35 | Hot Fudge Sundae

I was in a state wherein everything was a daze because it was all surreal.

The girls were more than welcoming, accepting me into the group. Although I was left out since these girls knew each other from college, I still felt right at home. Ritzi was most overjoyed, especially when I did a little show of my voice for them. According to Walter, I was a missing piece in their group to make it perfect.

Oh, and Walter. Thank everything for his existence. Twelve days from now, we would have a stage performance for the biggest producers in Hollywood. Walter claimed he was coaching us himself, because that big performance was going to determine the fate of the record deal for us.

And aside from the gorgeous lounge space in the building, Walter gave us a manager to help us out in schedules. Not to mention, Brennan showed up in our practices to hand us tips and tricks.

Brennan had been ecstatic when I told him the big news, as was Mom. Jessica was proud of herself for helping me out and Lawrence had been dying to hear me sing. And Montana? Montana freaked, desperate to rub it all over Dad's face but I insisted that it was a surprise. My sister was genuinely concerned for me, for the pressures of Hollywood and all.

And here we were, Divide and Conquer, in our comfy lounge room. At the sofa set, Carmela, Ritzi and Shai were playing Uno cards. On the other hand, Phoebe and I sat cross-legged on the floor, sharing stories.

"It was a hard time for me, you know? My parents were conservative, and it was an all girls Catholic school I went to," Phoebe ranted on, "But we all get past that."

"Then I do hope I can get past mine," I muttered.

"Exactly! You are starting!"

I had told the girls the whole story of it. Everything. They marveled at the craziness it became, but I was miserable for talking about it.

We looked up in surprise when Shai slammed her cards down on the table and lunged at Ritzi. Carmela used a Monopoly board to shield herself from the commotion.

Phoebe and I laughed. "Hey, hands off my girlfriend!" she playfully scolded Ritzi.

"She's going to murder me!" Ritzi squeaked.

Chuckling lightly, Phoebe turned back to me, eyes sparkling. "Back then, it didn't seem like Shai understood," she told me, "She embraced her queerness while I . . . I was still getting there. We always fought."

I nodded, understanding. Two different worlds, but still so similar, clashing. Shai was still attempting to wrestle Ritzi but she was unsuccessful because Ritzi was a black belter.

Carmela was looking at me funnily.

"Is there something bothering Carmela, you know, about me?" I whispered to Phoebe, "You know, I understand I'm out of the group and the odd one out. I could always talk to Walter – "

"No, no! Don't do that!" said Phoebe, "We like you here, honestly. It's just that . . . until college, it has been C and I. Then we met Shai and Ritzi in college and from there, it was chaotic. Carmela is like the mommy hen for us. And adding another girl to the mix, that's just added work for her. Especially since you're so young."

"So . . . she's not mad at me?"

She waved it off, "She's come around. But, um, it could be the fact that you're close with Brennan."

"Oh," I sighed, "She's a fan."

Our free time was interrupted when Violet, our manager, stepped inside the room. Violet was no tormentor, but she could be pretty scary and much of a perfectionist. I don't know, like a lady Mycroft, lacking the 'manipulative' characteristic.

"Girls, meeting," she snappily ordered, tapping her heels on the floor. The only splash of color in her pencil skirt and blouse was a purple belt around her waist.

As if hit by a remote control, Shai and Ritzi stopped rolling around and with Carmela, they sat on the floor with Phoebe and me. We sat down in a circle, like children ready to listen to their uptight teacher.

Violet cleared her throat and approached the middle of our circle. Wow, this is like a demonic sacrifice ritual.

"We have . . . six hours of practice today," she ratted off, looking at her clipboard. We all groaned simultaneously. Violet shushed us, "Three straight, one hour break time and two more hours."

"Three straight? But I can't be straight!" Shai cried out dramatically.

"Sharon Korvencia!" Violet yelled.

Shai squealed at the mention of her full name and backed away, hugging her knees. Phoebe blew her a kiss of reassurance which Shai caught and smacked on her lips.

Aw.

"As I said –" Violet continued, but was yet again interrupted.

"Those hairs are growing fast. Have you shaved today?" Ritzi was shamelessly leaning forward to look at her legs. Violet gave a growl and moved out of the circle, consciously tugging down her skirt.

