She was a stringy, unkempt thing, but nevertheless, she commanded attention on the stage. Not because she looked one missed meal away from death (though to be clear, she did), but because she seemed to enchant everyone there with wide, easy-going smiles and flirtatious winks.
She worked the crowd with a gracefulness that was to be admired. Not that Coriolanus gave anyone but himself praise often, but to be able to hold the attention of the entire place in her palm and make them applaud on command required a cleverness that not all possessed. It was the way she knew exactly when to ribe the locals when to draw attention to someone from his class and make them feel special, and when to pout her lips and give doe-eyes that had nearly all the men here falling over themselves to breathe the same air of her.
Coriolanus knew it was an act, all of it, but he could not take his focus away.
Fuck; he was no better than his classmates.
But he could not turn, as though she was a siren, forcing the will from his body.
Lucy Gray Baird; that's how she announced herself.
She didn't look old enough for any of this, though child labor laws were seemingly ignored, considering there seemed to be a child about the age of eight up there with them. Still, she didn't look any older or younger than Coriolanus himself. And he had to be wondering if she did this out of passion or necessity; if she had the choice, would she be at home in this dusty town, curled with a book or with her laptop?
He wasn't sure why he was so preoccupied with that question.
Perhaps it was because he, if given a choice, wouldn't be here, and so, for some reason, he had to wonder…
Coriolanus had no reason to think that he and this girl were the same in any way, and he knew he shouldn't be giving her more than a passing thought. To be delving into any consideration further than passing appreciation of her craft was wrong of him.
But god, he couldn't stop wondering.
No one here would accuse her of being a bad singer.
He had expected subpar entertainment that grew better as the tavern clients poured out shots for themselves, but The Covey was legitimately talented. Not record-label worthy, at least, not in the conglomerate of them, but with a little polishing, Coriolanus could almost see a bright future for Lucy Gray. It would take begging and stealing and clawing and ruthlessness, but there was a gleam in her eyes that told him she was up to the task.
He sipped his drink slowly, wondering if years from now, he'd hear her on the radio. And he'd be able to say that he heard her first, at a stupid little run-down hole in the wall, back when she was nobody?
That's all this is.
Coriolanus felt relief settle in his bones.
He'd always had a knack for picking out those who would be great. He wouldn't surround himself with anyone less. Lucy Gray was no exception. It was merely his subconscious giving him a little kick that, one day, she might be worth a damn.
If Coriolanus had the money to spend, he'd offer to get her to those who could put her on the right path. For a modest fee, of course. And a founder's bragging rights.
But he didn't.
So he shouldn't even entertain the idea…except…
Except Lucy Gray didn't know that.
She'd look at him and see a rich boy, just like everyone else.
He just needed to make it clear he was a rich boy who could help her .
That's all his fascination was. Right?
Right.
The idea that his inability to draw his eyes away could be anything more was simply absurd.
Coriolanus settled into his seat, mentally settled that this was easily explained if anyone wondered why he was focusing on her so intently.
But no one did…they all were watching her too.
XXX
They're doing three sets.
Their first set is made up of familiar covers; hook the audience in with things that they already know, things they want to sing along to and tap their feet, and reel them in… closer…closer…closer…
It's an odd mix, though, more akin to throwing spaghetti at the wall and seeing what sticks.
It goes in no definitive order; Coriolanus feels like his head is spinning between Stevie Nicks, Fleetwood Mac, Shania Twain, Simon & Garfunkle, Bon Iver, The Lumineers, and even some goddamn Taylor Swift (and yes, Coriolanus does think less of Lucy Gray for including that last artist).
He feels like whenever he's caught his breath with one song, they go on to another, something like whiplash.
"Well, they're all folk or country," Sejanus says when Coriolanus makes a disparaging comment about it.
"At least they're not mixing R&B with folk," Clemmie says, "They have a sort of sound, don't they?"
They do.
