Bad words

More than three years later

"We want you to date Chloe Beale."

Like a twenty car pile-up, a completely avoidable chain reaction of suck began.

First, there was the gasp gasped by Beca Mitchell, producer and all around music nerd.

That gasp could've been avoided by, say, leading up to an impactful statement. Easing into it, maybe, and not saying it out of nowhere like her Australian friend and Residual Heat's Public Relations manager Fat Amy just had.

Following closely behind, there was the coffee that immediately mobilized into the part of Beca's nose and throat where air had recently vacated (see above re:gasp.)

That could've been avoided by - and Beca was just spit-ballin' here - telling her an insane and irrational idea like "date Chloe Beale, famous actress and notorious socialite" while she wasn't taking a sip of her coffee.

And finally, the culmination of suck - a burning, stinging heat that seared through Beca's nose.

Coffee began to dribble out of Beca's nostrils as she sputtered, grasping under her nose and glancing around frantically for something to deal with the wet. She looked to Amy for help - which was a lost cause, really, because all Amy did was grab her fake Gucci bag from off the conference table between them.

"Ugh, Beca, why! Haven't you ever drank a liquid before?!"

Beca coughed as she attempted to alleviate the burning sensation high in her sinuses.

"I have!" she finally choked out. "But it's easier to do when someone isn't spewing crazy bullshit!"

She pressed the only thing she could find - a full paper towel roll - to her nose and mouth as she finally caught her breath.

"What, Chloe Beale?" Amy scoffed. "Sure, she's a ginger, but she seems alright. And it would be fake dating. PR, you know. My job. Ohhh, that's why you almost ruined my very real and convincing Gucci bag; you thought it would be real dating, and you were sexually intimidated."

"What? No." Beca said quickly.

"It makes sense."

"It does not, I'm not!"

"You wouldn't even be doing that, Be-car."

"It's not- ugh," Beca groaned, tossing the paper towels down the table. She set her elbows down and let her head fall into her hands.

Truth was, Beca was intimidated by the prospect of dating - even fake dating - the infamous Chloe Beale.

Not sexually, but not not sexually.

Chloe used to be an exotic dancer for chrissakes.

And now the actress was known for her hot and flashy relationships - like that one with Chicago Walp, where they were working together on that movie. They were all over each other when they were pap'd together.

And when Beca met her, all those years ago, Beca knew she just didn't have the confidence that Chloe did. And Beca had been so weird and standoffish and…

Whatever. Chloe Beale probably flirted with people all the time. She probably wouldn't even remember.

But Beca was pretty sure that the actress could date anybody that she wanted to, which did beg the question: why her?

"Why me?" Beca asked.

"Good question. No idea."

Beca let an errant, incredulous "what?" escape her lips.

This is a joke.

Or a dream.

A very weird, very realistic dream.

She looked behind her at the clock over the door and was able to read the time. She pinched her leg, felt the sting.

Okay, so this is real.

"Her team requested you," Amy continued, and Beca blanched. "I would've picked someone with a little more star power myself. Ashley Benson, maybe. Or Kacey Musgraves, that would make sense. Is she gay? Eh, suppose that doesn't rightly matter."

Her team had requested Beca?

Of all people?

Beca knew she wasn't notably famous, though she had a steady following of people who actually cared about producers, and she was known in the industry. But to the general public, Beca wasn't recognizable enough to make a splash.

Does she remember me?

"-I think they want to clean up her act," Amy went on. She scrunched up her face in a way that Beca had only recently begun to associate with Amy's feelings of confusion.

"Maybe that's why they picked a boring nobody."

"I'm not, like, anonymous," Beca bristled. "People know me."

"Not like Chloe Beale."

No, Beca thought. Not like Chloe Beale.

Beca wasn't much of a movie buff, but she was pretty sure that there wasn't a single person in LA that was unfamiliar with Chloe Beale's films. Hell, Beca thought she'd be hard-pressed to find anyone in the continental US that didn't at least have a vague idea of who Chloe was, either for her blockbuster teen movies or her party-girl persona. Even if it was just because of a throwaway joke from SNL's update or some bitchy morning show host.

But for all the drinking and partying the woman did, and all the jokes they made, Chloe Beale was an absolute media darling.

She was effusively sweet, well-spoken, and nearly nauseatingly upbeat - unlike surly, socially awkward Beca, who was definitely known for grump over graciousness.

