AN: Content Warning: Recreational Drug Use, Language, and Consumption of Alcohol.
Let me know what you guys think, I really appreciate the feedback! Enjoy!
-Vanguard
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything in the PP franchise.
Chapter 3: Honey, I'm Home
Wrangling all of the girls to Beca's chauffeur turned out to be literal; Fat Amy fought quite the battle, multiple bouncers having to drag her intoxicated form from inside the club to the alley while the rest of the girls stumbled in their heels, all the while avoiding dumpsters. Beca sighed heavily, hoisting her bags of equipment into the trunk of the black Cadillac Escalade. Her driver, Marques, held open the door for all the ladies to pile into the back. He was an older gentleman from the French Quarter who Beca thought highly of; his black suit was always crisp, and his smile was always bright. She liked him so much she contracted him to be her permanent driver.
"Good evenin' Miz Mitchell," he greeted, taking her duffle bag and finishing storing it with the rest of her gear. Beca gave him one of her softer smiles and offered a fist bump. He chuckled before awkwardly hitting his fist against hers.
"How's your night been, Marques?" Beca asked, climbing into the passenger side of the vehicle. Marques let out a long whistle, walking around the front of the car to the driver's side.
"Well, I can't complain, miz. Seems like you's got a long night aheada ya."
"We're fucked up!" Stacie screamed from the back. Beca was beginning to realize how poorly her judgement becomes once she's intoxicated. Marques just laughed, his eyes never straying from the road. For being as late as it was, LA traffic was still horrendous, but Marques navigated it with dexterity and precision. Every turn was gentle and smooth, and he had the uncanny ability to project his calm demeanor into his driving. The chaos that is downtown Los Angeles lost its edge and became a dull throb of annoyance. They arrived at Beca's penthouse faster than an Uber which Beca was grateful for due to multiple reasons, the most pressing being the fact that Fat Amy stole at least three bottles of champagne and was threatening to pour them all over her backseat.
"Okay, we're here, please get out of the car," Beca said, returning to the boot to grab her stuff. It felt like watching a clown car, all of the girls hopping out in the parking garage of the complex. The majority of them took their heels off in the car and were holding them in their hands. Chloe and Aubrey were by far the most composed of the group, keeping their shoes on and helping different girls by keeping them steady or adjusting their outfits. Beca rolled her eyes, shouldering her bags before giving Marques a goodbye.
"Have a safe night, Miz Mitchell," Marques drawled, tipping his head.
"Tell your wife and daughter I say hello," she replied, giving a small wave with her free hand. He nodded his head in thanks before getting into the car and driving off.
"He seems like a real charmer," Chloe comments, walking at her left side. Beca sneaks a peak from the corner of her eye but doesn't turn her head.
"Yeah, he's a good man. A real good man."
Chloe nods her head in agreement, closing her mouth for a moment of pensive silence.
It didn't last long.
"How long has he been your driver?"
Beca's eyebrow twitched with annoyance. "About a year." She holds up her keys to the sensor and is granted access into the building. She ushers everyone in, but Chloe stayed with Beca.
"Do you live alone?"
"Uh, yeah. For the most part." Beca's grey eyes narrowed, but she didn't add on. She hit the elevator button and slid her card to unlock the 18th floor. The girls began to giggle in excitement at being in a private elevator with a famous musician. Despite their genuine nature, they still couldn't get over the fact that they were with Bec.
"So, I hate to be the bearer of bad news," Fat Amy says, "But I need to use the little Sheila's room."
"Why is that bad news, Amy?" Aubrey asks, pocketing her phone for what seemed like the first time that night.
"Well," Her eyes shifted, and she drew the word out, pulling each 'L' as it were stuck to her lips.
"Well what, Amy," Aubrey reiterates. Beca anxiously waits for the elevator to ding with the arrival of her floor, her fingers tapping against the strap of her bag. Breathe.
"Oh look, we're here!" Beca loudly announces, startling some of the occupants. She immediately exits the elevator and throws her cases on the island of her kitchen. The rest of the girls follow, excited to be in a penthouse overlooking the city of Los Angeles. The floor to ceiling windows allows the dazzling lights to appear like stars, the smog of the city blurring them to a serene constellation. Beca shows Amy to the half bath and returned to the kitchen.
"Oh, wow," Chloe breathes, stepping into the living room and gazing at the view. She places a hand at her chest and momentarily forgets how to breathe.
"You play piano?" Stacie asks, running her hand on the lid of the black, grand piano at the right of the room. Beca nods her head and rummages through a cabinet, pulling out a bottle of Jack Daniels.
"Yeah, I learned in grade school. I've been playing since I was 6."
Multiple gasps circle around the room. Beca just stares at them, clutching the bottle of whiskey in her hand. Chloe stares at her, eyeing the bottle in her hands before turning her attention back out to the window.
"You have been playing for that long? Why don't you use it in any of your songs?" Stacie asks, borderline screaming, but attempting to reign in her disbelief.
"I mean, I do, it's just not deliberate," Beca defends, pulling a glass from her sink. She pours herself a drink and opens the doors to her balcony. Filling her lungs with the night air, she sips her whiskey and allows her muscles to loosen to a state of contentment. The air lacked humidity and warmth, but it wasn't quite cold. The sweat beading on her skin felt pleasantly cooled in the November air, and for the first time that night, she felt tired.
"This view is something else."
Beca looks over at Chloe, sipping her drink and focusing back on her galaxy.
"Thank you for having us over," she says, her head focusing on the DJ. Beca just looks out past the railing. Chloe sighs before doing the same. Their elbows lightly rest against the rail, Beca drinking from her whiskey and Chloe sneaking glances at the musician from the corner of her blue eyes. This didn't go unnoticed and after about the fifth glance, Beca finally turned to look at her.