"No! Our demonic sacrifice," I whispered under my breath. Carmela smirked beside me.

I've learned a lot about the girls these past days and I knew very well that Carmela was a secondhand fan of Supernatural, thanks to Tumblr.

"That's quite enough, Ms. Bellona, and girls," Violet glared at all of us, "Has our teamwork building exercises done the trick?"

Those exercises were bull. I was the only one new to the group anyway, and these girls knew each other like the backs of their hands. Our free times were spent gossiping about my life and stories of those four.

I knew now that Ritzi had European roots and a master in martial arts and gymnastics. Shai surfed Tumblr on a daily basis – and that was why we got along so well – and she was more of a Whovian and a Big Bang Theory fan.

Carmela had a kitten she named 'Carmela' and she used to have messy curls. And Phoebe was from Indiana originally, and came here to get away from her family.

Meanwhile, I had spilled the whole havoc that is my life to them.

"Yes ma'am," Phoebe replied politely.

"Good," Violet put her hands together, sighing, "We won't be testing out the stage just yet, but later on, we'll move to a recording room. Paul will be there to help us out and hopefully Mr. Dale will be able to stop by."

Did I mention that Paul, Brennan's manager, was Violet's husband?

"Now, let's move to the other room. The sunlight here is blinding, my goodness," Violet was first out the door and we all followed suit.

It had been a hard day, the first time we met her because Shai and Ritzi were both hell bent on annoying the crap out of her. Then, she managed to somehow tolerate and discipline us.

We entered the room which was much like the lounge but it was where we sang. It was complete with a grand piano and other instruments and equipment, including the microphones and their stands.

"I just had a thought," Phoebe nudged me on the side, "If we get that record deal and we come out famous in the public, the press will be digging up anything from our lives, right?"

"And I'll eventually get found out as Grant Reynolds' daughter," I said, "Normally, I wouldn't have told you who my father was, but I don't want to keep it a secret anymore. I want to show that I'm all against him."

Phoebe beamed at me.

The both of us obediently took our places behind the mic stands and tested them out. Carmela was going around, Ritzi got hold of the piano and Shai was yawning.

Shai whined, "What are we singing again? I can't go soprano right now – I'm still tired from yesterday."

Violet looked up from her clipboard, as Shai had a yawning fit. "Haven't you gotten sleep last night? We barely did anything yesterday."

"Oh, I was up all night," Shai said slyly, winking at Phoebe. The latter blushed light pink.

"Alright girls, places," Violet ignored that and ordered us around exasperatedly. For her, every movement had to be picture perfect. And I realized this was the kind of thing Brennan experienced everyday.

No wonder he did crazy things all the time.

Finally, Violet got four of us into position. One was missing – Ritzi. We all turned to the piano, which was playing demented notes as Ritzi thumped her fists on the keys, singing incoherently. Violet seemed ready to pass out.

"Ritzi," Carmela crossed her arms, "God, did you eat ice cream and cheese again?"

Ritzi nodded distractedly.

Carmela burst into a string of curses. She sprang into action, running and grabbing her friend by the shirt and dragging her out the door. Carmela began chastising her.

Oh right. Ritzi was lactose intolerant.

But somehow, she got her hands on half a tub of ice cream and a block of cheese a while ago. She just didn't listen. And now, Violet had the back of her hand to her forehead.

"You're Divide and Conquer anyways," said our manager, "We'd do with you three for a while."

"No," Shai took her stand, "This song is for the five of us so we're not splitting up on this one. We're not doing anything without them." She laced her fingers with Phoebe's, who kept her mouth shut.

"But we need to do this now!" Violet yelled.

The couple wasn't listening. They seemed to be determined not to heed Violet as they started making out. I pulled on a tight smile and sat down patiently, visiting my mind palace.

Violet was going insane. She muttered that she was getting a cup of coffee. And honestly, right now, I was glad I was with the girls right now in Hollywood. They weren't taking any of the commanding crap, but we knew when work time was and the same with free time.

I promised myself that this wasn't much like the usual practice day for Divide and Conquer, but it was close.

And for the record, Violet did overwork us yesterday.

♫ ♫ ♫

I slipped out the door, welcoming myself to the outside world.

