A/N Yeah! An update! Woo!
The bad news is that I'm ill - or "sick" as you Americans refer to it, though I'm not actually chucking up - but the good news is that you have an update! The penultimate one though (cries).
I have loved writing this fic. Look out for the epilogue!
PS. There are quite a few different narratives in this chapter. The bold is Jesse writing, the italics is third person, and the normal font is Susannah's usual perspective. OK? R&R!
Daddy's Little Girl
Chapter Twenty-One
Dear Susannah
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Jesse scrunched up his third draft into a tight ball and threw it behind him, hitting Willem on the head. In response, Willem flipped his drumsticks over the seat, both of them landing on Jesse's table with a clatter. Jesse frowned.
"Guys," Jake groaned, looking up at his bandmates from where he had been fiddling nervously with his guitar. "We're going to have to be civilised when we get to Nevada. Do you think we could start now, maybe?"
"What are you doing, Jess?" Adam asked, over the headrest of his seat. "Writing another song?"
"Nah," Willem disputed. "He's writing a love letter to his girlfriend, Soo-oo-oo-oo-ooze…"
"Guys, shove it," Jake suggested, and the guys of Dirty Bunch laughed like hyenas.
"Yeah, guys," Dean added, from beside Jesse. "We all know Suze broke up with him ages ago…"
Dear Susannah…
Jesse gasped in frustration and discarded his fourth copy. He couldn't think straight, and was consumed with confusion. Susannah was miles and miles away – getting further away each second. Why was he on this train? Did he really care more about his music than he did about her?
"You want to help me?" I asked, and Meghan and I looked from Paul to each other, and back again. "Are you forgetting how I broke up with you? Twice?"
Paul shrugged. "What do you need?"
I surrendered. "A train ticket," I told him. "For Las Vegas, and like, now."
Paul looked curious as he reached for his credit card. "Las Vegas," he repeated, examining the shiny plastic. "Interesting choice. Is it time to feed your gambling addiction, or something?"
"No," I replied shortly. Meghan rolled her eyes.
"Jesse's there," she added, and I scowled at her input. Paul looked amused.
"De Silva…" he said, slowly, like Jesse's name was some kind of dagger to be handled carefully. Then he made a clicking noise. "Huh, it's funny. I guess I always kind of knew your heart was never in our relationship the second time around."
I chewed my lip. "I'm sorry," I said, and I began to hop away, looking through the archway to see my father debate avidly with a police officer, and Alyssa and Fliss attempting to charm their way out of a speeding ticket. I heard Paul clear his throat. I turned around again.
"Don't you want your ticket?" Paul asked, and I smiled.
"Thanks," I replied, and Paul handed me his credit card.
"Knock yourself out," he offered, and I admired the gold shine. He pulled me into a hug – which proved a challenge considering I was trying to balance on crutches simultaneously. "Good luck, Suze."
"Thanks," I said again, a little unsure of the sudden change of mood in the exchange between Paul and I. "For everything."
"Hey, no worries," Paul said. "Can I ask you one question, though Suze?" Meghan watched us inquisitively. I narrowed my eyes.
"Shoot," I replied. "Anything."
"What's the big deal about Jesse De Silva?" Paul questioned. "I mean, Kelly was always swooning over him back in school – but he never even looked at her. What's so special about him?"
"I couldn't tell you what anyone else thinks of him," I answered, smiling as I acknowledged it out loud for the first time. "But I love him. I love him!"
Paul raised an eyebrow at my enthusiasm, but Meghan just grinned. "Go get him," she urged, and I leant on my crutches so that I could start towards the reception desk. My heart was hammering and my throat was dry with excitement.
I guess that's what love feels like.
"How's it coming, Jess?" asked Willem, tossing his drumsticks up into the air and then catching them expertly. "Have you professed undying love yet?"
"Proposed marriage?" interjected Adam, snorting with laughter.
"Contemplated adoption?" grunted Dean.
"We're here," Jake announced abruptly, and Jesse jumped as the train came to an abrupt halt. "Amtrak-Union Plaza Station," he read aloud. "Hey, that's not far from the Las Vegas Strip!"
