misscurious: Better tune in, my dear. You don't want me to spoil it to you like this, do you?
Guest, PitchPerfectLover: Honestly, that was the entire point of including the part where she asks for reassignment - to make you, guys, think it was Stacie. Somehow.
avidreader: Nice to see you again, avidreader! Thank you for the positive review. It's going to be more challenging to write this story now more than ever because I really have to decide which path to take now. Wish me luck!
PIERRE ELLIOT T: Your review's truly flattering. Thank you. I guess I just love writing AU stories. BeChloe is really a nice pair and I think they deserve a better story than a too-alternative-DJ-meets-a-perky-redhead kind. I'm just glad that I'm still doing this right.
teasingyourtears: Thanks! :) You'll have to tune in to get your answer though.
cxcxcx386: Well, it's all about following the code of The Secret Society. And thanks God I didn't ruin the fight scenes. They're a lot easier to demonstrate than describe.
RobOverstreet: But I'm telling you, it's really difficult to write a next chapter for it. LOL.
madness2013: Have fun playing! :)
BeChloeFan01: I've been dying to use the song since the very beginning of this series, but I had to wait for the perfect timing for it.
mrebel1992: I won't, don't worry. I'll try my best to update as soon as I can because as a reader, I really hate waiting too.
mrebel1992, lauwer: SPOILER (?): I can't promise more whispering, but I can tell that Fat Amy won't be at the other end of the line all the time from now on.
MysticFalls94: I'm keeping my mouth shut because I just can't spoil everything. LOL.
Ilumiinous: Are you a Filipino too? :)
Sorry for the late update. I just didn't know what to write on this chapter.
CHAPTER ELEVEN: Confidant
Beca carefully took off her black leather jacket leaving the hidden tiny microphone piece attached to it then neatly placed the garment behind that huge flower pot at the hotel hallway. While her Australian partner at the other end of the line didn't seem to notice this eventual unauthorized absence, she casually marched towards the male restroom right at the corner. Just as she opened the door, this old pudgy man on his coat and tie and whose hairline was miserably depleting met her blank face with one long-lasting odd stare. Nonetheless, the brunette cleared the way for him as if there was nothing strange about a woman entering the men's room before walking in completely. The others inside turned to her questioningly, but there was something about the way she looked back at them that coerced them to get out of there immediately. As soon as the last man hurriedly closed the door behind him, Beca started slamming every cubicle door open to search for her guest of honor who wouldn't volunteer to show himself.
"Stan!"
One cubicle down. No sign of him.
"I know you're in here."
Two. Still, no sign of Stan Mitchell.
"Show your fucking face to me this time!"
Three. It was another empty one. With just one more cubicle left, Beca stood impatiently at the door.
"If you're fucking brave enough to try and kill me," she hissed at the closed door, "you should be fucking brave enough to show me your goddamn face. I want to see how you look when you finally able to plunge a knife into my chest or shoot a bullet right into my head."
Still, Stan did not reveal himself and so the brunette let out a sigh.
"And if you did, I hope you won't regret it because apology doesn't bring back the dead, Stan. I should know… you know that."
Suddenly, as if her words were the sacred password for it, the cubicle door was slowly pulled open revealing Stan Mitchell standing steadily on his feet, his right arm hanging on a sling, his cheeks bruised, and his lips broken and swelled up. Really, it was amazing how he could still look gorgeous even with that beaten up image across his face. Maybe it was the effect of the beautiful bouquet of flowers in his right hand.
"You look awful," Beca casually remarked at her brother's appearance.
Stan shook his head apologetically then walked towards the sink where he carefully set the bouquet for the meantime. He looked at his reflection on the mirror but he was only reminded about guilt so he turned away, his eyes landing on his sister's livid eyes.
"I don't have plenty of time," the brunette admitted. "If you have something to tell me, just spit the shit out now."
"It was a mission. Phil sent me."
"Then you flunked it."
Stan turned around to finally face his sister directly. This time, there was no mask to hide his identity and no mirror to implicate an illusion of reality.
