Behind The Curtains

Chapter Two- Maximum Ride: The Musical

Act One, Scene One (Fang)

[Light from outside basks the cluttered office, with folders and files everywhere, in light. The man and woman walk in, the woman looking annoyed and the man looking bored.]

Sighing, the man plopped down in the chair, putting his feet up on his manager's desk. His manager gave him a look, her eyebrows raised, and motioned for him to move them. Raising his eyebrows, the man shook his head a little; his version of a defiant 'No.' Sighing, the manager, a Ms. Camellia Love, just sat down, folding her hands together and looking him hard in the eyes. Once again, the man was struck by the thought she was only three years older than he, at seventeen years old, was.

"Nick, you've been getting pickier about jobs, if possible." She muttered the last part, but he still heard it, smirking a little at her as she narrowed her deep red eyes at him. "You say you want something 'different,' something 'amazing,' something 'never before seen,' that 'nobody's never even dared to imagine' — something 'new.'" Drawing out the adjectives, she snorted, using quotation marks around them. "Well, here it is, Darling," Ms. Love said smugly, as she rolled her eyes, tossing him a folder. He caught it with ease, opening it to see a…

Musical script?

"Are you nuts —it's a freaking Broadway musical!" he snorted, eyes narrowed, tossing it back. Annoyed, Ms. Love shoved the folder at him insistently. Her dirty blonde hair was back in an artistic bun, but as she stood, it came undone slightly, falling around her pale face.

"Look, Nick — Fang is a great role. Honestly, I don't think you can even handle it; it's just so not you, but you at the same time. The only reason I asked was that, (a), the character reminds me of you, except better, (b), it's a favor for a friend, and, (c), this could change the media's view on you. You won't be a partying heartbreaker, Nick — you'll be a sweet, kind, amazingly committed man. And if you don't like it, then all I have to say to you, is suck it up and go with it," she replied, leaning across the desk, her thin fingers clasped together.

Nick gave her a long, calculating look before nodding, standing and picking up the folder. "I'll give it a look," he said, voice flat, and she smirked, knowing she'd won. Standing straight again, Ms. Love nodded at the door with an impatient expression, urging him to leave, as she was no longer interested in him. She might have been young, but she was certainly only interested in business.

At least, that's what Nick thought until he saw her, out of the corner of his eye, pick up her phone and dial a number. When the person on the other end picked up, she undid her hair and grinned. "Yeah, he agreed… Mhm, I know you owe me… dinner there? Hun, you gotta do better than that… haha, yeah, totally… Mm? Oh, tell her I say hi, and to go to hell! Hahaha… Yeah, I miss you all, too… No, of course not her… Haha…"

Blinking, Nick raised an eyebrow but left anyways. It was like seeing your teacher at the grocery store in elementary school. You don't really think they exist outside of the classroom, but then there they are, smiling and wearing t-shirts and jeans as they chatter with their friends or husband.

Shaking it off, he glanced at the folder with a wrinkled nose. Snorting, he rolled his eyes. As if he was actually going to like it. Broadway musicals weren't his style, and he was certain they never would be. But as he passed the trashcan, he didn't throw it away like usual. For some reason, he was going to give it a try.

[Blackout. A few hours later, night, back at the office. Nick busts in.]

"When the heck are auditions?" he asked, palms on the desk and midnight eyes narrowed. Ms. Love smiled, pleased, with a hint of cockiness as well. Smoothing out her skirt slowly, biting her lip and glancing unsurely at the ceiling, she pretended to think. Nick soon grew impatient, knowing she was just rubbing in her success. "Fine, you were right, now give me the dang time, date, and place!"

Ms. Love stood, picking up her keys and cappuccino with a serene smile. "Hun, calm down," she said, and he glared at her. She knew he hated it when she talked down to him. "Since I know the writer, and the director, and the producer, and they obviously all know you, you're already in."

He blinked as she walked past. "I'm already in?" She nodded, winking at him before wiggling her fingers goodbye and leaving. "I'm… already… in…" he repeated slowly before smirking to himself, shaking his head a little and walking out, thinking highly of himself.

[Nick's apartment, also cluttered, movie reviews, DVDs, magazines, pictures, anything with his face on it is everywhere. Mostly black-grey touches, like the marble kitchen counter. Nick is laying on his black bed, manila folder in his hands.]

Max:[Whirls around, glaring.] Would you stop that?

Fang:[Smirks calmly at her.] Stop what? Breathing?

Max:[Nasty glare.] You know what.

Fang:[Smirk and shrug, glancing in the fridge.] Iggy, breakfast?

Iggy:[Smiles, walking up and bumping Max out of the way.] Eggs, bacon, pancakes, and a purely hot blind pyro at your service!

