Fic: Lizzie B, Pop Star (part 1)
Title: Lizzie B, Pop Star
Author: saucydiva
Word count: 13K total
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own it or I would have all sorts of fancy lawyers to secretly solve problems with
Timeline: Posted after LBD 89
Summary: Boy band/girl band AU
Author’s Note: With much thanks and love to throwingpens, stars-inthe-sky, and quiet_hotel.
Inspired by LBD 44.
Cross-posted to Ao3.
“I can’t believe he said this stuff about me,” Lizzie said, throwing her Ok! magazine across the room.
“He was being nice,” Jane said, using those soothing tones she used on their mother when she was upset.
“He was being condescending,” Lizzie said, running back over to grab the magazine. “The leader of Defective Tuxedo, Darcy, 28, referred to up-and-coming lead singer of the The Bennets, Lizzie Bennet, 24, when asked who was on his Ipod this week.; As if anyone cares! ‘I think she’s got a great voice for pop and a real sense of what makes a good dance song.’ The notoriously private singer went say that Bennet has a lovely pair of eyes.”
“What about that is condescending? He’s paying you a compliment. Two, in fact.”
“I’m not a pop singer, and we aren’t a pop band!” Lizzie was fairly livid. Everyone knew that Darcy was about three days away from abandoning his own pop band to run off and become some damn dubstep DJ. Clearly, pop music wasn’t high on his list of respectable things to excel in.
And besides, The Bennet Sisters were a country band!
“Did I tell you what George said about him?”
“Only about six times,” Lydia said, barely pausing from her nails. “It was boring all of those times.”
Lizzie huffed. “I’m just saying, you don’t get that big without stepping on the little people.”
“Or they’re just talented,” Jane said. “And dreamy.” Her eyes got that look that said she was thinking of her Defective Tuxedo boyfriend, Bing.
“Ugh!” Lydia sighed. “I’m so bored of this conversation. Let me have it for you.” She stalked over to Lizzie’s closet, where she pulled out a plaid shirt. “I hate William Darcy. He’s just the worst. Once I had to sit next to him at a movie premiere and he tried to talk to me even though I very clearly would rather sit alone reading and growing old rather than trying to get our big break. I hope someone knocks him off a cliff.”
Lizzie rolled her eyes.
Lydia threw off the shirt and grabbed a flower from the vase on the table, holding it, stem and all, up to her head. “Lizzie, I think you should try to remember that Darcy’s just trying to make it in the music business too, and it’s not good to alienate other artists, especially one that’s best buds with my boyfriend.”
She grabbed Lizzie’s shirt again. “I just want to die alone and friendless and party-less, and I don’t care about your relationship, Jane.”
Jane started rubbing her hand on Lydia’s back. “Lizzie’s just tense. You know how she is around Darcy-”
“Darcy’s SO BORING,” Lydia said. “Can’t Lizzie ever talk about anyone else?”
Lizzie rolled her eyes. “George said-”
“Talking about your ex is just as boring.”
“Kicking someone out of your boy band is pretty bad even if he and I more or lessmutually broke up. Who does that?” Lizzie went over to her costume trunk and pulled out a bowtie and newsboy cap, adopting her best Darcy voice. “I couldn’t possibly consort with that sort of filth again.”
Lydia threw on her Lizzie shirt again. “Darcy, I was totes talking about you again even though I just hate you. It’s probably because I totally have your stupid song ‘A Broken Heart’ on my iPod even though I pretend I don’t.”
Lizzie glared from behind her Darcy costume. “Even I am allowed one good song.”
They glared. Jane tried to calm them both down with tea.
***
Lizzie was on the sidewalk when she heard it. Some hipster-scourge of the earth, all of them-was listening to a boom box that was older than he was.
It was her single, the Bennet Sisters’ “Bottles and Cans.” But rather than Lydia’s drums or Jane’s piano, Lizzie’s lyrics were playing over Defective Tuxedo’s “Get Off (and Get Out).”
“That asshole,” she said, punching in her sister’s number.
Jane hadn’t heard the song yet, but she pulled it up immediately.
“It’s really good, Lizzie,” she said. “Your voice sounds really lovely with Darcy’s.”
“I will kill him with chicken wire.”
“You don’t even know he did it.”
“I’d recognize his style anywhere.” Darcy was talented, even Lizzie realized that, and he’d crossed her heartbreaking song about her mother’s alcoholism with his band’s single-entendre eye-roller, and added in some brass and some new percussion. The result was a sleazy, sexy ode to summer drinking and dancing.
And it was catchy as hell.
Asshole.
Jane was using her soothing voice now. “You’ll see. This mashup will bring us good things.”
***
Jane turned out to be half-right. “Get Out (the Bottle)” exploded that summer and brought Lizzie a lot of attention. Unfortunately, that meant that Gardiner, her agent, hauled her into her office and told her she’d be asked to join the final leg of Defective Tuxedo’s tour to fill in for the opening act, a pop princess who was suffering “exhaustion.”
As if the idea of being stuck with Darcy in a tour bus for a month wasn’t awful enough, she couldn’t bring her sisters. The Bennet Sisters were becoming a solo act, because only Lizzie had been on the mashup, and only Lizzie was going to get to capitalize on Defective Tuxedo’s fame.
Lizzie protested, vehemently. Gardiner told her that this was her only opportunity, and to think long and hard about giving it up.
