Favourite Lovesong (HOT!)

Austin spun the bourbon glass held between his hands, signalling the bartender with a lifted finger for another pour. Whether this was his fifth or sixth drink escaped him, but it hardly mattered since he had nowhere to be, and driving wasn't a concern.

Raising his gaze to meet the bartender's, she delivered the requested drink with a sly wink. If she noticed the redness around his eyes suggesting he might have had enough, she didn't acknowledge it. Her appearance was uncomplicatedly attractive, with her most prominent feature being her generously exposed cleavage. She seemed like the type who would claim to love his music but was likely more fascinated by his notoriety. The kind of girl who often approached him seeking a photo, an autograph, their body or any interaction they could get from him.

Not that it bothered him much. Fans and groupies were generally harmless, and girls swooning at his feet wasn't something he was inclined to discourage. He relished the perks that came with his fame.

Like now, for instance, as the bartender took her break and was replaced with a burly guy who appeared to be in his mid-thirties, she slunk off towards the bathroom, shaking her hips and daring a glance back at him to make sure he was following. Austin was never one to turn down a good time, so of course he was.

She disappeared into the men's restroom and Austin followed only moments later. He got straight to business, extending his hands to release her belt, sliding her shorts down just enough to slip his hand into her panties and rub his fingers against her wet sex. She moaned his name and it was at that moment he realized he didn't have a single clue what hers was. It was irrelevant. He'd be gone as soon as she gave him what he needed.

Austin was done wasting time and she had finally managed to free his dick from his skin-tight black skinny jeans. He dug a condom out of the back pocket of his pants pocket, tearing open the wrapper and unrolling the latex coating over his throbbing erection. Her fingers tangled themselves into the mop of black hair that was covering his head. She tugged gently against the strands and he groaned, aligning himself at her entrance. He gave her no warning or prep as he slid into her. Her eyes widened as he allowed her no time to adjust, just lifting his hips and setting a steady rhythm, quickly moving in and out of her. She screamed, it was shrill and irritating and he wished she would just shut the fuck up and help him finish. He squeezed the soft skin at the back of her thighs and lifted her slowly until she was seated on the counter, allowing him a better angle. He drove himself into her, pushing and pulling her hips, over and over again until she finally clenched around him.

With her taken care of he picked up the pace, the sound of skin slapping heard over the outside noise of the bar. After what felt like forever he finally hit his high, thrusting a few times more to allow himself to ride it out, before leaving her empty.

He disposed of the condom in the toilet before leaving the bathroom, the girl, and the bar, behind him. Just another day in the life of pop star Austin Sharpe.

Things had never been this bad, he'd never felt this far gone. Wasn't living the dream supposed to be fun? If so, he had certainly fucked up somewhere along the way. He knew he had to do something, if he kept this up, he was headed straight for destruction.

*

Across town, in a spot called Marias, known to the locals for its amazing food and the open mic night talent, Clara Peterson took the stage. For her performance she removed her apron and grabbed her guitar out of the back storage room. She had been waiting tables at Marias for over two years, doing the same thing everyone else in town was, trying to make a name for herself.

She had moved out to LA at eighteen, desperate to escape her parents and turn her dreams into a reality. She had been desperate to do something with herself besides resigning to grow up to be a wife and mother like the other girls in Lynchville seemed content to do.

She wasn't like them, she never had been.

"How's everyone doing tonight?" She asked as she stepped up to the microphone, her fears melting away as her anxiety about the performance faded into excited nerves. "My name's Clara and I've got just one song for you tonight. It's an original, and it's called "Good Riddance"

Another turning point a fork stuck in the road. Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go. So make the best of this test and don't ask why It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time. It's something unpredictable,

but in the end it's right. I hope you had the time of your life.

Clara stared out into the crowd as she took them in, smiling at the sound of their applause.

"Thanks guys." She called into the microphone, taking a step away from it and heading offstage. It hadn't been her best performance but the packed house of mostly regulars who had seen her before had responded positively.

She didn't make it far before being stopped by a gentleman in a nice suit. Her first reaction was to remove her wrist from his grasp. One look at his face had her fight or flight reflex disappearing.

"Can I help you?" She asked, thankful for the crowds around and Maria's watchful eye across the restaurant.

"I'm sorry if I frightened you Ms. Peterson but I just had to catch you before you went back to your shift. You are the one that works here right?"

"Uh, yeah," Clara answered unsure of how he knew she worked there. "Look, do I know you?"

"My apologies, I should introduce myself. My name is Frodd Dylan and I work for Tidal Records. You may have heard of us?"

Holy shit.

"We have some notable artists on our roster, people like Shawn Mendes, Peyton, and of course Planet Orange."

"Um, yeah I've heard of the label. What can I do for you?"She asked, trying desperately not to squeal like a schoolgirl over the fact that a real-life record label representative had come to speak with her.

