Title: You Make It Real
Summary: Sequel to Believe In Me. Mitchie left for London, opting to find herself before she got involved with Shane. Now, three years on, everything has changed. Mitchie's coming back to the USA, Connect 3 have disappeared off the music scene entirely and fate is intervening like crazy... will they still believe? Or is it just too real to handle?
Pairing/s: Smitchie, Naitlin and Jella. Hello to planning everything beforehand and deciding on these couples.
Authors Note: Ahh, I'm so sorry. I got a job and results day is tomorrow and summer has really made writing almost impossible because I've been so busy. But I wanted to give you guys SOMETHING new, even if it's another short one and kind of rushed (in my opinion) and the ending will make you hate me. Cookies for anyone who can guess what's going to happen? Or, I don't know, a cameo role somewhere, maybe. I'm feeling generous. Whatever. Anyway, I'm so psyched I'm at 212 reviews already, so I really can't complain at any of you guys. Sure, I get a lot of story alerts and favourites without reviews to go along with them, but just knowing you guys like it is what makes me smile and makes updating the main priority, haha. Enjoy this, anyway, and I'll try and get another one in before I go back to school! I'm so sorry I suck with this story - it took me 2 months to write Believe In Me and it's already taken me 8 months to write a mere 7 chapters of this one. Ugh, I'm the worst. I promise, I'll try and be better!
Disclaimer: See previous chapters, because I'm getting bored coming up with witty disclaimers.
Music: The Man Who Can't Be Moved - The Script
"I know it makes no sense but what else can I do? How can I move on when I'm still in love with you?"
Nate had woken me up at some ungodly hour the next morning, asking why I hadn't picked up the phone when he'd called for the second time the night before. After I'd had my random encounter with someone who was still eerily familiar, I called him back, made arrangements to meet them both (them both being Jason and Nate) at the studio at about lunchtime the next day and then decided to call it a night. Apparently being out of the rock'n'roll circuit for a couple years made me a lightweight when it came to my sleeping habits.
Anyway, I'd apparently done the wrong thing in doing that because - at 6:30AM, might I add? - my best friend was calling again and asking why I hadn't answered my phone when I'd been dead to the world.
I'm not even all that ashamed to admit that I hung up on him. Puh-lease. I wasn't being hassled by Nate at 6 in the morning for not answering my phone when I'd been sleeping. I don't care if it's rude to hang up; it's rude to wake someone up too. Jeez, if it was that urgent then he'd have come over. He didn't. Therefore, I decided it wasn't as important as he was making it out to be.
Seeing as he'd disturbed my sleep and there was no way I was going to fall back into dreaming (and, no, I wasn't dreaming about a certain girl that I used to know, no matter what Nate and Jason insist, because you can't dwell on dreams that will probably never come true) I got up, showered and was in the studio, sitting at the piano and waiting for them to get there a full half-hour before we'd arranged. And I knew, as soon as Nate opened the door and saw me already there, that it was a pretty insane sight; I was usually never early.
"You're here? Already?" Jason asked, stepping in behind Nate and raising his eyebrows so far that they disappeared under his curly hair. He'd stopped straightening it a while back… but then, we all had. Apart from Nate, who had never really started.
I nodded. "Obviously. I got woken up early, so everything that I'd have had to do if I woke up at a normal time was done earlier."
As Jason figured out exactly what I'd just said - I could see him mouthing the sentence as he tried to work it out - Nate frowned at me, folding his arms as he walked through the mixing area and into the recording booth.
"You hung up on me."
"Yep. Yes, I did. Come on, Nate, it was some ridiculous hour and after you'd ranted for about ten minutes about how 'the reason I had a phone was to answer it and blahblahblah', I figured that nothing you had to say was too urgent."
Sitting down on the stool opposite and picking up his Les Paul guitar, he picked a few strings before looking up and making eye contact with me again. "Caitlin called me last night."
I rolled my eyes, attempting to mask the grin that was spreading over my face at the very thought of Nate and Caitlin. They were definitely one of those annoying couples that should have been together forever ago. Not that I can talk, I'm sure. Three years ago, I was one half of a couple like that. But look what happened when we waited too long! "Did you finally man up and tell her how you feel?"
He wrinkled his nose, scoffing as though I had no idea what I was talking about. Oh, he knew what I was talking about. "How I feel? What are - "
"Don't even pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."
"I'm not pretending!"
I shook my head at him, laughing lightly. "Don't play dumb, Nate. It doesn't suit you."
