Hey! I'm back and I just had to take a wee break to work on other things and I thought it was appropriate since this is the beginning of the second part. Aside from this one, only seven left.
Hope you enjoy, have nothin' else to say.
:)
No One's Perspective-
Brows furrowed greatly at all the buzzes adding to his irritability. The engine hummed as the wheels remained motionless, dark eyes focused on the glass, double doors in front of the bronco. His hands swiped at the fly, blurring about in his vision; as it had minutes prior, the distasteful insect had dodged his movements with ease. However, above all, the scratched ring pressed to his ear pissed him off the most. With knuckles tight around the steering wheel, the Canadian concluded that he wasn't a happy man.
"Why hello Mr. Oliver! What assistance would you need at this moment?" the gravelly voice in the line greeted warmly, though it merely steamed off of the cold tone that rattled out.
"Get Marcus on please," Beck growled tiredly, pressing his fingers to his temple.
The voice paused, the man behind it shuffling about before muttering, "Will do Mr. Oliver."
Moments passed miserably, his palm flicking about as the fly was up at it once more, twirling around his mane of black. He scowled crossly, hissing once his wrist whacked against the chair's head. Nevertheless, Beck remained just as bitter as before, groaning whilst his back rubbed against the seat with impatience.
A mere moment later allowed him to straighten, a more familiar - welcoming - voice coming through. "Hey Beck! What's goin' on man?"
"Nothing..." he grumbled, glancing at the dashboard swiftly.
"Really? If so...then why didn't you call yesterday or, er, the day before?" Marcus cut to the chase, immediately dropping the friendly greet.
Closing his eyes tersely, Beck began to regret making this call, even if it meant the completion of the next issue's deadline. "Look, a lot of thing's have happened lately, alright?" he growled, "Can we, please, just get to it... I just, I don't have the energy to through with it."
The man exhaled before grudgingly complying. "Alright, fine then. If that's how you want to play it, so be it," he muttered sourly, "We've had a bit of an issue with a few of the photographers."
"Which ones?" the Canadian pursed his lips, resting his hand on the door.
"Well, there's Pettigrew which has always been testy. Same thing though, askin' for a few more dollars," Marcus started, Beck rolling his eyes at the thought of the hipster and his flashy camera. "That, then there's the uh, the one... Gamblr- Gampser... Gangler, there we go," the man chuckled, mentally congratulating his memory, "She's had a bit of a dilemma with her tech; some jackass went and took half of 'em."
"Shit," came a snarl, hand gripping his head firmly, "What article was she covering?"
"The new one, erm, the one about the new wheels comin' in the fall," Marcus sighed, "The Jeep, I think. Might've been the Chevy though."
"Well, that's fine then," Beck admitted carefully, "We'll be able to cover that in the next issue and give her half of this month's and next month's when she does get her shots in."
Marcus furrowed his brows, pausing as he recalled the contract. "Why not full?"
"She hasn't gotten anything of use, has she?" Beck snapped, "Anyway, there any others?"
Marcus paused, silently scowling for the photographer's apparent new misfortune. "Well, nothing with the pictures, no," he muttered, his chair creaking as he leaned back. Dark eyes followed the fat fly as it rested on the steering wheel, Beck quietly sneering while the man on the other end added, "But, we had a slight problem with the printing." As the other end remained quiet, Marcus took it as a green light. "So," he coughed, briefly excusing himself, explaining he had a slight cold.
"Just continue Marcus," Beck ordered quietly, glaring as the insect meandered its way towards the side window.
"Right, my apologies," the man mumbled, "So, we weren't able to do the front page like we had planned this month... Now, I figured that since it was summer, we could keep with the theme and put the month's name down anyway...which isn't the issue."
Growling, Beck slammed his palm down at the pesky intruder, muttering, "Then what is?"
"Somethin' goin' on over yonder?"
"Just a fucking fly," Beck scowled, gritting his teeth as buzzes flew passed his ear, the man laughing on the other side.
"My God... But, anyway, we're not going to be able to print the top articles on the cover this time 'round," Marcus gave the news, immediately grimacing at the obscenities flown at him. It was calls like these that he understood why the manager never called inside a company building.
"Why the fuck not? What is so hard about it?" Beck snapped, "What the hell is going on with the printing anyway?"
"I don't know! And don't go yelling at me," Marcus growled, "I just saved your ass by having a banner on the side with the title of the damn thing, with your name on it by the way, instead of having last issue's statements! There was something wrong with the printers and a few of the magazines were copied out and, before the editors saw a damn thing, I was able to get a hold of them."
