18 months ago.
The Staples Center, Los Angeles, California.
Betty:
"Ladies and gentlemen, please give it up for the one and only: Betty Coooooooper!"
Taking one final deep breath and squeezing Polly's hand one last time before letting go, I make my way out onto the stage. I have practiced walking in this dress and heels for weeks, nervous that I am suddenly going to lose all my basic motor skills when faced with this moment. It's not stage fright. I am used to arenas filled with screaming fans by now. But this is different. These people aren't here for me or my music. These people can turn on me at any given moment. This is not the place to let myself be vulnerable.
So why the hell am I doing this again?!
Right, my integrity as an artist. My need to express myself honestly. What a load of crap. Oh God, why did I think this was a good idea?! The music starts just as I plant my right foot down on the camera mark on the stage floor. Well, here goes nothing.
It's a good thing tears never show in the pouring rain
As if a good thing ever could make up for all the pain
There'll be no last chance to promise to never mess it up again
Just the sweet pain of watching your back as you walk
As I'm watching you walk away
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Jughead:
This night is quickly turning out way more interesting than I had expected.
When our label told us that we had been nominated for a Grammy, I felt on top of the world. I'm not really thrilled about becoming famous and all the attention that comes with it some days, but who doesn't like to win things, right? Especially a something as prestigious as a Grammy. However, I expected this to be pretty much the same the other award shows and parties we have been invited to over the last couple of months. The mainstream pop people and the R&B- and rap artists would command most of the attention on the red carpet and the cameras, so we could mostly focus on hanging out with each other and drinking while waiting for our category.
I had heard that Betty Cooper was set to perform tonight, the first performance in quite a while. It is not like I have been keeping up with all the stuff in the tabloids or anything, but whenever they would talk about her on the radio or some tv show, I would pick up on it somehow. I know she has probably forgotten all about me by now. I mean, we only met that one time, and it was a long time ago now. But I still like her music, the melodies, the sweet bluesy notes of her last record. (And if we are being honest – she looks like that.) So I guess I was a little excited knowing she was going to be here, but that's all it was.
About an hour into the ceremony, they announce her name and I look up to watch the performance and something just… happens.
I can't really explain it without sounding like an asshole. It's instant attraction, plain and simple. My heart doesn't stop, and I don't get butterflies or whatever. But I want her. Just like that. I feel like a hormonal teenager seeing a beautiful woman naked for the first time. Every nerve ending is suddenly standing to attention and as the room goes silent during the first few bars of the song, I imagine what being with someone like her would be like. She is in a long red dress, the kind that is tight around her torso but still flows out from her hips all the way down to the floor. The kind of dress the princesses would wear in those movies Jellybean used to watch when she was younger. Her hair is out, framing her face in loose curls and while I am not close enough to the stage to see her face clearly, I see the dark eyeshadow highlighting her deep green eyes in the close-up on the jumbotron. I let out a deep breath, which takes the form of a low, drawn out whistle. Jesus. Being this starstruck is really not good for my streetcred.
And then she starts singing.
It's a cruel thing you'll never know all the ways I tried
It's a hard thing, faking a smile when I feel
Like I'm falling apart inside
And now you're gone, there's like an echo in my head
And I remember every word you said
But you never were, and you never will be mine
It is so raw that it fucking breaks my heart. There is so much emotion behind every word, it's like she's not just singing, she's sending a message. And there is not a single person here tonight who doesn't know who the intended recipient is.
Archie Andrews.
Their break-up is legendary. America's sweethearts - a really public and dramatic affair. It was six months ago, I think, but it was bad. As I said, I don't keep track of celebrity gossip but even I heard about it. Pictures of her crying in a nightclub on the cover of US Weekly, Archie releasing a critically acclaimed break-up album in record time and rumors of different rebound prospects being discussed on Twitter like it was the most interesting thing in the history of the world.
Seems like there is another break-up album about to be released. I almost feel bad for Archie. It can't be easy sitting next to his new girlfriend listening to this in front of millions of people on live tv. Poor guy.
But then again, he did dump Betty fucking Cooper. He only has himself to blame for that one as far as I'm concerned.
