CHAPTER FOUR
"… 'the damages included broken tables, chairs, glasses, and two fire extinguishers were stolen,'" Mr. Mitchell angrily read aloud from the newspaper stand by the cash register. "Jesus, Beca! Be grateful they didn't—oh, wait, there it is: 'The riots began after rowdy fans of up-and-coming local female music group The Bellas—' is it too much to ask for you to stay out of trouble, Beca?" He refolded the newspaper and glared at his daughter. "You've been here all of three weeks…"
"Francis, relax," Sheila soothed, fanning herself with one of the magazines. "Beca's not in any trouble. They didn't name any of them—"
"But they know 'The Bellas' were there!" argued Mr. Mitchell. "It's not that difficult for word to spread about who makes up that group, you know." He turned to his daughter, who was arranging books while trying desperately hard not to roll her eyes at every word that came out of her father's grumbling mouth. "I worry what kind of words Attorney Beale is going to have about you now."
"Probably not as harsh as the ones he has for his own daughter," Beca answered back flippantly.
Beca wasn't the only one on the receiving end of paternal disappointment. Chloe hadn't escaped her father's fury, as Beca had learned from the other Bellas earlier that day, and was, according to them, "detained in her room until further notice."
Fat Amy had suggested they bust her out, but Emily was already on thin ice with her own parents after telling them that she technically wasn't in the bar at the time the riot police came, but was simply at a restaurant with her friends. Aubrey had come off surprisingly unscathed, though she still worried about staining The Bellas' town-wide reputation now that they had two riots under their belt.
Before Mr. Mitchell could come up with a scolding retort, the bookstore bell dinged and a tall, slender woman entered haltingly. At first glance, Beca could already tell that this woman came from out of town.
Way out of town.
The visitor was dressed in shiny leather pants, a tight blouse with nearly a third of the buttons undone, and heels under which small kittens could probably take shelter. But what convinced Beca was the fact that the woman kept her head wrapped in a scarf, had an almost threateningly large purse, and wore sunglasses indoors—a look that clearly screamed, "I don't want to be seen in this town."
Mr. Mitchell took one look at the woman, cleared his throat awkwardly, and elbowed Beca to take this customer.
"Uh, can I help you?" Beca asked from a good six paces away to avoid the embarrassment of having to look up at the tall woman like a child.
The woman took off her sunglasses and flashed Beca a smile. She was a lot younger than Beca had expected; her grayish-green eyes still sparkled with youth. "As a matter of fact, you can, although I'm not looking for a book."
Beca raised an eyebrow and bit back her sarcastic reply. "So… a magazine? Greeting cards?"
"No, no, I'm looking for…" The woman pursed her pink lips thoughtfully before holding out her hand. "My name's Stacie Conrad."
Beca eyed the hand cautiously and shook it, saying, "Hi, Stacie Conrad. I'm Beca Mitchell."
"Of The Bellas, right?"
Beca narrowed her eyes. "Are you a reporter or something?"
"I'm a promoter," said Stacie. "I was wondering if there was any way you and I and… the rest of The Bellas… could talk? Today? Preferably in the next five minutes?"
After a few calls and some protesting from her father, Beca had managed to round up the Bellas (sans Chloe), though in a much longer time than Stacie Conrad had desired. Mr. Mitchell had absolutely refused to have them loiter in the general store area, in fear of customers thinking The Bellas were riot-magnets, so they were cramped in the bookstore's dusty old stockroom.
Beca noticed with curiosity that Stacie had replaced her sunglasses and tightened the scarf around her head once the girls arrived before she took a cautious seat on top of one of the boxes of donated books. Aubrey sat on the edge of a tiny bookshelf while Fat Amy took the only other sturdy box in the room and planted Emily onto her thigh so that Beca could fit through the door.
"So, uh, girls, this is Stacie Conrad," Beca introduced uncomfortably from her position between Fat Amy and the door. "She said she's a promoter and wants to talk to us."
"Yes, that's right," said Stacie, in a new, lofty, and almost-British voice that surprised Beca. She pulled out a slip of paper from her giant purse and passed it to Aubrey. "I've been following The Bellas closely and, listen, I don't want to waste any more of your time so let me just spit it out—"
Fat Amy raised her hand in interest. "Hang on, there—are you from down under?"
"I—sure, if that's… what I sound like," stammered Stacie, changing her accent so drastically that even Aubrey had to pause from reading and frown.
