"It might be strange to you, the constant addition and revision of my thoughts onto something people will never see…but to me, it makes all of the sense in the world. When you can finally condense your thoughts into some semblance of sanity, that is when you start to feel at peace."

The light pattering of keys still.

"Maybe then I can start anew."

Pounding bass became the constant, thick thread she became tied to. Each push and pull of the music had her moving through the crowd and into the calm solace of behind the booth. People jumped up and down, their beat rushing into your chest and filling out your arms and legs. No talking necessary, only the patchwork song needed to sooth their troubles until tomorrow. To her, it was perfection.

"Hey, DJ, you about finished? My shift is almost over," he called. She watched him queue up one more song before taking the other half of his headphones off. Nodding, she placed her own equipment over her ears and let the padded cocoon envelope her. Soon enough, the booth cleared into the kingdom. Her kingdom.

She felt like a chemist, each press of her fingers created a new reaction in the souls below her. If she pressed harder, they would jump until it hardly felt like defying gravity. If she let the melody wash around their heads, each wave felt aged and sophisticated. Within these moments, each second playing in their minds, it felt free. It felt new. It felt wonderful.

"Bec?"

Less than a moment, a simple uttering left her empty.

"Yeah?" She asked, turning her head.

"Remember, you have a meet and greet in twenty minutes."

She sighed, letting her fingers create the combination used for a pause, a breath of air.

"Yeah, thanks." She said. Each syllable came out forced. Was it an hour already? The new glass of whiskey caught her attention; the beads of water running down the sides let her know it had been sitting there for a few minutes. Thank god for CR. Her fingers quickly created a cue, grabbed the whiskey, and delicately placed her headphones on the deck.

"Alright. Lets go."

The club wasn't anything special, just another venue that paid her to spin for a few hours. It was dark and loud, but still vibrant. Her legs walked on autopilot through the staff stairwells as CR took the lead, bringing her to a private room above the dance floor. CR kept talking, but between the muted bass and the whiskey occupying her mind, Beca quickly lost focus. Catching her manager's disapproving gaze, she gave a half shrug at being caught.

"Girl, I know you hate this as much as I hate making you do this, but it's the price you pay for being good at your job."

Lifting her glass for another drink, Beca was severely disappointed to find only ice. "I know, C, I know. I'll try to play nice this time." Handing off the empty glass to her friend, Beca gave a wink before pushing open the metal door.

The private room was considerably brighter than the club space with a soft yellow light bathing the occupants. It had multiple leather couches with tables for bottle service, all of which were minimalist, all of which were occupied with countless A-listers, producers, and whoever they deemed worthy of attendance. Beca scoffed at the thought. It was always the same types of people, the ones who kissed ass, her ass in this case, to take one step higher in the ranking. Each sly smile and wandering eyes defeated any professionalism left in their field. Thinking about spending more than a few seconds in this cigar infested room left Beca making a beeline to the bar.

"Whiskey. On the rocks." She said. "Please."

The bartender nodded and grabbed a fresh glass. Beca watched them work, running a haphazard hand through her hair before placing a hand on the dark wood surface. Her black nails tapped to the distant club as her mind became occupied with more ideas to finish her shift. The bartender, probably around his mid-twenties with a blonde pompadour, set a napkin on the counter before placing her drink down. The amber liquid danced like fire underneath the lights and she nodded her thanks. He hesitated, wiping his hands on the towel thrown over his shoulder. Beca raised her eyes from her glass before tipping it to her mouth.

"Miss…" he began but Beca quickly wiped her mouth before staring him down.

"Its Beca. Just Beca." He seemed to blanch before continuing.

"Well, Just Beca," he tried to chuckle, but it ended in his throat. "The group who won the meet and greet asked me to tell you they would be right back. I'm sorry."

A deep sigh left her chest as she swallowed the rest of her drink. Breathe in and out. One…Two…soften your face…Three. "Alright, thanks for letting me know."

The bartender looked visibly relieved at her calm reaction and went about filling up her now empty glass. She appreciated his dutiful care.