Telling Lydia and Jane was the worst part. Jane got very quiet, and locked herself in her hotel room for two days. Lizzie’s heart broke for her; Jane had been a reluctant performer, to be sure, but once she started, she loved it almost more than both her sisters.
Lydia, though.
“I just want you to know, Lizzie, that you are one selfish individual.”
“I’m not trying to be, you know that.”
“Neither was Judas.”
“The one thing you actually paid attention to in Sunday School,” Lizzie said. “Because God knows it wasn’t the parts about not slutting around or popping pills.”
“Says the liar not honoring thy mother,” Lydia spat out.
“You know she has a problem-”
“You have the problem! You go on and on like you’re so great, but you lost your best friend to Ricky fucking Collins, and your boyfriend, and our parents, and now you’re willing to sell out the two people who were willing to tolerate your bullshit.”
But in the end, what could Lizzie do? She packed her bags, and prepared for the Netherfield tour.
***
Gardiner got her on Ellen as part of the pre-tour, which was neat since Ellen was one of her idols. Lizzie liked her less, however, after she made Lizzie dance with Darcy to “their” hit song.
It was the most awkward dance ever.
And he kept trying to make conversation with her afterwards!
“I really like the SM7 for live performance,” he said to her afterwards.
“Mediocre at best. I like the Electro-Voice Raven myself,” she snapped.
“That’s good too. I really enjoy singing live-”
“And yet, your vocals are are all prerecorded.”
Darcy’s ears turned pink. “Well, not all. But yes, we can’t dance and sing at the same time. Have you ever seen one of our shows? I think you would enjoy it.”
“No, I’ve been busy trying to make a name for myself. That’s a trail of honkey-tonks and dive bars, every night I could, for years. No time to go to boy-band concerts.”
“I really admire that about you,” he said, all superior as though he owned the world just because he was in a stupid successful band with only one actually good song.
“Did what I had to do. With my sisters, of course.” She finishes throwing her stuff in her bag, and takes off for her tour bus.
It was nice, her tour bus. After years of driving her parents’ old minivan around the country, it was awesome to a moving motel room, with a toaster and an ice machine and a bathroom. She want to live in there, wrapped in her cocoon of purple. It was nicer than Charlotte’s old apartment, or Lizzie’s childhood bedroom. Her driver was a sweetheart too, an older gentleman named Carl who was her only company on the long journey.
***
She had the blessing of her older sister, but not her younger sister. Jane sent her a care package; arranged with the staff of the Cricket Wireless Amphitheatre for her sister to get a box full of cookies. She sent a pair of green hair clips, and Lizzie decided no matter what, she’s going to wear them in her hair tonight.
Caroline came in to her dressing room while she was adjusting her hair. She was the makeup artist for Defective Tuxedo, and now she was on contract to help Lizzie, too. They’d known each other for a while now, since she’s also Bing’s sister- and why not? The world only has fifty-four people in it.
“Of course we’re friends,” Caroline said, brushing blush over the apples of Lizzie’s cheeks.
“Of course,” Lizzie repeated. Caroline made her nervous, from that Cheshire cat grin of hers, to her perfect clothes and accomplished background. The Bennets were hardly white trash, but Lizzie’d always felt low-class around her.
“And as your friend, I just want to tell you not to worry just because you’re going in front of all those people. Just know your makeup will make you look fresh-faced and innocent.”
“Great,” Lizzie said, her forehead wrinkling.
“I think Darcy will like it,” Caroline said, mixing lipstick on the crook of her hand.
“Oh yeah, that’s my life goal. Look nice for Darcy.”
“I’m only telling you because it’s true. Are you nervous about your first concert?”
The topic changed so fast Lizzie’s head spun. “I’ve been singing since I was a kid.”
“Right, but none of those were here. Had you even left the South before?”
“I went to the premiere of The Rose, obviously, and I’ve been to Boston.”
“Fabulous. Well, what do you think of stage-ready Lizzie B?”
Lizzie thought her makeup was a little heavy, but her look for the lead vocalist of The Bennet Sisters, as designed and planned by Jane, was a lot different than for Lizzie B, country-ish pop diva, as Gardiner was now packaging her.
Lizzie hated it; she felt more like Charlotte, selling out her artistic principles for money. But this might be her only chance at stardom.
Besides, there were lawyers involved now, who had written contracts. Contracts she was bound to. Contracts that, if she broke, she would owe a lot of people a lot of money.
She was terrified of lawyers.
***
Lizzie’s set went well. Apparently. One moment, she was stepping up to the mic, and the next, she was backstage again, sweaty and exhausted, but grinning.
She was prepared to go back to her dressing room to decompress, but Caroline intercepted her. “Aren’t you going to watch the boys perform?” she asked.
“I was actually-”
“I think as an artist, it’s so important to support other artists. Besides, don’t you want to be a person who gives back like that?”
“What?”
“And they watched you, you know. Come on-” And Caroline linked arms with her, pulling her over to a spot backstage that still gave them a place to watch them, even if the angle was a bit rough.
“I’m sure we’re in the way,” Lizzie said, lips against the shell of Caroline’s ear so she could be heard over the noise of the dancers entertaining the crowd.
