10 - Worn Me Down
"Alright, guys, one more time from the top," Peyton told the band inside the recording booth.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Jason cried, incredulous. "That was perfect! Just like all the other takes, it was perfect!"
"From the top," she repeated, once again rolling her eyes in annoyance. Working with this egotistical jackass was really trying her patience. So much so that if he kept up with his prima donna behaviour for much longer, Peyton swore to whichever deity who might be listening that she would wring the narcissistic singer's neck until his head popped clean off!
"Maybe we should call it a day," suggested Haley from the chair next to the blonde, her hand now lain on Peyton's forearm to calm the clearly irritated record producer. "We'll pick it up first thing tomorrow, okay?"
"Fine, that's a wrap for today," Peyton agreed with a tired groan. "Be here at eleven tomorrow."
"Finally!" Jason cried out before bolting out the door, once again leaving his band mates to deal with breaking down their set.
"That guy is a freaking tool," Haley sneered, stating in no uncertain terms how she felt about the now absent singer. "I swear, if he calls you a rank amateur again, I'm going to rip his damned head off."
"Not if I do it first," muttered Peyton in pure exasperation. "We've been at this for days, and that arrogant dick simply refuses to take any constructive criticism whatsoever. It's so frustrating."
"You're close to giving up on them," her friend stated.
"Yeah, I am," she confessed. She did not like the idea at all but considering how utterly uncooperative Jason had been from the get go, she saw no other choice except to cut the band loose.
"That sucks," Haley commiserated. "Don't give up on them yet though. You'll figure out what made you think it was worth taking a chance on them in the first place, then you can focus on that and get them on track."
"You really think so?" Peyton raised an eyebrow, ever the skeptic.
"I know so," the young mother nodded before rising from her chair. "I need to get home now. Carrie is making lasagna, which is amazing and it's probably the only reason I haven't fired her yet."
"That and she's great with Jamie," Peyton pointed out, only to quickly add. "But, yeah, that girl gives me the creeps."
"I know, right? Why are you the only other person who gets that vibe off her?" Haley cried to which the blonde only gave a shrug in response. "I don't get it!"
"Who knows?" Peyton got up from her seat as well. "Anyway, thanks for dropping by the last couple of days, I really appreciate the help."
"No problem," her friend smiled. "It's not like I had a lot to do with classes being out for the week." She paused. "That said though, I won't be able to help out as much until the end of the school year. Sorry."
"You've already been a huge help, so no apologies needed," laughed Peyton. The two hugged before Haley left for home, which now left Peyton alone in the studio. With nothing else left to do, she decided to close up shop for the day. About halfway through turning off the recording equipment though, her eyes were drawn to how one of the microphones were still picking up sound from inside the booth. Curious, she slowly raised the volume to listen.
"...kindly unspoken,
You show your emotion,
And silence speaks louder than words,
It's lucky I'm clever,
'Cause if I didn't know better,
I'd believe only that which I'd heard..."
"Oh, wow," Peyton remarked in awe. The girl was good. Like, really good. What was her name again? Mia, wasn't it? Who would've thought that the shy girl on keyboards was the real talent in this band? Now that she thought about it, Peyton realized that Jason always seemed to be on the timid young woman's case for one thing or another. Was that because he noticed it, too? Breaking the girl out of her shell would be tough if that was the case. Peyton wondered how long that jackass had been suppressing the poor girl's development before now. Well, that was about to change!
Without giving it a second thought Peyton entered the recording booth to join the younger woman, who visibly jolted up in surprise at the sudden disturbance.
"Miss Sawyer," Mia stood up, clearly uncomfortable.
"Please, call me Peyton," she replied. "I'm not that much older than you, you know."
"Peyton, right," the timid keyboardist glanced downward. "Sorry."
"It's not that big of a deal," Peyton assured, wanting to get the younger woman to relax. If she was able to win Mia's trust, it would go along way to salvaging the band's chances at reaching the next level. "I was just closing up the studio when I noticed you still here-"
"Oh, well, I'll just go then," Mia began to gather her things up in a rush.