Although, Beca had heard some rumors recently that Chloe Beale was hard to work with. Which was crazy, because - though Beca never sat through any movie willingly - even she knew that Chloe's movies were basically all dumb teen romcoms or action movies.

Maybe it was all an act? Maybe she was actually a vain, rude woman, and the "nice girl" bit was catching up to her?

Maybe they were going to use a fake relationship to humanize her a little bit, or make her seem more likable for some reason?

But that just brought Beca back to her previous question - why her? Why not someone who could, like, do interviews and stuff. Lie about how great Chloe was.

Would she recognize me? she thought. Would she remember how weird I was?

"No," she said aloud to Amy, who had been abnormally patient while Beca was contemplating. "I don't want to."

"Thought you might say that," Amy sighed dramatically. She squinted above Beca's head and hummed in the exact opposite cadence of nonchalance.

"So she'll be here in approximately sixty seconds."

"What the fuck, Amy!"

The phone on the conference table rang once, then the intercom picked up.

"Ms. Beale and her team are on the way up!"

"So in talking about terms…" Amy hedged with a sort of casual urgency. "They want this through Sundance for some reason, too rich for my blood. So that would be six months. I'm thinking four pap'd dates, two events, couple sleepovers, maybe three to five social media posts, and one video where you two buy a sex swing together?"

"Amy," Beca hissed. "I do not want to date Chloe Beale!"

"C'mon, shortstack," Amy pressed. "The boys upstairs want more from you, like before. You need to get your name back out there."

There was a commotion in the hall, and both Beca and Amy leaned to look through the glass to see a large group crowded near the couches and desks at the elevators. Beca barely glimpsed a flash of red hair under a chic tan hat and flushed.

Okay, she thought. Okay. I apparently still have a crush. Okay. That's fine, that's normal, this is fine.

… god, why was I such an idiot back then?

Okay, okay.

Why would I want to do this?

She really did need something for her career, like Amy alluded to. She was starting to get fewer and shittier clients, and the other producers were starting to override her opinions again. She had hours of unusable beats that she no longer had the confidence to share - not after she was shot down for the 100th time.

If she had more of a name, people might start taking her more seriously again.

So she could get a little notoriety boost, but she would have to hang out with a gorgeous, maybe wonderful, maybe terrible woman.

Worst case scenario, Beca realized, Chloe Beale actually sucks.

And I get over this weird, irrational crush I have on her.

"Two dates, two events. One sleepover," she countered. "And I am not buying a sex swing."

"Then you're going to need to post a picture from hers," Amy replied, and before Beca could refuse or even comprehend that doozy of a sentence, the door flew open.

"Gail, what a surprise!" Amy unconvincingly greeted the polished blonde woman who strode into the conference room. Amy stood, and so did Beca, as Chloe's apparent - manager? agent? - that Beca didn't recognize reached for Amy's hand. Amy shook, and Beca reached out to shake her hand as well, but instead Gail pulled out her phone from her tight pantsuit. She checked something and sighed.

"I sure hope it isn't a surprise," Gail said briskly. She leaned back into the hallway and shouted in a sweet tone, "Chloe, dear, please hurry up!"

Beca glanced back down the hallway. She could see that there was still a group of Beca's coworkers - who were usually a little cooler about a celebrity coming through, but maybe Chloe Beale was different - crowding around the actress. They opened up a little when they heard Gail shout her name, and Beca could see that some of them were laughing at something she was saying. What must've been the bent-over form of her body - leaning over a desk, maybe? - straightened quickly.

Beca watched as the full form of Chloe Beale was revealed as the actress excused herself gracefully. Immediately assuming a confident, long stride, she hurried down the hall; her button-clad, white maxi dress swished as she walked, and her large tan hat looked cool on her, instead of dorky, like it would've looked on Beca.

Beca felt herself blush with embarrassment as she pulled at the sleeve of her almost threadbare sweater.

I'm gonna kill Amy for scheduling this meeting without telling me.

And how lame was it, that she could feel her stomach flutter when Chloe walked in? She was taller than Beca remembered, and somehow even more beautiful. Her hair was a little shorter than the last time they had met, curling elegantly near her collar bones instead of lower. Still a bright copper, offset by those shocking blue eyes.