"I'm not playing!" He exclaimed, pausing as he realized what he'd just said. "I mean… I really don't know what you mean."
"Sure you don't. Sure." I said, looking over at Jason, who didn't even seem to be batting an eyelid at this exchange. Then again, knowing Jason, he probably didn't know what I meant either. He probably hadn't even worked out what I'd said a few minutes earlier.
Rolling his eyes, Nate looked like he was about to retaliate, but decided against it. "Whatever, Shane. I'm not playing this game. Caitlin called last night and she said that she wanted to speak to - "
"Guys!" Andy's voice rang out through the studio, and I turned to see him flinging open the door and beaming at us. "Is today the day? Are we getting it finished today? By the time we leave this recording studio at the end of the day, will we have a hit record done and dusted?"
The time for talking was evidently over, there was no doubt about that. It was music time; time to sit down at the piano and record some amazing stuff. That was what we were here for, after all.
"I'll talk you through your conversation with Caitlin later, Nate," I said, turning my body back to the piano. "We can unpick everything she said and try and extract hidden meaning from her words, if you want. I'm sure there's a website somewhere: aguidetowhatgirlsmeanforguyswhohaventgotaclue dot com. And then we'll go back to yours and watch some chick flicks and get in touch with our feminine sides."
"Shane, I really think - "
"Can we get Turn Right first?" Andy said, using the intercom this time so that his voice was even louder than before. "Because - and my opinion might not count for much here - it's definitely one of my favorites out of your new stuff and I don't think the recording we have does it justice."
"Hey, that actually sounds pretty fun!" Jason looked at us, excitedly. I think he was talking about the chick flicks thing, seeing as we've been recording for about four weeks now and Jason is the master of the delayed reaction.
"I think you might want to hear - " Nate started again, after a momentary look of disbelief in Jason's direction, but was cut off by our producer once more.
"Nate, Shane, Jason. I appreciate that you guys are the artists, but I'm beginning to get worried. We have this studio booked out for two more weeks. Two weeks. We steamed through the first seven songs in two weeks. The next four took longer. We only need one more song, but with re-recordings of some of the tracks on the cards… we need to use the time. I do not want to be trying to cram everything into the last day. Now. Turn Right, please? I'll record the singing first."
I nodded, looking away from Nate. He actually sounded like he needed to tell me something. God, he wasn't very good at being quick with news, was he? If it was really important, he should've just come right out with it when he walked in. That's generally what people do when they have urgent news.
Hearing Nate sigh behind me, I saw Jason walk over and pick up a guitar out of the corner of my eye and decided that I could wait. Whatever it was that Nate had to tell me, could wait a couple hours, right?
---
Three hours later we were just wrapping up the re-recording of three songs and I was getting pretty damn hungry. After being so early and, as a result, not eating lunch at the time I usually ate lunch at, I was starving and even getting immersed in music couldn't totally distract me from the growling my stomach was doing. Seriously, it was like it had a mind of it's own.
As soon as Andy announced that Black Keys was sounding "out of this world", I jumped up and grabbed my jacket, sliding it over my shoulders. "My stomach is going to start eating itself, which is definitely not a good thing. McDonalds run, anyone? I'm taking orders."
"Cheeseburger! Happy Meal! The toys are awesome right now." Jason cried, holding up his guitar to attract my attention. You know, as if the yell hadn't already done that.
I nodded to show him I'd digested this information (Happy Meal. He was twenty-four, for God's sake) and turned to the other two, ready to hear what they wanted.
"I'll just have some fries," Andy said, nodding at me. "I ate just before I walked in here, so I'm not too bad."
Glancing over at Nate, I asked him the same silent question.
"Actually, I'll tag along, I think. Gives me a chance to talk to you." He got up, grabbing his jacket too. Just as he did, though, his phone rang and he froze, looking at me.
I gestured over my shoulder, shrugging. There was no way I was waiting for him to have a phone conversation. My stomach was chewing itself. You can't wait when it's gotten to that stage. "You can answer it. We'll talk later. I'll just get you a burger."
Nate looked like he wanted to protest, but I didn't give him the opportunity to.
Practically bouncing out of the door of the studio, I took the stairs two at a time and pushed open the door as quickly as I could. I pulled my car keys out of my pocket and put my index finger through the keyring, spinning them around as I walked towards the vehicle they'd open. Food, food, food. This was how celebrities stayed so thin; sometimes they worked so hard that they barely got chance to eat all day.
I got into the car and started the ignition, the radio turning on almost instantly.