"Well actually Clara, this is about what I can do for you. Mr. Maria contacted our office and said there was a girl who worked for him who could sing any song you wanted her to. She had indescribable talent, and she was a natural storyteller who made you feel the lyrics when she sang them for you. I doubted his assessment, truthfully we get calls about 'indescribable talent' quite frequently, but I still came to see for myself and Clara, that he was right. I'd love to have you come out to Tidal. We can talk terms and conditions then but I am very interested in having you record a sample of songs with us and seeing where that may lead. I understand that you've been working on a demo so if you're interested, bring whatever you have of that with you as well. Here's my card. Think about it and get back to me to set up a date. It was nice meeting you."

He clicked the button on his blue tooth headset and turned on his heel immediately diving into a conversation, disappearing into the crowd as quickly as he had appeared.

Clara was left clutching onto the business card and staring after him as he went, thinking that for the first time since she had gotten to LA, her dreams finally felt possible.

"Good morning, Ms. Peterson," greeted Frodd, the individual from the record company whom Clara had met at the bar, as she stepped into the pristine building housing Tidal Records.

"Hi," she replied timidly, wary that expressing more than a brief greeting might reveal her inexperience and enthusiasm, potentially jeopardizing this critical opportunity. She couldn't afford to do anything that might jeopardize her one chance.

"So today, we're meeting with several of our executives to discuss the contract we'll be offering. It's a fairly standard contract we use for all our new talents. In simple terms, it outlines that you'll record an EP, we'll handle the promotion and distribution, and the earnings from the EP will be divided between you and the company. Your future with Tidal will be determined based on the success of the EP. Of course, you're more than welcome to have your lawyer review it before any signing, but I just wanted to provide a brief overview before we head in. Being surrounded by the team can be a bit overwhelming, as I've been told."

Everyone in there will be there for you though."

Clara nodded along as Frodd dragged on with his spiel about the business side of things, trying to keep up. Her attention, however, was distracted by the whole novelty of being here with the chance to make her dreams come true and the pressure she now felt fell on her shoulders. She had to make the most of this chance.

She was led to a board room, white and crisp in a way that should have felt luxe but instead felt cold and judgmental. The room intimidated her in ways she didn't want to admit. She understood why people had said this was nerve-wracking. They spent an hour in the room discussing the specifics of her recordings, percentages, and rights to masters, all while she tried to fight the urge to spin around in the rolling chair from pure joy. Maria, more like a father to her than anything, had sent his business lawyer over to screen everything she signed and when the meeting came to a close, she had agreed to finalize an EP within six months and to participate in events set up for her by Tidal.

When the lawyers and businessmen were gone. The ink, sealing her loyalty to Tidal dry, she could breathe. She no longer felt like every misstep would lead to ruining her chances. She was however still too apprehensive to risk pinching herself. There was a part of her still convinced that this had to all be a dream.

•

"Austin, where the fuck are you? Our studio time starts in five minutes." Jake Green, the lead guitarist for Austin's band, Planet Orange practically yelled through the phone.

"I'm on the way Jake, chill out." Austin spat back at him.

"Jesus, Austin. Are you still trashed?" The judgement from Jake was obvious and had Austin's annoyance growing.

"I'll be fine, damn it. We're doing that song today man, I just, I...I needed a minute. I'll be fine. I'm on the way."

Jake breathed a disappointed sigh through the phone that would make Austin feel bad if he could feel anything at all. He ended the call not waiting for his friend's reply. Friends. Were they his friends still? It wasn't like he had done anything to earn their seemingly unwavering loyalty, especially recently.

Austin was an asshole or at least he had been recently and he was damn lucky to not be completely alone. He knew as much, but he didn't know how to fix himself and he was too scared to try. The last time he had been vulnerable with anyone his heart had been reduced to rubble. It seemed like too great a risk to be anything less than cold-hearted, the wall around himself built of solid stone.

His driver pulled up to the building twenty minutes later and he stumbled out, slinging the door to the studio open. As he entered the security nodded at him, not bothering to offer a greeting, they knew he wouldn't reply.

He felt the angry stares of his bandmates immediately fall upon him and he trained his eyes on the wall of achievement plaques in the studio waiting area. He wanted their attention off of him but he knew at the moment that wasn't going to happen.

"Austin, if it's gonna be like this. If you're this stressed and upset about it, maybe we shouldn't record the song."

"I'm not upset."

His entire band stared at him in silence.

"I need this, Seth," Austin said, his voice threatening to betray him. To show that despite the popular belief that he was emotionless, there was still one topic that could nearly bring him to his knees. "I need the closure and I need to say this. Just...let's get it done."

The long-haired drummer nodded curtly at Austin, wanting to tell him that he wasn't as gone as he tried to make everyone believe.