Idiot.
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Betty:
As I finish the last line of the lyrics and the last few bars of the music fade to silence, I take a deep breath and feel some of the tension slipping out of body. I did it.
At that thought, I feel the tears starting to well up, so I meet the applause of the audience with a tight smile and a small bow of the head before turning to get off the stage. Taking the last step down the small staircase backstage, I run straight into Polly's open arms and let the tears start to fall. I can tell Polly is holding back some tears of her own as she whispers: "I'm proud of you, Betty."
"How do you feel?" she asks me, as I take a step back.
"Fucking amazing", I smile.
She gives me a high five and we stand there grinning like idiots for a while, before reclaiming our seats in the audience during a commercial break. Polly is my date tonight, and she is turning out to be perfect for it. She looks like a glamourous movie star, and she is excited by everything and everyone, but keeps her cool around the most famous people. Even though I know that she desperately wishes that she could ask each and every one of them for a selfie.
When Polly is distracted, I chance a glance at Archie and Veronica, but I can't make out their expressions from where I'm sitting. Probably for the best, I tell myself and take another deep breath before focusing my attention back on the stage where Rhianna is halfway through her second acceptance speech of the evening.
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Jughead:
"Jughead… J… Dude! What the hell man?!" Toni calls and hits the side of my arm with her fist. Hard. "Where the fuck did you go?"
"What?" I snap, rubbing my arm up and down.
"I've been trying to get your attention for like five minutes! Did you have a stroke or something?"
Jeez… here we go. I can't stop the eye roll. "Stop being so dramatic T, I was just thinking about something."
She snorts. "Yeah right man, more like updating your spank bank."
"Huh?"
"Oh come on! You were practically drooling over Betty Cooper in that red dress!" she laughs. "Hey, no judgement here!" she continues as I give her an unamused glare. "I've got to hand it to her, she looks so damn fuckable tonight. Such a shame she's still hung up on Archie Andrews. I'd really like to try a bite of that doe-eyed, delicious pus…"
"OKAY!" I interrupt, throwing my hands up. "I get it!"
"You're too easy Jones, I've never met a straight guy who hates talking about pussy as much as you do." She chuckles.
I roll my eyes. "Whatever Toni. It is called being a gentleman. What was so incredibly important that you had to punch my arm out of its socket?"
"No Jughead, it's called being pretentious." she deadpans. "I wanted to let you know that Sweet Pea just heard from Cheryl who's going to be presenting our category. Get this, it's your little celebrity crush." She says with a chuckle that's pure evil. "So… if we win, you might wanna tuck your boner away before we get to the stage!"
Christ. It's like we are still in high school sometimes. Blushing bright red and looking around to make sure no one else heard her, I proceed to ignore Toni and Sweet Pea as they high-five and laugh at my expense.
Fucking idiots.
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Betty:
My heartrate is almost back to normal forty-five minutes later, when an usher comes up to stand beside my seat during another commercial break. Polly has gone to the bathroom and to pick up a drink on her way back, so I shoot her a quick text as I follow the usher backstage. I catch my reflection in a mirror as I stand waiting for my cue to go on stage. My make-up is still in place, but I look slightly flushed. Still reeling from pouring my heart out on stage an hour ago, I remind myself to take a deep breath and try to collect my thoughts.
Suddenly, I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. I feel like a fourteen-year-old girl, trying out for the cheerleading squad and being told I'm too fat. I try to block the feeling out and glance at the envelope in my hand to distract myself. "Best New Artist". I can't help but smile a little. Whoever has their name written on the card in this envelope is going to have the best night of their career so far. And in just a few minutes time, all eyes are going to be on them – not on me. The thought relaxes me – and by the time I hear my cue and walk on stage – my head is held high and I know I will make it through my introduction with a steady voice.
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Jughead:
About three seconds after the name of our band falls from Betty Cooper's smiling lips, I feel Sweet Pea's hand land on my shoulder and give an excited shake. I meet Toni's eyes a split second later and my confused look must turn into a smile as I see her smug expression. Fangs just looks stunned, like he didn't even know we were nominated.