“Nonsense. I do this for all my brother’s shows. I haven’t missed a performance of his in years.” Caroline’s smile was warm and genuine, and in that moment, Lizzie could see why people were drawn to her.
She saw the three of them get into place, and heard the announcer’s voice, and then she could see a slice of the amphitheatre despite the hot lights and rising smoke from the dry ice. The fans she could see were going absolutely nuts, holding up glittery signs and cell phones, and screaming as though these guys weren’t just regular guys. She’d known them since the premiere of The Rose, an indie movie that had featured songs by both bands, and Bing was just a sweet guy dating her sister. Fitz was a goof, but sweet as hell. And Darcy was awful. And yet those fans were acting like they were God’s gift to straight women and gay men.
The familiar opening bars of their latest single, “Pumped,” came over the speakers, and Lizzie was grateful for her earplugs that muffled the song to almost-reasonable levels.
The three of them launched into a dance routine. Lizzie was impressed to see just how good they were, even Darcy; he who had danced with her on daytime tv like she had cooties. She’d seen their videos before- a hazard of being Jane’s sister- but they were really pulling out all the stops on this tour.
And she found herself transfixed as they danced through a dizzying array of ridiculous party music, incorporated more than three costume changes, and generally whipped a stadium into a frothy frenzy.
Three songs from the end of the set list, Darcy procured a mic, and launched into her favorite song. Lydia had been right, it was on her iPod, but that version was from a studio. Here, he was singing live, though the music was clearly still canned. She glanced over at Caroline, who was watching her, an indecipherable look on her face.
The lyrics of the song referred to young heartbreak, a person being left by their cruel and feckless lover. And Darcy sang them with such angst in his eyes that she wondered suddenly if someone had hurt him this way. He’d been in the public eye for almost three years now, and despite Lydia’s obsession with the gossip magazines, she’d never seen any evidence of his dating. Rumors swirled around him, but he was so intensely private, no one knew for sure. And for the first time, she wondered.
When the song was over, the mic discarded, and the three of them back to their regular-if impressive-song-and-dance routine.
The last song was a spectacle, even in a show devoted more to spectacle than talent. The highlight-at least, according to the noise in the stadium-was when the foam hose came out, and there was William Darcy, getting hosed down with an endless supply of bubbles.
When it stopped, he was still dancing, but now his white shirt was pasted on to his chest.
Fan service, clearly. It was gross and pandering and ridiculous.
And she was unable to look away.
When they took their curtain call, she was prepared to take off to the bus, but suddenly, there was Darcy, yanking on her arm like he didn’t get that it wasn’t his place to touch her.
And then he pulled her out for another bow.
This time, she savored it; committed every second to memory. It was glorious, how the fans loved her, and she wasn’t going to even pretend she didn’t enjoy the attention.
When she turned back around, there was Darcy, shirt still plastered to his chest, and for a moment, the crowd melted away.
She realized, belatedly, that the two other guys had also gotten sprayed with the foam hose too.
***
“The fans loved you,” Jane said to her the next morning. “I did some googling and last night and you were all over Twitter. One girl who had never heard of you went to the concert and claimed you changed her life.”
Lizzie smiled tiredly, leaning against the window. She was exhausted, but getting a phone call from Jane was worth staying awake for.
“Then she went on to say some not-so-appreciated things about Bing.”
Jane and Bing had been dating for only a few months, but already Jane’s relationship with Defective Tuxedo’s fans was complicated. The Bennet Sisters had had fans, and their debut album had sold a respectable number of copies and done fairly well on iTunes, but their fans skewed older (and in some ways, less crazy) than the mostly-young boy-band fans. Bing had been open about their relationship in the media, and Jane occasionally made the mistake of looking at Twitter, where his followers talked openly about their love for him and subsequent hatred of her. Luckily, after a few months, most of that had died down, but Jane still got her share of hate.
“Twitter is the worst,” Lizzie said. “You’ve got to avoid it.”
“Some of the concert-goers were wondering why you didn’t perform your song with Darcy.”
“It’s not my song anymore. He took that away from me.” There’d been a temporary bump in sales of “Bottles and Cans,” but it had slid right off the charts, while the mashup was riding high at number eight.
“Try to look at it as an opportunity.”
Lizzie sighed. “Speaking of opportunity, tell me, what’s going on in LA?”
“I just got here three days ago. But I’m looking into some internships. It’s time to find a new passion, I think,” Jane said, sounding hopeful. “I’m working on my resume.”
“How are you and Bing doing?” Lizzie knew, from seeing him almost daily, that Bing was depressed Jane wasn’t on tour with them. But she’d mostly refrained from sticking her nose in his business.
But Jane was her sister.
“He’s still upset I didn’t follow you guys round, but what was I supposed to do? I told him, I’m not a professional groupie, or a professional musician either.”
“Did you use your bar voice?” Years of playing dive bars had given Jane a chance to grow from the meek flower she’d been into a woman who occasionally had to shout, and when she did, it was glorious.
“Lizzie. The point is, I can’t define my life according to one failed career.”
“Jane, you’re not a failure,” Lizzie said, feeling like a jerk..
“I know,” Jane said. “And Bing knows that too. He’s just disappointed our band broke up.”
“Me, too. You’re still going to be here next month, right?
“They haven’t changed the concert, no.”
“I’ll see you then, ok?”
***
Jane should intern at a psychic's office, Lizzie reflected, as she and Darcy stared each other down.