"Did someone say strip?" called Dean, and he mimed taking his T-shirt off, much to the delight of some of the female spectators. Jake scowled at the bad behaviour of his band.
"You guys," he scolded. "We're meeting Ebony in an hour. Act like you've graduated, please, and are not still kindergarteners?"
"Aw, come on," Adam whined. "We're in Las freaking Vegas! Can't we enjoy ourselves?"
"Afterwards," Jake begged. The train came to a halt. "Come on, we gotta flag down a taxi yet." He turned to Jesse, who was still deep in thought over his letter. "Are you coming?"
"Yeah," Jesse replied, and he squeezed the paper up in his fist. "After all, we got a record contract to sign, right?"
"Right." Jake nodded. "Let's roll."
"Aren't you going to buy me a ticket?" Meghan demanded, as we stood at the reception desk. "You think I'm going to let you go to Las Vegas by yourself?"
"Uh-huh," I retorted. "I can't buy two tickets with Paul's credit card, even if he is like, way rich."
"Fine." Meghan pouted. "Just down fall in front of any trains, alright?"
"Yes," I said, bored. "I'm going to be fine. I'm in love, now, remember? Everything has changed." Meghan nodded in agreement.
"You've certainly grown," she remarked.
"Prescott Productions," Jesse read, from the sparkling sign above their heads. "Vocal and Instrumental Recording Studios. Is this the right place?"
"It has to be," Jake said, swinging the guitar case a little higher over his shoulder. "Do you see any other Prescott Productions around here?"
"Man, I can't believe you made us walk all the way here," moaned Adam, lifting up his leg and rubbing his ankle. "I mean, couldn't we have waited just a little while longer for a cab? We weren't going to be that late."
"Yes we were," replied Jake, checking his watch. "See, we're already five minutes late. Come on." Jesse stayed glued to the spot.
"Jess?" Jake looked concerned. "Are you O.K?" Jesse looked down the road sadly.
"Yeah," he said, after a while. "I just feel like something is missing."
I was finally in Las Vegas – albeit I hadn't left the train station yet. O.K, so I hadn't really seen if the weather was different, and I hadn't spoken to anyone to see if their accents were any different, but I felt diverse – like another person. I was finally going after something I wanted, and it was like I'd stepped into an alternate dimension – or rather, hopped. My heart rate was quicker and my fingers were damper – I was a nervous wreck. What the hell was that recording studio called again?
We had a meeting with a huge record label Prescott Productions – you guys heard of them?" Everybody had, I could tell by the screaming. "And they want us to meet with them again in Las Vegas – where we're staying indefinitely!"
Right, Prescott Productions. Now all I had to do was flag down a cab.
It turns out Nevada isn't so different from California, after all – I mean, with the availability of cabs. In Carmel, you're lucky if you can even see a yellow cab whiz down the street. In Nevada, you couldn't see yellow cabs. You saw yellow blurs. As in, cabs with people in, hurrying to their destinations. As in, no cabs actually available for me to use.
It looked like I was going to have to walk.
"I said, don't you give me the same old stuff - I want your polka dot banana and I want your love. Slice it, dice it, do it anyway that's nice, but I want it polka-dotted and I want your love."
The burns on Jesse's fingers tingled as he gripped the microphone stand just a little too hard. He finished with a perfect note – his nerves not quite swallowing him whole – and waited for Willem's finishing cymbal clash. Ebony stood before them, her arms crossed and a wide smile across her face – their self-professed "Number #1 Fan!" – though Jesse's eyes couldn't even skim over her. His mind was elsewhere. In a sea of greener than grass, the colour that penetrated his heart and made him shiver all over…
"Jesse, are you even listening to me? We have to go speak to the execs!" Jake looked impatient, and Jesse shook his head with a start. He placed the microphone back in its holder and followed his band mate. He had a feeling this was going to be a long meeting.
"We're impressed – very impressed. Your lyrics are like nursery rhymes – they have a certain charm that we're sure will ring true for the likes of dedicated teenage boys and the ever-pleasing fan base of screaming teenage girls." Jesse pictured a horde of preteens dressed in pink, their blonde masses of hair identical to their neighbour, each and every one of them scrabbling for autographs…
Jesse shuddered, and received an odd look from Jake.