"Nah, now you sound kiwi," said Fat Amy, leaning forward suspiciously.
Beca finally intervened before Fat Amy brought Emily tumbling into the mess of books. "She's obviously faking her accent! Look, lady, what the hell is going on? Who are you?"
The woman sighed dramatically. "Okay, listen," she began in her normal accent, "no matter what, all I want you to understand is that I can make The Bellas successful, and I can make all of you famous—that's all you should care about."
"What do you mean, 'no matter what'?" Aubrey said suspiciously.
Stacie bit her lip and hesitantly pulled down her oversized sunglasses. Beca did not expect the sound that came out of Aubrey's mouth, nor did she think the blonde was capable of making it. It was somewhere between a yelp of shock and choking on air.
"Ana?!"
Stacie winced as she let her dark blonde hair fall out of the scarf. "Hello, Aubrey."
The other three women in the room were eagerly expecting Aubrey to begin speaking immediately—and loudly—to explain her outburst but, surprisingly, the singer had clammed up after that simple greeting.
"So… you two know each other?" Beca ventured slowly when the silence only continued awkwardly.
"We went to the same high school," admitted Stacie, looking like a culprit caught in the act.
"This girl was in Catholic school?" Fat Amy gestured all around Stacie's immodestly exposed chest. "This girl?"
"I was different then!" Stacie cried, swatting away Fat Amy's hand and covering her chest. "People knew me as Ana and I was a brunette—"
"Oh, I see," Fat Amy nodded sympathetically. "Were you also chubby and ate your lunch alone in the bathroom stalls?"
"Tch-hah!" was only the second intelligible sound to come of out Aubrey since the big reveal. All heads turned to her. "You were—she had no problem—wait, what am I doing? No!" Aubrey stood up angrily and in her haste banged her head on the low, sloped ceiling.
Quickly recovering from that, she pointed a damning finger at Stacie. "What makes you think I trust you with my band? Especially since—"
"Wait, what's going on with the band?" asked Emily.
"She wants to be our manager," explained Aubrey, handing the paper over to Beca, whom she admittedly thought was the most mature of her three band mates present. "She wants to get in on our success—not to mention our profits."
"Profits from shows that I would be contractually obligated to make possible!" argued Stacie. "Did you even read it? It's a standard management contract—"
"How exactly are you going to get us all these shows?" asked Beca. She knew from experience that it was an easy promise to make but hard to follow through on. "By hitting up every other restaurant from here to the airport?"
"Restaurant? Oh, no, no, no." Stacie wagged her finger. "I'm talking rock and roll shows, baby! Sold out venues across the state—and more!"
"Before you get all excited," Aubrey warned them, silencing their murmurs, "consider the source! This woman tried—poorly, I might add—to lie to us about who she was. How do we know she's not lying to us now?"
Stacie sighed. "I'll give you that but you have to understand, Aubrey, I only hid from you because I knew that if you recognized me you wouldn't have signed—"
"Of course I wouldn't sign!" Aubrey said shrilly before turning to her band mates. "The one thing you girls should believe about Anastasia Costa—as she was known then!—is that she was 'the most popular girl in school'," Aubrey said in a singsong voice that would have been funny if they all weren't watching her in suspense. "And you know how she got that popular? By stepping on other people's talents and success—"
"Oh, my God! You're still not over that stupid bake sale?!" Stacie's screech matched Aubrey's in both volume and, in Beca's opinion, insanity.
Emily's hand flew to her mouth. "She used the Lord's name in vain," she whispered.
"What happened at the bake sale?!" gasped Fat Amy, as intrigued as though she had reached the cliffhanger of a courtroom drama.
If Beca had any doubts about being the sanest person to have ever set foot in Barden, Georgia, they evaporated immediately as Aubrey and her fellow alumna continued to yell at each other while Fat Amy cried "Pull her hair!" and "Rip her shirt off!" in the background despite neither girl showing any inclination to do so.
Beca pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration and caught bits of the reason Aubrey was currently losing her lid.
Apparently, Stacie had "pretended" to be friends with Aubrey to "steal" her fudge cake recipe and then gone on to win the school's annual bake sale competition with it. Stacie did not dispute those claims but she did also insist that she had been "willing to share credit" after the victory, over Aubrey testing the limits of the sound barrier by calling her a liar as hysterically as she could.