He was always looking at her. It was uncomfortable.
They had a concert tonight, but never mind resting up first. The two of them were going to perform that song. Never mind that the mashup wasn’t for singing. Never mind that she and Darcy not only can’t dance together, but one would watch them and think they were alien babies unfamiliar with the concept.
Lizzie hasn’t had to lip sync since her music videos, but the fans had spoken.
As had Gardiner.
“Okay, once more from the top,” said their choreographer, a gamine dancer named Bobbi. “Now!”
Somehow, despite the fact he danced for a living, and she was at least a tolerable dancer, the two of them looked like robots.
The only thing that kept her from pitching a fit and storming off were those contracts, looming over her head. And an email from Charlotte that she was going to respond to the moment this stupid rehearsal was over.
***
“What I don’t understand is how someone completely mainstream can be such a snob.”
“He’s a total snob,” Caroline agreed.
“I feel sorry for the woman that’s walks down the aisle only to find him at the other end,” Lizzie said, taking a gulp of Mike’s Hard Lemonade. She was feeling a little swirly from the alcohol, and her accent was starting to come out. “I wouldn’t marry him if I was fixin’ to be tied up and carried into the church.”
“As if he’d have you. His list of qualifications for being an accomplished woman leaves you right off his matrimonial prospects.”
Lizzie scoffed. “There’s no women who’d even come close to matching that list.”
“Well, his sister is-”
“No! I’m sure no one does”. Advanced degrees. Ridiculous. “He’s a snob and his newsboy hat is stupid.”
“He’s too, too much,” Caroline said, drinking delicately from her own bottle.
“All I want in a guy, Caroline, the only two things that I need: respect me, and make me laugh.”
“Those are good qualities,” she agreed thoughtfully.
“And Ryan Gosling’s abs.”
“Better.” They giggled. This was the best possible use of her day off, and Lizzie was glad she’d invited Caroline to hang out with her. She was such a good friend, and Lizzie told her so. “I don’t know how you stand Darcy. You’re so cool and he’s so Darcy. You must have a douche-proof hazmat suit.”
“Of course. But you know, I’ve been with Defective Tuxedo since their inception. Three years.”
“Three years, thick as thieves with him.”
“More like three years with my brother and his bandmates,” she said, a warm smile on her face.
“Not if Snots McGee has his way.”
“I’m sure he’d never break up the band. At least, I hope not.”
Lizzie rolled her eyes. “Just saying. As if he could make it in the music business without foam hoses and synchronized dance moves. Like he’s going to find some people or group willing to put up with his shit.”
“I’m sure he won’t,” Caroline said, grabbing Lizzie’s hand and giving it a squeeze.
***
“Lizzie?” Darcy said. He’d changed from his concert-wear to a button-up white shirt and a skinny tie. “I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”
Lizzie looked around the green room. “Now’s not really a good time, actually.” The concert tonight had been a disaster. Bobbi had told the lighting team to compensate for their dancing- seven concerts in, and the two of them were no better- with more strobe lights. But Lizzie wasn’t used to dancing with strobe lights, and had pitched forward, almost falling flat on her face. Darcy had seen that she was falling, and had grabbed her hand, only instead of hauling her up, he’d fallen too. There were photos. According to the Internet, they were well on their way to meme status.
Darcy ignored her, and gestured towards the couch. She sat. The sooner this was over, the better.
He wet his lips, looking nervous. “I have to tell you, we’ve known each other for a while now, and getting to actually work with you has been amazing.”
Amazingly awful, she thought.
“And I realize I can’t wait any longer. Lizzie Bennet, I’m in love with you.”
She was stunned. Confused. Annoyed.
“I realize we’re from very different places in our careers, and you have your situation with your mother’s addictions that you’ve sung about so eloquently, and your little sister-has left me some voicemails that are perhaps a sign that she’s taken recent career shifts very seriously. And may need a new outlet in which to vent her frustrations.
“But despite the fact that I’ve found great success professionally up to this point, and you’ve been struggling professionally until recently, I think the two of us could-if you’ll forgive the expression-make beautiful music together.”
Lizzie stared at him, her mouth wide in shock.
“Romantically, I mean,” Darcy said, then nodded to himself, looking satisfied.
“Are you joking?” she asked him. “Is there a hidden camera here?”
“I don’t know what you’re referring-”
“Then you aren’t listening. Darcy, I would never, could never, wouldn’t ever fall in love with you.”
“And why not?” he asked, his mouth twisting.
“Because you’re a snob! Because you make all these sarcastic comments about me in the media. I think she’s got a great voice for pop and a real sense of what makes a good dance song. I’m not a pop singer, Darcy, I don’t care if you remixed me into one!”
“I just thought our voices would work well together. And everyone agrees.”
“And I’m not too pleased with that song either. You took a deeply personal song about my mother and made it some stupid dance number. And now I’m a pop music star and I would rather be back in those terrible bars with my sisters, singing the kind of music I love.”
Darcy’s jaw twitched, and she could see him grip his knees tightly. “I’m sorry for causing you a rift with your sisters. Though I think they were holding you back, professionally speaking.”
“You know, we can’t all be like you. You might be able to dump George from your band and never look back, but some of us care about those around us.”
“You don’t know what happened with Wickham.”
