Title: Night and Day (2/?)
Genre: dramatic romcom, AU
Rating: currently PG, M for later chapters
Couple: Austin/Ally
Summary: Austin Moon is the world's most famous rockstar and due to heartbreak completely out of control. So his agency brings in songwriter Ally Dawson, who is as brilliant as she is desperate. She needs a job - and what she gets is Austin Moon's crazy everyday life.

Chapter 2 - Plastic Palaces & Music Contracts

When Ally woke, she felt the soft comfort of a couch beneath her. The ceiling was white - like seemingly everything in that weird building - but several dozens of strange lamps were attached to it. It took her some time to return to reality fully and when she did, her brain identified the "strange lamps" as ketchup bottles someone had glued under the ceiling.

The realization of the thought made her fast awake and she almost jumped off the couch. Another spell of dizziness hit her and slowly, like in slow motion, she sank bank onto the couch.

"Oh, good, you are awake." It was Freckle Boy. He sat behind the huge desk within the room. A name sign on the desk said "Dez". No surname included. More weirdness.

The room itself turned out to be a bureau. The walls were covered with Austin Moon posters from his various albums and the couple of films he had done. No music instruments, but lots of camera equipment, she noticed.

"Why do you have ketchup bottles glued to your ceiling?" Ally asked slowly, trying to sit up again.

"Because I don't like mustard. Duh!" Freckle Boy answered. He extended a hand. "I'm Dez," he said. "I'm Austin's personal music video director."

"Pleased to meet you," Ally said slowly. And by pleased I mean totally weirded out by your bureau. There should be a rule that ketchup bottles should not be glued to the ceiling. "Ally Dawson."

"You came!" Ally's hand was yanked into another chaotic handshake, this time by the Latino girl. "Patricia De La Rosa. But just call me Trish. Everyone does."

"You are the owner of De La Rosa Records," Ally said, surprised. She didn't imagine a manager to look so - so - so … happy. Delightful. Chaotic.

"And De La Rosa Entertainment. And De La Rosa Investment. And De La Rosa Creative Agency. But who wants details," Dez said, slightly miffed. He rolled his eyes in a exaggerated way.

"Dez's just angry that it says De La Rosa, even if he's the co-owner," Trish said. "But Trez Entertainment has just such a weird ring to it."

"I was rooting for Big Things Entertainment," Dez said. "But you wouldn't let me."

Trish cast him a dark glance, then chose to ignore him. "You are here because of the job interview, aren't you?"

Before Ally could say anything, Dez grasped her hands and was immediately in her personal space. His voice grew whiney. "Please tell me you are here because of the job interview!"

Ally pushed him gently away, while Trish whispered a harsh: "Dez!" Her face turned softer when she approached Ally again. "Look. We are searching for a songwriter for Austin Moon and so far we haven't found -" She struggled for the diplomatic way to say this. "The right person yet."

"Because he has scared them all away, right?" Ally said.

"No!" Trish hurried to answer.

"Yes," Dez nodded solemnly. "Austin's currently a bit difficult, so we need someone who makes him work."

"Makes him work?" Ally said. She was beginning to understand why so many before her had run for the hills. "What exactly -"

"As a matter of fact," Dez said, before anyone could stop him. "The best solution would be some kind of live-in-songwriter."

"A live-in-songwriter?" Ally said slowly, not sure she had heard correctly. Her eyes wandered to Trish, expecting her to elbow Dez again, but much to her surprise, Trish didn't.

"Someone who makes him sing songs, who gets him involved," Trish said, matter-of-factly. "He hasn't been producing anything for ages and he refuses to sing anything he hasn't at least co-written, so we desperately need someone to help out with this. You have written Greatest Love Song for Selena Gomez, haven't you?"

"Yes," Ally said. "I have, but you need to know -"

Trish ignored her. "That was such a great love song."

"The greatest, even," Dez quipped. He was still being ignored.

"We imagine you write something for Austin like that," Trish continued.

"Only an entire album of it," Dez added, as if producing an entire album was the easiest thing to accomplish. "When can you start?"

"Woah, woah, slow down, you," Ally started. "First of all, I'm a songwriter and not a babysitter. I don't do live-in. Second of all, an entire album? Do you have any idea how much work goes into writing an entire album? It could take eight months, maybe even a year! And third, I have a son. He needs to go to school - I can't move in with a crazy rockstar and just leave Denny behind."

"And I don't want her to move in!" The door had opened and Austin stood there. He was carrying a single wheel of his Segway. He turned to Ally. "No offense, but," his eyes shot over to Dez and Trish. "I don't want another songwriter! I'll manage to produce my songs on my own!"

"You haven't written anything so far," Trish said.

"I'll start," Austin promised.

"And the stuff you have written was sad-sad-sad-sad-sad-sad-sad," Dez added. "And did I mention sad?"

"You are a popstar! And a heart throb! The occasional sad song is alright, but we cannot make an entire album of it. What are we supposed to call it? Sadness?" Trish asked.

Austin shuffled his feet, scratching the spot behind his ear. Trish had hit a sore spot. "Nooooo," he said, drawing out the word.

"And besides that, you are not exactly brilliant when you write songs on your own," Dez said.

"What?!" Austin said. "I am brilliant! I am awesome!"

Trish produced a small piece of paper, presumably covered with lyrics. Ally couldn't see much, because the handwriting was apocalyptically bad. Austin Moon never had gone to Calligraphy Camp in his entire life, Ally knew.