Unable to take any more of their mundane arguing, Beca blew a sharp whistle with her fingers and yelled, "HEY!" which seemed to shut the two up but not calm them down, as Aubrey immediately said into the sudden silence, "We're not signing anything."
Stacie exhaled through her nose. "Aubrey, would you just—"
"Even if you aren't the lying coattail rider I know you are," cut in Aubrey, "I still don't think it's prudent to trust someone as young and inexperienced as you are to promote our band. You graduated two years ahead of Chloe and me."
That seemed to be the logical end of it, since even Fat Amy had to shrug in agreement. Beca folded her arms and watched as Stacie's expression changed from argumentative to businesslike.
"Okay, that I can understand," she said. "But can I ask you to give me ten days to prove my worth? Ten days and I will have 'That Thing You Do' playing on the local radio stations up to two towns over. Thousands of people listening to your music—all in just ten days."
There was a pause while the Bellas considered the offer. From the way it was framed, Beca thought Stacie's proposal meant that they had nothing to lose, which wasn't ever the case, so she asked, "What's the catch?"
Stacie seemed impressed by her question. "You know, I had you pegged as the smart one. All right. The catch is," she paused, "you're not allowed to entertain other promoters until my ten days are up. It's only polite; I mean, why would I bother dating you if I knew you were sleeping with other guys?"
"She means—" Fat Amy began to explain to the youngest Bella.
"I got the metaphor, thanks," said Emily. "Um, and after the ten days? What happens then?"
"Well, if I don't get your song on the radio, then you can walk away and hear no more from me," replied Stacie, looking at Aubrey as she answered. "But if I do get it on the radio, you sign on to a full, twelve-month contract."
Aubrey exchanged looks with Beca and the brunette wondered if they were thinking the same thing. Stacie was the first person to approach them about this; what were the odds there might be others to offer them similar, if not better, deals? Regardless of whether those odds were good or bad, there might be an advantage to having someone they knew personally managing their band—especially someone with a guilty conscience for past wrongs.
"Six months," bargained Aubrey.
Stacie rolled her eyes. "I'd be the laughing stock of the industry! No manager has ever offered a six-month contract."
"No manager has ever already broken their artist's trust prior to the agreement either," reminded Aubrey.
For once, Stacie looked too exhausted to argue. "What do you want me to do, Aubrey? Get on my knees and beg for forgiveness? I'm already pushing it with ten days. It usually takes months. Come on..." After a pause, she said, "Chloe would have accepted."
"And that's why I'm here and she isn't," said Aubrey, not with disrespect for her friend but more to highlight the fact that Chloe was too easily swayed by emotional appeals.
"Isn't she not here because she's grounded?" said Emily.
Aubrey pursed her lips and glared at Emily undermining her authority. "Chloe believes in the majority vote anyway so…" Another round of silence as Aubrey and Beca had silent conversations with each other until—
"All right, knowing you Americans and your Cold War negotiation strategies, this could go on forever," said Fat Amy. "Clearly, there is no downside to waiting ten days for this Catholic schoolgirl fantasy to get our song on the radio. If she doesn't, then that'll be the end of that and whoever we turn away in those ten days will come right back!"
Aubrey and Beca raised their eyebrows, actually impressed that Fat Amy had been able to pin down their leverage.
"Someone give me a pen. I'm signing, you're signing—we're all signing!"
On Thursday morning the following week, the band gathered at Kay's Diner for a meeting, which had become a daily event to count down the days since they had met with Stacie and signed the ten-day contract.
"Did anybody hear anything?" Beca asked when she arrived, and she was greeted with a chorus of "nah" and "nothing."
Aubrey crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat. "And no word from Ana, either. I told you she was a crook."
"Well, she did say to give her ten days," shrugged Beca. "It's already been six so we don't have to wait that much longer. And no other manager has approached us, so nothing lost but time, I guess."
"Actually, ten working days is two weeks," corrected Chloe. "And since you met her on a Saturday, she technically has until next Friday." They groaned. "You girls never should have signed anything without a lawyer! My dad would have looked at it for free."
"Yeah, looked at it and then proceed to tear it up," Fat Amy pointed out.
"You know, we might just be missing it," Emily said optimistically. "There are tons of radio stations playing tons of songs. And besides, we've still got Chloe's dad's Fourth of July party tomorrow! A hundred people will definitely hear us then!"
"A hundred old people."
"They've got kids!"