“Don’t I? I’ve spoken with him, at length. You think it’s easy for him? You kicked him out. And he was your friend. I could never be that cruel to my friend.”
“Clearly you know everything there is to know about Wickham.” He pushed down on his knees and stood up. “Well, Lizzie, I’m sorry about this. I should’ve kept quiet. I hope you’ll be able to dance with me, but if you can’t, I can discuss this with Bobbi.”
“We’re fine,” Lizzie said, jumping up. “Just. Fine.” She stomped out before he could get the last word.
***
She’d just never see him, except for the brief periods of time they were on stage together. They had separate tour buses. They rarely had to give interviews together. Netherfield Tour was going to end one day, and she’d pack up her suitcases and plan her next move.
She didn’t anticipate how Darcy’s confession would affect their dancing.
They were spectacular.
Maybe it was the anger she had, or the embarrassment he was probably still reeling from, but the day after his confession, the routine finally took.
It did make the grinding part even more awkward, but Lizzie couldn’t have everything.
They froze in place to massive applause, the lights went out, and they exited, same as they had the last seven times.
Only this time, he swung around her, breaking her stride.
She stopped herself from crashing into him. She braced herself, arms crossed. “Yes?”
He held out both hands as if to placate her. “I think we danced well tonight.”
“I think I’m not in the mood for small-talk.”
“Fair point. Listen, Lizzie, I just wanted you to know-” he stopped, looked down at his shoes, then took a breath. His head scrunched back. “I can’t take back the mash-up. I can’t fix the rift to your band. But you should know the truth about Wickham.”
“Okay,” Lizzie said.
“I sometimes have difficulty explaining myself, which is probably why I never tried to explain this before. And I felt there are certain things-when they involve other people I care about-that should remain private. But my sister-”
“Lizzie B, what’s happening?” Fitz strode into the wing, pushing the leg curtains aside. “Darcy, my man, are you ready to go out there and be outshone yet again by your most handsome friend?”
Bing smiled at her, friendly as always. “Hi Lizzie. That was a great set! But we’re going to have to take Darcy since we’re on in three minutes.”
“I’ll be there momentarily,” Darcy said.
“In the correct costume?” Fitz said with a smile.
“They don’t call it a quick-change for nothing,” Darcy said with a smile pasted on. He looked back at Lizzie, suddenly serious again. He leaned over her, cupping his hand to her head. His breath tickled her ear, and she suddenly felt very warm, even away from the stage lights. “The song ‘A Broken Heart.’ It’s about my sister...and her then-boyfriend, Wickham.”
***
“SEX TAPE?” Lizzie yelled. Radio silence from her sister since the band broke up, and now this? “You were stupid enough to make a SEX TAPE?”
Lydia didn’t want a lesson on morals, apparently. “Listen, Lizzie, Patron Saint of Totes Lying About Mom’s Drinking to the Press, if you can’t help me, then just shut it, okay?”
“You were supposed to be staying with Mary! Maybe taking some classes!”
“Mary’s was really boring, though.”
“And the tape, who was this with?”
Lydia was silent.
“I can tell you’re still on the phone. I can hear you breathing,” Lizzie said. She didn’t have time for this.
“It was-don’t be mad.”
“Talk.”
“George,” Lydia said, her voice suddenly small.
“George. As in George Wickham?” She’d kill him. That was the only solution. She’d spent a good portion of the tour listening to “A Broken Heart” on repeat, and even before this tape, she wanted to kill him, on behalf of Darcy’s sister.
“You said it wasn’t serious with him. Your exact words were it was totally casual.”
“I don’t care about it for me. It’s about-well, I can’t-never mind. Just, never mind.” Lizzie rubbed her temples and tried to collect herself. “And now he’s shopping it around?”
“Former music celebrity/sexy-up-and-coming-babe are a hot commodity, apparently. Lizzie. The magazines. The blogs. They are starting to find out about this. What the hell am I supposed to do?”
She almost preferred when she and Lydia weren’t speaking. “I don’t know.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have done it. Well, no, I thought it was the best idea I’d ever thought up, but now I realize I don’t want to be you.”
“I didn’t make a tape.”
“I want Mom and Dad to like me, though.”
Lizzie knew her parents liked her, no matter what Lydia said. True, they weren’t exactly pleased with “Bottles and Cans,” or the press Lizzie had done to promote it, but it wasn’t like they wouldn’t take her calls. They were just really busy lately.
“Focus, Lydia. We need to figure out how to make this disappear.”
“Make what disappear?” Darcy said. Lizzie almost dropped her phone in surprise. She should’ve locked the door, but who would’ve guessed anyone would assume they could just waltz in?
“I’ll call you right back.” Lydia gave a noise of protest, but Lizzie hung up anyway.
“My sister is having a crisis due to your former bandmate.”
Darcy’s eyes narrowed in disgust. “Oh?”
“It’s...never mind, I can’t tell you.”
“I understand. I’ll see you onstage.”
“Wait!” she said, and he whipped around. She bit her lip. Darcy was awful, but he understood Wickham. “My sister and George Wickham made a sex tape, and I need to make it disappear before the gossip sites catch wind of it.”
Darcy blew out a breath. “That’s terrible.”
“Obviously.”
“How would you feel about bring in some other people to consult on this? I promise you they’re trustworthy.”