Folding his arms, Beck grumbled a short - unemotional - apology before adding, "And how much did we loose from that?"
"Three-hundred and seventy-two dollars," the man murmured, "So not all that much." Silence settled along the phone line, Beck pursing his lips at the insect's loud passing, landing on the dashboard once again. "Now, as for you, what is going on?"
"What are you talking about?" Beck muttered dumbly.
"Uh," Marcus gave a short, unrealistic laugh, "Have you not seen or heard anything of the media in the past, I don't know, hour? Man, you're wife is practically headlines at this point."
"So what?" the Canadian snorted, "That's her problem-"
"And yours," Marcus cut in, "Look. She's your wife and you know what happens with this type of shit, especially since she's accusing you of cheatin'." Beck exhaled calmly, jaw clenched tightly. "The magazines may be an issue, though your image for them will be a greater threat, Beck, you know that."
Shaking his head, he growled, "No. She's just... This will all be done when we get divorced anyway, so no, there won't be an issue-"
"Why the hell are you two getting divorced?" Marcus squeaked, voice cracking from the quick words. "Wha- Why?"
"Why what? We're not going to be together anymore and that's that."
"Did you?"
Dark eyes froze on the doors, the customers spilling out with coffee in their grasps. "Did I what?"
Marcus groaned tiredly, his palm smacking his forehead. "You did, didn't you?"
"Now if you're accusing me of cheating, go join her with all of the other posts, why don't you?" Beck snapped tersely.
The man sighed, leaning forward in his seat. "I'm not accusing, I don't think. And it's a shame, too, that everybody's accusing Jade of all the other shit, Beck."
"What do you mean that you're not accusing?"
"Look at the facts, Oliver," Marcus growled, "This company's gonna go to shit because of this, I know it. If the one person who you would try to hide something the most knows more than anybody else, anybody close enough would too. I've had my suspicions."
"If you speak to anybody about this, I swear," Beck threatened, "After everything's done, it will be over. And she could go back to fucking Tori Vega."
"That doesn't surprise me," Marcus murmured, "After all man, you have a kid, a kid! I've wanted one but can't- Anyway...she's trying to find someone to help and keep her happy and, from where I stand, you haven't done much... Good day Oliver."
The Canadian blinked once the line died, growling sourly in the bronco. With the device in his tight hold, his palm thundered against the dashboard, finally seeing the end of the fly's reign. Dark eyes, though, then lingered to the picture spilling from the cup holder, matching brown eyes glancing up at him with his ruffled hair, a block set beside him. "I'm sorry Vincent," he sighed mournfully, grimacing whilst his vision began to sting.
-o0o-
The flashing blinded him as he clutched to his mother, the writer wearing shades and a strong scowl, sneering at any photographer who dared to get a close up. All of them - to her amusement - backed away, reserving their lenses to the half-Latina who smiled tightly, brushing through the crowd. Tori scoffed diligently once voices rang throughout her head, cheeks warming furiously. "Can I just get my bag?" she asked weakly, her leather case handed over. "Th-thanks..." she smiled greatly at a sheepish man, his own child stuck to his leg as he gave a small thumbs up. At the very least, as she supposed, there was always that one who made the paparazzi bearable. She couldn't even pinpoint the time when they became a nuisance.
Though, as she glanced over to her side, the mother and son who were both greatly out of place, it wasn't difficult to know why they were flocking towards her with this much fervor.
She grimaced internally as Vincent glanced up at her, earning a soft smile of reassurance. He looked up at her mother, spitting a few pleasant words to the many questions thrashing about her skull. "I'm just going to Chicago! Can a mother dream to be drowned by pigeons and - fucking - chilidogs?"
A bearded man barked at the comment, nodding. "So, how long have you been seeking a new partner?"
Her brow arched as she rolled her eyes, storming passed the last stragglers, the double doors welcoming the party or three - if anybody could believe it - to the pleasant, city-tainted air. Questions pinged off of her skull, all reminding her of the several clips of news titles she had run across. "Has he ever asked you to join one of his nights? Have you ever thought of sleeping with anybody behind his back? Do you know how many people he's gone with? Do you know if any of them were men? Why did you attack that girl? Is your publicity stunt a method for you to gain a proper audience for your books? What's going on between you and Tori Vega? Is it true all of you were friends at high school? Tell us-"
The door swung open, the three hurling themselves inside. The mother blinked tiredly, Vincent humming with an excited pleasure as he thumbed over the soft cushions, eyes wide and out of the window. Furrowing her brows, Jade flicked her gaze along the interior, Tori sliding the small, glass window behind her seat close; she hadn't realized that she had walked into a limo. "Uh...nice ride?" Jade muttered, the half-Latina shrugging sheepishly. The car rocked as the bags were placed in the trunk, flashes dying out from the windows.
