Chapter One
January - 2016
.
It's around half 10 at night and I'm stood around, my shift started about 2 hours ago and has been pretty quiet but within the last 20 minutes it's really picked up. To start with all I have to do is make sure the press stay behind a certain marker on the floor, we'd put a rope up but apparently there's a policy against that at this venue.
I work for an agency you see, stewarding at events it's easy and good pay. But now the celebs are showing up and my job gets a little more intense but still simple. I walk up to the car, wait for the person to exit then walk with them to the first journalist, if their PR agent doesn't show up then I move with them through the interviews until I get to the doorway. But don't go inside were not meant to go in the venue. Except of course if the celeb or their party request you to aid them in some way, which isn't uncommon. I once spent 2 hours trying to find some ones phone in a cloakroom, which definitely is not in my job description.
I've helped several members of cast and crew though the press tonight, I'm working a private event, I move to the next car I see. Jenifer Lawrence gets out of a car. Christ I really am a big fan of the hunger game series the books and the films so I have to remind myself to remain calm and professional as I 'help her', we walk with her over to some cameras and journalists waiting to talk to her. They do so and I stand back out of the way, I only have to stand with them until the PR people come to move her on. So I watch her talk about the new film, admiring really but even sooner than regular her PR man comes over and moves her on, I should really be returning to the start post but I linger for a moment still watching her making her way down the carpet. The journalist next to me must be bored or low on material because she starts speaking to me.
"And so what's your opinion on Jennifer then?" she looks bored and annoyed that she didn't get much time with the top lady.
I really shouldn't answer it's against policy, she's going to use me as a source and I'll probably get the company in trouble, but it's not like I'm going to say anything bad, so I do it anyway looking directly at her as though I know what I'm doing. I give her my truest most professional opinion I can offer.
"I think Jen is part of a new generation of actors, that speak their mind and aren't afraid to be themselves instead of saying the same old brainwashed ideas and acting in a specific rehearsed way. Their honest and don't try to act professional all the time, they just have good polite manners. And a great sense of humour, acceptance and normality."
The journalist laughs and says "sounds like you know what you're on about"
I don't that's just my opinion, but hey that's fine, I'll take the compliment but only with a shy smile. I notice another journalist down the drive slightly is waving at me, they must need something. I'll probably end up fetching drinks or something ridiculous, so I wander on down, but no its easy to realise their trying to work out who I am, talking to other people around her, oh ok, they must think I'm in the film because they just saw me doing an interview. I laugh slightly to myself a little but play along.
They ask a series of general questions and I answer them as vaguely as I can without sounding indifferent because I don't really want them to realise I have no idea what their asking me about. Once the second journalist is done I look up and spot a short man with dark hair calling me over even further down, he wants an interview to. And so it continues 20 minutes later and I'm still giving out vague answers to general questions, when someone else's PR manager comes over and hustles me away into the hotel, they must be about to grab my own radio and call me into my manager. I played along with it for a long time and I guess this is what getting caught feels like, the feeling of sickness is starting to build in my throat, too much saliva in my mouth.
"I saw you struggling to get away from all the press and paparazzi out there. You should talk to your PR agency they really left you on your own for a long time." – Oh this guy thinks I'm famous too. I almost laugh for panicking so much. He wanders off looking busy with his clipboard and sunglasses and now I'm inside the hotel where I'm not meant go. Where the after party of the premiere of the final film for the hunger games is being held. Where I really don't want to leave. Where I can play this game for a little bit longer. I make the decision to keep playing along, to stay inside, to venture into the hidden world of famous people at after parties, even if I do end up losing my job.
A smile spreads across my face as a waiter hands me a glass of champagne and starts to chaperone the way down a corridor into an open room full of people talking in small groups. I know I really shouldn't be here but I'm starting to feel an 'infinite moment' grow and this is something that I've sworn to seek out 3 years ago. So living this moment is really all that matters, I start mingling but not talking to anyone otherwise they'd realise I shouldn't be here but standing in groups of people listening to their conversations is just as thrilling as being part of the conversation itself.
As I turn away from one of the groups to join another someone speaks directly to me.