"Believe it or not, I wasn't there to kill you. You're my sister. I would never do that to you, kiddo."
"I killed our mother," Beca pointed out, sheepishly shrugging her shoulders.
And her brother could only purse his lips together in defeat. Perhaps, blood relations was never really an exemption from the code. That was always the idea anyway. So for a moment, The older Mitchell lowered his gaze down on the floor then shook his head frustratingly at what his sister just spit into his face.
"That was completely different."
"No, they're exactly the same. The Secret Society gave us missions to accomplish. I did mine, you failed yours."
"I told you I will always be on your side of the game, didn't I?"
"I'm not blind, Stan. You were so sure to stab me with that knife."
"And I knew you would be able to defend yourself," argued Stan, and his sister kept her mouth shut. Her brother knew her skills, so the argument could be just as the truth as it could be a lie. "The rest of Beale's security group has launched an extensive research about you. His head of security has been very suspicious of you, and so Phil sent me. He thinks we have to make them foolishly believe that you are not the danger to the Beales, that you are not an enemy, and that you are indeed on their side. Well… if you ask me… we don't need to do that anymore, do we? There is no longer need for you to pretend as such, right, kiddo?"
"I have no time for this shit," she stated firmly generous to show her irritation. Before her brother could come up with another indirect accusation, she decided to reveal, "There is no treasure, Stan."
The older Mitchell tilted his head to the side and furrowed his eyebrows in a mixture of shock and confusion.
"Clarence Beale himself testifies to it. There is no treasure. Tell that to Phil."
Not bothering to wait for further response from her stunned brother, Beca turned her body and started heading towards the door signifying her intent to end this accidental confrontation, not to mention that it was foremost an unauthorized one.
"If there's no treasure for you to find, then why are you still going back to the Beales?" Stan questioned. Although he already had this silly idea of what could have been the answer to his query, he needed to ask his sister. He needed to hear it from her. He needed to hear it directly from Beca for firm affirmation once and for all.
The brunette turned around abruptly to face the tall young man once more. She had her usual blank stare on which normally implied and asserted her bulletproof character and her horrible monster image, but unfortunately, in that particular moment, that same blank stare betrayed her. Stan was not feeling threatened at all. Instead, he sported his trademark boyish grin across his broken lips.
"I guess there's a reason why you call Stacie your 'fuck buddy', huh?"
Not that topic again.
"You know it's love when you look at the person and you don't think about sex." Stan flashed a shrewd smile at his younger sister. "You know it's love when suddenly you are ready to give up everything you have ever believed in. You know it's love when the daunting beast has been finally tamed."
Beca took a deep breath but then no words of excuse or pretense or denial escaped from her mouth. The daunting beast simply stood in place and remained in her own perfect state of being a very quiet cricket. But inside was actually a trembling child. Well, it seemed like the list of things that scared her was getting longer and longer than it should be. Funny how they all rooted out from Chloe – the idea of Beca falling for her and the redheaded monster falling for her too; and then here came Stan's words lecturing her about love. It wasn't like she didn't have the idea about it. Believe it or not, Beca Mitchell knew what it was like to love somebody. She loved her mother. But then she killed her. What if history would have to repeat itself? She would fall in love with Chloe Beale, but then she would have to kill her because after all, the code was Fidelity to The Society.
"I'll stay in my post until The Society officially terminates the mission and orders me to get out of here," was all she replied.
A little disappointed by the response, Stan half-heartedly nodded his head. He then reached for the beautiful bouquet of flowers on the sink.
"Maybe you could do me a favor then," he supposed. "Please give this to Aubrey. And tell her I'm sorry I didn't get to tell her personally how gorgeous she was last night."
Beca willingly accepted the gift for the blonde heiress signifying that the cracked brother-sister bond had indeed been mended. She stared at the flowers and consequently admired how Stan was courageously showing some affection. Between the two of them, Beca was just the scary one, but Stan was certainly the braver one. While she spent her life obeying the code, her brother was always ready to defy it. Before long, looking at the flowers reminded her that the two blondes vying for her brother's attention had tied the score once again. If she wasn't being the natural monster that she was, she would have chuckled about it.