The thing is none of these covers are bad. Even the Taylor Swift one had some legs to stand on, and somehow, Lucy Gray and the Covey managed to hit each one with just as much forethought and carefulness as the former.
How long is she spending on these songs, Coriolanus wonders? She must have quite the catalog in her brain, but that requires hours upon hours of practice.
He wonders, briefly, if maybe she goes to the fancy Arts school that they're always in competition with; the one The Academy makes fun of, likening their rivals to hippies with flowers in their hair playing bongo drums on the lawn.
But no, that can't be.
First; despite his classmates's jeers, you need money to go there, and money is something Lucy Gray does not have.
Second; Coriolanus would have remembered seeing her before.
As she waves the crowd away to take a break, her eyes seem to meet Coriolanus's in the crowd.
Or perhaps, his meet hers.
It's hard to say.
Either way, he finds himself unable to draw himself away from the look of her eyes. He'd expected them to be warm like chocolate, but instead, there was a hardness that surprised him. While her face and dimples may seem inviting, her eyes are like a hawk's; they are always roving, always analyzing, always focusing intensely.
To what end, to what need, Coriolanus couldn't imagine.
But when she found Coriolanus, she stayed focused on him, so intently it felt like burning.
It crawled up his throat from the inside and made his heart stutter. He had never had someone look at him like she was. People usually gazed right through him; they saw exactly the facade that Coriolanus wanted them to, and few probed deeper.
But not Lucy Gray. In one moment, Coriolanus felt like she was carving away all those perfectly constructed layers, cleaving down to his deepest parts.
Her chin lifted in mild interest.
Coriolanus felt too warm all of a sudden. It was like he couldn't breathe.
This wasn't how it was meant to go. He was meant to be the one dictating who saw what. She was meant to be meek, and grateful, and laud him for his efforts.
No, fuck, it wasn't supposed to be like this.
As though sensing his inner turmoil, Lucy Gray's lips turned up with the slightest hint of a smirk.
Coriolanus was absolutely sure it was not coincidental.
"I need air," He snarled, slamming his drink down with more force than intended.
"What's wrong?" Sejanus asked, concerned.
"This bar smells like an old sock, and I think I'm going to get cancer from all this smoke," He hissed, trying to make a quick exit. The front door was blocked with the throngs of people, so Coriolanus veered sharply and pushed through fewer people out the back door.
Coriolanus stumbled out onto the back parking lot.
It had gotten dark since they'd gone inside; the town was lit by faintly flickering neon and a mild dew had attached to the brick exterior. A few rusted cars sat in front of Coriolanus, one dripping fluid and most looking a handful of miles from breaking down. Smeared buts of cigarettes were dragged by undersoles of shoes across the pavement, along with a few suspicious-looking splatters.
Coriolanus put his hands on his knees and leaned over, exhaling hard, like someone had sucker-punched him in the stomach.
He felt ill; his head swam and his mind whirled with a million thoughts.
"I shouldn't even fucking be here," He hissed, rubbing his eyes.
When his heart felt like it had settled back properly, he stood tall.
He should honestly go home. Who would even really miss him? It's not like he wanted to be here anyway.
Yet, as his foot took the first turn toward the Academy, a voice came banging through his mind, harsh and unforgiving.
You're really going to let a girl like her send you home, tail tucked between your legs? What's wrong with you? Are you really so pathetic that a dirty scrap of a human such as her gets the better of you?
It was his father's voice, but it was also right.
He clenched his hands.
He was Coriolanus Aurelian Snow, and he did not back down at anything, and certainly not because of a mere girl .
He just needed to gather control of the situation. If he left now…she'd know that she'd gotten underneath his skin, and god, he couldn't have that. Not at all.
Just as he was about to head back inside, the door slammed open to his right. He jumped, ready to turn and snap at whoever so boorishly was coming to disturb his peace, assuming it to be a drunk patron or a pair of lovebirds high as the sky, but he was shocked to see it was Lucy Gray.
