Ultra Clutch

A/N: This chapter is a flashback to when Link was first auditioning for the show.

…

Velma Von Tussle admired her rosy pink nails with pride; her manicurist really knew what she was doing.

Unlike this group of gawky fools prancing in front of her, apparently attempting to dance.

"Oh my, Amber," she sighed to her daughter, who was standing beside her. Amber had her arms folded firmly over her chest, mimicking her mother's stance. "What will we do with them?"

Amber shrugged, and Velma gave her a disapproving glare. Von Tussles did not shrug. Or slouch for that matter, as Amber was doing know. Velma dug her nails into the young blonde's back, causing her to stand straight.

"Well, mother," Amber said, eyeing a boy in the front row. "I think he's worth a shot."

Velma followed Amber's stare. The boy was scrawny, she noticed, with legs like a bird's. His dark brown hair was pulled back, held together courtesy of Ultra Clutch. And his eyes? Swoon worthy, Velma noted. Definitely something that might draw in more viewers, even if it was in black and white.

"Who's he?" Velma whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

"Link Larkin," Amber answered, a bit too quickly. When her mother shot her a questioning look, she said, "He goes to my school. Sits next to me in history class."

Velma nodded. "Mr. Larkin?" The boy, who had been doing the Twist, turned to look at her.

"Yes, ma'am?" he asked shyly, not stopping his movements.

"How quaint," Velma muttered in annoyance. "He called me ma'am." She motioned for him to come over. Link discontinued his actions, walking briskly over to the Von Tussles.

"Yes, ma'am?" he said once again, almost choking in his nervousness.

"Calm down, silly," Amber smiled at him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He blushed, causing Velma to roll her eyes.

"Mr. Larkin," she said, leading him away from her daughter. "I see a remarkable talent in you." She hated putting on this phony sweet act; it was only until he signed the contracts, she reminded herself. She had to act as a mouse trap, luring the pests in with her compliments. And then they were trapped, the metaphorical trap snapping shut. Then she could tell him what she really felt. His footwork was sloppy, his head was slumped over while he did the Mashed Potato, and he didn't know how to do the Madison to save his life. After the contracts were signed, Velma said to herself. After the contracts were signed, she could snap the mouse trap.

"Really?" Link said meekly, blushing further. "Well, ma'am, I don't know what to say."

Oh, God, Velma thought, not this imbecile farm-boy act again. "You don't have to say anything—just that you'll take the job."

"Of course!" Link said, astounded. "Of course! Where do I sign up?"

Velma smirked. "Just go through the door, into my office. I'll meet you there with the papers."

Snap.