"And Beca?" Stan spoke one more time, and so the brunette turned her gaze towards him. "Right now I really don't know what's going on in that hazy head of yours. We may or may not be on the same side of the game at the moment. But I am definitely not your enemy… Never. Because I'll always be your brother. I need you to believe that. I want you to remember that."
Beca let out a small huff and eventually nodded her head in agreement. So maybe her brother was right, she was having a significant identity crisis at the moment. It was a dichotomy of remaining a true Phoenix and the role of being the best bodyguard in the world. Nevertheless, there would always be a last choice – the most permanent option of them all – to be Stan Mitchell's younger sister. For the meantime, it was undoubtedly the easiest decision to make.
"Wow. Just wow." Aubrey shook her head and slowly clapped her hands with the right amount of sarcasm as she fixed her eyes on the brunette bodyguard. "The sun is burning up in the sky; everybody is exposing a lot of skin; and you, Beca Branson, are still wearing that silly black leather jacket and that pair of black boots on the surface of Miami beach. Wow. Way to set a trend here, huh? Seriously, I am truly amazed by your incredibly tasteless guts and your very weird lifestyle preferences."
Beca rolled her eyes at the comment and stood by the other beach chair compulsorily determined not to wipe off the beads of sweat formed on her forehead with the back of her hand because she was that tough.
"Don't say I didn't tell you so."
Fat Amy was stiffing a laugh while trying to erase that mental picture of her partner in crime looking like some kind of a vampire out-of-place in the middle of a sunny beach in Florida. Thankfully, the blonde heiress had the beach umbrella up to shield them from the sunlight and Beca from the rest of the scrutinizing and bantering eyes of the public.
"Well, if it's not going to hurt your too alternative I'm-such-a-badass image so much which you're apparently trying to protect every second of your life by remaining consistent to your signature wardrobe, feel free to occupy that chair supposedly reserved for my missing best friend and join me at enjoying this Tom-free moment."
"For fuck's sake, Beca, just take the offer and please sit down for once."
So the brunette let out a defeated sigh and reluctantly sat on the vacant beach chair. The sneering Aubrey Posen consequently pushed the other glass of iced cold juice on the small table towards her companion.
"Have a drink," she offered before putting her pair of shades back on and leaned back to her chair for a period of relaxation. "Where the hell is your boss anyway, huh? I thought you're supposed to be dog-trailing her 24/7?"
"She's with the douchebag," the bodyguard muttered in response. "Said the knight-in-a-phony-shining-armor will be able to protect her, so… my services are not needed at the moment. They sent me to you instead."
"Don't worry. She's on my tracking device."
The blonde heiress started laughing at her best friend's conviction. It already happened twice – Tom Jacobs got beaten up by the same pale and short woman – but still, Chloe Beale just wouldn't get the point. Moreover, the manifestations of the guy being a natural jerk were everywhere, but there she was again, waiting for some miracle to finally happen.
"You know, sometimes," Aubrey told her companion, "I'd love to see you throw her a hard punch. A really hard one, please? Then maybe, just maybe, that can put some pretty nice sense into her terribly stupid head."
"And then you'll be in one hell of a trouble with her rich and powerful father who has his very own army by the way."
Beca sighed heavily struggling to stretch out her very short patience. Why did she have to listen to these two contradicting women at the same time? It could have been a lot more convenient for everyone to lock up Aubrey and Fat Amy in one room and just leave them both until one has finally killed the other.
"I really hate that Tom," the blonde heiress started muttering as she lamentably shook her head. "I hate him. I really really hate him. I swear to God I hate him."
"Then why are you here? Why did you accept his invitation?" questioned the other.
Frantically, Aubrey removed her shades then turned to her side so Beca could see the wrath displayed on her face.