"We'd like to introduce you to one of our producers – she's worked with some of the bigger names, and gotten them more than enough successes…" A petite and elegant woman strutted into the room at that precise moment – her dark glossy curls shining in the bright spotlights in the ceiling, and a dazzling ruby dipping low into her cleavage. Her bronzed legs shimmered, and a tight grey skirt revealed high above her kneecaps. A frilly white blouse finished her attire, and every single member of Dirty Bunch – bar Jesse – were transfixed. Most of the executives were drawn to her too. Ebony caught Jesse's gaze and rolled her eyes.
Jake stood up a little too enthusiastically, his blonde hair bouncing on his shoulders as he reached for the woman's hand. She shook it gently, and took the seat allocated specifically for her – fortunately for Jake, beside him.
"I'm Maria," she announced, and Adam, Willem and Dean muttered excitedly. "I'm hoping to be working with you in the near future."
The executives dismissed the band quite quickly after this, to discuss their thoughts. The boys rolled out of the board room like they were hyped up on Smarties, tongues still wagging after the arrival of Maria.
"Dude." Jake approached Jesse instantly. "You have to get in with that, man."
"With what?" Jesse asked, his mind still full of Suze.
"Were your eyes even open?" Willem's own eyes were wide. "There is a goddess in that board room, and you're our only hope."
"Me?" Jesse echoed.
"Yes, you, dumbass," Adam said scornfully. "You're a gentleman, and you're hot." Everyone turned to look at him. "Or so Michelle says. That wasn't my personal opinion." The chatter resumed again.
"Are you in?" Jake demanded. Jesse looked at all the pleading faces before.
"Um…" he said, doubtful. "Well…"
"Ouch, ouch, ouch," I groaned aloud, wincing every time my good foot hit the sidewalk. I was in serious agony, having walked for half an hour solidly on just one foot. Crutches were hard work about the house, let alone down the Las Vegas strip.
I stopped a guy who was walking past. "Excuse me," I whispered in pain. "Could you tell me where Prescott Productions Recording Studios is?" The heavily fake-tanned man pointed an orange thumb towards the next street over, and I felt like crying.
"You have got to be kidding me," I replied, in a less-than-grateful manner.
"By the sounds of things…" Adam said, his ears pressed against the door. "They're finishing up. That gives you, like, five minutes to wash behind your ears or whatever. Scrub up. You're looking to score, remember? Come on Jess, do it for us."
Jesse scowled. "I am never – ever – doing anything else for you ever again."
"Atta boy," Jake cheered, and he gave Jesse an encouraging push just as the board room doors opened. Jesse came face to face with Maria, who watched him expectantly.
"Jess, yes?" she asked, and Jesse nodded feebly. "I hear you have a unique singing voice, or so I hear. Care to let me gather my own opinion?"
"Um…" Jesse replied – a common answer for him – and he looked around for help from his band. "Sure?"
"Great," Maria took Jesse by the hand, and led him into the board room – now empty of all the executives – and closed the oak doors carefully, pressing a finger to her lips. Jese sniffed the air. Vanilla - it must be Maria's perfume. It irritated his nose.
"So," he said, a little uneasily. "Where do you want me-?"
He didn't get chance to finish, as Maria did something only explainable as "launching" herself onto Jesse, covering his mouth with her delicately painted one, stretching her hands around his neck and massaging his shoulders, and Jesse felt positively sick as he pulled away.
"What are you doing?" he demanded, horrified, wiping his mouth. "You could be my producer!"
Maria smiled slyly. "I don't really go for my clients, but you're just so darn adorable…" She waggled a seductive finger at him. "So…"
"No," Jesse decided, staggering away from her and prising the doors open, only to find Dirty Bunch in a position that could only suggest they had been eavesdropping, and pushed his way past them, dispersing them.
"What's wrong, Jessup?" Maria wailed, hurrying after him on her high, high heels.
"It's Jesse!" he corrected her, running down the corridor, eager to find the exit. "And I'm taken!"