"Yeah...sorry about that. Getting in from a trip or from a concert can be hectic," Tori mumbled, rubbing her biceps nervously. "That...and I can't really drive all that well here."
"Only here?" the writer smirked, Tori rolling her eyes with a meek grin, before hissing to Vincent to quit wiggling and put his seatbelt on.
Obediently, he does, clinging to Bucky as his great, dark eyes glanced up the buildings around him. "They are so high!" he commented eagerly, earning a couple of quiet smiles. Whilst the child awed over the sheer architecture standing proudly around him, the singer closed her eyes, leaning against the wall of the limo. Jade, meanwhile, narrowed her gaze towards the newspapers neatly set in a slip against the door, pulling the newest out. Her eyes scanned the 'Wall Street Journal,' sneering at the bolded headline - Jade Oliver: Scamming Deceiver or Earnest Victim? Her Actions Tells All - with Judy Plum printed in neat, fine letters underneath.
"You get these newspapers every time you get on here?" she rasped quietly, pulling the actress' gaze up from her lap, lips pursing guilty.
"Yeah, well, they're Mr. Chuck's... He's the driver," her head jerked towards the window, "But I read them on the way to my house from here... It's only about twenty or so minutes." Nodding, the author set the article down, brows narrowed sternly. "She's been really horrible to you, hasn't she?" Tori asked quietly.
"You read, don't you?" Jade snapped, the half-Latina sighing tiredly.
"What'd she say?"
"Oh, the usual," she scowled, pressing her fingers to her temple, "How I don't deserve to be his husband... How I'm a fraud and all that shit. I mean, this isn't the first time I've been on the headlines. Must be my ego." She smirked tersely as Tori stifled a snicker, lips giving herself away. "And to think this all started because I didn't want her editing my shit."
Tilting her head to the side, Tori asked, "Really?"
Jade nodded, continuing. "She worked for a publishing company that excelled with the type of stuff I write," she murmured, patting Vincent's ruffled hair as he nuzzled against her, eyes still out at the blue sky. "But," she sighed, "I knew a really good editor, you know, Eli?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah..." Tori nodded.
"Well, she didn't take it well so, suddenly, she became a reporter for a newspaper that goes across the country," Jade scowled. "Now, I don't know how well she was paid beforehand but ah, yeah. The fucking cunt," she snapped, closing her eyes. "Don't repeat that."
"M'kay," Vincent mumbled, the half-Latina giving a small smile.
-o0o-
The wheels slowed gradually along the curb, the blinker flicking until the car was obliged to roll into the parking garage down below. Within a few minutes, Mr. Chuck tipped his hat to the ladies, giving a short salute to the young boy which was returned with a shy smile. With their luggage behind them - their arms holding the handles and such - the trio made their way into the elevator shat quietly. The elevator, to Jade, was quite musty, Tori grimacing as she punched in the numbers.
The dreadful music that had tortured the writer - for long enough - had lasted seven floors.
By the time they had made it to the last needed floor, she gasped, groaning about the tunes played. "You get used to it by a few days," Tori mumbled, Jade swearing that she'd better hope she does. The singer didn't take that lightly. With the shuffling of keys, the half-Latina pushed open the door, grinning at the natural, soft light shining through the frame. Stepping through, pale eyes narrowed as glasses were then put to the top of her head, having slipped down moments before.
Open-planned struck her first, having the majority of the rooms right in plain sight. The kitchen trailed with the step up to the master bedroom - as she assumed with the singer's commentary - the living space to the opposite side with two doors behind the wall hugging the television. The hall ran behind it, presenting two rooms and a bathroom whilst the dining area and another sitting area was put all the way in the back. Large windows lined the back wall, a terrace with a chair close to the railing sitting in the sun.
"Not a bad place you got here," Jade commented slowly, maneuvering around an awkward pillar placed between the kitchen and living space, its brother not more than ten feet away.
"Uh, thanks," Tori muttered with a sheepish grin. "So, er, you know Trina's coming later and then Toby'll be here with Dumbly."
