Authors Note: I own nothing. No ownership rights to Beverly Hills 90210. None to Cheap Thrills written be Sia Furler, Greg Kurstin and Sean Paul Henriques performed by Sia, produced by Greg Kurstin.
Chapter 6: Cheap Thrills
Thank the heavens that I had not caved to Paul and Camille's elaborate plan for me to join David on stage in disguise. Once I had spotted the gang on the dance floor it wasn't hard to feel for Dylan in the crowd. I didn't know if he would be out celebrating Brandon's birthday but I knew if he was here I'd find him, full house or not. Stupid magnetic pull. Even when the jerk cheats on me, in the most horrible way that connection of ours just won't die. Seriously, what type of emotional explosion needs to happen for my heart to reconsider who it's chosen mate is? I guess it doesn't matter anyway. My heart may still have love for him, but my head knows better.
Once Paul had finally stopped spinning me and I regained my equilibrium, I made a conscious effort to stay to the back of the VIP section. The part out of sight from the general population. At 1am I called it a night. David had stopped playing an hour ago, and he and I had finally finished spending time with the label people. I was ready to head home, and him and Camille were off to party at another club. Paul took me home, well after a quick detour through an In-N-Out Burger drive through. It wasn't The Pit, but since Dylan and I ended I had avoided the place, and was now going through mega burger withdrawals.
On arriving home I found Dad was still up. I laughed at him and gave him a hug. "You do know today I'm a legal adult?"
He gave me his patent indulging Brenda look. "Sweetheart you could be married with kids and I'd still not sleep properly until you are home."
That hit a nerve I didn't realise was still exposed, killing my jovial mood. With a contrite tone I held my Dad's eyes, and gave an apology long overdue. "Dad, you know I'm sorry for running to Dylan's? And that's regardless of the fact that he turned out to be someone I didn't think he was. You and Mum didn't deserve that, you didn't deserve any sleepless night's worrying if I was okay."
My Dad gave me a look I was growing more familiar with, pride. "Thank you honey. I know I didn't handle the change in Dylan and your relationship well, but I never expected that would result in coming home and finding you gone. It means a lot that you acknowledge that it hurt your mother and I." He gives me a hug and then pulls back. "You know your mother and I are so proud of you. Since arriving home from Paris you have demonstrated such maturity and then the way you are handling all the responsibilities of your contract, school and not letting it go to your head- honestly we are amazed by you."
I smile at him while wiping a tear that had fallen down my cheek. "Thanks Dad. Speaking of the contract, from my conversations tonight it looks like on Monday they are going to green light the Album. It will be announced tomorrow but David and my song broke into the top ten, and my other one has just climbed into the twenty's. They think if sales remain as they are, both will be huge."
A beaming smile makes its way onto my Dad's face. "Congratulations! Do we need to go in for a meeting on Monday?"
"Yes but I asked for it to be in the afternoon, I have a test at school that I need to sit. If the deal goes ahead and if I want to maintain control and not have the label influence my sound or have ownership rights I'll need to put the guys on an album contract, so that will need to be arranged."
"I'll talk to your lawyer and get the ball rolling on those contracts first thing on Monday morning. You know money is going to start coming in have you thought about what you want to do?"
Moving into the lounge room, I sit on the couch, as away of silent invitation I leave enough space for my Dad to join me. He takes the hint. "The bands pay is the priority, along with the producers. Once the funds are put aside for them for the whole album, then I guess my awesome financial advisor." Giving my Dad a wink. "Will need to invest the rest for me."
He looks at me shocked. "No wild shopping sprees, no desire to fly off on an elaborate trip?"
Chuckling, "Yeah, like that wouldn't raise too many questions. But no, I'll probably buy a car when I can afford one but the rest, clothes and stuff aren't relevant. I love making the music and honestly, I'd be happy to do it for free. I wish I could spend more time in the studio or if we had space for a piano here- and no Dad your keyboard is not the same, but if we did have space I'd indulge and buy one. It would be helpful to spend the time working on the songs before taking up the bands and producers studio time."
My Dad smiles. "See such maturity. I'll let you know when the funds for the others have been put aside and you can start looking for a car. The music space here is not possible but it may be something to discuss especially if they want to drip feed the songs at specific intervals. Writing, composing, recording and being involved behind the scenes in the video clips, and all the business side, it will get to be alot." Pausing he looks at me. "You know you are an adult in this, any funds aren't in a Trust, this is not a Dylan situation you have complete control and transparency over your earnings."
"I know Dad and I want you to be involved, I want you to teach me how to manage it all." Biting my lip. "The last few weeks have taught me a powerful lesson on independence. I need to be able to rely on myself, go into everything with my eyes wide open and protect myself better. Whether that be in business or in my personal life."
"Oh honey. Dylan and Kelly did a horrible thing but don't close yourself off to everyone else. Not everyone will hurt you."
Trying to be honest on how I was feeling, and all the doubts that I had moving around my head since finding out about the summer. "It's them, it's the gang, it's Brandon… Dad I'm feeling a bit bruised at the moment. Camille, David and the band are helping but the pain is still a bit raw."
