I don't own Pitch Perfect
.
.
.
Beca groaned pitifully. "I can't go on. No more, no more please," she begged though her voice was muffled by the wood of the table.
"Not on your life," Sid laughed though it sounded suspiciously like a cackle. "I've had to deal with your disappearance for two months. This is payback bitch." Beca groaned again but compliantly propped her head up so her chin was resting on the table and she looked upwards at Sid.
"What's next you hell-crawler?"
"I actually don't have anything else for you," Sid admitted with a sheepish smile. Beca sprung up out, her chair falling back and clattering to the ground, with her fists in the air and yelping triumphantly. "But last I heard Manny was waiting for you up in his office."
The shout of triumph died on Beca's lips and she muttered, "Damn." Sid just smirked and watched his lead producer trudge out of his office with her feet dragging. Yeah, revenge was sweet.
.
.
.
It had taken the Bellas a significantly longer time to get everyone ready and out the door than Kat had expected, but eventually everyone was ready to go. "Alrighty Bellas!" Kat exclaimed gleefully with a clap of her hands. "My name is Kat Daniels and I, along with Jesse 'Drool Bucket' Swanson, will be your tour guide today. We will be taking you on a glorious tour of downtown LA. Any and all questions and complaints shall be directed towards Swanson while I will graciously be accepting all compliments. Any questions? No? Good. Let's go!"
While anyone else would probably have been a little off-put by Kat's brash attitude, the Bellas were all completely unfazed. Of course, considering they had been dealing with Fat Amy's rather… unique brand of humor and metaphors for years, it really shouldn't have been all that astounding. During the cramped ride down to the parking structure in the apartment building's elevator, the Bellas were all quickly divided into two groups. Aubrey, Chloe, Fat Amy, and Stacie would ride with Kat while Lily, Jessica, Denisse, Ashley, and Cynthia Rose would be riding with Jesse. Kat noticed the curly-haired music producer looked relieved that Fat Amy wouldn't be in his car, although his face paled when he heard he'd be locked in a metal prison with Lily. Kat made a mental note to question someone about that later but right now wasn't really the time.
First, she was in charge of driving four highly inquisitive (read NOSY) ex-collegiate singing nerds around her hometown. She had a gut feeling that a large part of her tour of the Los Angele area was going to revolve around the a cappella version of the Spanish Inquisition. Her instincts were proven correct when as soon as she turned the key in the ignition. Stacie, who was in the backseat, looked at Kat and asked flippantly, "So are you and Beca screwing each other's brains out?" Yep. This was going to be an interesting day.
Kat quirked an eyebrow as she navigated her way out of the parking garage and said, "Not even while drunk. I'm straight." Although her eyes were trained on the road as she attempted to merge into the street traffic, she could feel Stacie's laser eyes staring a hole through her head.
"Yeah alright, I can see it," Stacie finally said.
Before she could ask a different, though probably just as inappropriate question, Fat Amy broke in. "So how did you and Shaw shank meet?"
"Shaw shank?" Kat asked curiously.
Fat Amy nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, Beca, how did you meet her?"
"You call Beca Shaw shank? Tiny little Beca?" Kat asked with a snort. Although she had heard stories from Jesse, Benji, and Manny about Beca's capabilities of defending herself, she had never seen the 'Million Dollar Baby' right hook that Jesse praised every time they were accosted by an overly-intoxicated bar patron. Frankly it was just one of many hazards Beca endured in her profession of choice.
"Oh yeah," Fat Amy bobbed her head eagerly. "The night of my first ever fantastic solo debut, I was about to waste a washed up dingo-humper with a 'borrowed' trophy, and Shaw shank stepped up to deck them instead. She ended up slightly incarcerated. It's okay though, I'm like 40% sure that they didn't press charges." Kat couldn't help the boisterous laughter that slipped through her lips. While at some point in her ramblings Beca may have mentioned that particular incident, Kat couldn't recall having heard it before. With a wicked grin, she filed it away for future use. After all, you never know when you'll need another chunk of good, old-fashioned blackmail.
.
.
.
