lobby. "Good to see you. How are you feeling? I realized after I texted you that you might be a little hung over, but then you replied, so I figured it was okay. Are you okay? I can always reschedule, and tell Mr. Masters' I made a mistake."

"I'm fine," Sam interjected, once Jazz stopped for air. Jazz smiled, relief clear on her face. She looked Sam over and nodded, apparently satisfied with Sam's lacy black blouse and fitted skirt. "Really, I'm glad you made the appointment sooner than later. No time to be nervous this way."

"Right," Jazz laughed. "Well lets go then."

Sam followed Jazz as she moved through the building. They walked mostly in silence save for some small talk in the elevator. Jazz stopped in front of Vlad's office and took a deep breath. She opened the door and walked to her desk. Behind her was a door to a larger, private office. She pressed her intercom.

"Vlad, the intern candidate I told you about is here." She said. After a second, the door opened, and Vlad walked out. He looked older than Sam had expected. He stuck out his hand, and Sam shook it firmly.

"Sammy, right?" Vlad said, looking Sam over. Jazz handed him a thin file, and he cracked it open.

"Just Sam, sir." Sam replied. Jazz winced, and Sam wavered in her decision to correct him. It finally hit her how much she wanted this job.

"Sir," Vlad scoffed. "I'm only in my fourties kid, just call me Mr. Masters if you want to be formal."

"Sorry, of course, Mr. Masters." Sam said. Vlad looked back at the file, and Jazz gave Sam a thumbs up from behind his back.

"You don't mind doing this out here," He said, reading the file. "Won't be long."

"That's fine." Sam said.

"Says here you're a student at University of Amity Park. What are you studying?" Vlad asked, looking up.

"Business," Sam answered. She hadn't had any idea what to study when she graduated high school. She'd never found anything that felt right. It was her father who'd suggested business, and she'd just rolled with it. Vlad nodded.

"Can you handle loud music?" He asked, handing the file back to Jazz.

"She was actually at the show last night," Jazz cut in. "I'm sure she can handle it."

"Really," Vlad said, turning back to Sam. "You're a fan then?"

"Yes," Sam answered. "Ever since Dead On Arrival came out. I actually did a report last semester on the marketing campaign for Ghost Zone, and how it impacted viral marketing as a whole."

"I was in charge of that campaign, actually," Vlad replied, puffing out his chest. Sam smiled. She knew he'd have an ego. Any man in his fourties rocking a ponytail had to have something to prove.

"It was very clever, Mr. Masters." Sam smiled. Vlad thought for a moment.

"Jasmine, dear, you picked a good one," He said. Jazz sighed, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Get the paperwork on my desk by the end of the day." Vlad looked back at Sam. "You start Monday. Eight AM, don't be late. Jasmine will fill you in on the details."

"I," Sam started. She took a second to catch her breath before continuing. "Thank you. You won't regret it."

"Of course not," Vlad said, turning his back on her and retreating into his office. The door clicked shut behind him, and Jazz squealed softly. She hesitated for a second and then pulled Sam into a hug.

"Welcome to the family!"