"First of all, I did not accept his invitation. Your one hell of an idiot boss dragged me down here to Florida against my will. Hear that? Against my will. Second, Chloe is paying for all of this, so it's not like I'm going to owe that douchebag something. Besides... look at the view, Branson. It's Miami! You don't pass up Miami."
"She's right."
But the brunette already had her attention on the conversation diminishing every second, showing no more interest on anything else that would come out of the young heiress' mouth.
"But I'm not going to that beach party tonight," Aubrey's voice passed from one ear to another. "I'd rather go shopping or party at some club somewhere. I'm sorry, but you're going to be on your own tonight, Branson."
"Ha! I will never leave you on your own, Beca. You know that."
Hearing this, Beca reached for the glass of beverage and took a drink. Much to her company's bewilderment, she looked at the glass and said, "Ah, tastes like bacon. Bacon, bacon, bacon. More bacon. Bacon. Lots and lots of bacon…"
"Fuck you. My stomach is now growling. I'll have to leave you for a while."
The brunette subsequently let out a triumphant huff as she listened to the faded sound of Fat Amy's tormented breaths. The Australian blonde was probably already on her way to the kitchen or to the nearest fast food chain to satisfy her growing needs.
"You really are a creep, aren't you?" remarked the blonde heiress who had no idea about the secret conversations made through the hidden earpiece.
Beca deliberately brushed it off leaning back to her chair for her own period of relaxation. Let's face it, she needed some rest too and what could be the more perfect time than this? She closed her eyes and started making an attempt to drift off to sleep while technically, she was temporarily off duty. It didn't surprise her anymore, unlike the first time it happened, that when she closed her eyes, she was looking directly into Chloe's bright blue ones. It's been almost a week of waiting since that confrontation with Stan; still, no termination or further instruction was released from The Secret Society. But Beca knew it was going to come inevitably. With no more treasure to find, this special mission would soon be over. Before long, she would have to quit her undercover job as the bodyguard. Eventually, she would have to leave Chloe and probably never see her again for the rest of her life. She figured then that it was certainly the time to start getting used to the redheaded monster's absence. Guess she would just have to deceive her own self that it was actually what she wanted.
"I can't believe you still haven't figured it out," Aubrey's voice penetrated Beca's thoughts much to her dismay, but the brunette chose to ignore it otherwise. "There is no way in hell that Chloe hasn't told you about Tom's promise yet."
Beca didn't speak or move.
"So you should know by now the reason why I sent you to bring my best friend to her mother's grave," the blonde added.
But the bodyguard still offered no response.
"Beca!" she called out.
The brunette kept her eyes closed and her breathing as steady as possible making her appear deeply asleep. Aubrey made one last look at her before leaning back to her chair once more. She let out a loud sigh thinking her efforts were useless as her company didn't get to hear her words. Well, the truth was, Beca was listening. If the young heiress was trying to imply that she purposely set them up to comply with the most anticipated miracle, Beca heard her words and understood exactly what they meant. But perhaps, Aubrey's efforts were still useless because Beca Branson had finally decided to cut off any unauthorized feelings she surprisingly had for Chloe Beale.
Luke tapped the end button on his phone screen, shoved it into his pocket, and then irately ran his eyes over the rest of the men in black suit. The phone conversation did not go smoothly, and so he had to vent the frustration to his men.
"What the fuck has happened to your research assignment?" he asked nobody in particular, his words were filled with rage and ready to burst out into a yell any moment. "I thought I said I want it done immediately!"
Nobody from the rest of the group offered a response, and that did it, the blonde head of security started shouting at their faces in no time.
"Where on earth is her fucking profile, you bunch of idiots?"
"I-It's all there is, sir," one nervously reported. "Beca Branson has a very clean profile."
Luke angrily grabbed him by the collar, and so the man trembled in fear.
"And you honestly think that's the kind of report I want to hear?"
"O-Of course not, sir," the man in black suit quickly shook his head. His superior released him from the grip, and then glared at the rest of the group.