Seth Lawson and the rest of the boys of Planet Orange knew this was just something he needed time to work through. Breakups were fucking hard. Unfortunately, their consistent work schedule had prevented that from happening. Instead of grieving his lost relationship with Sandy, his girlfriend of two years, the girl he had thought he would one day marry who had made him the man he was currently when he had come home from tour to find her in bed with someone else. He had clung to the memory of it. He had fixated on all the things he had lost when he lost her and he had let the hurt fester, pulling him down into the depths of the self-deprecating hell Austin currently found himself in.

"Well, let's just do it then. We're in the space at the end of the hall."

Austin hung his head and followed after the rest of them. His best friend in the group, Wade Reeves, their bassist, falls in step beside him.

"I saw you had a late night last night," Wade smirked at the singer.

"I just went out."

"Yeah, and banged some bartender. She told TMZ all about it." Wade laughed the words out and gave an unsurprised shake of his head.

"Fuck. Did she at least say it was the best sex of her life?" A man had to have at least a little pride.

"Along those lines, yeah." Wade chuckled.

Austin smiled at that, at least he was good for something.

"You're a dick." Wade laughed again, shoving him slightly. Austin only shrugged.

He slowed at the sound coming from the recording space next to theirs.

It's something unpredictable, but in the end, it's right. I hope you had the time of your life

"Who's that?" He asked looking to Wade who only offered a shrug before turning back to Frodd, the label executive the band worked most closely with.

"Her name is Clara." He offered and Austin glared at him, eyebrows raised in silent question until he finally continued. "We signed her for an EP and a label option if it does well."

"She's good." He commented, admiring her soft vibrato and the clarity of her tone. Her voice was pure and beautiful, a far cry from the raspy and ragged qualities of his own.

"Holy shit. Did I actually just hear Austin Sharpe compliment someone?" Seth asked, only to be hit in the face with the empty water bottle Austin had been carrying.

"Just saying she's not complete shit." He mumbled before pushing past them all and into their recording space.

He'd just thought the girl had a lovely voice, they didn't need to make a big deal about it. Sure, he usually made fun of the other artists pulled in by Tidal but they usually were mainstream bubblegum pop shit that made his ears bleed. Her voice didn't lean that way. It had an honest quality he had picked up on in the few short moments he had spent listening to her.

It was two words, not a whole monologue singing her praises. It didn't mean anything.

Clara was exhausted as she cleared the plates from her last table of the night. It was nearly one in the morning and she'd been up since the crack of dawn. She couldn't wait to quit this job. She loved Maria, he was practically a father to her. The camaraderie of her coworkers and the atmosphere were amazing, performing there had helped give her a shot at her dream but now it was time to chase it. And that meant leaving Maria's, at least as a workplace, behind.

"I'm proud of you, B. I always knew you were special, I've been saying it for years now." Maria said after she had submitted her resignation and he joined her at the counter, propping his forearms onto the top and leaning his weight against it.

"Thank you, for everything. I still can't believe you called Tidal for me."

"It was no problem. You deserve this chance, Clara. You deserve to be heard by more than just the regulars here on Open Mic nights."

Clara just nodded unsure of what to say to him. For the past three years, Maria had been less like her boss and more like her father. Considering her real parents had never supported her decisions, they'd practically disowned her when she had moved to California instead of heading off to college, he was basically the only 'family' she had at this point.

"C'mon, kid. Get these dishes to the back then get out of here. I know you're recording in the morning. This place isn't where you belong anymore."

"Does that mean I'm not going to be welcome anymore?"

"You will always be welcome here, Clara. Always." He hugged her then, and she had to fight the urge to cry. Yes her dream was taking off, but there was something sad about leaving the place that had come to feel like home to her.

"Thanks, Maria." She said pulling away from him. She threw her apron into the pile of dirty ones for the last time and grabbed her bag, she took one last longing look back around at the diner. The lights were already dimmed the chairs on top of the tables for the night. She took it all in and then sighed, heading for the exit and the official start of a brand new life.

"Believe in yourself, B! Everyone here believes in you." Maria called after her as she stepped out into the warm southern California air.

•

"Okay so, what's the song about?"

Quincy, the sound engineer helping with her EP asked. They were debating on changes they could make to improve it.

"It's about just going where you feel led even when it's hard because you're leaving something behind. I wrote it when I was moving out here a few years ago. I was leaving everything I had ever known behind to chase this dream and it was both exciting and terrifying all at once. A lot of the things I've been feeling these last few days really."

Quincy brought his forefinger and thumb to his chin, scratching at his beard as he changed a few things on the soundboard before coming into the recording area and removing the rug.

"Let's try it like this." He said simply before retreating to the control room.

Clara felt the confused look grow on her face but did as he asked, stepping up to the microphone and delivering her song with as much fervor and emotion as she could manage.

