Chapter Text
“I can’t believe it!” Sky squealed as she came running off stage. Caitlyn was stood to the side, only half listening as Ambessa went through the setlist one more time as if Cait didn’t know it inside out already. She watched as Sky handed off her acoustic guitar to one of the stagehands in exchange for a water bottle. She was practically buzzing with excitement.
“Vi Warrick is in the VIP tent! You know, The Undercity’s drummer?”
Caitlyn felt herself go cold. Images of mornings tangled in bedsheets, afternoons eating by the harbour, and nights of long showers where tears mixed with water droplets suddenly flashed before her eyes. There was a buzzing in the back of her ears, like static. She lightly touched her fingertips to her earpiece then realised it wasn’t the source of the sound.
No, the actual source was her brain malfunctioning.
“Their EP last year was amazing. I can’t believe they’d never released music before then. Didn’t think this would be her type of thing but hey, people surprise you every day,” she could faintly hear Sky continuing.
Caitlyn jerked towards Ambessa, battling to keep a neutral facial expression.
“Vi Warrick is here?”
“I would hope so. I invited her.” Ambessa didn’t even look up from her clipboard.
Cait lost the fight instantly, mouth dropping open. She stammered, “You invited… wh-why would you do that?”
“Because I have things to discuss with her. Where is Mel?” she asked suddenly, turning to the crew. “And Jayce and Viktor for that matter. They better not be in their dressing rooms still.”
One of the techs in a headset and all black (although you could describe all of them like that, really) hurriedly jumped in with a, “I’ll go get them for you!” but Ambessa held up her palm, silencing her instantly.
“I will go get them myself. Caitlyn, one last round of voice warmups and you’re on. Are you ready?”
Caitlyn had always thought she was born ready for moments like this. She’d been performing since she was old enough to stand and writing lyrics for almost as long. But now, as she thought of a shock of pink hair in a leather jacket staring up at her from afar, she was the closest she’d ever been to throwing in the towel.
But that wasn’t an option, not really. Instead, Caitlyn closed her mouth, shook herself out, and nodded.
***
An hour and a half later, Caitlyn was staring into a crowd of thousands. She couldn’t make out any faces against the blaring lights, but she could hear them, feel them, cheering, singing, reaching out. It had been two months since they started the US stretch of the tour. Two months of hearing a chorus of strangers scream back her lyrics and chant her name. Still, at the end of each night, as she stood at the foot at the stage, drenched in sweat and breathing deeply, her sense of amazement felt fresh and new.
It was an addicting feeling, being adored. Caitlyn didn’t know if she’d ever be able to give it up.
She’d been distinctly avoiding looking at the VIP tent the whole performance, not willing to deal with whatever emotions might rear their heads if she did, but as the last few chords of what was meant to be her final song of the night faded out, Caitlyn couldn’t stop herself. Her eyes darted over, finding that familiar streak of pink in seconds. Vi was leaning on the metal barrier, a plastic cup of beer halfway to her lips. She caught Cait’s look instantly, throwing her a quick wink, and Caitlyn couldn’t believe her! Showing up at her show, unannounced, after a three-year long radio silence was already insane, but to top it all off with a wink? Heat flushed to Cait’s cheeks, red and angry.
She told herself it was the stage lights, but then she was talking, and she didn’t think she could stop herself.
“I couldn’t have asked for a better crowd to finish off this stretch of the tour! It’s been a privilege to sing for you all; you’ve been great,” she said into the microphone, voice echoing round the venue. She’d always planned to say this, even if the crowd had ended up being lacklustre. It seemed polite. The issue came when she continued speaking. “And since you’ve been so amazing, I think you deserve a treat. Don’t you agree?”
The response was an ear shattering roar, and, despite herself, Caitlyn couldn’t help but grin.
She turned to look at Viktor, stood at his keyboard. He was already staring back at her coolly, like he’d expected this all along. “I was thinking track two off the new album?”
Viktor shifted his gaze to Jayce and Mel. The three shared a wordless conversation, something Caitlyn had always envied them for. It ended with Mel shrugging off her guitar and reaching for her bass, almost in defeat, while Viktor gave Cait a small nod. Jayce absent-mindedly twirled his drumsticks.
Caitlyn returned Viktor’s nod, then looked back out at the sea of people before her.
“We haven’t released this one yet, and it’s a little different to what I’m used to, but I hope you’ll love it as much as I do!”
Then, Mel began playing the low riff on her bass. Caitlyn brought the microphone to her lips, moulding them into a small smirk, and softly whispered, “Son of a gun…”
***
“You’re So Vain wasn’t due to be released for another three months,” Ambessa hissed 0.4 seconds after Caitlyn stepped off stage.
“It was the last night. I wanted to make it special.” Caitlyn said with an airiness she’d never heard herself use before. Brushing past Ambessa, she headed towards the dressing room. She needed to take a shower before heading to the after party, needed to wash off the jittery unease that had settled itself into her skin. Ambessa stomped after her.
“Do I need to remind you that there’s still fourteen shows left on this tour?”