The night was cool, perfect weather for staying indoors. Oh yes, I was outside. But this wasn't an obligation. It was for fun. Yes again, I was outside for fun. Purely for fun, dressed in my hoodie and sweatpants.

Damn this felt good.

Clevemore's events and parties were always the best for me. It's a time when you weren't particularly required to go, but everybody just went because it was that enjoying. It was a time when teachers and staff let loose and the only times in the year when you can see Principal Vasquez in fishnet stockings.

And it was the time you just forget about everything. That was why everybody looked forward to it.

Tonight, it was prom night, the party for all the years – freshman to senior.

Before I could make my way down the sidewalk to catch the bus, Mom went out and stopped me. She gave me an onceover, her face twisting, "I thought you weren't going to prom."

"What do you mean? I am going to prom," I shrugged, hands in my hoodie pockets.

"In that?" Mom pointed to my torn sneakers.

"It's comfortable."

She stared at me for a while, probably wondering what happened to her daughter and whether she should send her to the mental hospital. She made me turned around and gasped, seeing the unrecognizable stains on the back of my hoodie.

"You don't have a date, do you?" she asked in uncertainty.

"No, I don't. We're not required to have a date." Some people showed up with two dates, others three. Then the most of the population came alone or with their friends. Nobody cared who went with whom.

"Are you sure you're going?" Mom asked lastly.

"Goodbye, Mom." I turned around and went to the bus stop.

As I boarded the bus to head to school, I sat alone in one of the seats. Night buses were almost empty, and I liked it that way. Tonight, I was going to look for a sense of peace, just a relaxation time for myself after those practices with the girls.

'Working' was hectic. Violet was merciless and the only one who could calm her down was Paul. Walter was our encouragement. And I could say that my fellow girls were trying hard.

Initially, I had planned to take Jackson to prom, so that he could have a taste of the Clevemore life. But now, I couldn't do that so that was the con of the night. I missed him with me, plainly fooling around and kissing from time to time. I haven't had a talk with him since the elevator.

My phone buzzed for a text. I took it out and read:

I'm your date tonight. No backing out. Tell me the color of your sneakers so my tie can match.

And at the end of it, there was a winking emoji. Damn it, that boy. I chuckled and replied to him. I guess Oliver wasn't going alone tonight.

By the time the bus dropped me off in front of Clevemore, the party was on a roll. The rainbow colored lights told me that the gays were out and the classical music was blasting. I almost ran inside and into the gym.

The halls were where the Exorcists Club and other willing volunteers played laser tag. And for some odd reason, Halloween decors found their way on the lockers. But the gym was the heart of it all.

Indeed, as usual for these parties, Vasquez had her fishnet stockings. The center was crowded, and the Decorating Club outdid themselves this year. The makeshift stage was at the front, with a DJ perched on it. Banners hung everywhere and people were slow dancing.

There were only two types of clothing: formal, to keep up the prom spirit and the 'homeless' look which I was sporting right now. I spotted the juniors crew – GC Gibbs and his squad – huddled up in a circle.

Rita Scott was standing on top of a chair, hands on her camera to get a good scoop of the teachers. At the far back of the room, Chad Moreno was giving a speech to a crowd how the SuperWhoLock fandoms cooperate with each other.

I weaved around the crowds, talking to acquaintances and enjoying a couple of drinks. I remembered the past prom years – they were really wild. Mitch and I went together each year, sticking to our own and losing ourselves. She wasn't around tonight.

While waiting for my supposed 'date', I leaned against a far wall and sipped my drink, laughing. A group of people were drunkenly playing tag around the place, but that didn't exactly stop the party.

And I began laughing hard when We're All in This Together from High School Musical started playing and the dancing people busted out a well-choreographed spontaneous dance number. Now, that was what Clevemore was all about.

I threw back my head. I was going to miss these weirdos when I graduate.

As I was immersing myself in the dance floor, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I whipped around. It was my 'date'.

He was wearing a suit and had dreadlocks.

"Is that a wig?" I loudly whispered over the violins, taking his hand and looking around in case someone was watching. We were right in the middle of the dancing people.

He scoffed, "No! What are you talking about?" He lowered his Ray Bans just a bit to show his eyes, "I'm Brendan for this night."