"Okay, so we'll need to go back and track specific parts but come listen to this."

She removed her headphones and stepped into the control room, falling onto the comfortable black couch situated against the wall.

Quincy hit playback and the walls of the sound room echoed with her voice. Only she couldn't believe it was her. Their was something special about the way the mic Quincy had picked crackled and he'd done something to make her tone seem richer. The song was always sad and reflective but now, it was damn near heartbreaking.

"I think that's good for today. Why don't you head up to Frodd's office he's going to get you set up for hair and makeup."

"Hair and makeup?" She asked her face twisting in uncertainty. As far as she knew, recording had been the only thing on her schedule for the day.

"For the album release party? For Peyton? All the Tidal artists have to go."

Clara had known nothing about the party, or hair and makeup, but she still diligently made her way to the elevator and up to Frodd's office.

The door was open but he was on the phone she knocked to announce her presence. Frodd held up a finger to indicate he'd be done in a moment and so she settled into the chair, just outside his door, to wait.

She found her eyes drawn to the many plaques along the hallway all for various artists and their accomplishments. She cocked her head as she focused on the one celebrating one of Planet Orange's accolades. She'd heard of them of course, everyone had. They'd ascended to fame quickly in the past few years and it seemed like everyone her age thought their lead singer, Austin Sharpe, was God's gift to man. From what she knew of Austin from tabloids and rumours, he seemed to agree with the assessment.

He was easy on the eyes, no doubt. However, he had a reputation that preceded him. Rumours of call girls and videos of his drunken rages put a bad taste in Clara's mouth as she studied his picture amongst his other bandmates on the award for their platinum-certified single, Drown.

Clara hated to admit it, but their music was good. It was relatable but much edgier than was normally accepted by the mainstream fan base and yet, somehow they'd managed to do it. It was impressive if nothing else, but it didn't change the fact that the thought of Austin made her skin crawl, and she hadn't ever even met the guy.

"Ms. Peterson! Come on in!"

"Hi, Frodd! Porter sent me up here and said something about hair and makeup, and a party?"

"Oh. Well, yes. I'm so sorry, I meant to tell you about that. When our artists have album releases all of our other artists are expected to be in attendance as long as they're not on tour or otherwise booked. So, tonight, that means we need you at this release. It'll be fun it's just a party, you'll love it. Great networking opportunity for you and it'll help start to generate some name recognition for you. I'm going to send you to Candice. She's our go-to hair and makeup master and you'll love her. I'll get a car for you and get you over to her salon. That sounds good?"

Clara smiled hesitantly trying to absorb all this information. She hated parties. She didn't vocalize her protests though, she was in no position to turn down networking opportunities.

He clicked a button on his Bluetooth headset and spoke so quickly into it that she couldn't understand his words.

"Car's downstairs waiting to take you. Terry will be your driver, make nice with him because he will be your usual driver as long as you are with Tidal."

Clara nodded again. Did she get a driver? Did she need a driver? She liked driving. Then again, not having to worry about LA traffic could be nice.

Clara bid Frodd goodbye and retraced her steps from his office and then ventured out to the building's exit stepping outside into the crisp November air. LA's typical heat had vanished which was a relief, even if only for a few days, as a cool front swept through.

She slid her sweater up onto her shoulders and glanced around for this driver. Off to the side of the entrance, she saw a man appearing to be in his late forties or early fifties. He wore a black uniform that seemed likely enough to be that of a driver so she approached him.

"Are you Terry?" She said, her hesitancy showing in her voice.

He smiled in response, opening the door.

"You must be Ms. Peterson."

"Call me Clara, please!" She insisted as she slung her backpack into the back seat and then took her seat. Terry shut the door behind her and she settled in for the drive.

•

"I love Peyton, I really, really do. But do we really have to go to this lame fucking party?" Austin groaned. Jake, Seth, and even Wade turned to glare at him.

"Don't tell me you guys actually like these things. It's always stuffy and full of people who want things from us."

"It's in our contract." Jake reminded him, rolling his eyes.

"I don't give a damn about the contract. We're the biggest selling artist at the whole label, what are they gonna do, fire us?" Austin shot back, growing heated without cause.

"Take our rights, push up our deadlines, put us on tour with some terrible opener, just generally make our lives miserable," Jake said as he examined his cuticles, bored with the conversation. One that their band had been through at least a million times.

"Fine, fine. I'll go to the damn release, but I'm not gonna like it." Austin huffed, crossing his arms and settling further into his seat.

"Well, you don't like anything, so." Wade jokes, prodding Austin in the stomach with his elbow.

"I like things," Austin said, furrowing his eyebrows and growing defensive.

His three bandmates all turned, looks of disagreement on their faces.

"I do!" They continued to stare. "I like alcohol...and sex."

Wade snorted as Jake and Seth simply shook their heads allowing the conversation to die.