"I know, time will help though." Patting my hand he begins to rise, "we should get to bed."
As I stand to follow something he said earlier repeats in my mind. "Dad?" He stops and turns around. "You said Dylan and my relationship changed when was that? What changed?"
"I guess sometime after the hold up he became more intense. Considering that you guys were always more than your average boyfriend and girlfriend relationship, it scared me. He wanted you to himself more. You spent more time at his house, less time here or around the others. He was also constantly touching you…" rolling his eyes, "well more than normal. Whatever shifted it didn't seem healthy to me. It made me feel like you had no space." He gave me a curious look. "You didn't feel or notice the difference?"
Trying to process Dad's viewpoint against my own made my head hurt. Did we change? Did he? "Honestly, I don't know." With an apologetic look, I continued. "I was pretty focused on how you were starting to question our relationship, trying to keep us apart. I guess I didn't notice a change in Dylan." Wanting to reflect more on this I started to move to the stairs. Giving my Dad a soft smile. "It's late I should probably get to bed."
As I lay in bed I thought about Dylan and I, what we were like prior to the hold up. We were in love. So in love, but we were content with our world like we knew that we were secure. Studying, dinners at my house, hanging with the gang- we did all that together, but we also had space from each other. He'd surf, I'd hang with the girls- we could be away from the other. That security had even been taken for granted, he had felt comfortable to help Sarah, and I felt neglected. That event had caused us to realise we couldn't be complacent with our love, that we wanted to hold onto it. What had changed in the weeks after the hold up? Dad was right, Dylan and I had started to spend more nights at his house and he was more tactile- not that I minded, he also became more stressed, but I thought that was about my Dad. Could something have happened around that time? Brandon I could see had changed around then, but I thought that was because of me.
The thoughts kept running through my brain and after a half hour, I had to put a stop to it. I was making my self crazy. Giving myself a stern talking to, I needed to stop this hope that a justification could be found. I needed to accept that he wasn't the guy I thought he was. I mean look at Kelly she had done this as well, and had tried to do the same back in sophomore year. I had to accept there was no explanation other than the obvious, I am a horrible judge of character. It was my fault, I gave my heart and loyalty to the wrong people. Coming to that conclusion I got out of bed and picked up the black velvet box. I couldn't keep this, we had been a lie, this was a lie, and if I kept it I would be reminded that it was my naivety that led to this. I believed I was special, that I was different, but unfortunately no I was just a joke. He was a player, I had been played.
Convincing myself it was time to move on and there was no time like the present. I quickly got dressed, and wrote two quick notes. Picking up the box and sticking one note under my parents door, I went down stairs and grabbed mums keys. A few minutes later I pulled up outside his house. Trying to avoid disturbing him or his neighbours I moved quietly to the door, and thinking it was somewhat poetic I left the note and box in the same exact place we officially ended. Moving back to the car I breathed deep, letting go off all the what if's. We were done.
From that point on I threw all my energy into school, planning the pig skin prom, and my music. The band and I spent more hours together, they became brothers and best friends. I was one of the guys and their constant teasing of my height was evidence of that. AJ and I would spend time toying with different compositions. Without any real formal training besides my Grandma, he helped correct my technique and showed me different classical pieces. Chris talked to me endlessly about different musicians and albums, he was constantly bringing me in new ones that 'I just had to listen to'. If AJ was improving my technical skills, Chris was ensuring I had a rounded musical education- covering everything from country to rap, no genre was left out. Ray had become a consistent figure in the studio and he was a valued voice of reason when a lyric wasn't working. He never corrected or changed even one, but like David he talked me through the process. Coaching me on how to get through my writers block.
Paul though was different. As a guitarist he had made a living previously by bumming around the San Francisco clubs, and had only recently moved to L.A. While he never directly said anything his move seemed to be motivated by him wanting to leave a bad scene. He avoided alcohol, had tattoos, slept most of the day away and was a heavy smoker. He was also the guy who could tell when my mood was off, and he loved sitting for hours having deep and meaningful conversations, he was my biggest defender and supporter. He and I had become instant friends and he had taken to calling me "Torchy", in homage to how I came up with my stage name Raven. Brenda in Gaelic meant little raven, but as Paul found the meaning of the Nordic male derivative of my name, torch and sword, both hilarious and more accurate to describe me he had instead started the nickname. We spent the most time together, and while I could appreciate his rockstar sexiness, it was completely platonic on both sides.
With the guys I found a new home, a family that was honest and brutal at times. They all loved music and demanded the best from me. We had recorded multiple songs but very few made it to the label for release. We had begun to call the ones that weren't right, Album B. Most of that album were songs vetoed by me, but some the guys had moved to that category. They jokingly described Album B as my perfect imperfections. They were songs that didn't fit into the story my releases had begun to tell. They were good, but I wanted each one of my songs to be meaningful even if it was just to me. With the help of the guys my trust grew back and I began to enjoy myself again. I blocked Dylan from my thoughts and placed a wall around my heart. I refused to acknowledge the heart ache I felt and dwell in the loss of him anymore. That part of myself was ceiled off from my conscious thoughts.