But Fitz and Bing turned out to be just as lost on how to fix this as Lizzie was. Meanwhile, every minute that went by with no solution, Lydia got closer and closer to being a porn star.
“Lizzie B, I got it,” Fitz said suddenly, fire in his eyes. “You can’t get rid of the file, and we aren’t allowed to murder Wick-”
Bing shook his head, as if to confirm this.
“But if there’s a bigger story, no one will care about this one. Right? Right.”
“Nonsense,” Caroline said, sticking her head in from the hall, where she was apparently eavesdropping. She sat down on one of the couches, shaking her head. “Lawyers, does no one remember we have access to lawyers?”
“Let’s hear him out,” Bing said to her.
“So all we have to do is give the gossip outlets a new focus?” Lizzie asked. “Because I’m fine with kidnapping Suri. Oh! Or making out with James Marsden.”
Darcy looked appalled.
“You really need to watch 30 Rock,” Lizzie told him.
“No, I’m not talking about making out with my future ex-husband or kidnapping a Scientology kidlet. I’m talking about getting on the gossip sites yourself,” Fitz said.
Lizzie rolled her eyes. “I’m hardly big news. Hell, neither are Lydia or Wickham, except for the sex tape part.”
“I agree,” Fitz said. “But someone else here is pretty damn big, plus he’s kept the media out of his personal life for years.
“Oh no,” Lizzie said.
“And if they have a rising star on the back of a comet, they have to pay attention.”
“No, no, no, no,” Lizzie said.
“Which is why you and Darcy need to fake date for the paps,” Fitz concluded, triumphant.
At least it wasn’t the sex tape she expected Fitz to demand they make. That said...
“Absolutely not.”
“I know, but think about it. It’s the perfect solution. They can only care about one Bennet sister at a time.”
Bing spoke softly. “I could see it working.”
“It won’t,” Caroline said, a look of irritation on her face.
“But can’t it be someone else?” Even as she spoke, Lizzie realized she had no idea who else would make sense. Bing was dating her sister. Fitz was dating a boy.
She needed more famous friends.
***
Gigi Darcy was a beautiful woman with short, dark hair and Darcy’s nose. It was distracting.
“It’s so nice to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you,” she said with a wink.
“Were you watching my interviews or something?” Lizzie asked.
“Nope.”
Lizzie didn’t know what to make of that, so she switched topics. “Thank you so much for coming out here. I just can’t believe my sister thought it was a good idea to-”
“George Wickham is scum. Did my brother tell you I wrote a song about him? There’s nothing as cathartic as writing about your ex. So, you two.” She looked them over critically. “You need to look like a couple. Which means you two need to look less stiff around each other.” She clapped her hands. “Okay, let’s-” and she shoved them both on to the loveseat, next to each other.
“Your sister is crazy,” Lizzie muttered to Darcy. His thigh was pressed against hers, and she wanted to pull away.
“Ok, there’s a theory from tantra that says-”
“Gigi,” her brother said, sounding embarrassed.
She ignored him. “That the way to intimacy is to spend five minutes each morning looking each other in the eyes.”
“That’s not hard,” Lizzie said. After all, Darcy could just look at her, and think of all her flaws, as he did most days.
“You’d be surprised. All right, eyes only. I’ll pull out my timer. And...go!”
Darcy and Lizzie swung their heads around. Focus, Lizzie, she thought. She could stare at some dude’s eyeballs. Of course, letting him stare back was surprisingly difficult. It was even more intense than his usual judgemental staring. It was akin to stripping naked, almost. Could he tell she’d just thought about being naked? She blushed.
“That had to be five minutes, she said, turning back to his sister.
“No, that was one minute and twenty-three seconds.”
Lizzie grabbed the phone out of Gigi’s hand. “Wow.”
Gigi sighed. “We’ll work on it. Everyday, we’re working on it. Maybe you could both try holding hands?”
Lizzie looked at Darcy, but he was already sprinting out the door. “Or not,” she said. It wasn’t like she wanted to hold his hand, anyway.
***
“So how’re you going to leak this to the press?” Charlotte asked. Lizzie was thrilled her number one bestie and former manager was talking to her again, and she loved getting phone time with her, but at the moment, she wished Charlotte was busy with her new charge.
“I don’t know, maybe, just, like, a press release?”
“You have got to be kidding.”
“Of course!” Lizzie said, wracking her brain for what the actual answer was. “ I’m going to do it in a better way that you’re going to explain to me.”
Charlotte pulled out her professional voice, the one she’d perfected after so many business classes. “You don’t just send out a press release. You start dropping hints. Flirting in public. Holding hands when you think no one’s looking. Spending time together when there might be photographers. Keep them guessing.”
“Can’t we just tell them, and then continue behaving as-is, and then that’ll work.
“Lizzie.”
“I’m just tired of Darcy.”
“He’s doing you a favor. Play nice,” Charlotte said. “And take care of yourself.”
“Thanks. You’re the best,” Lizzie said, wishing the two of them could be geographically close again.
“Your sister’s ridiculous,” Charlotte added. “Honestly. What was she thinking?” Lizzie could practically hear Charlotte’s eyes rolling as she disconnected.
***
“We’re going clubbing tonight,” Gigi announced, hurling herself into Lizzie's tour bus without knockin, causing her and Darcy to startle. They’d been doing their Gigi-mandated staring contest, and it was just as awkward as it had been the night before
This time, they’d hit a minute and thirty -seven seconds. It was a record.