Aubrey had been ignoring that part of the conversation and reading the newspaper when she suddenly laid it on the table to show the others. "Girls, look! There's actually a list of Atlanta-based band managers in the classifieds. Maybe we could—"
"Isn't that against the contract?" frowned Beca.
"Ana said we're not allowed to entertain other promoters until the end of her ten days. That assumes they come to us. She said nothing about looking them up and innocently asking questions that may lead to an offer," Aubrey said smugly. "If she can trick us with technical terminology, why can't we?"
"I don't know, Bree, it feels really slimy," said Chloe. "We should trust her. I mean, this is her job and we didn't even pay her a cent for it yet."
Aubrey looked ready to argue but seemed to think the better of it after a second and just folded the paper. "Yeah, I guess you're right."
Chloe smiled at her in relief. "Well, if that's all, I gotta go," she said, rising from the booth. "My dad's only letting me free for a few hours and I need to do so some shopping for tomorrow. Hey, what do you girls think of star-spangled boots? Too much, or…? You know what, never mind. I'll find out for myself."
Emily hopped up, sucking the last of her milkshake through the straw. "I'll come with you!" she chirped. "My mom asked me to mail some letters."
Beca and Fat Amy waved goodbye to Chloe and Emily as they left, and once they were gone Aubrey turned to the two. "So listen, I realized that we can't afford to pay for an actual promoter so our deal with Ana is fine for now. But once the ten days are over and she's still got nothing, we need to start thinking about whether or not we're taking this seriously."
"By 'this' you mean…?" Beca questioned.
"Our music careers! How serious are you about making it in the music business—writing original songs, producing our own music? Do something great that gets us out of Barden?"
"Hells yeah, I'm in!" said Fat Amy; whether she was into the idea of furthering their professional careers or into the giant burrito on her plate was unclear, but her enthusiasm for either was unmistakable.
Beca, on the other hand, didn't say anything.
"Good morning, Mrs. Patterson," greeted Emily, removing one side of her earphones and smiling brightly at the old lady standing in front of the mailbox.
"Hello, dearie," the frail woman croaked. "I won't be long now, just…" She licked a postage stamp with a paper-dry tongue and pressed it against the envelope in her hand, only to have the stamp slide down onto the sidewalk. "Oh, dear, that was my only stamp…"
"Here, you can have one of mine." As Emily helped Mrs. Patterson with her mail, the song on the radio came to a fading end and the disc jockey's voice came on.
"That was The Vicksburgs with 'Drive Faster.' Time check: it is ten minutes past the hour…"
Emily waved away Mrs. Patterson's thanks and started licking her own stamps.
"… a local band just got a record out. They apparently won the Barden University Talent Show a couple of weeks ago…"
Emily gasped and almost swallowed the stamp she left in her mouth when she heard the familiar sound of Beca's drum intro.
"This is… The Bellas!"
"OH, MY GOSH!" screamed Emily, startling Mrs. Patterson when she grabbed the woman by the shoulders. "OH, MY GOSH!"
"You, doing that thing you do…"
Emily shoved her letters into the mailbox chute and sprinted down the street, screaming like a maniac. The people she passed stared and got out of her way in fright but she didn't care; she just ran as fast as she could—laughing and screaming— all the way to the fashion street.
"I like these but do you have them in something more of a skin color?" Chloe asked, holding up a pair of burgundy heels to a saleslady. "I don't think this goes with my hair."
Moments of indecision later, Chloe emerged from the store with three brand new pairs of shoes in shopping bags slung on her elbow, while the dresses and hats she had purchased at the store next door were on her other arm. Now that she was out on the street, Chloe reached into her pocket and turned up the volume of her radio. She heard a high-pitched noise and frowned down at the device, wondering if it was broken.
The noise got louder and louder until it was right beside her. Emily crashed into Chloe with a hug, yelling, "WE'RE ON THE RADIO! WBUJ! WE'RE ON THE RADIO!"
Chloe screamed into the hug and frantically turned the dial to the station—
"… knew about the heartache I've been going through…"
Chloe screamed once more in unison (and harmony) with Emily before their minds telepathically linked and they started running toward Mitchell's Bookstore just a few blocks away. Chloe and Emily were made more excitable when the chorus came on, and they didn't notice the trail of shopping bags they left in their wake.
Beca stood behind the counter of her father's bookstore reading her mail. The postman had come by earlier and surprised Beca with not one but two letters addressed to her. The first was from her mother, dated at the start of summer, from London, where she was attending an academic conference.