“They don’t begin for another month and a half!” Cait rolled her eyes as she unlocked the dressing room door.
Thankfully, the argument died once Cait stepped into the shower, Ambessa having the decency to let her dissociate in peace, and it stayed in the grave until they were walking up to the large wooden doors that led to the after party. As the doorman stepped aside to let them through, Ambessa rested her hand on Caitlyn’s shoulder and said in a voice just above a whisper: “No more surprises tonight.”
Then, she gently shoved her forward.
Caitlyn stumbled in and was greeted by a chorus of whoops and cheers. They’d hired out the biggest function room in the hotel across from the concert venue for the event and it was already packed by the time they were walking in. Somehow, everyone in attendance was already on their way to hammered. Waves of people she hardly recognised crowded around her, offering congratulations on the success of the tour so far. They shook her hand and patted her back and even drew her in for sweaty hugs, not once asking if it was okay, and Caitlyn was already feeling like she’d never showered in the first place.
That was her least favourite part of these things.
Well, that and the multiple pictures of her plastered on the walls in lieu of decorations. Most of them were the cover of her first album: a blurry picture of half her face, blue glitter smudged around one closed eye like she’d rubbed off last nights eyeshadow. The title, Misfit, was written across her cheekbone in sharpie, the only part of the image that was in focus. However, there were also other pictures. Some were from magazines; some were the covers of singles. She even spotted one cover of her self-titled EP, tucked away on the farthest wall.
It was odd to be stared down by past iterations of yourself.
Eventually, Ambessa left her to do ‘networking’, even though she’d invited everybody on the guest list. Caitlyn scanned the crowd for any member of her band but she saw no flecks of gold and heard no nerdy science talk.
Accepting defeat, she decided to make her way to the bar. Might as well enjoy the free alcohol while she could.
She had just settled into an empty barstool when a voice spoke behind her.
“You’re still a vodka lemonade girl, right?” it said, and Caitlyn jumped at the sudden address. She turned round with a surprised squeak to come face to face with Vi, sans the leather jacket. Instantly, she clocked the new additions to her tattoo sleeves. Then she mentally slapped herself.
“Woah! Didn’t mean to scare you.” Vi was holding out her hands as if to steady Caitlyn but she was holding two drinks, one golden brown while the other was clear and carbonated, so she couldn’t actually do anything. Once she saw Caitlyn had composed herself (without any help), she held the clear drink up. “I come with a peace offering, but if you don’t drink vodka lemonade anymore then I’m going to look pretty foolish.”
Cait considered her, then, with a sniff, said, “I’m more of a tequila girl now.” She accepted the drink anyway.
Vi made a face as if she were mulling over this new piece of information. “That makes sense,” she concluded after a second, and Caitlyn wasn’t entirely sure what she could mean by that. She didn’t have time to dwell though because Vi was already diving into her next sentence. “You were good tonight. I like the new song you played. Really, though? Implying I sleep with married women? That’s low.”
“Excuse me?”
“In the song,” Vi clarified, “you’re with the wife of a close friend or whatever. I like my women single and wanting, thanks.”
Caitlyn scoffed, finding it hard to keep the disbelieving half-smile off her face. “Vi, that song isn’t about you,” she said, a condescending lilt to her voice despite the obvious lie. “How wonderfully ironic you think it is, though.”
It was, of course, at that point which the DJ decided to play the one song Caitlyn wished he wouldn’t.
My friends call me a loser / Cause I'm still hanging around
“Ah, right,” Vi clicked her fingers as Caitlyn’s low voice washed over the party. “This is the song that’s about me.”
Caitlyn chugged a third of her glass instead of replying. There was no point in arguing. They both knew she wasn’t wrong.
If she was being honest with herself – something Caitlyn so rarely liked to do – over half the songs she’d recorded in the last three years were about Vi. This one just happened to be the first.
It was also the most awkward to listen to whilst the subject was stood right bloody there.
But we're / Knee deep in the passenger seat...
“What are you even doing here?” Caitlyn blurted, desperate to drown out the rest of the lyrics, even if that meant conversing.
Vi was sipping on her own drink now, watching Caitlyn with those powder grey eyes she’d never been able to completely wipe from her memory.
Cait’s throat tightened. She had to look away before she could breathe again.
“Your manager invited me,” Vi eventually supplied, as if it really was as simple as that. Caitlyn narrowed her eyes.
“I’m aware,” she replied, dryly, “I mean: why did you accept?”
Vi was quiet. For a moment, Caitlyn thought she wouldn’t respond at all. Then, she sighed.
“Honestly? I wasn’t going to. But Jinx saw the email and she just… fixated on it.” She drained the rest of her drink. Cait hadn’t even realised she’d gone through it so quickly. “She’s devastated she couldn’t make it tonight, by the way. She likes your music a lot.”
Vi placed the empty glass back on the bar. “And what Ambessa’s offering… it’s a big deal. Could change the trajectory of our entire careers’ kind of big deal. I thought I should at least consider it.”