“We who?” Lizzie asked.
“You, me, Fitz, Caroline, and William, of course.”
“William?-Oh. Darcy. Right,” Lizzie said. “What about Bing?”
“He’s going to sit by his cell phone, moping over your sister, I assume,” Gigi said, an eye-roll implicit. “As for tonight. Yes, if you’re going to fake a relationship with my brother, you’re going to have to go fake-fraternize. Although. If you rather just let the paps know you’re together in here all the time...”
“No!” Lizzie said. She looked over at Darcy, who was tucking his chin, presumably to avoid eye-contact.
“Don’t worry, I’ll pick you out an outfit,” Gigi said, clasping her hands in delight.
Part two
Author: saucydiva
Word count: 13K total
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Clearly I don’t own it or I would have all sorts of fancy lawyers to secretly solve problems with
Timeline: Posted after LBD 89
Summary: Boy band/girl band AU
Author’s Note: With much thanks and love to throwingpens, stars-inthe-sky, and quiet_hotel.
Inspired by LBD 44.
Cross-posted to Ao3.
“I can’t believe he said this stuff about me,” Lizzie said, throwing her Ok! magazine across the room.
“He was being nice,” Jane said, using those soothing tones she used on their mother when she was upset.
“He was being condescending,” Lizzie said, running back over to grab the magazine. “The leader of Defective Tuxedo, Darcy, 28, referred to up-and-coming lead singer of the The Bennets, Lizzie Bennet, 24, when asked who was on his Ipod this week.; As if anyone cares! ‘I think she’s got a great voice for pop and a real sense of what makes a good dance song.’ The notoriously private singer went say that Bennet has a lovely pair of eyes.”
“What about that is condescending? He’s paying you a compliment. Two, in fact.”
“I’m not a pop singer, and we aren’t a pop band!” Lizzie was fairly livid. Everyone knew that Darcy was about three days away from abandoning his own pop band to run off and become some damn dubstep DJ. Clearly, pop music wasn’t high on his list of respectable things to excel in.
And besides, The Bennet Sisters were a country band!
“Did I tell you what George said about him?”
“Only about six times,” Lydia said, barely pausing from her nails. “It was boring all of those times.”
Lizzie huffed. “I’m just saying, you don’t get that big without stepping on the little people.”
“Or they’re just talented,” Jane said. “And dreamy.” Her eyes got that look that said she was thinking of her Defective Tuxedo boyfriend, Bing.
“Ugh!” Lydia sighed. “I’m so bored of this conversation. Let me have it for you.” She stalked over to Lizzie’s closet, where she pulled out a plaid shirt. “I hate William Darcy. He’s just the worst. Once I had to sit next to him at a movie premiere and he tried to talk to me even though I very clearly would rather sit alone reading and growing old rather than trying to get our big break. I hope someone knocks him off a cliff.”
Lizzie rolled her eyes.
Lydia threw off the shirt and grabbed a flower from the vase on the table, holding it, stem and all, up to her head. “Lizzie, I think you should try to remember that Darcy’s just trying to make it in the music business too, and it’s not good to alienate other artists, especially one that’s best buds with my boyfriend.”
She grabbed Lizzie’s shirt again. “I just want to die alone and friendless and party-less, and I don’t care about your relationship, Jane.”
Jane started rubbing her hand on Lydia’s back. “Lizzie’s just tense. You know how she is around Darcy-”
“Darcy’s SO BORING,” Lydia said. “Can’t Lizzie ever talk about anyone else?”
Lizzie rolled her eyes. “George said-”
“Talking about your ex is just as boring.”
“Kicking someone out of your boy band is pretty bad even if he and I more or lessmutually broke up. Who does that?” Lizzie went over to her costume trunk and pulled out a bowtie and newsboy cap, adopting her best Darcy voice. “I couldn’t possibly consort with that sort of filth again.”
Lydia threw on her Lizzie shirt again. “Darcy, I was totes talking about you again even though I just hate you. It’s probably because I totally have your stupid song ‘A Broken Heart’ on my iPod even though I pretend I don’t.”
Lizzie glared from behind her Darcy costume. “Even I am allowed one good song.”
They glared. Jane tried to calm them both down with tea.
***
Lizzie was on the sidewalk when she heard it. Some hipster-scourge of the earth, all of them-was listening to a boom box that was older than he was.
It was her single, the Bennet Sisters’ “Bottles and Cans.” But rather than Lydia’s drums or Jane’s piano, Lizzie’s lyrics were playing over Defective Tuxedo’s “Get Off (and Get Out).”
“That asshole,” she said, punching in her sister’s number.
Jane hadn’t heard the song yet, but she pulled it up immediately.
“It’s really good, Lizzie,” she said. “Your voice sounds really lovely with Darcy’s.”
“I will kill him with chicken wire.”
“You don’t even know he did it.”
“I’d recognize his style anywhere.” Darcy was talented, even Lizzie realized that, and he’d crossed her heartbreaking song about her mother’s alcoholism with his band’s single-entendre eye-roller, and added in some brass and some new percussion. The result was a sleazy, sexy ode to summer drinking and dancing.
And it was catchy as hell.
Asshole.
Jane was using her soothing voice now. “You’ll see. This mashup will bring us good things.”