"No, Mia, that's not what I meant," she sighed. Luckily this seemed to catch the younger woman's attention, her big brown eyes now regarding Peyton with cautious curiosity. "So, anyway, I heard you playing. You're really good. Did you write that?"
"What's it matter? We both know Jason writes all our music," Mia muttered, her bitterness obvious as she once again began to gather her belongings.
"What if I could change that?" Peyton put forth, her hand now lain atop the girl's forearm. The young keyboardist met her gaze with a momentary glint of hope, which was quickly followed up by a shake of her head.
"Never going to happen," Mia stated with sad certainty. "He'd kick me out of the band before even entertaining your idea." She gently pushed passed the blonde, an apologetic smile on her lips. "Thanks though, I appreciate the compliment, Miss Sawyer."
"It's Peyton," she softly corrected the younger woman, though Peyton doubted Mia had heard her since she was already out the door. It was probably a full thirty seconds before Peyton slapped her open palm hard against the piano top in frustration. "Damn it."
"What?" Brooke blinked, taken off guard by what her mother had just asked.
"You heard me," the odious woman rolled her eyes in impatience, who was now tapping her thigh with what looked like a rolled up newspaper. "When you were going to tell me you were a lesbian, Brooke?"
"I'm not a lesbian," she scoffed in amused denial.
"Oh, really? Then how do you explain this, hmm?" Victoria unrolled the newspaper before holding it out to her daughter.
"Brooke Davis, Out & About In Tree Hill," she read the headline aloud, only to furrow her brow at the picture below that showed Brooke entering a dance club hand-in-hand with her best friend. "Huh, it must've been a pretty slow news day."
"Is that all you have to say about it, Brooke? Really?"
"People are going to think what they want to think," Brooke shrugged while handing the tabloid back to her mother. "And what does it matter if I am what they think I am or not? Let them speculate. I know who I am, and that's all that matters."
"If you were a normal girl living your life out here in the sticks like you were in high school, then I would totally agree with you, my darling daughter," Victoria told her in a clipped tone. "But that's not you. Not anymore. You are the head of a multinational corporation with all the responsibilities that come with that title. You can not afford to look bad in any way, shape or form."
"And that's all matters to you, isn't it? What the shareholders think is more important to you than me, your daughter, possibly being gay," she accused.
"The gender of whoever you take in your bed does not matter to me," the older Davis stated. "What does matter is how this will affect your future and the future of our company. Don't be naive, Brooke. What the general public think of you eventually affects how our shareholders view us. If this isn't handled as soon as possible, it could be a huge public relations disaster!"
"Then what would you suggest I do about it, mother?" Brooke demanded, the last word said in the most condescending tone she could muster.
"Tomorrow morning, you will release a statement to the press," her mother dictated, once again tapping the now folded-in-half tabloid against her thigh. "You will neither confirm or deny the allegations made by whoever leaked these photos. You will also request that the press respect your privacy from now on."
"That's actually good adv-" Brooke began, only to be cut off.
"Then you will return to Manhattan with me, where you will be attending several events on the arm of a-"
"Absolutely not," the younger woman all but snarled.
"Brooke, be reasonable," Victoria sighed as though her daughter was a mere child in the middle of a tantrum.
"I thought you said that the gender of whoever I take in my bed didn't matter to you," she pointed out.
"And it still doesn't," she answered. "Nor will it ever be a matter of contention." Victoria took a step nearer. "But I'll be damned if my only daughter slums it with gutter trash like Peyton Sawyer."
"Get out before I throw you out," a now shaking with rage Brooke warned.
"I'm just-" her mother started to say.
"I think you've said enough, Victoria," Peyton interrupted from the doorway. "Now go before my girlfriend slaps the shit out of you."
"Fine," Victoria backed down, knowing that she'd been beaten. "Just release that statement in the morning. We'll worry about the rest later." As she reached Peyton along her way out, she looked the blonde up and down with obvious distain. "She could do so much better than you."