She hadn't noticed him yet. Up close, in this second before he moved and revealed himself, he focused on her, soaking in everything about her.
She was wearing a little bit of makeup; nothing garish, and very slight for the stage presence she was going for. It was really her dress that was the star of the show; a thousand ruffles of all different colors, like a rainbow. It was clownish…but it caught his eye, so he knew it would catch everyone else's.
She didn't seem upset or overwhelmed, just breathed in the still-warm air of an early September, putting her arms out as though trying to catch the breeze between them.
Coriolanus didn't understand it, but he was curious.
Now or never…
If he didn't make a move first, she'd absolutely notice him and she'd have the upper hand again.
So he had to move right now.
Coriolanus moved over to Lucy Gray, realizing as he stepped forward he had no plans at all. But it was too late; his shoe crunched the loose gravel beneath them and Lucy Gray snapped her head around, eyes blazing and on the defense, like she was ready to punch someone.
Somehow, as petite as she was, Coriolanus imagined she had before.
"Quite the show up there," He said, trying to make himself charming, but not inviting. He didn't want her to find any cracks she could slither in, flipping the script.
Lucy Gray regarded him carefully. Then, after a moment, a near smile graced her lips.
"Did I make myself a fan?" She asked sweetly.
Coriolanus stepped forward, pressing his forearm against the stone, pressing Lucy Gray into a boxed space near the back door.
"Perhaps," He said with a casual shrug.
"Aren't you a bit young to be frequentin' a bar?" She asked, staring up at him with that same fire in her eyes.
"Aren't you?"
"I'm the entertainment, darlin'," Lucy Gray responded with her rolling Southern accent, certainly not fake for the band, as Coriolanus had briefly assumed it was. No, it squeezed out from her. It didn't sound hillbilly or redneck, no, there was an entrancing lit to it that made everything that came from her mouth taste like sugar and honey.
He was sure she'd spent a long time perfecting that exact cadence.
If you just heard it, you'd assume everything she wanted you to; doe-eyed, meek, and submissive. But if you looked in her eyes…naw, she was none of those things. She was playing dead, waiting for people to come just a bit too close…and then she'd strike.
"You got a name, handsome?" She asked, raising her eyebrows.
Coriolanus was under no illusion she actually thought that of him. It was all a manipulation; she knew exactly what to say to make lesser men go warm like putty in her palms.
"Coriolanus Snow," He said, smiling down at her, returning the same mask. He would mirror her; throw her tricks back.
"Well, ain't that a ten dollar name," Lucy Gray whistles under her breath, "And sort of a mouthful. But all you Academy folk have weird names, don't you?"
Coriolanus felt himself sitten, "Why do you say that?"
She was toying with him. In one statement, she'd let him know that she knew who he was (in the general sense) and dangled jealously in front of him, giving the idea that she was chatting up multiple of them.
"Festus, that was his name, wasn't it? He offered to buy me a drink. And Androcles told me he was writing a paper and wanted to interview me. Now, maybe I just got a bad pick of the litter; maybe the rest of ya'll have utterly normal names like Susan or Gary, but it sure is weird it's happened three times." She said with a gleam.
Coriolanus almost spat and laughed at their names. Festus? Androcles? Really, what were they playing?
But he didn't.
Instead, he shrugged, "My name holds a legacy."
"That so?" Lucy Gray asked, one of her fingers walking up the place where the bricks shaped the wall, edging closer to his arm, "What sort of legacy is that?"
"The Snows. We have a hand in everything, Lucy Gray," He said with a whisper, a hairsbreadth away from her ear, before pulling back.
She didn't look as impressed as he'd hoped.
"What are you gunna offer me then, Coriolanus Snow?" She asked, his name hanging off her tongue in a way that made his heart beat fast.
His original plan, the one to try to shepherd her towards his 'resources' in singing, died in his throat. He drank her in, and then took a step back.
"Nothing."
This got to her.
Lucy Gray's face shivered just a bit, just enough to prove he'd gotten to her.