"Every demon has at least one single flaw. Remember that, people. There's a reason why Beca Branson has a very clean profile. That means, in reality, it isn't. That's her own flaw. But we don't know exactly what it is yet and that's why I gave you that fucking research assignment to work on. We have to know exactly what that flaw is. We figure that out, and she's out of the picture. And that's what we want. We want her out of the picture. Do you understand?"
While the rest of the group fretfully nodded their heads, from out of the blue, the one with curly hair and dark complexion named Paul shot his hand up in the air. Luke turned his gaze towards him, and signaled him to proceed with his statement.
"Will it matter if the kid is already out of the picture?" Paul asked as innocently as possible. "I mean, for one, it's all against one. She's not going to stand a fight, you know it. Plus, will getting her out of the picture change Clarence's mind? So what if his daughter's bodyguard is out? Will that make him change his plans?"
"Everybody who feels threatened and vulnerable is always forced to move to Plan B, Paul. There's nowhere else to go but Plan B."
"So you think Plan B includes him finally revealing the secret to you?"
Luke paused for a moment as he slowly walked towards the older man, making a halt right in front of him. He tilted his head to the side and wondered, "What are you trying to get at?"
"There has to be a reason why Beale won't tell you the secret," the other simply replied.
"And what do you think that is?"
"I'm just thinking," Paul started, his eyes briefly looked down at his feet for a last minute contemplation before directing his eyes back to his superior. "Maybe it isn't Branson who has to prove her loyalty to Clarence Beale. Maybe it's you, Luke."
"I've been working for him for years," Luke quietly hissed.
"Yet he trusted that Benji boy more than he has ever trusted you."
And that made the head of security shut his mouth. It was true. Clarence Beale trusted that Benji boy enough to tell him about the secret. Luke was only entrusted with the security plans. It was totally unfair and so gut-wrenching when you've been rendering services to the man your entire life.
"Clarence Beale may have an army of his own," Paul added, "but he knows too well that only those who could be trusted can truly protect him and his daughter."
"So you think he trusts Branson and not me," the blonde bitterly concluded.
The other man in black suit pursed his lips together and shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, Branson is entrusted with Beale's greatest treasure… are you?"
Luke angrily turned towards the rest of the security group much to their surprise. He gritted his teeth and balled his fists. Letting out a frustrated gasp, he launched another dagger look at the battalion of men in black suit, and then yelled out, "Find that fucking flaw and get her out of here!"
Everybody frantically moved to work on the research assignment desperate to dig in the necessary dirt they were asked to before Luke could burst out again. However, Paul coolly pulled out a cigarette stick from his cigarette case then marched out of the room. There was no point of staying with the rest of them. He knew his comrades were wasting their time trying to trace Beca Branson because there was no Beca Branson to begin with. Well, he was obviously done with his own research anyway. He had already found the perfect flaw. Too bad though, he owed his life to Beca Mitchell.
The past several minutes were probably the worst moment in Beca's life. Pretending to be asleep, she had to endure Aubrey's stories about a nonsense yet popular reality television show to a friend she was talking to on the phone. And oh, Fat Amy was back and she was definitely generous with side comments and was surprisingly adequately knowledgeable about the subject. Nobody asked, but yes, Beca was trying to sleep by the way.
"I'll see you in a few days. Ciao."
Finally, Beca screamed inside her head. The atmosphere was then filled with silence… except from the sound of waves rushing to the shore, the roars of the guys playing some Frisbee, and Fat Amy loudly munching some chips at the other end of the line. Okay, so it wasn't that silent. Still, Beca went on to find her peace of mind determined to finally fall asleep.
"Beca, you awake?" Aubrey's voice rang in her ears once again and Beca struggled not to snap. The blonde heiress waited for her company to move or say something, but the bodyguard remained still. Perhaps, you just couldn't wake up somebody who's already awake.
"I'm glad you haven't killed each other yet."