"Hi, Santana Lopez" you state throwing your hand out in a confident manner for me to shake.
I reply, trying to match your confidence level and shake your hand, firm but soft "Brittany Pierce".
I look at you more carefully the lighting in here is kind of dim, but you seem to be radiating or something. You're pretty and not the conventional type of pretty but not the unconventional type of pretty either, you hold a type of beauty all to yourself. Completely unique. Deep, brown eyes that could swallow me whole, lips red and bright and almost swollen in an entirely sexy way, the light curves of your face that act like a magnet to capture my attention, dark long breathtaking hair that I just want to reach out and touch. Then there is the rest of you, petite and curvy and intoxicating, I feel like I'm on drugs. I want to grab you and push you up against a wall and forget everyone of me silly little rules.
So when you so politely ask, "and so what is it that you do, I don't think we've met before?" I lie.
"I'm a writer", it's out of my mouth before I even contemplate what I've just said. Crap.
"Interesting, and what is it that you write?" I lie again. Because right now this is the most infinite I've ever felt. There's something about the risk of getting caught and the adventure of talking to someone so new.
"Well I'm new to the scene, not published yet. I'm writing a story about a girl trying to find herself in this world" I realise immediately how unoriginal that all sounds, and you're pointing it out to me quicker than I could correct yourself.
"Oh, and how is this book any different than the million others that are about the exact same thing?" you seem genuinely intrigued, right now I feel so empowered I feel like I could come up with the meaning of life, I feel so brilliant and so I just let myself keep talking.
"well this story is not just about how she thinks she's found herself but also how she is writing a book about how she did so. Piecing all the parts of her past, her journey together until one pivotal time when she felt completely in the moment".
"And how did this idea come to you? Writing a book about writing a book, it sounds intriguing maybe even complex?" one of your eyebrows is raised, you seem genuinely curious. I feel bad for lying now so it's time to be honest again. All this lying stuff isn't really me anyway.
"It's not complex at all, I've just come up with it. You see I'm not really a writer….. but right now in this moment I feel like I could be". I hope I'm making sense.
Looking confused and slightly betrayed you quietly say; "if you're not a writer then what is it you do? Who are you really?"
I feel bad now and a bit panicky you could get me in a lot of trouble after all I'm meant to be working, but I owe the the complete truth and something about you, I'm not certain what, makes me want to be honest.
"I'm Brittany Pierce, the stewarding staff, that accidently got mistaken as a random famous person by the press and hustled in here, only to meet you, doesn't that seem a little coincidental for some reason?"
You seem to gain all her confidence back at once and put your hand out in front of me again. I shake it once more, although I'm not sure what it is you're doing, is this some sort of do over?
"Well Brittany Pierce, Not a writer. I'm not a publisher so if you were to ever write that book I couldn't help you. But I do happen to be a producer and so I guess it is a weird coincidence that it is me that you tell your elaborate 'in this moment I could be a writer' story too. I like this and I'm curious to develop ideas further, we should arrange to meet and discuss". You hand me a business card.
I smile and laugh and take the card turning it over in my hand, not really sure if this beautiful woman in front of me is joking or serious or just kind of crazy. I look back up to her eyes, deep brown orbs that I really have no reason to be getting lost in, you're a lot closer than before and then without even blinking you lean in to kiss me on the cheek. I'm aware this is just common courtesy but still I blush like a 14 year old teenager being kissed by her first ever crush.
"Call me and make an appointment, I'll be seeing you around Brittany Pierce. You should get back to work before you get in trouble"
Just like that you've gone, your here to network well that's what I assume so it makes sense that you can't talk all night. And I really should get back to work.
I put the card safely in my jeans pocket and turn around walking, more rushed than usual, out of the hotel lobby past all the cameras to the starting post by the valet service. No one notices I've been missing probably assuming I've just been doing the bidding of another celeb for the last hour or so like normal. No one has any idea of what I've just begun, not even me.
The next day – January 2016.