"Nothing, huh?" She asked, recovering with a laugh, "Why should I spend time with you out here instead of them in there, then?" She asked.
Coriolanus shrugged, "Entirely up to you. I couldn't care less what you do, Lucy Gray. In fact, I think I'm going to go inside now. Nice to meet you." He said with a cordial nod.
Just as his fingers clenched on the door handle, Lucy Gray slammed a palm on the metal, pushing it back.
Coriolanus turned, meeting her gaze, holding nothing at all - no interest, no victory, no charm. He was a wall of neutralness.
"Find the broom closet after we take our next set break," She instructed, curls falling over her shoulders.
Interest piqued in the back of his mind, but he swallowed down, "Why should I do that?" He asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Because I'm a mystery, and you can't resist," Lucy Gray said with a self-satisfied sense of sureness, "Don't worry. I'll make it worth your time."
Then, she slipped between him and the door, and just briefly, was pressed against his chest as she opened it toward them and disappeared inside.
The whiff of her perfume, something like burning embers, clung to him, and Coriolanus felt blood rush downward.
He ground his teeth, sighing in irritation.
He thought of the worst image he could; his Grandma'am at the beach two years ago, and the problem was fixed.
Coriolanus slipped back inside just as Lucy Gray started her second set.
"You alright, man?" Sejanus asked, concerned.
"We were about to send out a search party," Persephone added.
"Fine. Had a cough in the back of my throat. Gone now." He tilted his head, "What did I miss?"
"Festus swung out with the singer up there," Clemmie said, waving a lazy hand toward Lucy Gray.
"Oh?" Coriolanus sipped his drink, trying to look for the right amount of interest and disinterest.
"She laughed in his face," Sejanus said, smiling widely, "Didn't hear what she said, but he was bright red when he passed by."
"Good for her!" Persephone added.
"You honestly think he was about to slum it with her?" Coriolanus asked, curling his lip. His reaction was, in part, true.
Though he was enthralled by her, some part of him - the part that his father had ingrained into his brain - bucked against the idea of doing anything with her. It was a knee-jerk reaction, something he wasn't aware of, not until the words left his mouth.
"She's not ugly," Clemmie said, entirely conversationally, scrutinizing Lucy Gray as though picking apart an antique piece of art. There was a certain academic tone to her words, as though this was so impersonal, and Lucy Gray was a statue or celebrity and not a person standing in front of them, "And we all know he's run through his pick at school already… whether he insulted them before they got into his bed or after."
"She seems the type to be smarter than that, though," Persephone said, peering up at her, "And would see right through his pick-up lines. Either way, I don't think he'll be getting lucky tonight."
Something like pride bubbled in Coriolanus's chest. He watched her, hiding his laughter. He caught Festus stewing out of the corner of his eye, refusing to look up at the stage, as though the stained and chipped table in front of him was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. And Lucy Gray? She was singing her heart out, invigorated… if he was comparing the performances before.
Yeah, you're smarter than that, aren't you? To settle for someone like Festus? No…not you…
He watched her, unabashedly. He wasn't even trying to hide it; his eyes tracked her across the stage, never letting up for one second. He let his gaze trace her figure, starting at her cowboy boots, up the bright skirt that sailed in an arc as she spun around, to her corset laced with bright green silky ribbons, all the way up to her face.
He caught her scanning.
Was she looking for him?
When she met his eye, her eyebrows furrowed momentarily, as though surprised to see him back so soon. He raised his glass towards her, smirking.
When she let a smirk slip back, he felt a fire burn through his body, so intense he had to remind himself to hold onto his glass.
It took three beats until he was able to collect his scattered thoughts.
How…peculiar.
The answer came to him a moment later, in a flash of shock, but something so ubiquitous and true that he knew he couldn't deny it.
He hadn't met someone so interesting as Lucy Gray Baird in quite a long time.
Match? Meet flame.
Let the games begin.