Apparently, with Beca you could. As soon as Chloe's voice reached her ears, the brunette shut her eyes open and stood on her feet. Suddenly, she had her jaw involuntarily dropped down caught unprepared in amazement at the sight of the bikini-clad redhead. It wasn't the first time she'd seen those exposed skins, but for some reason, this time was different - this time, there's this significant chance that she would call 'dibs' on this woman. Without even realizing, she had her eyes lingering on that almost naked body. Those dark blue orbs continued to wander up until she was staring at Chloe's awkward why-are-you-looking-at-me-like-that look. A few more seconds and Beca finally came back to her senses and hurriedly looked away in embarrassment. Fuck. A heads up from Fat Amy could have been greatly appreciated.
"Finally, you decided to show up."
Thanks to Aubrey for trying to divert everyone's attention from the uncomfortable scenario. Beca purposely cleared her throat while her lady boss forced her usual charming smile and turned to her best friend.
"Care to join me for a little walk?" she asked the blonde.
Aubrey automatically nodded her head and stood up. The two heiresses started to walk away and Beca moved to trail behind them as part of her bodyguard duties. However, Chloe stopped her immediately and asked her to stay.
"We won't go too far," the redhead assured. "You can stay right here."
The usual blank stare was stained with a bit of confusion. Never did the young Beale asked her to stay away. Not even when she was pretending to be mad at her. Hence, it was quite strange that for once she didn't want the brunette to stay close to her. Even Aubrey Posen was indeed taken aback maintaining a watchful eye at the two. What was up?
"She has her phone. I'll keep my track on. Don't worry."
So despite her personal disapproval, Beca compellingly nodded her head and watched the two heiresses walk away. Sooner or later anyway, she would be back to her old life where this redheaded monster didn't exist. Might as well start getting used to not spending 24/7 together.
"So what's up?" asked Aubrey turning her eyes to her best friend who was obviously getting more fidgety with every step they took.
Chloe glanced at the blonde with this look, the meaning of which the Posen heiress already had memorized. Failing to speak out, the redhead looked away and sighed.
"Hey," Aubrey grabbed her best friend for a halt. "What's going on, Chloe?"
The other breathed out and shrugged her shoulders, but still no words came out of her mouth.
"Is there something wrong? Where's your boyfriend? Did the douchebag do something bad again?"
Chloe hurriedly shook her head.
"Then what is it? Come on, Chloe. You're making me worry here."
The redhead tore away from their eye contact to stare down at her feet. After a few more sighs and gestures of hesitation, she finally looked back to meet Aubrey's eyes.
"Tom asked me to marry him," she spoke out.
Aubrey Posen gasped in utter disbelief, her mouth and eyes wide open. She subsequently shook her head disapprovingly at her nervous best friend. Why oh why on earth did this day have to come? Her beloved best friend to marry a douchebag in the form of Tom Jacobs? No way. Certainly, there's no way in hell!
"What did you tell him?" she asked. But before Chloe could even utter a word, Aubrey held a hand up to stop her. "Don't tell me you said 'yes'. Please, Chloe. For the love of God, please don't tell me you said 'yes'... 'cause if that's the case, I swear I'm just going to drown myself here."
"Well…" Chloe's voice trailed off as she began playing with her phone - her hand noticeably failed to display an engagement ring much to her best friend's relief. "I told him I would think about it first."
"Great!" the blonde rejoiced. "You should really-"
"But then he got very persistent, Aubrey; asked me if I love him… and if I do, then I should marry him."
Aubrey could see the worst fast approaching and the only thing she could do was to firmly shake her head in denial, "No, Chloe."
"So I eventually said 'yes'," the redhead officially announced causing the feeling of being betrayed on the part of Aubrey Posen. Hence, those tears rolling down on the blonde's cheeks.
"You are so fucking stupid, Chloe."
And Chloe nodded her head in agreement and muttered, "Yeah, maybe I am."
"You know what I said about you acting like a 12-year-old kid most of the time?" the blonde struggled to contain her frustration as she harshly wiped her tears off. "I take it back. I am taking it back because this decision you made is much more immature than that. This is completely stupid, Chloe. You're going to marry the worst guy on earth."