"Oh my God," I said, slightly irritated. I hooked my arms around his neck and wrapped his arms around our waist. We swayed side to side, just to blend into the crowd and follow the music.

"So this is what a high school party looks like," Brennan's eyes raked over the scenes in amazement.

"You haven't been in one?" My eyebrows rose.

"No. Homeschooled, remember?" he turned back to me. "But it's weird. Where's the grinding and illegal stuff?"

"We don't do that here. Because we're actually decent people," I lectured him. "Only the teachers do that." I gestured to one corner where Principal Vasquez was dry humping our librarian. Hope that didn't make Rita Scott's front page.

"How did you know it's my prom night, anyway?" I asked, "Who told you? Montana?"

Brennan grinned, giving us a little spin, "Lawrence did. It just slipped out when we were on Omegle. We found each other by accident."

"Why are you even on – never mind," I shook my head, "And he told you I didn't have a date and you should come with me?"

"I kind of worked that part out myself."

"Really," I dragged out the vowels.

You sure your brother didn't tell you to come with me because he was too chicken to?

We slow danced for a while, my head laid on his shoulder. He seemed to know what he was doing because he'd guide our steps around and around. I distinctly recalled Brennan mentioning that he took ballroom dancing classes. Real classy.

"Do you have any food in here? I'm hungry," said Brennan. I steered him away from the dancing bodies and to the refreshments table. We stopped there and I gave him a cheese stick to munch on. I took another drink for myself.

"So," I leaned against the table, "Matching tie, huh? I thought you were kidding." I eyed the shiny gray tie he wore. And really, he didn't have to come in a suit. I didn't want to ask about the dreadlocks.

"Your hoodie's nice," he smiled.

"What do you do around here, anyway?" Brennan asked.

"The usual. Dance. Talk. Have fun," I answered. He had a passive look on his face.

"Boring to me," said he.

Pardon me, friend, I didn't realize you'd rather have golf courses and naked boys in the party.

When we weren't talking at all and Brennan looked extremely bored, I decided that I might as well have a go at the microphone onstage. I turned to Brennan, "I'm going to sing up there. Want to go with me?"

He shook his head, "That's Brennan's thing. No thank you."

"Oh? And what's Brendan's thing?"

He had the nerve to wink at me, "Dancing."

Rolling my eyes, I pushed past the dance floor once again and went up the stage. Hugh Penn was DJ and I approached him on the music set. He looked surprised to see me there, but I spotted this glint in his eye.

"Play me a tune. I'm going to sing," I snapped my fingers, asking for a microphone.

"So it's true then?" Hugh leaned forwards and put a hand underneath his chin.

"What's true?" I frowned.

"That you're part of a band! At Dale Studios! And you sing like hell. Let me tell you that the Sherlockians are trying to put together how this involves your mother and Grant Reynolds," he explained coyly.

"If you're reading Rita Scott's bullcrap –"

"What? No! It's Ingrid and Chester's reports. Don't you come and listen to morning news anymore?" he said, shuffling through the buttons and whatnot on the set.

"Well . . ." I trailed off. Of course my school would snuff me out.

Hugh's expression already told me he knew the truth and I just had to admit it. The music continued on and the people danced and goofed around. And I was in an inner battle.

"Fine," I sighed, "Yes, I'm in a band – er – girl group. And yes, I sing. Happy?"

I tried to reach for the mic he was holding but he wasn't done. "Wait, wait, wait. But what's the connection to the musical industries?"

I snorted, "Go find out for yourself, Watson." Surrendering, he gave me the mic and changed the tune for my song. I positioned the mic on the stand, looking around at the vast area.

Butter vanilla, I haven't sung in front of a crowd before. I didn't have stage fright, but it was pretty nerve-racking to be in front of people. They weren't looking at me particularly, so I told myself to relax.

But our stage performance will be different. Divide and Conquer could be singing in front of thousands.

I looked over at Brennan who was at the refreshments table, consuming more cheese sticks than that was good for him. With his mouth full, he gave me a positive thumbs up.

And then I started.

While I sung, it caught people's attention, but I pretended not to be fazed. They actually began dancing to my voice, grabbing onto their dates and taking careful steps. After singing War of Hearts by Ruelle, Hugh had me do another song, A Thousand Years.

