Patrica De La Rosa, Ally's manager, was shouting into her ear piece. "What is she doing," she screamed. "She wasn't supposed to release her backstory until her interview tomorrow!" Her eyebrows were scrucnhed together and her teeth were pressing deep into her bottom lip.
Looking around frantically, she finally caught sight of the stage manager, Sadie White. She gripped Sadie's arm tightly to keep her from locating somewhere else or escaping.
"Trish, do you know what she's doing?" Sadie screamed over the white noise of the stadium. Just like Trish, and most of the backstage crew, she was discernibly panicking. She was tapping the top of her right foot on the black flooring and her arms crossed by psyche. She too, was hollering improvised instructions into her expensive microphone/ear piece.
Ally had not warned any of the crew about her story time. This meant that depending on the time it takes, she's going to have to refrain from preforming songs from her previous albums.
"Dez," Trish hollered into her ear piece, while pressing her finger on the "Talk" button. "Did you know she was going to do this?"
Dez was the main filmographer for all of Ally's concerts and tours. He had been Ally's best friend since they were fifteen, and he was highly talented in this category, so it was evident that he was the one she hired. Right now, he was crouching at the right wing of the stage, recording Ally's speech.
"No," he responded. "But this is amazing footage! Trish, you gotta keep in mind that just about every person in the nation, let along the world, has been waiting for this moment."
"What about the rest of the concert? And what about the press?" Production managers and backup dancers were crowding around Trish, leaving her no room to breathe. But she was used to this. After all, this happened at about every appearance her client made in public.
"We'll have to improvise. And as for the media, then Austin will finally be exposed and Ally may have coped with what she's been dealing with. I'm with Ally on this one, she deserves to have a few new voices to hear her story. And she may gt some great publicity for this. It's a win-win." Dez quickly magnified the lense to 210x and focused on Ally who had now sat on a wooden stool that was center-stage. He adjusted his camera on his shoulder so the shot was as align as he could make it. Taking four fingers and covering the top lense from the glaring lights, he signaled Mike, who was manning Camera 7, to start recording his share of the footage.
Dez exhaled smoothly and set the camera down gently on the ground, next to his feet.
"Dez, we could get into court for this. This isn't the 1800's; we can't get away with this much lowbrow on someone, even of it's deserved! And imagine the amount of flack we would receive from Austin's fans?" Trish was thinking about the worst-case scenarios. But deep down, she knew that there wasn't much flack that they would receive. In fact, there would most likely be no hate delieverd to them. After all, Austin had lost most of his fans when Ally quit the job as his songwriter. The news spread quickly, and the majority of the fans were not pleased with the carreer move. All of those fans quickly grew a negative perspective on Austin and supported Ally strongly through all of her carreer as a professional singer, songwriter, and actress.
However, the rest of the fans that stayed with Austin had somewhere lost their hope in the near famous blond when no new songs or concerts were heard of or talked about on Facebook or Tumblr.
In conclusion, Ally had unintentionally stole Austin's fanbase and added it to hers, which was burgeoning immensely.
Trish shook her head obscurely as she eyed her best friend, who was currently describing her average day that was ruined by two of her supposed best friends. "Oh, Ally," she whispered. "I hope you know what you're doing."
If only she knew what was to come after her performance.
Ally Dawson had just went over the chords for what seemed like the twentieth time. She could replay each sweet note in her head perfectly, she could recite each lyric by heart, she knew her song inside and out.
She spent hours working on the lyrics to get the powerful, yet soothing flow that she was determined to bring. She wanted every note played on the piano to correspond with how she felt right now, how she's felt for a long time.
Her hands were sore from writing so much rough draft music, playing so many spread out notes on the baby grand piano that stood strong throughout the entire process.
Ally silently chuckled to herself. The irony of the fact that the song was about staying strong, but Ally found herself to be tired and weak from so much effort that she managed to portray. But she loved the feeling, she loved how she was able to put her thoughts into music. She loved ow she could get the closure she needed without making a fool out of herself or without appearing unkind to anyone. Ally wanted to keep her reputation for being the nice and selfless pea in the pod, she couldn't let her silly little thoughts take that title from her. It would be easy to do so, so she always had to be in her guard for every little thing.
"One last time, Ally. One last time." She, once again, placed her sore finger muscles onto the ivory keys and pressed the first three chords, reciting the order in her head.
Then, she took a deep breath, and began to sing what her heart was beating for hear. "You shout it out, but I can't hear a word you say." She looked down and began the next measure. "I'm talking loud, not saying much.
I'm criticized, but all your bullets ricochet.
You shoot me down, but I get up."
In her mind, her thoughts were screaming at her to sing louder, to relieve them from this unspoken emotion and get rid of the negative thoughts, replacing them with inspirational thoughts instead.
"I'm bulletproof, nothin' to lose. Fire away, fire away."
At the sound of singing, Trish and Dez quietly crept up the staircase and pressed their ears to the door, eager to hear the finished product of Ally's masterpiece. They slowly smiled and sat against the wall, noting all of the emotion she screamed into her words. The two of them had known that all of this hate that Ally was receiving was uncalled for and innapropriate. And the fact that Ally did nothing to cope with the problem was dangerous, it could drive her to do something that she would regret, but not only that, she would never be able to forget it. Writing music to express her emotions was the best option for Ally to chooose. It would release her thoughts in a healthy way.