"Dumbly?"
"My dog..."
"Retarded name." Pale eyes blinked down towards her son dark eyes glancing up at her.
"Can I say-" he started.
"Don't repeat that until you're six."
"Okay..."
With an arched brow, Tori glanced at Jade who merely shrugged, ushering her son towards the two rooms behind the television's wall, their bags draping their shoulders. The actress, meanwhile, shuffled towards her own bedroom, pleased once the door finally swung open, allowing her to bask in the light passing through her curtains. Setting her bags down beside her dresser, she threw herself on her bed, groaning while her eyes easily.
She hoped that nothing would come to be a problem during their week over, though, with the guilt ebbing at her chest, it would only be right that the universe would make things more difficult. 'Why couldn't things just be as simple as it was in high school,' she mentally scowled, briefly recalling the most emo note she had written herself. "Never mind," she hummed to no one in particular.
-o0o-
Heavy knocks rang throughout the house, the singer rolling her eyes while Vincent furrowed his brows from the show playing on the screen. "Is your mom still taking her nap?" she turned to the four-year-old.
"She said that she was going to die and you would give her a dinner-in-bed," the small - greatly intellectually advanced - kid replied.
"Not happening," Tori mumbled, striding towards the door. "Hey!" she gave a wide grin, throwing her arms wide before wrapping them briefly around the redbearded man, grey eyes peering out into the apartment.
"So this is what it looks like then I'm not high..." he muttered in awe, large boxer at his feet.
Shaking her head, the half-Latina turned around, the small boy staring out with wide eyes, not unlatching from the great dog glancing right back. "Vincent," she murmured, dark eyes switching up to her, "This is Dumbly and my friend here," she gestured towards the tall neighbor beside her, "is..."
"Uncle Toby!" he raised his arms cheekily.
"You seriously did not just..." the singer groaned, the brunette nodding.
"Yup, I sure did." The great pooch shifted from his leash - after licking his owner's hands profusely - meandering towards the small boy with interest. His own dark eyes melted with Vincent's, his large, pink tongue sliding over a pale nose.
With wide eyes, Tori whined, "Dumbly! No doing that, it's gross!" Toby - Uncle Toby to anyone in need of advice or Vincent - collapsed, barreling with laughter while the boy merely blinked, a weak grin crawling along his features. In the mist of all the mild chaos, the front door snuck open, a new guest stepping in with a raised brow.
"Uh...Tori? Why is the weirdo in your house?"
"Wha- Trina! You're early," Tori grinned, pulling her sister into a hug while Toby folded his arms with a sly smile.
"Hi Trinnie, how are you today? Too low for the terrace?" he chortled lightly.
Shaking her head, the eldest sister muttered, "I still can't believe you got Tori hooked on marijuana."
"I'm not an addict!" the half-Latina barked, Toby rolling his eyes.
"Anyway, I was going to just pop in... We are going to do a breakfast, right?" he quickly asked, hand on the door. Nodding, the actress allowed him to sneak away, the other staring at the small boy with wide eyes.
"Uhh," she started, the boy patting the huge dog on the head, "Did you kidnap this child?"
Rolling her eyes, Tori answered, "No...I actually didn't. Who do you take me for?"
With dark eyes resembling her own meeting hers, Trina nodded. "Yeah," she sighed, "I guess that's more of people like Jade's thing." The singer glanced at the door way, a small smirk forming across her lips, her own arms crossed.
"Funny you should say that, Trinnie," a mellow husk jerked the elder Vega's attention, wide eyes towards the leaning writer against the wall, hair falling in nice, wild ways along her shoulders, "He's mine."
"So this is Vincent... Oh," she mumbled, nodding. "I can see the resemblance now. You're both as pale as God's ass."
"Trina!" Tori snapped.
The sister spun around, long lashes blinking. "What?" her arms were held high, "All of the pictures I've seen was of him glowing!"
Turning towards Jade who began crossing the room, settling beside her son, the singer muttered, "This is why the church never accepted our family."
"I heard that!" Trina snapped, the two others snickering while Vincent laughed, pulling at Dumbly's slobbery mouth. The dog, of course, wagged his little stump in affection.
Okay, so there we have it! And, for those wondering, I got all my homework done that I wanted to for the weekend. Yay!
*Cough, cough...plz give me cake, I've been sitting on my ass in front of a screen for three days since it's all online*
You don't have to...
Hope you enjoyed...take care.
:P