Beca stepped back towards the corner subconsciously, but if Chloe noticed her awkwardness, she didn't let on. In a flurry of movement, she turned and smiled brilliantly at Beca as she tapped her temple.

"Remind me to stop by her desk on the way out- her name is Carmen, right?" Chloe asked, and Beca nodded.

It's an act.

She's an actress.

She's probably mean.

"They're all so nice. Smells like coffee in here!" Chloe chirped, then she huffed lightly, as if she was clearing her mind. She appraised Beca quickly - Beca hoped against hope that her blush wasn't noticeable - and stuck out her hand.

"Hi!" she grinned. "I'm Chloe!"

"I know," Beca said before she could stop herself. She winced, glancing away as she reached for Chloe's hand.

"Right, we met before, sorry," Chloe rushed to say, dropping Beca's hand quickly. "It was so long ago, I didn't know if-"

"No, that wasn't- hah-" Beca cut in nervously. She fisted her hand before shoving it into her pocket. "I just meant-"

"-and it was such a crazy night, and-"

"-you're, like, super famous," Beca finished quietly, and the room lapsed into awkward silence. She cleared her throat and glanced up briefly to meet Chloe's eye.

"I'm Beca."

They looked at each other for a moment, and Beca could see a twinkle of mirth flash through those pretty blue eyes.

"I know," Chloe quipped with a wink.

Beca felt her cheeks warm up again as she blew out a rough, nervous laugh.

"Ha! Right," Beca replied.

"Can we get started?" Gail said brusquely. "I actually have a 12:30."

"Of course! Anything for the team," Amy schmoozed. "Please, sit!"

Chloe followed Gail around to the other side of the table, which gave Beca time to grab the snot-and-coffee-covered paper towel roll and chuck it into the trash. She tried to smile, but she felt her face contort into more of a sarcastic grimace as she took her seat on the same side as Fat Amy.

She didn't look at Chloe.

Only because her own nails were, like, super fascinating.

"So as you all know, Chloe here is looking to take on more serious, acclaimed work," Gail began in a saccharine, business-like tone. "She is filming with A24 through the end of the month - which is the film that will premiere at Sundance in a few months. We want a respectable, no-nonsense partner to help add some weight to the idea that she is a serious actress now."

"Well, you did anyway. I just wanted to do something different," Chloe added sharply, and Beca glanced up. Chloe was already looking at her - but almost through her, like she wasn't really seeing her - with a closed, concentrated look.

"And we agreed that a relationship would help keep your name trending-"

"I remember," Chloe cut her off. "I also remember specifying that it needed to be a- a woman."

"An out, single woman, without the reputation of a cesspool," Gail bit back. She smiled predatorily and turned to Beca. "Which led us to Ms. Mitchell here. The official story will be that, because Chloe sings in the new A24 film, she was considering doing an album. The two of you met, hit it off, and have become inseparable since!"

She finished her speech with a wide, empty smile, and when Beca refused to respond with the same energy, she sighed impatiently.

"So that's our pre-packaged meet-cute," she added lamely. "Now, I assume you have approved of the terms?"

Amy cleared her throat, taking the attention off Beca for a moment - something for which the producer was immensely grateful. It was hard to think with anyone's eyes on her, but it was nearly impossible with Chloe's hard expression and Gail's hawkish glare.

So the fake-dating is about making Chloe look more legitimate in front of the critics.

And not because she's some terrifying monster.

Maybe.

Still could be though.

"We have some counter-proposals," Amy said slowly. "Some that I think will benefit both parties, if I could just… think of a reason why…"

Beca felt the color draining from her face as the Australian stalled. She saw Gail flick her eyes between them, then return to Chloe.

"I told you she wouldn't-"

"Ah! Got it," Amy spoke up suddenly. "So we're saying two events - Sundance being one of them, and I think there was another movie premiere? Right. And two dates. And contractually only one sleepover, we'll see how that plays out. And as many Instagram posts as each person thinks is appropriate."

"And I call the paps," Beca tacked on, earning a sideways glare from her friend.

Chloe returned her gaze onto Beca, and the producer resisted the urge to wipe her brow or smooth her hair. It was so stupid - she'd been in the studio with dozens of big celebrities, and yet here she was, feeling like a defensive, anti-social kid again.

Was it just because of Chloe's celebrity status, or just the woman herself?

Beca didn't know.