Once I was finally free, I went back to Brennan, who was clapping at me. I did a dramatic bow for him. Wow, that made my hands clammy.

"That was good. Now can we get out of here?" He told me.

"Why are you so bored around here? Go scout the place, make some friends. What's the harm in that?" I rested my hands on my hips. What was he looking for in here? A hook-up?

"Look," he lowered his sunglasses, "I've only used this alter ego a few times. The first time, it was in Walmart. That was awesome. But then I went to Starbucks, and I almost got found out."

"Okay, we're taking precautions," I said, "But we can't just stand here all night!"

A smile spread on his face, "You want to leave this place?" I pinched him.

"I know the place to have fun, okay?" he defended. "Please let me take you!"

I blew a strand of hair from my face, "Okay." I stepped towards him and he brought his hands up as if I was going to slap him. But instead, I hugged him tightly.

"Thanks for being my date tonight," I mumbled, "You didn't have to, but still did. I thought I was going to fly solo."

"I can't exactly let you fly solo on your own. We're flying solo together," he said.

I pulled away, a thought occurring to me. "You know, if you don't do anything stupid tonight and you impress me, I can admit that it's better hanging out with you than Jackson."

"For real? Then let's go on an adventure," he took my hand and led us out of the gym and then out of the school. His car was parked on the front, ready to take us to wherever.

He got into the driver's seat and I strapped myself on beside him. Thank God I wore something comfortable tonight. Brennan looked extremely excited to take me somewhere. Geez, I needed to get this guy a girlfriend.

"This is going to be the best platonic date you're ever going to," Brennan vowed. He took off his jacket and his wig, but left the jerky Ray Bans on.

"No, leave the wig on," I gave him the dreadlocks, "You look less ugly with it."

He frowned but nevertheless put it back on. There, much better. I leaned back on my seat as he drove, "You know, Lawrence has took me on a lot of friendly dates before. How do you know this will stand out?"

"I'll make this stand out. Better than what my bestie or my brother will ever come up with," he puffed out his chest to prove his determination.

"But it better not be a gas station," I sang.

"It's not!" he laughed, "First we'll be going to McDonald's – "

"You're taking me to McDonald's?" I cut him off. This was going nicely. Sort of. A fast food restaurant was a good place to start.

"Yeah, aren't you hungry?" he stared at me in disbelief. I laughed and motioned for him to get going. In truth, I was hungry and I needed sugar.

"After McDonald's, what's next?"

"It's a surprise."

"My chocolate, it's a gas station, isn't it?"

He only grinned toothily, like he was hatching a master plan. It reminded me of Sherlock's grin. Creepy.

I gazed out the window as we traveled. The weather was still fair, and the traffic moderate. This was not I expected on prom night, but I wasn't complaining. Sometimes, the things we didn't ask for were better for us.

I decided to break silence as we approached downtown, "So how's Jackson doing?"

"Jackson?"

"Yeah," I sighed wistfully, "He's not answering my emails or my texts. I just wanted to talk to him because we haven't done that in a while. Is he not over it yet?"

Brennan did a raspberry, "Definitely not. He's not over it yet. Sometimes, I hear him crying like a baby inside his room, curled up in fetal position."

"Is he okay? I mean, he isn't failing his classes because of that, right?"

"No, he's doing alright," he glanced at me, "Too well, really. He's back to his moody self and even Mom can't change him back."

I fell quiet. Was that a good or bad thing? But anyway, I shook my head, dismissing all thoughts of him. I couldn't spend my life thinking about him or worrying over what happened. Move on? Wasn't that what Walter said? Or else I end up like my dad?

Brennan did stop at McDonald's, going through the drive-through. We got our orders and he made me promise not to eat any of it until we reach or secret destination.

But I might have popped in a fry or two.

From his batch of fries.

It didn't take long for us to reach the surprise place. I hopped out of the car and closed to door loudly. The place was completely deserted save for us, but it didn't seem haunted. It was more of a peaceful place.

It wasn't a gas station.

But it was a site of old railroad tracks.

"Uh, at least it has sentimental value," I looked around. The ground was swimming in gravel and the tracks were rusty. Where in Los Angeles was this?