I wake up the next morning, well day its 3pm, groggy and tired. In the crappy little studio apartment, it doesn't matter though I'm travelling after all and if I decided to leave next week the place wouldn't be missed. The morning routine begins, I didn't get in till 9am so tiredness is at a high, and nothing I'm not used to. I think about the money I made last night, it should tide things over for a couple weeks at least. The fact is I tend to move around one location to the other stopping in places, like this, for a couple months before moving off again.
Stumbling to the cupboard I pull out the wheetabix and put the kettle on, prepare everything to make a coffee. Once the coffee is made, one spoonful instant coffee, one spoonful sugar and one spoonful instant hot chocolate with boiling water, no milk. I pour it over the wheetabix a substitute for millk. This sounds odd but it's what I've been doing for years a habit I picked up back at Uni. Walking back to the bed, about 2 feet away, I sit down and start playing on my phone whilst eating – Tumblr, Facebook, Whatsapp – Quinn wants to meet later, that's cool I'm eager to tell her about last night and how I had a crazy hour of pretend fame. Forgetting the phone and breakfast for a moment I reach over to my skinny jeans and pull out the card:
'Santana Lopez, Executive Producer. Address, Phone number'
Is this real? Is she a fake like I was? Unlikely though. More likely she's playing a joke, or maybe if I let myself imagine just for fun, she picked me up on her 'gaydar' like I did her, and she wants to ask you on a date. A possibility – I mean I'm not unattractive- well its more likely than what she said about writing a screenplay together. I've gotten used to people talking about things like screenplays and filming out here in LA, completely different from back at home – people have dreams and ambition here.
I put the card down and call Quinn, she's a lot more awake than I am. The benefit of working part time day hours in a coffee bar, she gets to sleep at night. She's free and so we both agree to meet up at the coffee shop down the road to catch up – it's been 4 days since we last spoke which is a crazy long time for us two.
I throw the phone down on the bed, pick up the card again smile like a shy child, with a little blush creeping up, and I cough to myself. Place it down carefully on the bedside table (well a chair that I placed there a while ago). Pull off my jersey over over head, slip my boxer shorts off and stumble into the bathroom – well a closet with a shower and loo- to shower. The shower is always a great place to contemplate life's philosophy, so whilst enjoying the silkiness of conditioner in my hair I decide to definitely mention Santana Lopez to Quinn for her advice.
I get changed quickly, never particularly fussed about how I look, so its easy to grab my favorite pair of blue sweats and an old grey t-shirt before grabbing the essentials. My phone, wallet and keys and leaving the apartment in an abandoned state. This is why it's best I live on my own and one of the main reasons I do now live on my own, for a long time me and Quinn would share living spaces – it's cheaper that way and when you move around so much it doesn't really matter if its cramped. But we got in each other's way too much and argued too much and got too close to something happening that could ruin a great friendship too often.
It's a standard sunny day in West Hollywood, and the coffee shop is on top of me before I even realised I'd really began walking. I must still be working through my tired haze. Of course I'm 5 minutes early like always and I'm certain Quinn will be 5 minutes late like always too. The coffee shop smells like –vanilla and cinnamon and caramel and hot brewing steam (warmth) and boiling milk and of course dark lovely coffee-to me that's home because it doesn't matter where you are in the world you can walk into a coffee shop and it will always smell the same. I grab a free paper off the rack and go to order my coffee. Latte with two shots of caramel – like it's been for the last 5 years, obviously I occasionally try different types of coffee and different combinations of syrup. But I always go back to this, my favorite Even if it is a little sweet and I should probably drink something a little more grown up at the age of 24 – but no thanks, I'm a baby really.
"Britt, order up" the ever chipper Darcy smiles, dark hair and light eyes what a lovely combination, something I've admired for the past couple of months, from a safe distance though I'm not here to sleep around. So I smile politely like always.
"Cheers", I say quietly nice and brief, pick up my delicious drink and walk over to the corner to wait for Quinn. I take a sip, still a little too hot, and start to look at the paper not a lot going on really. Some politics I'm not really interested in, some war I should probably care about and some celebrity caught doing something I shouldn't even acknowledge. But still like most people in their mid-twenties that's the article I turn too. Once I've learnt all about Kristen Stewarts most recent trip to rehab I look up and spot Quinn ordering her drink talking animatedly with Darcy, come on Quinn don't do that, don't build another girl up just to knock her back down. Of course I know she doesn't mean to ever hurt people and most of the time she hurts herself too, she just has this way with words and a type of aura around her that attracts lovely, kind girls.