Beca was overcome with a sudden sinking suspicion that Kat now knew something she shouldn't. Something damning to Beca's being. Something… blackmail-ey. Manny noticed the slight off-put expression on his favorite DJ's face and wrongly assumed that Beca was unhappy with the arrangement presented to her. He quickly started babbling that if Beca didn't want to have that particular rookie open for her, he'd have his schedule changed.
Beca waved her hand dismissively in the air. "I'm more than willing to give the kid a shot Manny," Beca said easily. While most DJs in her positon preferred to only have opening DJs that already had the experience to match, the reputation to bolster the headliner, or the money to pay their way to a stop slot, Beca was a little different. She always had been, probably always would be.
She had given a fair amount of rookies the shot to open for her. The way she saw it, TurnStyle Records had taken a hell of a chance on her, an unknown with barely any experience from Georgia, the least she could do was return the favor. Besides, this way she had direct access to some incredibly new talents. If she liked them, she was more than happy to offer some much-appreciated advice and buy them a lunch (something many under-paid DJs were extremely grateful for). If they didn't click, they were shuffled along on the TSR rotations. At least they had the chance to boast to other second-rate DJs that they had opened for her that one time.
Listening to Manny prattle on about how things were going back on the California side of the country, Beca was kind of shocked at how much she missed. Logically she knew she shouldn't be. While New York may be the city that never sleeps, Los Angeles was the city that never stopped creating. How could it, when a large part of its business and commerce was the movie and music industries? Movies were always being pumped out and music was always blaring at some hole in the wall club at all hours of the night. Beca would know, she was usually the one blaring the music.
At that thought, Beca covered her mouth with the back of her hand. Jet lag, time zone differences, and not actually sleeping when she got back to LA meant she was very tired. She had fortunately slept on the plane when her email was all caught up, but four hours does not well-rested make. Truth be told it would probably take her several days if not a week to get her body clock synced back up. However, with the Bellas still camped out in her apartment, that didn't seem very likely to happen soon.
Sometime in Beca's sleepy ramblings, Manny had shifted topics. Although it was December 29th, TSR was positively buzzing. And why shouldn't it be? Everyone knew that New Years was a DJ's paradise. Drinks flowing free, people just looking for a good party, and parties that lasted until the next day, what wasn't to love? And Beca, as a big-name, was booked for the club she was spinning at for almost a year in advance. After all it wasn't often that someone was offered the chance to spin at the best and most exclusive nightclub smack dab in the middle of downtown Los Angeles.
However, a good, high-profile event such as this New Year's event was no doubt to be required a hell of a lot of planning. Having the headlining DJ on the other side of the country certainly didn't make that any easier on anyone involved. With a slight sake of her head, Beca focused on Manny's words again as he was gesticulating wildly as he motioned towards a tentative provided guest list. Yep. Long day indeed.
.
.
.
Jesse shifted in his seat, just a little uncomfortable with the atmosphere in his car. He would be the first to admit that it was fantastic to catch up with the Bellas and reminisce about college. However, the fact of the matter was Lily unnerved him to no end. Say what you will about her being quiet and unassuming, the Asian girl with the slightly unhinged look in her eyes and the Zippo in every pocket put him on edge. Maybe it was the way anytime someone said something she evidently disagreed with, her hand would automatically go towards one of her lighter pockets with a glint in her eyes. Also, on several occasions her mutterings had included the words, 'mob hit, 'unfortunate accident', and 'mass graves'. Pyrotechnical tendencies coupled with possible mafia affiliations tended to make him weary. Call him crazy.
.
.
.
"Ummmm Kat," Chloe piped up hesitantly from the back seat. Usually the red head was a never ending vault of optimism and confidence. However, she hadn't missed the glint in Kat's eyes she glances Chloe's way or the quick and relentless way she was to defend the brunette. Kat glanced into the window and quirked an eyebrow. Chloe took that to mean, 'Yes?' "How exactly did you and Beca meet?"
Whatever response Chloe had been expecting, the wary clenching of teeth wasn't it. Kat pursed her lips before responding tightly, "That's a story for Beca to tell you." Chloe was disappointed, true, but she decided not to push her luck.