"We fucking made it, Jones." Toni says into my ear as we hug. And before I know it, Sweet Pea has dragged me out of my seat with an excited grin and we all make our way to the stage. Halfway there I look up and see Betty Cooper watching us with a genuine and happy smile. She's applauding with the envelope still in her hand, and as we reach the stairs, she picks up the Grammy in order to hand it over.
I have just won a fucking Grammy – years and years of playing for money on the street, or free beer in shitty dive bars, are about to pay off – but when the cold sweat breaks out in my body and I can feel my hand shaking, I know it is not because of the award. It is because I am going to get a chance to meet her again.
.
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Betty:
As The Serpents make their way on stage, I feel really happy. I don't really know much about them, but I have more than a few of their songs on my favorite playlists and I hope this means they will get the wide recognition they deserve long-term. Winning as a band in this category is not easy, it's impressive really.
I have met the lead singer before, in fact, I met him that night – the night when everything started. It was brief, but I remember it clearly. He goes by the name of Jughead, and he is the first to make it up the stairs. At his best he plays the guitar like Buckingham, but the looks are more a rugged, young Leonardo DiCaprio. His hair is dark, his smile is mischievous and he is definitely a jeans-and-leather-jacket kind of guy. But tonight, he is in a vintage-looking black velvet suit and his hair is attractively curling down his forehead, almost obscuring his eyes. As he gets closer, I take him in fully, and I can't help that familiar feeling in my stomach that only comes from being near an incredibly good-looking guy. Hipsters aren't really my type, but god damn – that. is. eye-candy.
I smile and hold the Grammy out to him as he meets my eyes and takes the last few steps towards me, followed by the other members of the band. He takes the award and goes in for a polite hug. It's quick, with only one arm snaking round my waist but he puts his hand on the small of my back, and I feel how warm he is and how he smells reeeeally nice.
Uh oh. This is not good. I hope none of the cameras catch how flushed I look from just hugging an attractive man. I mean – it's been a while since I had my itches scratched, so to speak, but I'm not this desperate. Am I?
Just as I start to pull away from the hug, I feel his lips gently touch my cheek and I hear him whisper in my ear:
"Thank you. Your performance earlier was beautiful."
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Jughead:
Fuck.
I just kissed Betty Cooper on the cheek and lingered way too long before pulling away from her. That was creepy. I'm fairly confident it looked innocent enough to everyone else, after all – kissing someone on the cheek is not something that will raise a lot of eyebrows in this crowd, but I don't even know Betty Cooper, I've barely met her before, and yet here I am acting like we're old friends. Or something.
As I pull away, I meet her eyes for a split second and can see the surprise and slight flush in her face before she quickly puts on a charming smile again. As Toni, Sweets and Fangs exchange greetings with Betty behind me, I turn to the audience and bend down slightly to reach the microphone on the podium. My heart is going a mile a minute, and suddenly, I'm stammering out an acceptance speech I never thought I'd give.
"Wow. This… is really unexpected. Thank you so much to the Recording Academy and to everyone on our team. Pops, Cheryl, Kevin, everyone on our team, our families. Thank you to the fans, you guys are everything to us. Jellybean, I love you. Thank you."
The adrenaline is as good as a stage rush at the beginning of a sold-out show in a big venue. I have never cared much about reviews or any of those fickle things before, but damn it feels good to know that all the hard work we have put in isn't going unnoticed. I look at Toni, silently asking if she wants to add anything, but she just shakes her head a little and throws her arms around me in another hug. With a slap on Sweet Pea's back I start to follow Betty Cooper backstage for what I assume is going to be some interviews and maybe some photographs. Betty glances back at us and smiles as she greets an usher who whisks her away, presumably back out into the audience. Another usher opens the door to the press room, and suddenly it feels like everybody knows our name. Sweet Pea's low whisper echoes my thoughts exactly:
"Fuckin' hell… I think we just got famous for real."
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Author's Note: I don't own Riverdale. Nor do I own the lyrics to Robyn's "Be Mine", which I have quoted in this chapter. English is my second language, and I don't have anyone to proofread. Please read and review, and help me determine whether to continue this story or not. Lots of love to anyone who reads this.