She always gets tea never coffee – but she will undoubtedly complain about how it tastes comparing it to tea back at home. Being reminded of our little routines I look down at my watch yep she's 4 minutes late and by the time she sits down opposite me, 5 minutes late perfect.
"You look like shit" she says looking me up and down, well isn't she lovely, my best-friend everyone.
"Why thank you, I see you've managed to pull off that annoying amount of weird and awesome as always."
She's wearing a basic yellow floral dress with dark tights, white converses and a small black blazer, topping it all off with a beanie and a pair of ray bans, someone could easily think she was a celeb dressing so casually formal and creative but I'm beyond used to it by now.
"How was the work gig you were at last night then"
She seems to think saying 'work gig' makes her sounds cooler, well all know it doesn't but I'll play along. Normally I would reply with the same answer – 'boring but moneys money'. Not today though.
"Different", that's all I manage to get out. She takes my pause as a conversation ender and starts to talk about her ridiculous hours, that aren't ridiculous at all. Like I hadn't said anything different than normal. This is how it usually goes I give minimal conversation and Quinn rambles on. I don't mind in fact I like it, it means I can be involved without really having to participate. That's why being with Quinn for such long periods of time is so easy. But not today, not right now, I actually have something I want to talk about and she always listens when such times occur. So I cut her off.
"I met someone, last night"
I feel dizzy and silly, that didn't come across right I'm pretty sure I've got heart palpations or arrhythmia or something. I must be more excited than I was letting myself believe. That's ok Brittany I say in my head, you're allowed to be excited now calm down.
"Wait, What! You slept with someone?" - Of course she's gone straight to the sex place.
"I thought you weren't doing that anymore?"She's smirking at me now.
"Shut up, I didn't mean it like that. And no I'm not doing that anymore", I say all hushed.
There was a time when I did that kind of thing a little too much; people may have thought I was being a slut or a player. But really I was just taking the living in the moment a little off key and decided to 'feel' in a very literal sense as much as I could.
I start to explain about Jennifer Lawrence and the interviews and the journalists and getting mistaken for being a random famous person and getting into the hotel. She's intrigued but laughing,
"How the hell did they think you were famous, what were you wearing?"
She's joking, so I carry on now I have to explain Santana to her. This could be more difficult trying to find the right words will be hard.
"She has the type of deep brown eyes that instead of trying to pierce into you, it feels like she's absorbing me, like she is melting my soul into hers. I can't explain it. And that's just her eyes. There's so much to her – it's type of beautiful I've never seen before."
I say how she seems to shine with this new type of beauty that I don't understand and how I was all caught up in one of my 'Perks infinite moments' –that's what we've been calling them for years. I finally get out that I lied and said I was a writer and then gave in and told her the truth. I told her how Santana didn't give me up and instead how she gave me her card and hinted about making a screenplay together. She's laughing again now.
"You. A writer. Ok. Ha. Too much."
"Stop it, this is real I need your advice, do I call her? Do you think it's a joke? Do you think she's a fake? It would be nice to see her again" my voice is fading out now.
She's giving me that smile, that 'ha, you got it bad' smile, so I tell her straight.
"Stop smiling like that, I'm not going to sleep with her, but more friends = more contacts = more places to stay = more travelling."
"Sounds like you already made your mind up really, fair enough, call her"
I change the topic to something random and unimportant and now were both reminiscing about old times and planning time ahead, before we realise an hour or so has gone by and my coffee is long drained away and the tiredness is creeping up. We both call it quits with a quick hug and promise to meet up again tomorrow, I'll drop by the coffee shop whilst she works for a couple hours, just like normal. We have a great routine together that's how this whole thing works, travelling the world with someone would get hard if you didn't have structures to stand by. We go our separate ways to our separate apartments.