The air circulation in the private room was much better than downstairs and she felt her shirt sticking to her back. She checked the black and grey flannel to make sure her sleeves were still cuffed neatly before pushing them further up her arms. Her left hand rested against the drink before her other slipped into her jeans to find her phone. 11:42pm. Still early. Her phone had a couple notifications, some from social media, most from her email. She opened up her texts and typed one out to CR.

Beca: You didn't tell me there was going to be a group.

CR: Would you have left the booth if I did?

Beca fought the urge to slam her head into the wood of the bar. Breathe. CR was right.

CR: You'll be okay. Just smile, laugh a little, take a picture or two, and you'll be done.

Yes, it'll be okay. Breathe.

A loud commotion from behind the main door made its way into Beca's mind. Mostly laughing, some stumbling, and now, cheering. Beca bristled slightly, but no one paid them any mind. Her fingers resumed tapping.

"Here." She looked up at the bartender when he gave her a double. She smiled a bit in gratitude. The group finally reached the door and a flood of women poured into the room; Beca counted around eight intoxicated and screaming girls before making the executive decision to finish her double and pray. Breathe. 8

"For god's sake, Fat Amy get off the floor!" She hears a shrill voice plead. Beca looks over to find a larger blonde laying on the ground. Her fake leather pants look far too tight to be comfortable as she rocks between her legs and back. Beca struggles to look away in morbid fascination.

"Listen, twig bitches," the girl pants, continuing her odd fight between gravity and will power. "Just because you're jealous of my art doesn't mean I shouldn't let all these dingoes enjoy it." Beca stares in abject horror at the mess before her. 'Fat Amy' continues to convulse on the ground while a tall and skinnier blonde desperately tries to pull her up. The other girls seem unphased, instead focusing on taking selfies, checking their phones, and heading to the bar.

"Hey, Mr. Bartender," a tall, busty brunette struts over. Her dark brown eyes are glassy, and her lips are painted red in a sinful smirk. Beca watches the bartender audibly gulp at the new arrival. She had to give it to the girl, the confidence dripping off of her was impressive. "What do you say we get some shots poured for me and my friends?" He quickly nodded and started to line up the glasses. The brunette shifted her focus from the bartender to the petite girl covered in tattoos and piercings. A spark of recognition lit behind the layers of smokey eyeshadow and false eyelashes before her face smoothly changed from seduction to pure delight. "Oh. My. Aca. Gods!"

Beca has been in this business for a few years. She is familiar with the fans and spontaneous happenings that come paired with drugs and alcohol. Tonight, however, has left her stripped of any level of preparedness. The absolute absurdity of the group in front of her ruined any structure or plan to get through this meet and greet unscathed.

"You're Bec!" She says, desperately trying to hush her voice, but the obvious effects of alcohol limit her success. Beca tips her head, doing her best to force a smile. The girl in front of her is bouncing with excitement and Beca has to avert her eyes from the display of her breasts about to pop out of her barely there dress.

"Yeah, you can call me Beca though. Bec is just for marketing purposes."

The girl starts to squeal before launching into a string of sentences Beca doesn't quite understand; what she does understand is that the girl suddenly looped their arms together and is dragging her across the room to her friends. Beca struggles to move her legs to prevent any intimacy with the floor. For how intoxicated she seemed, this girl was incredibly strong.

"Girls! Look who I found!" she squeals (there isn't a better way to describe the shrill excitement). What was even worse for Beca is that they all shrieked with matching enthusiasm. Jesus.

"Hey everyone, I'm Beca. Thanks for coming out tonight." She desperately tries to restore order to her night as she finally addresses the contest winners. The girls introduce themselves around the group and Beca does her best to remember each name to the face, however, the multiple glasses of whiskey were beginning to catch up to her. Stacie was the seductress in red, Flo was a Hispanic girl with a thick accent, Fat Amy needed no further introduction, and two girls Beca couldn't figure out which one was Jessica and which one was Ashely. The taller blonde was named Aubrey (Beca didn't like her attitude) and there were two more in the back who she couldn't hear over the sound of the other guests.

