A/N: So, um, I thought it would be fun to do a Christmas oneshot, and have been totally neglecting this while I work on that. Sorry.
"He's pretty good," Aubrey says as Jesse hands off the mic, takes a bow, and hops down from the stage.
"As he should be," Fat Amy agreed. "He's had enough practice with that one."
"He sings that fucking song every time we do karaoke," I explain.
"Every time?" Aubrey asks.
"Every. Single. Time." Fat Amy says, raising a hand to give him a high five as he passes.
"Don't start," he says. "It's a classic."
"You were great, babe," Lisa says before pecking him on the lips.
"Get a room," Fat Amy teases. "Oi, Stacie. Has Beca responded to any of your texts?"
"Nope," I answer. "You?"
"No, and I find it really odd because I even sent her a picture of all the pitchers of beer on the table," she replies, waving her open hand at said pitchers.
"Yeah, she's probably turned off her phone by now," Jesse says. "You two have been hitting her up nonstop."
"She didn't answer me, either," Benji says as he gets up to head for the stage.
OK, her phone is definitely off. She would never break Benji's heart by ignoring him on purpose.
"So what did you decide to sing?" Aubrey asks, and I gladly turn my full attention back to her. That green tank top looks great on her, and I'm willing to bet it'll look even better on my bedroom floor.
"Joan Jett," I say. She nods thoughtfully and tells me she's looking forward to hearing it. I'm looking forward to hearing what her moans sound like.
"He sings like an angel," she says, moving her eyes from me to Benji, who is now rocking a beautifully nerdy version of Mr. Brightside.
"Yeah, he's probably the best of all of us," I say. Except for maybe Beca, but nobody gets to know that. She's never stated it explicitly, but I know Beca well enough to know that telling people about her singing is a surefire way to make sure she never wanders into my apartment with her guitar to get my opinion on whatever song she's working on ever again.
Just like I know trying to get intel on Chloe's exact sexual orientation would not be appreciated. I can hear it now: Jesus, Conrad, you can't just ask a girl if she likes fucking girls. I don't see why not, though.
Beca: I need two empty chairs ready, or I'll turn around and walk back out. Don't make me regret this.
I squeal a bit, but Benji's still singing and there's a line between not exactly paying attention to him and screaming over him. When he finally makes his way back to us, I join everyone else in gushing over his performance.
Once that's over with, I drop the bomb.
"Guess what? Beca's on her way!"
I make a point to observe Chloe's reaction to the news, because despite what Beca said and the general vibe I'm getting from the redhead so far, I'm not entirely convinced there are any women who are one hundred percent straight. In my experience, they're pretty much all at least convincible after two beers.
"Yay," Chloe says, not quite yelling, and she actually clasps her hands together under her chin. I'd be encouraged by that, but she got wiggle-in-her-seat excited over finding the song she wanted to sing, so all I'm sure of is that she's super emotive.
Of course, I'm getting something from the way she's been checking out the tall blond guy standing by the back bar. I can't say she has terrible taste, really; he's good looking, and if he didn't look like a fucking hipster I might have considered scooping him up myself.
I shouldn't hold it against her. I don't want to; she does seem very nice, and Beca had a point when she said it's not Chloe's fault she's straight. It's just that Beca's been on maybe three or four dates in the past year, and I can't even remember the last time she met someone who made enough of an impression that she bothered mentioning it to me after the fact.
I was very much hoping to work some magic on her behalf tonight because I think Beca's maybe got a feeling or two buried in there somewhere, and I would prefer not to see them trampled under the oblivious soles of a pretty redhead as she skips her way gleefully through life.
It seems like that's a likely possibility, though, so even though Chloe seems lovely, I can feel a little grudge lodging itself in my gut. That guy's been checking her out right back, of course, and unless he's a coward it's only a matter of time before he makes his move.
I just hope he does it really soon, or that he catches her on her way back from the bathroom or something, because I have no desire to watch it happen with Beca right across the table from it.
If it goes down like that, I think I may just cockblock him.
It's the principle of the thing.
CR finds a spot on the street about two blocks from Three Trees and squeezes her car into it.
"Damn fine parallel parking," I joke.
"I'll let you walk into that place alone, girl, don't you think I won't," she threatens.
I chuckle around the cigarette I'm lighting, and after blowing out the first drag, I say, "I'd just go home."
"Even though you told them you'd be there?"
"Yeah, have you met me? No one would be surprised by that," I say as we start walking up the block. "Actually, I bet someone shits a gold brick out of shock when they see me walk in."
"How big a brick are we talking?"
"Retirement money."
"Glad you invited me, then," CR says. "Let me hold one of those, will you?"
I probably shouldn't give her a cigarette, I mean making her sound good is my job, but there's a level of hypocrisy associated with refusing to let someone smoke while I am actively doing so that I don't want to be a part of, so I hand one over and light it for her.
We chat about the album as we walk; we're really on the same page with how we see everything going, and I feel like we're going to wind up with something she can be really proud of. It's a pretty great fucking feeling, really, knowing the album will be badass and that I helped make it happen. That I can, if all goes well, watch CR's career take off and know I had a hand in getting it all started.
I can't stop the smirk that spreads across my face. It stays there half a block until we reach the reach the bar, finish our smokes, and push the butts into the pot of sand nearby.
After that there's nothing left to do but go inside, so I take a deep breath and yank the door open.
A/N: I know, I know, I'm a dick.