This has been no walk in the park
I feel like we have, fallen apart
Groaning, I flicked it off immediately. It wasn't often that we heard ourselves on the radio anymore, but when we did the song was almost always preceded with a "where are they now?" comment by the presenter. Sometimes they even mentioned the girl that had changed everything. Some of them remembered her name, some of them called her Millie or Molly, but all of them remembered that it had been me she'd changed.
The nearest McDonalds was about five minutes away - hence me picking McDonalds as opposed to any other fast food takeout - and I was pulling into the queue for the drive thru in what felt like no time at all. While I waited, I leaned forward and put the radio back on - our song had to be finished by now.
"That one was Dolly Parton with I Will Always Love You and before that, we had Connect 3 with Goodnight and Goodbye. Getting a lot of love for that song on emails, so apparently we've got an abundance of C3 fans listening!"
That made me smile, I'll admit, as I inched forward in the queue. Hopefully they'd still be C3 fans when they heard our new stuff. Even if, technically, we weren't Connect 3 anymore.
The car in front of me pulled away from the speaker and moved up to the collection window and I sighed with relief as I took its place. Running through the order in my head, I waited for someone to give me confirmation that my order was going to be taken.
Okay, so Jason wanted a cheeseburger Happy Meal… Andy wanted fries… Nate wanted…
"Hey there and welcome to McDonalds, can I take your order?"
My heart stopped.
It was her voice. Definitely. Definitely, definitely. I had a feeling that the voice last night had been her. I was definitely sure that the voice at the other end of this speaker was her. It had to be. It just did.
"Hello?" The crackly voice came again, elongating the 'o' sound at the end of the word. "I can totally see you out of the window, I know you're there."
At least… I think it's her.
I mean, it wouldn't be the first time my imagination played tricks on me, would it? I've been hearing her laugh and seeing her smile for the past three years and it's never been her. Why would this be any different? Plus, the sound quality on these systems wasn't great. It could sound like her from here and sound nothing like her in real life...
There was just… something about that stranger last night. I haven't heard from her in a while - what if she was back? What if this wasn't my imagination?
"Are you going to order anything, sir? Because if you're just gonna sit there… don't."
Shaking my head, I sat up properly and leaned closer to the speaker so that I could hear her properly when - and if - she replied. "Hi, so this is going to sound really creepy and weird, but can you tell me your name?"
There was silence for a few seconds before the crackle came again and she spoke. "Uh… why?"
"If I tell you why you're going to think I'm crazy. Especially if you're not who I think you are."
"Um… to tell you the truth, you're already making me think you're a little bit crazy."
"Well, that's… that's kinda understandable." I said, rolling my eyes at myself. "But - seriously - please. Tell me your name."
The silence was back again, and another few seconds stretched out in front of me before she replied. "I actually don't think it's all that appropriate…"
"Who cares about appropriate?" I cried, raising my voice louder than I probably should have and not helping my 'I'm-not-a-crazy-person' case whatsoever. "Fuck appropriateness! It's not much to ask; your name. That's it! I'm sure you've known it since birth!"
The crackly reply was almost instantaneous this time. "Okay, look. I don't know what makes you think you have the right to talk to me like that, but I'm paid to take your order. Not give you my name or my number or anything else. So if you're going to order something, fine. If not, please move ahead. Thank you."
It was my turn to be silent as I let the words sink in. It sounded so much like Mitchie. So much like when she told me off the night I met her. There was no way I could leave and not find out if it was her. There was no way I could leave and not be 100% sure that hearing her voice was my imagination and not reality.
"Please…" I said, my tone lowered.
"Hi, welcome to McDonalds… can I take your order?" A completely different voice - it was male and really, really deep - burst out of the speaker and I sat bolt upright.
My mind was spinning. I couldn't have imagined that whole exchange, could I? I hadn't temporarily blacked out and had fantasized all of that, right? "What happened to the last girl?"
"End of her shift," the voice replied, with no change of emotion whatsoever. "Can I take your order?"
What? What the hell?
"You know what?" I said, more to myself than in the microphone. "I'll come round to the front. Order properly." Maybe see her leaving…
Not waiting for a reply, I pulled away from the microphone and, not caring if I broke any speed rules (I was driving all of 10 yards), drove to the parking spaces at the front of the restaurant instead. She probably wouldn't have left yet. I had to see if it was her. Call it temporary insanity or whatever you want; if there was any chance that it was Mitchie - my Mitchie - then I had to find out as soon as possible.