"Ricochet, you take your aim. Fire away, fire away.
You shoot me down, but I won't fall. I am titanium.
You shoot me down, but I won't fall. I am titanium.
I am titanium."
She belted out every note, not caring about her tired lungs, which were screaming at her to hydrate her system, but she refused. She need to be strong. She needed to be titanium.
She quickly swallowed the extra saliva that was forming in her mouth, making do with the only liquid she could supply at the moment. Her voice only had a break that lasted for a few seconds until she would ease into the second verse. Ally had to pull through, for she had not documented the music and was recording what she was playing. If she stopped now and rested, the. She would've forgotten most of the keys that she had to play and the words too.
"Cut me down, but it's you who have ferther to fall.
Ghost town and haunted love.
Raise your voice. Sticks and stones may break my bones.
I'm talking loud, not saying much."
Then, she repeated the pre-chorus and, once again, belted out the chorus. She wanted "powerful" to be the one word that would describe her and the song. She had to make sure that her song was flawless, she couldn't afford to make any mistakes. If she messed up, then she worked diligently for hours for nothing. This was all for nothing.
"Stone hard, machine guns.
Fired at the ones who run.
Stone hard, as bulletproof glass."
There, she held the high note as long as she could. She closed her eyes to let the moment sink in. This was just her and the piano now, nobody else existed in this world.
She took a long breath and looked down at her hands, which by memory beginning to play the chorus, but this time the tone was softer.
"Shoot me down, but I won't fall. I am titanium.
Shoot me down, but I won't fall. I am titanium.
Shoot me down, but I won't fall. I am titanium.
Shoot me down, but I won't fall.
You shoot me down, but I won't fall. I am titanium.
You shoot me down, but I won't fall. I am titanium.
I am titanium.
I am titanium.
I am titanium..."
Trish suddenly thought of an idea that would do Ally good. "Dez," she whispered. "Can you somehow steal that CD and make a copy without Ally knowing?" she was hoping that Ally would finally get the recognition she deserved. Ally had pure tent coursing through the veins in her body. Her heart was beating at a rhythmic beat and even the way Ally demonstrated calligraphy was musical. And the best part about it was that it was all unintentional, Ally was born to play music. This was what she was mean to do. This was her destiny.
Dez smirked and reclined back onto the wooden railing. "Please," he scoffed in ignorance. "I could do that in my sleep." Then he went into deep thought. "I guess that's how my uncle Joe got ahold of my home movies."
Trish rolled her eyes at the ginger and suddenly realized something. It was quiet. Her heart skipped a beat once she heard footsteps avenging toward her and Dez. She immediately lied down onto the dirty carpet and sprawled her arms away from each other. "Quick, act like you're asleep." She commanded.
Luckily, Dez caught on quickly and aped Trish's position. He too closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply, doing his best to act like he was sleeping.
The door slowly opened with a creaking noise coming from it. Ally stood there with her hand still on the golden doorknob as she spotted her two best friends, who were sleeping on the dirty ground. She sighed and shook her head vaguely. "Those two, what am I ever going to do with them?" She asked herself. Smiling at the moment, Ally simply stepped over her two friends and crept down the staircase, careful to not make too much noise as she went.
Once Ally had left the store, Trish and Dez abruptly stood up and balanced themselves, for the sudden change in position had given them dizziness. As they regained alignment, Dez opened up the door while Trish looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching them. At Trish's signal, which was a nod, they entered the room and began to search for the CD that contained Ally's song, which they assumed was titled "Titanium."
"Got it." Trish announced. She held up a blue disc that was titled "Titanium," just as they had guessed.
Dez quickly snatched it from Trish's grasp and tucked it into his pant pocket. "Let's go before Ally comes back."
Trish, who was astounded by his eager actions, just did as she was told and followed Dez out of the store.
Meanwhile, at Austin's house, Austin and Cassidy were watching a chick flick. Austin's arm was draped around Cassidy's shoulder and her head was nuzzled into the crook of his neck. Austin looked down at his girlfriend, who's attention was directed at the large screen, and smiled warmly. He was comfortable, and he did treasure this time, but he couldn't rid the thought in his head that told him that this wasn't right.
Without coming back to reality, Austin felt a cold pair of lips press against his, catching him off guard. His eyes snapped open, wider than he should be, and realized that he was being kissed.
But once again, he couldn't help but feel that this wasn't right. He couldn't help but feel that none of this was right. Mentally kicking the thoughts out of his head, he sunk into the kiss and returned it with pleasure. And even after all that, it still didn't feel right.
And that is the end of this chapter for "Inflamed By Hate." Now here's some stuff that SOME of you don't read:
Responses to Reviews:
The Ace of Owls- I did the same thing! Not joking! The song sucked, but it was still funny! Well, I didn't do the concerts, I don't have the guts to do that.
Animeadict678- Pancakes in top? Really? OMG OMG OMG I'll give you this update in exchange for pancakes!
Isazu- Thanks :)
Question: What is that one thing you absolutely CANNOT stand? Mine is when people say the word "Normal." I HATE that word!
Quote By Me: "You can only hope to shape the future, not change the past."
Moment: When you're early for something and have no idea what to do.
OKAY, so until my next update...
BYE!