"I'm so sad, sad, sad, this is bad, bad, bad, because I'm so saaaaad," Trish deadpanned. Ouch.She looked up, her thin eyebrows raising. She waved with the paper. "You seriously call this brilliant?"

"It sounds different with a melody," Austin snapped at her, snatching the piece of paper from her. He cuddled it possessively against his chest.

Trish pointed at him as if she was presenting some sort of product to sell. "As you can see, Ally, we are in desperate need of help."

"And move in with him?" Ally asked. "During our first meeting, he almost broke some of my rips. And now, you are suggesting to spend more time with him?"

Dez broke into tears and warped his arms around her midsection. "Please! Help us!"

Ally tried to step out of the circle of Dez' arms. She clearly didn't want him in her personal space. "This is a preposterous offer!" she argued, fighting against Dez' desperation clad ironly around her. "I'm not moving in with a stranger! He could be anything! He could be a pervert, an illiterate, or even worse, he could eat marshmallows for breakfast!"

"Hey!" Austin pouted.

"No offense," the girl told him, then turned toward Trish and Dez again. "There is no way I'm going to do this!" She stepped out of Dez's circle of craziness and threatened him with a brandished index finger, when he tried to rain desperation on her again. "Personal space, you!"

"It's a huge house! You'll barely meet!" Trish tried to argue.

Austin stepped between her and Ally. "She doesn't want to go!"

Trish tried to push Austin out of the way. "With a dozen bedrooms and more bathrooms than you can imagine!"

Austin pulled at Trish's elbow. "And I don't want her to move in with me!"

She tried to jerk her arm away, casting him a withering glance. "You'll have every music instrument you want!"

"Don't I have a say in this?" Austin inquired.

Trish ignored him. "Just think about your son!" she finally argued.

Ally, on her way to the exit, froze at the words. Her thoughts were jumbled in a thousand different pieces. They were right, of course. What about Denny? She needed every penny for him. Even if not for herself, Denny's education needed the money. And Denny needed to be removed from Mr. Dawson's shop.

Ally loved her father, but he set a bad example for just about everything - he was irresponsible, left whenever it pleased him and paid Ally irregularly.

Ally halfway didn't notice that Trish pushed a small piece of paper into her hand. "And, by the way, your initial salary," she said conspiratorially.

Ally stole a glance at the piece of paper. Her eyes almost fell out of her skull. She was quite certain that she looked like Munch's "The Scream". The number was - never in her wildest dreams she would have expected to be paid that sum.

She turned toward Trish and waved with the piece of paper. "Seriously?"

"Why?" Dez asked. "No enough?"

"Dez!" Trish elbowed him into silence, glaring at him. When she looked at Ally, her smile was sweet and kind. "Look, sweetheart, we really need a songwriter that can handle him. I realize he can be quite a handful, since he's chaotic, not the brightest and has an ill-conceived fascination with plush animals."

"Hey, I can hear you!" Austin called. "And my plush animals are my friends! You hurt their feelings!"

"But we need you," Trish continued with a sideways glare to Austin. "And it will be for only one album?"

Ally looked at him. Dez and Trish seemed genuinely desperate, but Austin looked away and sulked, sticking his lower lip out. He still clutched the sheet of paper with his awful lyrics to his heart.

Only one album. Only one album? One album was enought - afterwards she would be a nervous wreck, she knew, but she needed the money. And Denny needed safety.

So she sighed and said: "Yes."

"Yes?" Trish asked, elated. "Yes, yes?"

"Yes," Ally said and this time, it was difficult not to be infected by Trish's sheer joy. She received to hugs and another pout from Austin, then a contract was shoved into her hands.

"We'll send a copy to your lawyer, of course, this one's for you," Trish said. She shook Ally's hand vigorously. "Welcome to De La Rosa Entertainment."

Dez dove in for another hug, but this time was stopped by Ally's glare. "No. More. Hugs," she admonished him and he shook her hand with the face of a puppy that had just been beaten.

"And you," Trish continued, this time addressing Austin. "You will be nice. We are doing this for your career. She is doing this for your career."

"I knooowww," the singer moaned. "But still, I'm not sure I'm ready to write more songs and go on tour. I'm just so … so …"

"Sad?" Dez guessed.

"Yes! How do you know?"

"Lucky guess," Dez answered.

Two days later, a huge van appeared at Ally's house. A group of four men, each built like a Chippendale, emerged from it and addressed Ally as "ma'am" and got all her boxes into the car. After they left, literally moments later, a huge limo appeared in front of Ally's house.

She told her father goodbye - the house was plastered with hundreds of little post-its with advice on them, ensuring the older man's survival. Ally was sure his father would manage to loose them all. Denny was excited and overwhelmed at the prospect of living with a popstar, while Ally's mood was dimmed.

She wasn't sure what was expected of her - she had to write songs with him, but what if he just wasn't willing?

"How big is his house, mom?" Denny asked.

She ruffled the small boy's hair. "Really big."

"Big enough to play soccer inside?" he asked. "Just theoretically," he quickly added when Ally was about to add a rule called "There's no playing soccer in the house."

"Probably," Ally said. "Don't worry, you'll like it."

"Okay," Denny said and for him, everything was good.

Ally still wasn't able to fight the feeling of gooey nervousness in her stomach.

end (2/?)

Note: AuRauraxxSparks reviewed and asked if Ally is 40. Noooo - and I realize how this assumption came to be: Her son seems like he fourty, because he acts older than his age. Ally's around 23 or 24, as is Austin.