"Oh, probably," Peyton agreed, mockingly so. "But she chose me. Ta-ta, mommy dearest."
Unable to come up with a witty rejoinder, Victoria haughtily turned her nose up and walked out.
"Was that really necessary, P?" Brooke chided when they were alone.
"No, but after what she called me, bitch is lucky that pretending to be your girlfriend is all I did," the blonde sneered.
"I guess that's something then," she sighed, still trying to come down from her anger. "I swear, one of these days, P Sawyer..."
"...pow, straight to the moon," her best friend finished.
"Straight to the moon," Brooke agreed.
After the confrontation with her best friend's mother, Peyton realized that she'd forgotten her house keys at the studio and left Brooke to go retrieve them.
During the entire drive back to Red Bedroom Records, Peyton could not help but think about the very heated argument she'd walked in between the Davis women. When Brooke filled her in on the details, the blonde felt a bit guilty for being, at least, partially responsible for their argument. After all, it was her idea to take Brooke to that club where they'd been photographed by some random paparazzi. Sure, all Brooke did once inside the club was sip on mojitos all night while acting as Peyton's morale support, but that was besides the point!
"Now where did I leave them?" Peyton muttered to herself under her breath once she was back inside the studio. She swiftly located the wayward keys, which were in her office, then headed towards the exit. As she was locking up the studio once more, Peyton could feel another person's presence from behind her. Before the blonde could warn whoever it was lurking to back off, a familiar voice caught her attention.
"Hey, Peyton."
"Lindsey?"
"Yeah," the other woman waved. "Do you have a minute?"
"Uh, sure," Peyton answered, despite her own misgivings on doing so. "What's up?"
"I don't want to talk about it out here," she replied, uneasy. "Is there someplace we can go? Like a restaurant? Or a diner?"
"I know a place," the blonde nodded, now very curious and concerned by Lindsey's behaviour. This wasn't like her newest friend to act so subdued. Something was definitely on the book editor's mind. "Let me finish this up then we'll go."
"Alright," Lindsey agreed, awkwardness coming off her in waves.
It didn't take long for Peyton to finish closing up the studio, and with the place she had in mind for their conversation being just two blocks away, she decided that they'd walk there instead of driving. That said though, she still had to grab her wallet from the Comet since that's where her money and debit card were located. With that done Peyton led the other woman down the street towards their destination, which was a quiet little pub that she and Brooke sometimes frequented when their busy schedules could allow it. Lindsey followed mutely behind, the two of them taking a booth near the back.
"This place is nice," Lindsey politely commented, still clearly wrapped up in her own head.
"I like it," agreed Peyton, who flagged down a nearby waitress.
"Oh, hello, Peyton," the young blonde waitress greeted happily. "Been a while since you came around. How's Brooke? Still killing it in the fashion world, I take it?"
"That she is," Peyton returned with a friendly smile. "How's business, Chloe?"
"Bangin'," she answered with a flirtatious toss of her ponytail. "What can I get you two?"
"Just a couple of the cheapest draft you got for now," Peyton ordered with a quick glance at the distracted Lindsey. "Though if you have a basket of those jalapeño poppers laying around, that'd be great."
"Coming right up, doll," Chloe winked before sauntering off.
"Laying it on a little thick there, weren't you?" Lindsey asked once they were alone.
"Problem?" Peyton returned, an eyebrow raised in challenge.
"No, not really," she sighed, obviously lying.
"Alright then," the record producer nodded, choosing to ignore whatever the hell that little display had been. For now. "What did you need to talk about?"
"I need some advice," her friend began, only to hesitate and avert her gaze while muttering something under her breath.
"I'm sorry, Linds, but I didn't catch that last part," she frowned.
"I said, I need some advice about Lucas," Lindsey repeated, her winter blue gaze now meeting Peyton's own sea foam coloured irises.
"Ah, I guess this explains why you've been all fidgety since we met up," Peyton remarked.