In moving on I accepted the gang more. I didn't sit with them at lunch or spend time with them if Kelly or Dylan were around, but I did speak to them more freely. I would meet Andrea and Donna for coffee and catch-ups. When Steve was over I would chat with him and encourage whatever new hair-brain scheme he was trying to convince Brandon to join in on. It felt good to move on, but I wasn't an idiot any longer. My absolute trust in them all was gone. There were limits to my friendship with them. They no longer had my blind loyalty- I knew where I ranked on their pecking order, and I knew my back was vulnerable with them.
The pig skin prom had been intense but it had all worked out in the end. It had though added another layer of resentment on to Brandon and my relationship. His belief that I would be only concerned about a dance demonstrated how little he thought of my moral fibre. The profits of the dance were going to charity to fund their Christmas program but he refused to acknowledge that. Instead editorialising his own narrow view that it was all about dress ups and fun. It was another hit I had begun to roll with. The night had worked out and I had actually found a musician I wanted to work with. The rapper who had jumped on stage and had joined David Silver was excellent, and by the end of the night we had swapped details. He thought my "job" at the recording studio might be an in. Until a NDA was signed he wouldn't know how true that was.
The week following the prom the guys had begun to harass me for working too hard. They complained I never had any fun and I needed to be young and normal before my life blew up. The songs were going well. David and mine had made it to number one, and was still sitting in the top five, and my first solo release was looking to make it to the first spot in the next few days. The second was now in the top fifteen. The hype was getting more obvious and the media interest was growing, more than predicted. David was back touring around the States, before him and Camille were due to fly home in a bit over a month, right before the holiday season. Since they had left town I hadn't been out much. The guys were worried that with all that I was doing it needed a balance. After days of complaining I agreed to go out dancing.
It had been a fun night so far, and we had danced up a storm. Chris had made some sad but endearing attempts at trying to impress girls with his musical knowledge; AJ had been showing off his outrageous dance moves; and Paul had been bombarded with female attention. It had left us all in good spirits when the guys finally convinced me to man up and go into The Pit. The kitchen would close soon but I had begged for a quick burger stop before we continued on for the night. Dad and Mum had become more flexible with my curfew, agreeing if I was going to employ people and was tasked with having creative control over expensive music clips, and was required to participate in marketing, financial and contractual meetings, a set time home in the evening might be a little redundant. I respected them enough to inform them where I was going and set a clear expectation of the time I would be home. It was enough for them.
The recharge by mega burger had not gone to plan. We had made a bit of a ruckus as we arrived, with Chris teasing AJ and AJ throwing it back. As usual as we walked in I was kept in the middle of the guys, my protectors like to ensure I was safe from… well I didn't know. When I had asked them previously they had advised they were scared that with my tiny size I might get stepped on. As we made it to the counter I began chatting to Nat introducing the guys. We ordered a round of burgers and fries, and went to move to a table. It was only when we stepped back from the counter did they part enough for me to see the gang. Paul having been hot in the club had removed his jacket leaving his sleeves of tattoos on both arms exposed under his white v-neck t-shirt. When I stopped mid step he threw one of the arms around my waist. "Torchy you okay?"
The familiar gesture of his arm casually slipping around me did not go unnoticed by my brother or Dylan. Both were giving me questioning looks and neither looked like they were appreciative of his action. Lifting my eye's to Paul's I give him a subtle head nod. "Yeah, I'm fine."
Noticing my hesitance he pulls me closer. "Hey what's going on? We were just having fun."
My eyes shift to the gang, and by this stage Dylan is standing and my brother is grabbing his arm to hold him back, trying from what I can see to reason with him. Paul follows my eyes. He pulls me closer protecting me now with both arms as if sensing the unease. He then clears his throat to catch AJ and Chris's attention, who had resumed their carry on from before. The guys move closer to me, and with that so does Dylan, Brandon and now Steve.
"Brenda are you going to introduce us to your friends?" Brandon asks while his eyes look down at Paul's arms wrapped around my waist.
Paul not liking his tone, shifts me in his arms to slightly shield my body with his own, and the guys step a little closer. "Guy's this is my brother Brandon. Brandon this is AJ, Chris and Paul." Inclining my head in the direction of each as I say their names. No one offers their hands to shake, and the guys just nod at my brother.
Dylan who had been attempting to use his imaginary laser vision to burn Paul's arms off of me, finally speaks up. "Bren can I see you outside?"
Paul holds a little tighter, and Dylan begins to move closer. This isn't good. Not wanting to cause anymore of a scene and knowing Dylan won't backdown. I nod my head. Paul spins me slightly to look at him, and asks "You sure Torchy?" I nod my head, and he releases me from his protective arms.
As I follow Dylan into the carpark my only thought is I should of kept dancing.