"I never expected you to agree with this. I never expected you to be happy about it. No, not even try to pretend. But at least I was hoping you could somehow act like my best friend."
"I am your best friend, Chloe. I've been trying to tell you all this time how much of a jerk that guy is. I'm trying to protect you here. I am telling you right now that you shouldn't marry this guy because I am your fucking best friend. That's what a so-called best friend would do."
Chloe sighed then lowered her head slightly. "Then I'm sorry. But it's going to happen, Aubrey. I'm going to marry Tom."
"You don't have to do that!" the other exclaimed in protest. "Why the hell are you doing this?"
And the redhead simply chuckled sadly in response.
"Chloe," Aubrey pleadingly groaned as she moved closer to her best friend and held her shoulders.
"I'm doing this… because I think I'm falling for someone else."
"What?"
Chloe directed her eyes towards her best friend and put on that genuine smile. "I think I'm falling for someone else, Aubrey."
"Then break up with the douche!" frustratingly ordered the blonde. "Don't marry him!"
"But I shouldn't be falling for this other person," Chloe shook her head. "It's too much of a miracle to be loved by-"
"Beca," the other cut her off. "It's Beca, isn't it?"
And the redhead didn't respond. Instead, she stared down at her feet and let out a huff.
"Maybe it's too much of a miracle to be loved by a crazy creep," her best friend agreed. "But maybe, at least this one could be possible."
"What if it isn't?" challenged the other. "I bet it's going to be really painful that I might not be able to handle it. At least with Tom, I don't think there's anything else he could do to hurt me more."
With that, Aubrey froze in place just staring at her best friend. Who knew how much time had passed before she threw her arms around Chloe for a tight embrace. Why was this happening? Chloe Beale might have been a 23-year-old grown woman who was trying to make this mature decision when in fact she was just this fragile child hopelessly waiting for all her miracles to happen. No, it was definitely not fair at all.
Stan entered the Research Room with a pack of beers on hand. He placed it on the table and sat on the chair across Jesse who was deeply preoccupied with his own paper works.
"Killed a Syndic today," the young Mitchell proudly pronounced. "Take a break and join me in my celebration, man. Fat Amy said you've been working here all day."
But the other brunet shook his head.
"Maybe later. I'm trying to finish this report. Phil is expecting it tonight."
"What is that all about anyway?"
Jesse paused for a moment wondering if he should tell about it to Stan. Was it confidential? Well, Phil didn't tell him so.
"I'm plotting the other potential locations of the treasure. Phil will be sending Blue and Red to go check on them."
"Blue and Red?" the young Mitchell looked very surprised. "So they're, like, part of the team now?"
Again, Jesse paused. Apparently, the team was growing but the rest of the members were not well-informed about the moderate changes in the plan just as he had guessed. Blue and Red were added and so was Cynthia Rose and of course, Stacie. Should he tell Stan about all of them? Phil's voice suddenly rang in his head: do they have to know, Jesse? Seriously, was it really a question he needed to answer?
"Well, Phil wants to find the treasure fast," he nervously shrugged.
"But Beca already said there's no treasure."
"This is your father's order."
"We could be wasting our time here."
"So you do believe that there's no treasure?" Jesse questioned, and Stan couldn't give an answer. The man looked away and reached for a bottle of beer and opened it up for him to drink. "You know there has to be a treasure, Stan."
The young Mitchell let out a sigh then stared down at the table.
"If he's sending his men to check on these potential locations, what about Beca then?"
Jesse shook his head in response.
"I only know what Phil asks me to do. I don't know about how the rest of the plan would go. But surely, Beca is still a major player in this. She has a very strategic position. When the time comes, Phil will have a very important task for her. The Secret Society is frankly counting on her, you know that."
Stan chuckled. "We can't afford to lose her, yet she's too exposed in the field."
"Well, we all have a mission to accomplish."
"What does it feel like to kill someone, Jesse?" asked the young Mitchell from out of the blue.
Startled, Jesse finally stopped working, dropped his pen, and grabbed a beer to drink.