The second was a rather odd, karmic sign: a letter from her former band mate. It made her think back to Aubrey's question that morning.
Of course Beca was serious about her music career, but the thought of "making it" had always been accompanied by images of her with her former band. Though things with them were left open-ended after she left for Barden and they made their separate ways, Beca still couldn't help feeling guilty that she was moving on without telling them.
Beca was still fingering the adhesive flap on the envelope when she heard screaming coming from the street. Mr. Mitchell looked up in alarm and quickly followed Beca on her way to the store window. Before they could get there, however, the door swung open (with a loud ding!) and two girls burst in, breathing heavily yet still somehow managing to scream.
"BECA!" gasped Chloe. "WE'RE ON THE RADIO!"
Beca's eyes widened and her face split into a dumbstruck grin. "Wha—?"
"WBUJ! WBUJ!" Emily cried, jumping up and down and waving her radio in the air.
The few customers in the store were frozen in place, watching the crazy scene unfold. Beca ran back to the counter and lay flat across the table to reach the radio perched on the shelf behind it.
"Turn it on, turn it on, turn it on!"
"—'Cause I try and try to forget you girl but it's just so hard to do…"
Beca couldn't believe it. A song they performed and recorded was playing on one of the most popular stations in town, on the same radio she used to tune into her favorite music when her father wasn't around to scold her for it. A piece of music she contributed to was flowing through the same frequency as music by The Beatles, The Rolling Stones—
"Aaa-AAH!"
It finally hit her that this was happening and Beca let out a primal, victorious yell. She pushed off the counter, turned around, and was immediately engulfed in hug from Chloe. She squeezed the redhead back tightly and, before she knew it, was breathing in her sweet scent, seeing stars burst behind her eyelids, and feeling like she was flying across the universe—
Even more gradually-approaching screams were heard, and the sound of the door bursting open once again broke Beca and Chloe apart. Aubrey and Fat Amy both stood at the entrance looking awestruck, the sunlight coming in rays behind them.
"That's our song on the radio," Aubrey said breathlessly, her eyes locked on to Chloe's.
"That's our song on the radio!" Chloe repeated enthusiastically, taking a running leap into Aubrey's arms as Fat Amy and Emily bounced up and down in a hug beside them. "We did it! We did it!"
Aubrey's face over Chloe's shoulder displayed the happiest emotion Beca had ever seen the blonde wear. She grinned at the two before she herself was swept away in one of Fat Amy's bone-crushing hugs and lifted two feet into the air. After setting Beca down so that the brunettes could hug it out, Fat Amy, still vibrating with excitement, grabbed the nearest GQ magazine and kissed the man on the cover, shocking a little boy playing with pop-up books nearby.
Beca nervously ran a hand through her hair and adjusted the collar of her signature turtleneck sweater. She had completely forgotten that she wasn't alone on the porch until she heard her father say, "Would it have killed you to wear a dress tonight?"
Beca rolled her eyes and pressed a finger to the doorbell, holding it there for what she hoped was a respectable length of time before releasing it and stepping back.
A few seconds later, the door opened and a radiant Chloe Beale in a simple red-white-and-blue dress and sparkling silver shoes greeted the Mitchells with a warm smile. Beca admired how she managed to look just as she always did yet somehow even more beautiful with every outfit change.
"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell," she greeted in a softer, huskier voice than what Beca was used to hearing. "And Beca," Chloe added, with an almost imperceptible tilt of her head.
"We brought fruit salad!" Mr. Mitchell announced enthusiastically, holding up a large bowl of Fourth of July-themed berries.
Beca gave Chloe a "kill me now" look, which only made the redhead smile wider as she thanked and accepted the bowl from Mr. Mitchell. Chloe directed the adults to the garden while Beca followed her to the food tent to place the Mitchells' fruit salad next to the Posens' traditional apple pies.
"Does your throat hurt?" asked Beca, catching Chloe rubbing her neck.
"Just a little," she whispered in reply before clearing her throat with a wince. "I think I overdid it with all that screaming yesterday."
"Yeah, you all kind of got carried away," teased Beca.
"I'm just glad nothing happened to all those clothes I dropped on the way to your dad's bookstore," said Chloe, picking a strawberry with her fingers and biting into it. "Which reminds me—you do know we're playing a show tonight, right?"