Max:[Looks around, sarcastic.] Ooh! Where?

Iggy:[Puts a hand to his heart, feigning hurt.] Ouch, Max. That stung.

Smiling a little, Nick wondered about the writer. The name, Maximum Ride, sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it exactly. All he got was flashes of Maya, his snotty, stuck-up, cheater of an ex-girlfriend, whom he loathed. Biting his lip, he thought a little harder. He was certain he knew this girl. But he just couldn't remember her. And that made him feel kind of guilty.

With another sigh, he opened up the script again, but a small corner of his mind was still mulling over the puzzle of Maximum Ride. Who is she, and what does she have to do with Maya? He wondered, eventually deciding he couldn't focus on the script after he had read the beginning twenty times.

"I guess I'll find out soon enough," he muttered to himself, putting the script on his bedside table and taking off his shirt with a yawn. Tossing the clothing to the ground, he got under the sheets and blankets and fell asleep with Maya's face in his head.

[Blackout. Next day, park. Nick is in a dumb disguise of a blonde wig and blue contacts. Suddenly, some kids walk by.]

"C'mon, Maxie," the strawberry blonde boy groaned, looking pouty. "Can't you give us the script yet? It's killing me, not knowing how it goes! You said that after it was finished, you would show us!" Three of the others — an African-American girl and two blonde haired, blue eyed, pale skinned twins, but one boy and one girl — nodded in agreement with this statement and complained, as well.

Laughing, the girl that was left, who seemed to be around Nick's age, laughed, tossing her brown-blonde-auburn hair out of her chocolate brown eyes in a familiar way. Narrowing his eyes, he watched on from the corner of his eye. "Sorry, guys — you need the parts first."

Then, a guy who looked to be in his early twenties jogged up with a serene smile on his face. He had chestnut brown hair and matching eyes, as well as tan skin. "Hey, guys, you talking about MRM?" he asked, and the girl chuckled, rolling her eyes.

"What else, Ari? They want me to show them the script, and I just won't budge," the girl replied, and her laugh was like tinkling bells. Nick smiled a little at the sound. It, too, was familiar. "I don't think they get the concept of, 'Closed to the public.'"

The man, Ari, rolled his eyes, as well. "Well, you showed it to that jerk-of-a-movie star dude, didn't you? And you didn't even know if he'd go for it," he pointed out, and her face flushed red. And then it clicked. She looked a lot like Maya.

Except, she wasn't Maya. She, (a), wasn't wearing designer girly-girl clothes, (b), seemed nice — way out of Maya's character —, (c) she didn't have any pink highlights, unless she took them out, (which was highly unlikely, considering Maya's love of her streaks.) And (d), she was at the park, where Nick distinctly remembered Maya complaining, 'dogs took giant freakin' poopers that nobody picked up', 'kids were always screaming', 'both animals and children, (although she saw them as pretty much the same,) ran up to people,' and everything was 'so dirty.'

Nick tried to picture Maya being at the park with a messy ponytail, no make-up, no highlights, wearing jeans and a messy t-shirt, before deciding it just wasn't possible. For some reason, he had a tiny gut feeling that this girl wasn't Maya, but he knew her.

After mulling over whether or not to approach them and ask for their names for a few minutes, he sighed. Suddenly, the strawberry blonde's eyes fell on him, narrowed and suspicious, and Nick realized that he must've looked like a stalker/creeper person for staring at them like that for so long. He averted his gaze to the ground and scurried off, feeling the guy's eyes on his back.

I'm such a stalker. He thought as he walked away, trying not to face palm. Glancing back, he took in the rest of the scene, eyes on the brunette.

"Well, you know that's different, I mean, you know, Ari… About… the part… Oh, shut up! Stop laughing, darn it!" the girl, whose face was still red, exclaimed, looking annoyed. They just continued laughing.

Nick smiled to himself slightly, and was still smiling when he got to his apartment.

[Blackout]

Authors' Note: AND… SCENE. Thank you all for reviewing! Here are some review responses...

Light Iron Girder:Well, we all come up with ideas (in our meetings – like pros XD – everyday) online, since we all live like... Everywhere. And then one person is assigned to write it, and when they're done, the other two beta! Thanks for reviewing!

Anna: Hehe. I love writing in Fangy's POV. We can change up the stuff in his brain to make him an idiot, or weird, or stalkerish, or insane. How amazing modern society is!

Bubbles: I'm so excited for this story! EEEP! Ok. Please review!

Fluffy: Hehe. Nudge rocks socks, Fang kicks butt, Max kicks ass, and… Maya's a noob. Just lovely :) I like this chapter. Well… I hope you did too! Review please?

=) SACA BAF (=