"Is there something I can help you with, Red?"
"Another drink?" She smiles shyly and looks up through her lashes in an adorably natural way. No. Not adorable. Beca sighs and sets her glass down before entering the apartment again. The rest of the girls passed out on the couches, clothing and shoes tossed all over the tidy living area. She stepped through the minefield of strangers to open her liquor cabinet and pour her conscious guest another drink (Vodka-Cran, double). On the way out to the balcony, Beca grabbed a cigar box resting on the mantle of her fireplace. She opens the door with her foot, her left hand holding a highball glass, and her right tucking the box underneath her armpit.
"As promised," Beca says dryly. Chloe giggles and gingerly takes the glass from Beca's possession. She glances back inside to see the women still asleep. Amy looked to be cuddling her Grammy's. I'll deal with that in the morning.
"So, Mr. Rockstar, what's in the box?"
Beca sits down in a patio chair and places the box on a glass table to her side. Lifting the lid, she takes out rolling papers and a mason jar. She unscrews the lid and is assaulted with the smell of marijuana. "Weed." She answers plainly. With the precision and experience of a rapper, she rolls a joint and places it between her lips. The flick of a lighter casts an orange glow across the bridge of her nose and ignites the end of the paper. One long drag and one long exhale. The smoke filled the air, Beca slowly making o's appear to capture a star. "You smoke, Red?"
She shakes her head, taking a seat in the opposite chair and crossing her legs, right over left. Lifting the glass to her mouth, she takes a small sip of the red drink, careful not to spill any on her white pants. She watches the DJ inhale, the end of the joint sparking brightly to disappear in the clouds of smoke. Each breathe that fills her lungs is tainted with the smell and smoke of the night.
"That's a damn shame," Beca says.
"Why's that, DJ?"
"Coulda used a smoking partner."
Chloe looks at her thoughtfully, pursing her lips and resting her head against two fingers held to her temple. Beca casts a sideways glance at her, pulling the joint from her mouth and balancing it between two fingers. The redhead then reaches out, pulls the joint from the DJ's fingers, and takes a hit.
"Thought you said you didn't smoke," Beca comments, watching her with interest and mapping out each movement. Chloe looks at her, blowing the smoke back into the brunette's face with a smirk. Beca lets out a full bellied laugh when her calm and collected facade crumbles into a heavy cough.
"I said I didn't," she wheezes out, "not that I wouldn't."
Beca nods her respect before gently pulling the joint from her hand. "Am I corrupting you, Red?"
"Can't corrupt me if I've already done it, DJ," she winks before grinning cheekily.
"Smoking pot once in high school hardly counts if that is what your example is."
Chloe visibly deflates and Beca laughs again. She takes another drag before offering the spliff to the redhead. She takes it, placing it between her lips. Her hit was much smaller this time. Beca smirks at her and she swore she saw the faintest blush coloring her cheeks. Don't be ridiculous.
"Thank you."
Beca looks at her, quirking a brow. Her grey eyes swirled with confusion and were starting to become cloudy with intoxication. "For what, Red?" Her voice comes out rough and gravely; she lets out a cough to try and clear her throat unsuccessfully, causing her to take a large swig of whiskey to rinse her mouth and effectively calm her throat.
"For everything tonight. You've been keeping me hydrated, let me DJ in a hot club, and smoked me out. Tonight has been the most fun I've had in a while." The vulnerability in her eyes made Beca extremely uncomfortable. The diamond blues were glazed, yet they never lost their vibrant stare.
"Kinda sad, if you ask me." She deflects the intimate conversation in the best way she knows how: biting remarks and forced isolation.
"We all can't party for a living." Beca scoffs at her, using the heel of her converse to kill the joint.
"My life isn't one big fiesta, babe." Chloe replies with a haughty laugh, setting her glass down with more force necessary.
"Oh, really? Because that's exactly what it looks like to me."
Beca stands up abruptly and stares Chloe down, her shoulders squared and tense. The grey of her eyes darkened and melted into her dilated pupils.
"You have no place to make accusations as a guest in my home. Tread carefully, Red. My patience and generosity have their limits."
Chloe stands up to match Beca's posture, realizing that though she towers over the brunette, the sharpness of her gaze was unmatched. Her stubborn nature outweighed her desire to cower, and Chloe met Beca's fierce gaze with a fire of her own. She takes a step forward and draws her full height. Beca takes a step back to ensure there is space between them.
"I have a name you know. Maybe if you weren't so busy getting drunk you would have learned it by now," Chloe bites out. The only thing Beca does is laugh, her head falling back and her hands running through her hair.
"Sweetheart, the only reason you know my name is because it's written at the top of every chart, every radio station, and every fucking playlist. You wouldn't give a single fuck if it wasn't." She bites out every syllable, but the redhead met her gaze head on and refused to backdown. Chloe takes yet another step forward for Beca to take one step back. They were locked in a dance of will, each participant waiting for the other to fatally misstep.
"You're an ass!"
Another step.
"And you're just another redhead from a bottle."
She gasped. "How dare you!"
Both of their chests were heaving. When did she get so close?
Chloe was inches away to the point their breaths were mixing together. Beca's eyes snapped to find bright blue underneath a curtain of thick lashes. A quick glance down to pink lips, parted from the passion of their feud. Beca looked back up and was startled to find Chloe looking back. Seconds ticked by, but a vacuum was created where time couldn't touch them. Wait, what is she doing? Chloe was getting closer. Beca could feel how hot her breath was on her lips. She looked at her lips and how they seemed to inch closer and closer. Her eyes drifted shut.
"Hey sexy, I'm bac-what the fuck?!"
Oh. Fuck. Me.