"I-I believe you've killed more people than I did, Stan. You must know the feeling already."
"True," the other nodded casually. "But your first and only kill is Benji. And he was your best friend, right? You two were like brothers. Tell me, Swanson, what does it feel like to kill your brother?"
"I-I…" Jesse stuttered then paused. "It's… the hardest thing to do... But there's a code, and I had to do it. I-I guess… it was for me to prove my Fidelity to The Society."
"Congratulations then," the other raised his beer to honor his friend and then took a big gulp of the alcohol.
"It's no big deal. Everybody has to prove their fidelity anyway."
Again, Stan Mitchell chuckled.
"But I have never proven mine."
"What?" Jesse quickly restrained himself from spitting out the liquid from his mouth.
"Phil took me in because Beca requested. It's not even because I'm my father's son."
With that, Stan took another big gulp of his beer while his friend stared at him silently wondering about all the stories of the past and the possibilities of tomorrow. Moreover, this Phoenix still had yet to prove his fidelity. So what kind of a mission would he have to accomplish for it? Worse, knowing his luck with Phil, who would he have to kill?
"Where's Aubrey?"
Beca Branson turned around to see that the redheaded monster had joined her at the terrace of the enormous suite. This time she was wearing a blue summer dress complementing those bright blue eyes that the bodyguard couldn't help but gaze upon.
"She went out," the brunette answered.
"Did she say where?"
"Just let the blonde bitch get lost in the city."
"Nowhere specific. She only said she's going to get wasted tonight because…" Beca's voice suddenly trailed off as she was about to say something that could shatter everybody's heart. "…because you're getting married… to Tom."
Chloe chuckled. Was it really that hard to accept the news? It's as if it was some sort of an unspeakable truth.
"Well, aren't you going to congratulate me on my engagement?"
"And why would I do that?"
"Bitter."
The redhead threw her a look and folded her arms over her chest authoritatively.
"Because occasions like this is one of the happiest moments in life."
"But you don't look happy," Beca argued and her boss had to shut her mouth in surrender. Chloe let her arms fall down to her sides and stare back at her bodyguard. Was it really that obvious?
"Just let her go, Beca. You still have Stacie waiting for you anyway."
The brunette deliberately ignored Fat Amy's half-meant joke while the awkward silence began dominating the entire terrace. Neither of the two spoke a word. The atmosphere was rather too quiet that when the phone clenched in her hand rang, the young heiress jumped a little in surprise. Beca watched her frantically slide on the phone screen to answer the call.
"This is Chloe Beale speaking," she stated and paused to let the other person speak. In an instant, Chloe's face crooked in confusion. "I-I'm sorry. You probably have the wrong number… What?"
"Fuck. This is not happening."
What is happening, Beca wanted to ask Fat Amy who was then wiretapping the redhead's ongoing phone conversation. But of course she couldn't. So instead, she patiently waited and watched her boss frown as the conversation progressed.
"B-But… t-that's…" Chloe paused for a moment to pull herself together; her face suddenly was as pale as a ghost, and the growing agitation was manifested in her struggle to formulate a sensible sentence. "Who is this? Wait! Hello? Hello?"
"This is not good."
As much as she wanted to, Beca couldn't do anything. She had to act like she was not pre-informed about the nature of the conversation. Her pair of dark blue orbs was fixed on the redheaded heiress who was disturbingly speechless with tears threatening to fall off any moment.
"Are you alright?" Beca asked, her voice obviously reflected worry and concern.
"She's not."
Chloe turned her eyes towards the brunette wearing that particular look on her face which Beca had to try to resist only to fail each time.
"I need you right now more than ever," was the redhead's reply. "Would you... come with me, please?"
Even without knowing where exactly to go, the bodyguard positively nodded her head without any amount of hesitation. Then as she followed Chloe Beale to the door, Beca came to this crucial realization that the time had come that she would do anything for this redheaded monster. And that's not really good.
Okay, I know it's so cruel to keep you hanging... Please forgive me.
Disclaimer: I don't own Pitch Perfect.