From what she could see, Kat already had a healthy sense of hatred for her and it kind of threw Chloe for a loop. People just didn't normally hate her. Even Beca back at Barden had never hated her, well at least up to the night of regionals. Now-a-days Chloe wasn't so sure. Earlier today, when Chloe had held the little DJ in her arms, everything felt right. But Beca still ran. And yeah, it was her leaving her own apartment to go to her job, but still. That old adage of 'hate to watch you go but love to watch you leave' was absolute bullshit in Chloe's mind. No view of Beca's backside, no matter how nice a backside it was (and honestly Chloe probably liked the view a little too much), would ever numb the pain of watching her storm away.
Every time it happened, admittedly only once in the past five years, it was semi-finals all over again. It was navy blue eyes glinting in betrayal. It was shoulders curved downward and a defeated slouch. It was angry and aggressive steps, each one taking the brunette further away. Away from the Bella's. Away from Barden. And away from Chloe. And damn did it hurt.
.
.
.
"Am I dead? I feel dead," Beca stated dryly.
"Oh suck it up you overdramatic bitch," the woman on the opposite side of the desk said with an impish grin. Beca glared and felt like throttling the smug little grin off her PR Manager's face. Her intentions must have been readable on her face because with a taunting wag of her fingers, the woman went, "Tssk, tssk. Plotting people's murder in your head isn't nice and shouldn't be done around polite company."
Beca glared and retorted childishly, "Well than it's a good thing I'm around you and not someone polite."
"Oh shut up bitch," the PR manager said with another grin. Beca groaned and glanced at the clock in a desperate attempt to delude herself that some significant semblance of time had passed. No dice. It had only been a disheartening twenty minutes since she'd first sat down in her Public Relations manager office. The vice of PR, more commonly known by her name Tessa Bentley, was one of only a handful of people with the knowledge that Beca Mitchell was also CC Hale. She kind of had to be in know if she was to keep the tabloid and paparazzi off her ass. More than that, however, Tessa and Beca were friends.
Their first meeting was… one of Beca's more memorable moments in Los Angeles. Though to be honest the woman probably couldn't even recount what happened for like 75% of that night. What both Beca and Tessa were finally able to piece together later came from tidbits from Kat, Jesse, and Benji.
Seemingly Beca had done some flirting that turned out to be less that fruitful due to the fact that, in Beca's words, Tessa was so straight she made rulers look flexible. Apparently all you needed to be friends with Beca Mitchell were matching sarcastic humors, a serious appreciation for any type of music (Beca wasn't picky. If it was music, she knew it. Honestly, her brain was like someone had downloaded iTunes and was just constantly uploading it), and a healthy and generous amount of tequila. Tequila was Beca's best friend for making friends. What had started with flirting had ended with Tessa hanging upside down from a chandelier with no shirt on.
At the time, Tessa had been a junior at UCLA majoring in Communications. As with most college students, she had been promised a bright and shiny future but when the time came for a job or an internship, there were hundreds of other candidates with identical credentials. Tessa had become disillusioned with the college institution as a whole when halfway through she'd discovered that the hiring rates for communications majors was astoundingly low. While Tessa had loved what she was learning and would've give anything to keep taking classes, her scholarships were running out, she refused to ask her parents to pay anything else, and she wasn't willing to take out another twenty thousand a year in loans. So that had left the junior in a tough position. Either try and find a full time job in addition to school, try and solicit money from every sort of scholarship she came across, or she could drop out or transfer.
Not a single option appealed to her so she did what any self-respecting college student would do. She had gone to a bar and ordered a tequila shot. And then another. And then four more. Around that time a rather attractive brunette had walked up to her and started flirting with her. For a moment or two, Tessa had wished she was at least a little gay because the girl in front of her was drop dead gorgeous. Plus, she was a DJ (although apparently she'd only been an official paid DJ for a like six months). Alas, 'twas not to be.