"Yes," Beca said emphatically, already expecting this conversation, "and before you say anything, I am in the proper Bellas dress code."
"I said red, white, and blue!"
"This is a dark blue turtleneck and my skin is pale-white."
"Beca!"
"Fine." Beca pulled out a pair of giant, white sunglasses from her back pocket and put them on. They made her eyes seem larger and bug-like. "Happy?"
Chloe fought back a smile and tried to remain strict. "And the red?" she demanded.
"Well, I am wearing something red but if I show it off in public I don't think I'll ever be invited back into your home."
Chloe broke into laughter and shoved Beca lightly on the shoulder. "You are a ridiculous woman, Beca Mitchell."
As the evening gradually wound down to coffee and polite conversation among the guests, the Bellas began to set up for their performance. They were going to lead into the grand fireworks show so expectations were running high. Chloe had introduced Beca to her father for the first time and Beca was determined to make a good impression, though perhaps not for the reasons her own father wanted.
It was also around this time that Beca was formally introduced to Chloe's boyfriend, Tom.
"Ah, the drummer from Luke's studio," the young man said, shaking Beca's hand warmly. "Chloe has told me so much about you; you're really talented."
"Thanks," smiled Beca, pleased, if not a little disappointed, to see that Tom wasn't the snob she had hoped he was.
"Although I do have to blame you for all of these gigs," he added, giving Chloe a playful glare and a squeeze. "They're eating at my personal time with this one."
Chloe rolled her eyes. "Like I've got nothing better to do this summer than sit around listening to you talk about sports."
Tom pretended to look offended. "Men don't just talk about sports! We do things you like, too. Like shopping."
"Hmm, I guess that's true," smiled Chloe, getting on her tiptoes to kiss Tom on the cheek.
Beca couldn't stop her train of thought from leading her to the observation that Tom was the perfect build for Chloe: tall but not imposing; muscular but not bulky.
"We have to finish setting up and you should be talking to Mr. Dolan about that internship," added Chloe, pushing her boyfriend toward the table of adults which included her father.
"Okay, okay," pouted Tom. "I'll bring you back a cup of warm water with some honey for your throat when I'm done."
Chloe blew him a kiss in thanks. Beca turned to her and said, sincerely, "Tom seems like a great guy."
"He is," nodded Chloe, bending down to move some loose wires out of the way. "He's like one of those old-fashioned gentlemen; he treats me like a princess."
Beca sensed a "but" coming so she held her tongue.
"It gets kind of annoying sometimes though," said Chloe with a small smile.
The margaritas that Beca had nabbed from a passing waiter earlier made her reckless enough to want to push the boyfriend issue, but the other three Bellas arrived to help, and Fat Amy's outfit was enough to end all conversation.
The blonde was wearing a red-white-and-blue one-piece jumpsuit that was clearly formerly used at an Australian celebration but was made to match the theme of the evening. The tight-fitted suit left nothing to the imagination, which was why it was wise not to look directly at it.
Aubrey and Emily, on the other hand, had come dressed in their all-American wholesome fashion. The former shook her head at Beca's non-compliance with Chloe's dress code but didn't make too much of a fuss out of it.
"You girls look good. Really rockin' that red, white, and blue."
The girls whipped their heads toward the source of the compliment and found Stacie in a black and silver sparkling dress, holding a champagne glass and smirking at the group.
Aubrey was the first to speak. "What are you doing here?"
"Hey, you!" Fat Amy greeted more enthusiastically. "Miss Manager of the Year!"
"We tried calling you," said Beca. "Where have you been?"
"Well, after I sealed the deal with my new friends at the local radio scene, I treated myself to some shopping downtown—okay, a lot of shopping." Stacie waved a hand over her outfit.
Chloe clutched her chest and sighed admiringly at the dress. "It's absolutely gorgeous."
"Thanks," grinned Stacie. "And to answer your question, Aubrey, I was invited."
Aubrey pursed her lips and nodded. "So… we heard our song on the radio," she said slowly, almost apologetically. "I guess that means we're in your hands now."
Stacie beamed. "And what goods hands they are! Pack your bags tonight, ladies; we are headed to Atlanta in less than twelve hours for a Fourth of July Rock and Roll weekend extravaganza that's going to feature… The Bellas!"
Stacie had said all that in one breath and, far from the delighted squeals she expected from the girls, she got a stunned silence in response. "Don't look so shocked! This is what managers do!"
Emily raised her hand hesitantly. "I… have a problem," she said tentatively.