"This isn't easy for me, Peyton," the book editor told her. "But to be honest, there isn't anybody else I could go to who'd be of any help." She gazed earnestly at the woman across from her. "No one knows Lucas better than you do."
"I wouldn't be too sure about that, Linds," Peyton shook her head. "It's been what? Three? Four years since we were together? We're barely friends now, so I don't know how much help I could possibly be where Lucas is concerned."
"Please, Peyt? I wouldn't even be here if this wasn't important," Lindsey begged while grasping the blonde by the hand, her eyes round in desperation. "Please?"
"Here you go, you two," Chloe arrived with their order. As the bubbly waitress placed the two beers and a small basket of food down, Lindsey swiftly pulled her hand away from Peyton's like it was on fire. It was the opposite of subtle. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt!"
"It's fine, really," Lindsey fumbled to get up from her seat. "Um, washroom?"
"Over there, passed the bar," their server pointed out for her.
"Right, thanks," the editor rushed away towards whatever sanctuary the washroom could provide.
"I'm really sorry, Peyton," Chloe apologized again when they were alone. "That was so stupid of me! You two were having a moment and I completely blew it for you!"
"No moment, no problem," Peyton shook her head. "It's fine. We're just friends."
"Oh, so you're not on a date then?"
"Uh, no," she shook her head again.
"Are you sure? Because I was getting a vibe," the younger blonde pressed.
"No, she has a boyfriend," Peyton explained with yet another shake of her head. Really, if she shook head any more tonight, the record producer could probably be mistaken for a bobble head at this point.
"Oh, so you'll be free later then? Say, in about an hour?" Chloe grinned. "We could go dancing, maybe see where the night takes us..."
"Any other night, I'd be game," the older blonde excused. "But my friend needs to talk, and it seems pretty important, so-"
"Rain check then," the waitress smiled before leaving the booth.
"Yeah, rain check," Peyton muttered under her breath while bringing the glass mug up to her lips. She had finished half of her beer and eaten a decent portion of the jalapeño poppers when Lindsey finally returned. "All good?"
"All good," she confirmed. "Where'd your admirer go?"
"She had other customers," Peyton answered, a little confused by the cattiness in her friend's tone. "You sure that you're alright?"
"You know what? This was a mistake," Lindsey stood up, clearly upset. "I'm leaving. Go talk to your little girlfriend."
"What the hell?" Peyton cried, taken off guard by this sudden development. That moment of surprise evaporated though to be quickly replaced by outright annoyance at being ditched. Crush or not, Peyton was not letting Lindsey get away with this. Not without at least giving the girl a piece of her mind first. With this decision made Peyton dropped thirty dollars on the table then chased after her ex-boyfriend's current girlfriend. It did not take long for her to catch up with Lindsey, who looked genuinely startled at having been followed down the empty street.
"Peyton, wh-"
"Just what the fuck is your problem, Strauss?" Peyton demanded, now more than willing to let all of her frustrations out.
"I don't have a problem," Lindsey denied, her eyes wide in fear.
"Oh, really? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you have a huge problem with me," she ranted. "Ever since you found out I was gay, you've been avoiding me! And that's fine, I thought maybe you just needed time to get used to it. Whatever. And I was willing to let that slide, but what you pulled back there was unacceptable!"
"I'm sorry," sniffled Lindsey, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I'm really sorry."
The sight of the other woman on the verge of sobbing utterly robbed Peyton of whatever righteous anger she'd been ready to unload on her. In another shocking twist, Lindsey pulled the blonde into her arms. Not knowing what else else to do, Peyton simply allowed it to happen as the other woman began crying into her shoulder.
"Shh, shh, it'll be okay, Linds," Peyton soothed while rubbing her distraught friend's back. "Whatever it is, it'll be okay. I'm right here."
Instead of helping calm Lindsey down as intended, Peyton's words of reassurance seemed to make the girl in her arms cry all the more harder.
You have no idea how much fun it was to write that Victoria scene! Anyhow, thanks for reading and feel free to leave a review. See you next update!
Track 10: Worn Me Down - Rachael Yamagata