The moment I step through my door, I drop my sweats and pick up a pair of shorts, next the bra's off and a jersey replaces the t-shirt. The best thing about being your own company is that you don't need to wear proper clothes and can look like complete crap and not have any one worry. I walk over to the kitchen- a couple cupboards, sink, microwave, fridge and work top. Throw in a micro meal and walk over to the bed, turn on my laptop, get it set up to skype the parents. We can only do it at certain time due to the time difference between here and Dorset, England. We have a normal chat whilst I stuff macaroni and cheese (potentially the most amazing meal in the world) into my mouth.
"Is it working, can you see us", Mum says as she awkwardly waves and gets too close to the screen.
"Of course she can", Dad cuts mum off moving the laptop around a bit.
It's not that my Dad is a rude man, no not at all. He's lovely, but he's kind of a computer genius; so when Mum is being her normal technophobic self- he gets a little short of patience.
"Hey Mum, Dad- How're you both?" I awkwardly wave back for mum.
"we're ok, just the normal stuff. Not a lot going on."- Dad
"Fair enough"
"We booked a holiday the other day, we're going on another bike tour around France and Switzerland, with Marilyn and Chris" – Mum, over enthusiastic as always.
"That's cool, Summer time?"
"Late August like normal, What about you how is it in America?"
"Oh have you seen lots of famous people? Zoe says that's where they all are in LA, You are still there aren't you?"
"Yea, It's still great out here, still in LA. Yep, Zoe's right lots of famous ones out here, see quite a few but also just loads of normal people."
"You working ok? Got enough money and food?"
"Yep, worked just last night so I'm really tired now actually, plenty of food and money to manage"
we continue to talk for a little while, then say our byes and misses you's and they checked I had money and was eating again even though they can't really help me out even if they wanted to. It ends with me promising to come back in the near future. What they don't know is that it will only be another visit, nothing long term. It's not that I don't love my family, I do and it's not that we aren't close, were stupidly close. I love travelling and being free, and seeking my infinite moments. I can't just stop that. I don't think I'll ever really stop moving around again.
Tumblr, Facebook, Whatsapp – the same checks like always lying on my bed with my laptop and phone. I look around the apartment it's in a pretty bad state, I'm not the cleanest of people. So I get up and throw some rubbish in the bin, tidy up a little, push some dirty clothes into a pile, and go lie back down again. Maybe I should read another book online again, I always enjoy that. I have a collection of books on my laptop but I often go online and read fanfiction. I choose an old favorite and start reading, not from the beginning today though, I've read this one so much I just start from a random place, tonight I'll start somewhere near the end.
I reach for my water on my 'bedside table', but when I glance I see the card. It's such a crisp cream colour, is it possible for cream to be 'crisp' because that's how it looks to me. I pick it up, how can card feel so soft and so important, I really should call you. So I do. I get the answer machine and it's awkward.
"Hi it's Britt, nope. Brittany, wait. Brittany Pierce, yes. The…. Err not writer, maybe writer, pretended to be a writer. Well you said to give you a call from that number on that card you gave me. So hi. And I was wondering if you wanted coffee. To get coffee with me I mean. Well ring me back on this number, if you want to -07798053629. You don't have to. You were probably just humoring me. But yes. Errr thanks. Bye bye."
I stumbled over my words saying my name and number and asking about coffee. But thats what this lifestyle is all about, for the last 3 years – carpe diem.
I feel embarrassed about the lack of sense I made on the voice message but proud that I did it, so on goes 'Imagine Dragons' and the reading commences. I must slip off to sleep somewhere during the last chapter of the book, because the only thing going through my mind is something that helped start this whole journey.
"When we release our expectations, we stop feeling incomplete" – Lily R Mason.
.
.
.
A/N - Hi. Be honest with me. My writing style is off and I'm positive this is full of mistakes, all criticism is welcomed and encouraged.
Also if you don't know who Lily R Mason is - TTLWR & MAYAD author - u/2805168/ Hopefully she won't mind me quoting her.
And yes, i realise i Britt is reading fanfic about herself technically. but i shall never state that the story she is reading is about brittana and this whole story is AU and there won't be any references to glee show or glee a club throughout.