"We are waiting on one more to arrive, but after she gets here, we can take a picture!" Aubrey says to Beca, her eyes looking past her nose when explaining in as polite a voice as her pained entitlement could allow. What is her deal? Beca nods her head in understanding before taking a seat on the couch. The rest of the girls follow and arrange themselves sporadically around the DJ. This was at least the easy part. Beca just had to politely nod her head and look engaged for her job to work. The alcohol was beginning to do its part as well, so the night wasn't completely doomed. The girls chatted about trivial things (Stacie was finishing her rotations as a doctor, Aubrey was a 'successful' lawyer, Jessica/Ashely owned a florist business together, Flo declined to comment in fear of 'legal reasons') and Beca refused to admit she wasn't hating their company.

"So," Stacie says and deep within her chocolate eyes was a spark of something mischievous. "What can I do to convince you to take a shot with us?" The rest of the girls brighten in anticipation and Beca feels their eyes boring into her body. "We already ordered one for you so…"

Beca sighed before checking her phone again. 12:16am. She still had to finish her set in less than an hour with multiple glasses of whiskey in her system. One more couldn't hurt, right?

"No convincing needed. Just one, though. I still have to work."

The girls cheered, all clambering to the bar. Each took a shot glass full of tequila and a lime. Stacie handed Beca hers with a wink and stood beside Aubrey, all eyes on her for the countdown.

"Alright ladies!" She yelled, holding her glass in the air. "To our guest of honor, Beca, and to getting white girl wasted! Sorry Flo."

"It's okay, I identify as white."

"3…2..1!"

The girls quickly slammed the shot back before sucking on the lime. Jessica and Ashely both puckered their lips, laughing at catching the other doing the same expression. Lily, a silent Asian girl, seemed to have swallowed the lime whole. Aubrey politely dabbed her lips with a napkin before using her camera to fix her lipstick. Beca quietly observed the different mannerisms of the girls and shared a silent chuckle. She set her glass down on the bar and excusing herself to the bathroom. The alcohol flooded her mind and the short walk felt weighted with effort. She took a deep breath and felt the smokey air fill her lungs before pushing open the door.

The private bathroom was empty and lit with soft gold and warm wood. Beca willed her leaded legs to the sink and lifted her swirling grey eyes, lined with ink, into the mirror. Her right arm raised through the intoxicated haze to turn the sink on; she cupped her hands, allowing the cold faucet to pour into them and she splashed some on her face. The cold water touched her skin and her nerves snapped back into reality. Her palms rested upon the cool counter and she took a grounded second. Breathe.

"I can't keep doing this, Tom. I can't." Beca hears the door open and her eyes snap to the newest figure in the mirror. A woman with fiery tendrils and freckled skin enters the bathroom and shuts the door, one hand holding her phone to her ear and the other running a hand through amber waves that cascade over her bare shoulders. Her baby blue off the shoulder blouse flowed with each movement and Beca thought she could be underwater with how lyrical she moved. Beca splashed another handful of water onto her cheeks. She slowly raised her head and was met with crystalline blue eyes boring into her. Oh, wow.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm still here," the woman spoke. A man's raised voice echoed from the phone and into the bathroom. The woman pulled the phone from her ear and heaved a sigh before offering a tight smile to Beca. "Men." She mouthed. Beca scoffed and smiled back, grabbing paper towels and dabbing her face dry.

"Seems like you could use a drink." Beca commented wryly. The woman gave her a quick once over and Beca's skin crawled under such strict scrutiny, her eyes sliding over the curves underneath her flannel. She was beginning to regret opening her mouth. The woman's attention finally rested upon Beca's face and she could see the conflict swimming within bright blue eyes, her phone still resting by her side. The moment she made her decision, her finger hit the red button and ended the call.

"You would be correct." Her voice was feather-light, dancing like a flame and pleasant. Beca nodded her head before straightening her back to return to the bar. As she passed the woman, a gentle hand gripped Beca's bicep, halting all further motion. "Vodka-cran, double." There were mere inches between them, but Beca felt suffocated by the intimacy this woman exuded. Breathe. She's harmless.

Beca nodded and vacated the bathroom.