Stacie snapped her fingers. "Right. You're sixteen. It's a good thing we're at one of Barden's biggest social events of the year then. Just lead me to your parents after the show and I'll sort everything out."
"Can you talk my dad into getting me out of work tomorrow, too?" Beca asked hopefully.
Stacie laughed. "Sorry, Beca, you're on own. But I have a feeling you are pretty skilled in doing that yourself." She drained her glass and licked her lips daintily. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I should go and thank Chloe's brother for inviting me tonight."
"So she knows your brother, too?" Fat Amy asked the redhead once Stacie was out of earshot. "Is that in the biblical sense, or…?"
"I actually don't know," Chloe said thoughtfully. Then she winced. "I don't think I want to know either."
"Like I said, she was popular in high school," Aubrey said snidely.
"Yeah, but that was Ana," reasoned Chloe. "I think she changed when she became Stacie."
"So 'Stacie Conrad' is some sort of alter ego of Ana Costa?" asked Beca.
"Well, 'Stacie' could have come from 'Anastasia,' and her mother's maiden name was Conrad. I guess you can only make it far in the industry if you're blonde and white so she dyed her hair and changed her name."
"I bet that was a shock for her," snorted Aubrey, "not getting what she wants for a change."
"Dude, what's your real problem with Stacie?" Beca asked curiously. "She seems really cool and you don't seem to have a problem with her," she gestured at Chloe. "This can't just be about a stupid high school bake sale—"
"Well, it is," snapped Aubrey, turning her back on them to continue setting up. "And get into position. We're starting in five minutes."
When Aubrey was out of earshot, plugging in their amplifiers, Chloe turned to Beca and grimaced apologetically. "Sorry about that. Aubrey just doesn't… It's not just about the bake sale," she said firmly. "It's about what the bake sale represents."
"No worries," said Beca. "It was my fault for asking something personal anyway."
Chloe bit her lip, wanting to disagree, but she shifted their attentions back to their performance. "Anyway, come on, we've got a show to do!"
Beca watched Chloe walk away, back to Aubrey, and rub her friend's back—briefly and gently, as though she knew that Aubrey didn't want to draw attention to her outburst but also needed some sign of support.
As the others returned to what they were doing, Beca reflected on what a small town Barden really was that even their new manager, who had seemingly come out of nowhere, did not come out of nowhere at all but had personal (albeit rough) ties to the band's leader. For some reason it made her feel uneasy; as though, despite being convinced that she was a part of The Bellas, she was still intruding on something personal between these girls.
Response to Reviews:
Psychic Guest (May 8) - Please, review at your own leisure haha. It's funny 'cause Guy (Beca's character in the movie) is this goofy, adorable guy and Beca's... Beca, but I took liberties in this AU and bent her a bit into shape. Thank you for your review! On Civil War: Oh, god, where to begin? As someone who is currently writing a similar situation in The Light, I can understand both sides, but to keep things short: I would side with Team Iron Man at first but when I feel like the system isn't working the way it should be I would just pop on over to the other side haha. Did I just accidentally reveal what Beca is going to do? Haha, kidding!) On 2nd review: IKR? The Bellas are a riot! (Feeble pun intended.) Thanks for dropping a review! Have a great day.
RJRMovieFan (16, 2, and 1 hour(s) ago) - Thanks! You're the second reviewer to mention the Playboy thing haha. I see them as compliments to my budding comedic writing. (FYI, I am not good at writing comedy.) Oh, yes! I have my ticket reserved for an early screening on the 18th so I need to finish this story ASAP! Thank you so much! I was really worried about incorporating lyrics (I admit to skipping lyrics in other stories I've read) especially since the titular song plays about 11 or 12 times in the movie haha and it's encouraging to see that you liked it! I hope the pacing of this chapter is proportionate to its length and that the introduction of Stacie wasn't abrupt. (Smith is not important, so don't mind him.) Thanks for your review! Have a great day.
A/N on Stacie: I originally hadn't planned for Stacie to be in this story because, for those familiar with the movie, I actually had John as Horace and Gail as Mr. White (boy, what a totally different chapter this would have been!) but I was never happy making Aubrey the Jimmy because I don't hate Aubrey. So I needed something (or someone) to drive Aubrey's character development (and no, this is not necessarily in a romantic direction), so I built my own backstories for these characters – but that's all I'm going to risk spoiling for now.