Prescott Productions. The silver letters shone proudly down at me, and I exhaled heavily, relieved. My limbs felt like they were about to fall off, and I couldn't feel my wrists anymore. I could have just dropped my crutches and collapsed onto the cold, hard sidewalk right now, and sleep for a thousand years.
Or I could hobble up those steps to be in the same building as my true love. I decided to go with the slightly cheesier latter. After all, romantic heroines get nowhere when they are unconscious, do they?
I was halfway up those god-damn steps, and I could sense something right at the very top, looking down at me. I refused to look at it – though it was kind of un-missable from the corner of my eyes. It was large – tall, I mean – and long, and brown, with a dark curly mass on the top. My heart started hammering – though I warned it not to. It couldn't possibly be…
"No…way…" Jesse breathed.
I looked up.
It was. Jesse's hands became clammy the instant her eyes met his.
Susannah.
"Jesse!" I yelled, and I dropped my crutches as he ran towards me, arms outstretched. He lifted me into the air, my appendages now feeling feather-light. He swung me round and round, his warm skin cool compared to my own fiery complexion. It was exhilarating – just like the climaxes of those old movies my mom and I used to watch in the single days, the type I always thought were a load of baloney. I never dreamed they would actually happen to me.
"Jesse," I whispered, as he put me down, but I clasped his wrists, not ready for him to release me entirely. "I need to tell you something."
"I'm listening," Jesse answered, his dark eyes more intense than I had ever seen them. "I'm listening, Susannah."
I took a deep breath, and dared myself to connect with the dark brown pools that were boring into me, looking past my flushed skin and my mussed hair. Twirling Jesse's fingers with my own, I tapped my foot impatiently, and shot my words out in one go, anxious for them to be out in the open.
"Iloveyou," I babbled. Jesse raised an eyebrow.
"Pardon?" he asked, though I knew he had understood.
I grinned, twisting my mouth into a flirtatious smile.
"I said..." I leaned forwards, my lips only millimetres away from his. "I love you."
Jesse returned my smile playfully, taking me in his arms and pulling my head so that it rested against his chest. "I'm sorry," he continued. "I didn't quite catch that. You what?" He put a hand to his ear. "Love me, or something?"
I pouted. "I guess," I said, casually, trying desperately not to laugh. "Maybe just a little bit. I wouldn't hold your breath or anything. It just might be a possibilty."
"Well then I guess it wouldn't make much of a difference if I told you I loved you too?" Jesse asked, and I giggled, looking up at his strong, handsome face. I shrugged.
"I don't know," I replied. "It might make a little bit of difference..." I took my hands from where they had been wrapped around his waist and placed them on his shoulders, and he gripped my waist to hold me steady. Barely containing my excitement, I got up on tip-toes and kissed him lightly on the lips - just lightly - and then jumped down again. Jesse wasn't having that.
"Oh no you don't," he said, and he pulled me into a passionate kiss - making me see lights in my eyes and feeling light-headed. I couldn't have counted the number of people who had gathered around us, watching curiously, and what was more - I didn't care. All that mattered to me at that instant was that I had Jesse, and Jesse had me. We were together - finally, where we belonged.
"You know," Jesse remarked, once we had finally broken apart. "It took you long enough."
"What do you mean?" I queried, tracing his jawline with my eyes over and over again - right from under his earlobes to the point of his chin, whilst drawing circles on his calloused palms.
"I knew you loved me from the beginning," he teased, wrapping locks of my hair around his fingers. "I was just waiting for you to realise it. Do you realise how many weeks it took you?"
"Let's see..." I counted on my fingers. "It was June when I first met you...and it's now...September?"
"That's a lot of agonizing, painful weeks," he said, placing a hand over his heart with a mournful look. "It nearly killed me, you know, querida." I opened my mouth to argue, and then changed what I had been planning to say.
"What was that?" I asked, picking up on my Spanish nickname. "What did you call me?"
"Querida..." He watched me cautiously.
"Am I ever going to find out what it means?" I begged, but he had already begun to scoop me up in his arms, and was kissing my collarbone.
"Perhaps..."
"Jesse!"
He rolled his eyes and stared at me. "What?" He seemed impatient.
"Why do you smell of vanilla?"