"I know, it's cool, right?" Brennan went around, hopping over the tracks and balancing himself on them.

"This place screams 'hipster' to me," I clutched the takeout bag close to me, "But I'll take it."

"I just found this one day. Looked like a place to spend some 'me time'. I just thought you might like it."

"What's with you Dale men and low-class date spots?"

We spent God knows how long playing around with the pebbles and just messing with the tracks. But in the end, we were sitting on the tracks, eating our food. I was scooping hot fudge sundae into my mouth and Brennan was eating fries, occasionally dipping them on my sundae.

"Damn it, why can't you use ketchup like a God damn normal person," I murmured as his fry took another dip on my ice cream.

"I like this," he said defensively.

Silence.

"Brennan? I'm scared of Hollywood," I turned my head to look at him, "Will it eat me up?"

"In reality, no, but pretending, yes." How helpful, dude. "But we both know you're going to eat it back."

One small smile. "Do you think I made the right choice? Of agreeing to this? Joining Divide and Conquer?" I let my ice cream melt, stirring it around and around. Had to let that hot fudge mix with the ice cream.

"Only you can tell that," Brennan finished his fries, tipping the container into his mouth. I could tell he was still hungry.

"You're not helping me."

"That's not my job."

I frowned, looking around the place. The only lights present were the moon, the stars and the city lights in the background. Why was I still here?

"I have better things to do on a night like this," I elbowed him on the side.

He took a guess, "Savage sex?"

"Brennan – "

"Hours long masturbation?"

"What the he – "

"Omegle chatting?"

I shot him a stern look, "I think that's more of your forte."

Brennan groaned, "I only do it if ever I see my fans! Imagine teenage girls screaming when I suddenly pop on their screens. Other celebrities don't do that, so it's creative."

"And then you bribe them into giving their souls?" I asked.

" . . . No."

"Ew, you're lame."

It felt good chatting with Brennan. Calming, even. When I retorted, he went defensive, and I got to insult him as much as I could. If we were real siblings I guessed it would be joking with each other to strangling each other in 0.1 seconds.

When I told him I needed to go home because Mom would toast me, we got into the car. My phone said it was twenty past eleven. Whoa, we were in here for so long.

Brennan wasn't starting the car yet. He faced me eagerly, "So you admit this is better than hanging with Jackson?"

"Yes, I guess this is better than – Wait what are you holding?" I stared at the thing in his hand. It was some kind of plastic carrot. "Is that supposed to be a recorder?"

"It's a recorder from Zootopia," he said, flaunting it right in front of my face. How nice. "Now, you were saying?"

"Put that recorder down, Brennan," I deadpanned. And he did so.

"I'm just going to say this is the best platonic date ever. But don't blame me if Lawrence tries to top it, okay?" I told him, "Now drive."

Brennan seemed deep in thought during the ride home. But I brushed it off. I was glad he took me out. And tomorrow, I had to face the girls and Violet once again. Whoop. Whoop. Neutral fun tomorrow.

He pulled up in front of the shop, which was now closed. And like the faux gentleman he was, he followed me to the door. We stood on the sidewalk .

"Thank you so much for that, Brendan," I smiled up at him, "I guess I really needed that."

"Anything for my future sister-in-law."

"What?"

"Nothing!" he said too quickly. "I enjoyed the night, too."

I raised my toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek. And then after that, a tight hug for him.

"Good night for you, then," I narrowed my eyes and patted his cheek, "And when you get into the car, tell Jackson at the trunk that I say goodnight, too."

He gave out an exaggerated laugh, "What! What are you talking about? Jackson's at the house alone in his bedroom? Psh, why would he be in the trunk of my car spying on us because he wanted to? That's crazy."

"Right."

No, muggle, you ain't fooling this Sherlockian.

Brennan rushed to his car, looking back warily. I merely stood on the doorway, smirking. I figured he didn't realize his window was open when he shouted to the back of his car, "Brother mine, you better not be eating my hot fudge sundae."

Then he sped off.

I felt Mom come up behind me, "I thought you'd be gone for the whole night. I was busting out my heavy metal solo."

I pushed past her, huffing, "Well, I'm sorry I didn't get laid."

♫ ♫ ♫