Slamming the door and running into the building, I looked around as soon as I was inside the front door. It looked the same as usual - families sitting, eating fast food that would clog up their arteries and most probably make them feel hungry again within about three hours; people with aprons and the uniform on, taking orders and frying fries in a huge… thing - but that didn't mean anything. To all of these people, Mitchie Torres meant nothing. She'd have no impact on their lives. Whereas if she were here… to me… to me, it'd mean just about everything.
I made my way to the front of the queue, ignoring the protests from the middle-aged man directly behind me, and slammed my hand on the counter to attract the attention of the nearest employee.
"Can I help you?" She asked, a strand of blonde hair sticking out from her hair net and a look in her eye that told me she half-recognized me.
"It's very possible. A girl just finished her shift here. I don't know her name or what she looks like, I don't know how long she's been working here or anything else about her. I just think I might know her from somewhere and I'd like someone to confirm my suspicions. So if you could tell me her name, I'd be immensely grateful."
I honestly didn't blame her for looking at me like I was a lunatic. If I'd been her, I'd have probably thought I was a lunatic too. It wasn't a normal request. And, now that I thought about it, it did sound a little bit like I was a deranged stalker and a bad one at that.
"I don't think I can - "
Rolling my eyes, I leaned forward on the counter. "Come on, are you telling me that you don't know the names of the people you work with? Has she left yet?"
"I really don't know what you're talking - "
"Katrina?" A man wearing a different coloured shirt to the rest of the employees walked over, raising his eyebrows at me. "Is everything okay over here?"
I turned to smile at him, running a hand through my hair. "Yeah, it's fine. I was just asking for some help - maybe you can give me what I want. I need the name of one of your employees. The one that was working on the drive-thru speaker a couple of minutes ago - "
"I'm afraid I'm not allowed to do that," he said, frowning at me.
I rolled my eyes in exasperation. "What do you mean you're not allowed to do that? They walk around with fucking name badges on! It's not like you're trying to keep their identities a secret. Look, your name's Mike and you're the Assistant Manager. You know how I know that? Your badge. But the girl on the speaker was a voice. I couldn't see her badge. All I'm basically asking you to do is give me information that I could read for myself if she was right in front of me, wearing her goddamn badge! I'm not asking for her address or her phone number! Her name."
"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm going to have to ask you to - "
"Ask me to what? Ask me to leave? I'm not leaving until you give me her name! It's not difficult! I think I know her."
Mike stepped forward and glared at me - I could tell his patience was wearing thin. Well, mine was too, so that makes two people. "If you think you know her, sir, why don't you go and ask her her name yourself?"
I slammed my hand on the counter again, not really thinking about what I was doing or saying anymore. I hadn't had an outburst like this in years. In about four years, to be more precise. "Look, do you know who I am?"
"I'm afraid I don't, sir. But it doesn't matter. Because you're causing a disturbance."
"And you know what? I'd stop causing a fucking disturbance if you gave me her name! I think she's this amazingly beautiful, talented, funny, smart girl named Michaela Marie Torres. And her voice has been driving me crazy for three years. I've been hearing it everywhere; my mind has kept it on repeat, over and over. But I came to the drive-thru today and I heard it for real and I'd like to check to see if it really is the girl I love or whether it's just my mind making me crazy again! A simple yes or no, will suffice. Is Mitchie working here?"
"If you don't leave now, sir - "
I let out a cry of frustration, throwing my hands in the air. "This is a joke. A total joke. You're all winding me up. One simple question and I'm being told to leave."
"You're being aggressive - "
"Only because you're being fucking stupid!"
"If you don't leave right now - "
I was suddenly aware of two men, standing either side of me. "It's alright, Mike. We can handle this."
Turning around, the magnitude of the situation I'd just caused finally sunk in. They were police officers.
Shit.
The one on my left grabbed my shoulder, glaring down at me before he turned back to the Assistant Manager. "Thanks for the lunch, Mike."
"Looks like you'll be coming downtown with us, buddy." The one on my right led the way as I was steered out of the restaurant.
All eyes were on me as they pulled open the door and took me out to their waiting police car. Usually, all eyes on me was a good thing. When you're on stage, if someone's looking away then it generally means you're not doing your job properly. Right now, all eyes on me sucked.
The burly man leading the way opened the back door of the vehicle, allowing the one behind me to push me inside. Then, they made their way to the front seats and started the engine.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
Pulling out my cell phone, I brought up Nate's number and sent him a text as quickly and silently as possible.
Dude… I might need your help.