Instead, somewhere after the fifth shot but before the second martini (which the woman so ruthlessly provided her with) that Tessa remembered spilling her guts (and the second martini) to and on the woman. She didn't remember anything past that (although she did remember something about a chandelier?) but she had woken up in her own apartment. The curtains had been drawn, a bottle of water and aspirin at her bed side, and a name and number written on a note. She had expected to feel a wave of regret (and hopefully a smidge of recognition) but yet she had felt nothing.
With a pitiful groan, honestly someone should have stopped her last night; she had picked up the piece of paper. All that had been written on the sheet was a phone number and 'TSR Inc. – ask for Manny' in scrawling handwriting. She had been confused, groggy, and hangover but she had called the number. A rather baffling conversation with some man named Manny had followed and Tessa had hung up thirty minutes later with a co-op at TurnStyle Records Incorporate on the recommendation of one of their most up and coming DJs, Beca Mitchell. And the rest, as they say, is history.
Tessa graduated with her degree thanks to a rather hefty scholarship sponsored by TSR and she'd been Beca's right-hand woman when it came to the media for both Beca Mitchell and CC Hale for the past four years. "Alright brat," Tessa said as she leaned back in her remarkably comfy chair. "I think that's enough for now."
"Really?!" the excitement rolling off that single word of Beca's was palpable.
"Yeah really," Tessa responded with a chuckle. She got up and out of her chair and snagged her jacket off the rack by the door. "Now let's go. We're meeting Kat and Jesse out at Dominic's and from what I understand; you have some very nosy al cappella people to introduce me to." Beca let out an overdramatic sigh and the two of them left the office to make their way downtown for lunch.
.
.
.
"Yep. Dominic's in thirty minutes. Yep, right by that one sketchy bar with the outstanding nachos. Yep, you got it. Alright Tessa, we'll see you there," Kat ended the call quickly and made quick work of interrupting her Bella's Los Angeles tour with an almost-legal U-turn.
"What's going on popstar?" Fat Amy asked jovially from the back seat. Sometime in between Kat pointing out all the sights surrounding the city, including some of Kat's personal favorite boutiques, the Bellas had managed to weasel out Kat's full name. It had come to a massive surprise to everyone except Aubrey that the woman driving them around Los Angeles and had woken up drunk in Beca Mitchell's apartment was THE Katarina Daniels.
The questions had flowed fast and furious from that point on and Kat did her best to answer them honestly without giving anything about Beca away. For example, whenever the question, "How in the hell does Beca even know you?" came up, which was very often, Kat would change the subject. The Bellas noticed but opted instead to question what working with artists such as CC Hale and the newest version of Maroon 5 out of TSRecords, Kiss Me Not. Those questions were fun to answer, though Kat did get a kick out of the CC Hale inquires.
"Change of plans for lunch," Kat informed the Bellas easily. "We're going to go meet Beca and Tessa at our preferred pizza joint. Seems all day meetings only last five hours now." Any questions that the Bellas might have had were quickly wiped from their minds as Kat jerked on the steering wheel and promptly cut off three different drivers at once. Every Bella made a desperate grab for a handle or something solid to cling to desperately and any notion of trying to make conversation was quickly discarded. A good driver, Kat was not.
.
.
.
"Alright you got it babe. Yep, see you in thirty," Jesse ended his call and looked over his shoulder back at the Bellas. "You guys cool with meeting Beca and my girlfriend for some pizza for lunch?" The girls piled in all nodded enthusiastically. While originally they had all been excited to be shown around Hollywood's movie sector by the King of Movie Nerds himself, there's only so many times you can hear "And that's where (insert famous movie director name here) rejected me to work on his/her music score" so many times before you want to strangle the speaker. And right now the current tally for how many times Jesse had uttered that sentence was 42. A good tour guide, Jesse was not.
.
.
.
Tessa looked over to where one of her star co-workers was leaning up against the window pane of her car, mouth open and snoring slightly. An elegant sleeper, Beca was not.
.
.
.
.
… Hi? I'm not even really sure if anyone's still reading this and if you are I'm really, really, really, really sorry it took so long. Feel free to drop a review ranting and raving or just boycott that as well. It's all cool. That is all. Have a nice day