Caitlyn’s eyebrows knitted together. “What Ambessa’s offering?” She parroted. Was Ambessa going take The Undercity on as a client? There was no way.
Vi matched her confused expression. “You don’t know? She hasn’t talked to you about it?”
“Talked to me about what?”
“I see you two have already become acquainted.”
Ambessa seemed to materialise from thin air. Caitlyn turned to throw an accusatory glare at her.
“It appears I missed a meeting at some point?”
“You haven’t.” Ambessa settled on the chair next to Vi. “I was going to tell you tonight. I’m in talks with The Undercity to get them on as your openers for Europe. Lux had to pull out.”
Caitlyn didn’t know if her brain could handle exploding one more time tonight. It was a miracle she’d made it this far.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Do I actually need to repeat myself or are you just processing?”
“You didn’t tell me Lux pulled out!”
“It’s not your job to worry about finding openers, that’s why you pay me.”
“I would still like to be kept in the loop about these things.”
“If you knew, you wouldn’t have been able to sleep until we found our replacement. You’re in the middle of a tour, an expensive one I might add. You need to be taking care of yourself. I couldn’t take that risk.”
Caitlyn wanted to argue but the words died in her throat, mostly because Ambessa wasn’t wrong. She would’ve worried herself sick over it. Caitlyn was a worrier; it was in her DNA.
“Okay, fine,” she grumbled, conceding but only a little bit. “But I don’t understand why Sky can’t keep opening for me. Why are we bringing on an angry girl band?”
Vi, who up until this point had been silently watching, eyes flickering back and forth between them like they were some sort of tennis match, pulled a face. “I think Ekko disqualifies us from being a girl band.”
Caitlyn shot her a glare.
“We talked about this, Caitlyn.” Ambessa was so calm it was infuriating. “You said you wanted to try something different with this next album. Well, The Undercity is different! Yes, they’re a little rough and tumble, but they’ve got charm. And their fanbase, though small, is extremely dedicated.”
“Am I meant to be flattered or offended?” Vi muttered. Ambessa barrelled on, either not hearing or not caring.
“Not only will they expose us to a whole new audience, but we can use them to engage how our current fans will react to a genre shift.” Ambessa paused, the corners of her lips pulling down into a scowl, one more purposeful than the one she used for day to day. “Although, you did jump the gun on that front with your little stunt tonight. You must trust me, Caitlyn.”
There were two key things Caitlyn wanted to point out.
First: she hadn't said anything. Ambessa had been the one to broached the idea of a genre shift. Something more 'mature' was what she had called it. Now, Cait had listened to The Undercity EP back when it was first released and although there were many things she’d label it as, ‘mature’ was not one of them. It was the type of music teenagers blasted in their bedroom when the world was being unfair, which was fun – Caitlyn had enjoyed the EP, much to her dismay – but it wasn’t what they were aiming for.
Second: even if angry teenager music was exactly what they wanted to make, there was no way in hell she was going to team up with her ex-situationship to achieve it.
Admittedly, Ambessa was blissfully unaware of that little tidbit in their history but if she’d stopped and spoken to Caitlyn at any point then she could’ve explained. But no, Ambessa had charged ahead, as always, and look where it got them.
Before Cait could open her mouth to start these talking points, however, Vi was already jumping in.
“Come on, Cupcake,” she was saying. Caitlyn felt the tips of her ears go red at the old nickname, glad her hair was pulled forward to cover them. “This is a mutually beneficial agreement. We can play nice for a little, right? I mean, we’re adults.”
God! There was no way Vi – Vi! – was talking to her about behaving like adults. Not after everything.
Caitlyn pressed her lips into a hardline. She was tingling all over, like she was touching open wire. Yes, she was an adult. A driven, talented, mature adult. She could certainly be civil. Much more than Vi could ever be. Vi probably wouldn’t know civil if it punched her in the gut. That was if she didn’t punch it first.
Besides, maybe Ambessa was right. Maybe she should just sit back and let her take the wheel.
Caitlyn drained the rest of her glass.
“I want to see them perform before I agree to anything,” she said, only addressing Ambessa. She refused to acknowledge the pang of satisfaction when Vi’s mouth twinged at being ignored. “She saw me tonight. It’s only fair.”
Ambessa let out a low, satisfied chuckle. “That can be arranged.” Turning to Vi, she bared her teeth in a smile. “Why don’t we have a chat over a beer? Or perhaps scotch is more your speed?”
With one last, charged look at Caitlyn, Vi allowed herself to be guided to the other end of the bar. Caitlyn watched them disappear into the crowd. It wasn’t until she could no longer see any flashes of pink that the buzzing across her skin began to settle.
To her relief, the next familiar face Caitlyn saw was Mel’s. She strutted from the direction Vi had gone, holding a martini glass in one hand.
“Why does my mother have a dangerous look in her eye? She’s not that upset about the song, surely?”
Caitlyn sighed. “She’s doing a business deal.”
“At a party? That woman is relentless.” Mel looked like she was going to say something else but then her eyebrows pulled together in a look of genuine concern. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Caitlyn said with a soft shake of her head. “I just need another drink.”