"I don't- uh, I don't want it to be, like, Backgrid," she gritted out, letting a rough demeanor affect her tone, instead of her nervousness. "They're here all the time doing stuff with our artists, and they're total hacks. Their pictures always look super staged."

Chloe was nodding, and Beca could see that she wasn't exactly smiling, but her annoyance was actually starting to fade a little bit. Beca felt the corner of her mouth starting to turn up into a smile when Gail sighed.

"And just who did you have in mind then?"

"Uh, they're called Lodge, I think?" Beca replied, desperately racking her brain. They'd only been to the studio twice, but both times, the photographer Stacie had been very respectful. She'd even come into the studio to introduce herself before scouting a few locations for the shots.

"Wait, Bree Posen? And Stacie Conrad?" Chloe asked excitedly, and Beca felt herself relax as Chloe smiled an honest, excited smile. "I totally know them! We're basically besties."

"Wonderful, it's settled," Gail said succinctly. "Now back to the number of events…?"

They all turned to Amy, who was doodling what looked to be a large, veiny something on the corner of her page.

"That-" she started to say as she shuffled her papers. "-is just what I wanted to talk about. The number of events. So. My client-"

Beca resisted an eyeroll, but only barely, and she saw Chloe glance over at her.

"'Client'?" the redhead mouthed.

A giddy zing shot through Beca as she rolled her lips over each other, shaking her head subtly and swiftly, and she saw Chloe bite back a laugh.

Oh my god, I just made Chloe Beale smile.

Am I totally sure this isn't a dream?

She shook her head, letting her smirk fall off her face as she looked away.

She's an actress, Beca! Get it together!

"-is a lame, anti-social troll."

"Amy!" Beca shouted. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes.

"She's so boring, and she doesn't really go out anyway," Amy continued, barreling past Beca's outburst. "We think that if she started showing up in heaps of photos, everyone would know it's PR."

"The privacy angle," Gail mused aloud. "This one's real, so Chloe wants to keep it private."

"AKA, the Joe Alwyn Special," Amy finished with a flourish. She nudged Beca, who initially pondered the idea of remaining inside her hands and never seeing daylight again.

Then, deciding that that was somewhat of a trollish thing to do, she peeled her hands away.

They were all looking at her, and Beca was absolutely, 100% certain that this was a terrible idea.

She could barely be in the same room as Chloe without turning into the color of a ripe tomato, and she was supposed to, like, pose with her? Walk behind her at events? Travel with her to Utah and pretend that they were infatuated with each other?

Not that Beca would have to pretend much, but…

Ugh.

Why her?

And why now? Because Chloe Beale was a huge star, and that was going to be… a lot. Beca was going to get questions - from her friends, her coworkers, maybe even strangers. Some would think it was fake, but others would want it to be real.

Either way, Beca was going to be thrust into the spotlight, and that was not somewhere she wanted to be most of the time.

Too much, she thought. And not really worth it.

She was about to call the whole thing off when she felt a hand on her arm. She looked up to see that Chloe was reaching across the table.

"We can handle this. I can handle this. I just need your help, okay?" she asked softly. "I can help you. Trust me, you're going to be amazeballs."

Beca reluctantly let out an airy laugh, which Chloe echoed.

"I don't know if I wanna be, like, famous."

Gail made a motion to talk, as did Amy, but Chloe beat them to it.

"I get that," she said. "But all this fame stuff is, like, fleeting. It's all about what you do with it. Do you have something that you want to do with it? Do you have dreams that you want to make into a reality?"

Beca's mind flashed to the hundreds of mixes and demos taking up space on her hard drive, to the hours spent with preteen kids who were getting nepotism contracts, to terrible rappers and the late nights and rewrites and-

And she looked at Chloe.

"I'll be with you every step of the way," Chloe promised. "I bet we'll even like each other by the end of it."

And that earnest, open, breathless kind of smile - one that Chloe had probably perfected with her acting coach! Beca's mind tried to remind her, to no avail - that look made Beca want to believe her.

Beyond the crush.

Beyond the impending attention.

She wanted to believe that they might actually get along.

"Okay," Beca agreed with a sarcastic roll of her eyes. "I'll pretend to like you."

Chloe's expression morphed into one of perverse glee, and she squeezed Beca's wrist excitedly.

"You just wait, Beca Mitchell," she grinned.

"I think we're gonna be really fast friends."