***
Jane turned out to be half-right. “Get Out (the Bottle)” exploded that summer and brought Lizzie a lot of attention. Unfortunately, that meant that Gardiner, her agent, hauled her into her office and told her she’d be asked to join the final leg of Defective Tuxedo’s tour to fill in for the opening act, a pop princess who was suffering “exhaustion.”
As if the idea of being stuck with Darcy in a tour bus for a month wasn’t awful enough, she couldn’t bring her sisters. The Bennet Sisters were becoming a solo act, because only Lizzie had been on the mashup, and only Lizzie was going to get to capitalize on Defective Tuxedo’s fame.
Lizzie protested, vehemently. Gardiner told her that this was her only opportunity, and to think long and hard about giving it up.
Telling Lydia and Jane was the worst part. Jane got very quiet, and locked herself in her hotel room for two days. Lizzie’s heart broke for her; Jane had been a reluctant performer, to be sure, but once she started, she loved it almost more than both her sisters.
Lydia, though.
“I just want you to know, Lizzie, that you are one selfish individual.”
“I’m not trying to be, you know that.”
“Neither was Judas.”
“The one thing you actually paid attention to in Sunday School,” Lizzie said. “Because God knows it wasn’t the parts about not slutting around or popping pills.”
“Says the liar not honoring thy mother,” Lydia spat out.
“You know she has a problem-”
“You have the problem! You go on and on like you’re so great, but you lost your best friend to Ricky fucking Collins, and your boyfriend, and our parents, and now you’re willing to sell out the two people who were willing to tolerate your bullshit.”
But in the end, what could Lizzie do? She packed her bags, and prepared for the Netherfield tour.
***
Gardiner got her on Ellen as part of the pre-tour, which was neat since Ellen was one of her idols. Lizzie liked her less, however, after she made Lizzie dance with Darcy to “their” hit song.
It was the most awkward dance ever.
And he kept trying to make conversation with her afterwards!
“I really like the SM7 for live performance,” he said to her afterwards.
“Mediocre at best. I like the Electro-Voice Raven myself,” she snapped.
“That’s good too. I really enjoy singing live-”
“And yet, your vocals are are all prerecorded.”
Darcy’s ears turned pink. “Well, not all. But yes, we can’t dance and sing at the same time. Have you ever seen one of our shows? I think you would enjoy it.”
“No, I’ve been busy trying to make a name for myself. That’s a trail of honkey-tonks and dive bars, every night I could, for years. No time to go to boy-band concerts.”
“I really admire that about you,” he said, all superior as though he owned the world just because he was in a stupid successful band with only one actually good song.
“Did what I had to do. With my sisters, of course.” She finishes throwing her stuff in her bag, and takes off for her tour bus.
It was nice, her tour bus. After years of driving her parents’ old minivan around the country, it was awesome to a moving motel room, with a toaster and an ice machine and a bathroom. She want to live in there, wrapped in her cocoon of purple. It was nicer than Charlotte’s old apartment, or Lizzie’s childhood bedroom. Her driver was a sweetheart too, an older gentleman named Carl who was her only company on the long journey.
***
She had the blessing of her older sister, but not her younger sister. Jane sent her a care package; arranged with the staff of the Cricket Wireless Amphitheatre for her sister to get a box full of cookies. She sent a pair of green hair clips, and Lizzie decided no matter what, she’s going to wear them in her hair tonight.
Caroline came in to her dressing room while she was adjusting her hair. She was the makeup artist for Defective Tuxedo, and now she was on contract to help Lizzie, too. They’d known each other for a while now, since she’s also Bing’s sister- and why not? The world only has fifty-four people in it.
“Of course we’re friends,” Caroline said, brushing blush over the apples of Lizzie’s cheeks.
“Of course,” Lizzie repeated. Caroline made her nervous, from that Cheshire cat grin of hers, to her perfect clothes and accomplished background. The Bennets were hardly white trash, but Lizzie’d always felt low-class around her.
“And as your friend, I just want to tell you not to worry just because you’re going in front of all those people. Just know your makeup will make you look fresh-faced and innocent.”
“Great,” Lizzie said, her forehead wrinkling.
“I think Darcy will like it,” Caroline said, mixing lipstick on the crook of her hand.
“Oh yeah, that’s my life goal. Look nice for Darcy.”
“I’m only telling you because it’s true. Are you nervous about your first concert?”
The topic changed so fast Lizzie’s head spun. “I’ve been singing since I was a kid.”
“Right, but none of those were here. Had you even left the South before?”
“I went to the premiere of The Rose, obviously, and I’ve been to Boston.”
“Fabulous. Well, what do you think of stage-ready Lizzie B?”
Lizzie thought her makeup was a little heavy, but her look for the lead vocalist of The Bennet Sisters, as designed and planned by Jane, was a lot different than for Lizzie B, country-ish pop diva, as Gardiner was now packaging her.
Lizzie hated it; she felt more like Charlotte, selling out her artistic principles for money. But this might be her only chance at stardom.
Besides, there were lawyers involved now, who had written contracts. Contracts she was bound to. Contracts that, if she broke, she would owe a lot of people a lot of money.
She was terrified of lawyers.
***
Lizzie’s set went well. Apparently. One moment, she was stepping up to the mic, and the next, she was backstage again, sweaty and exhausted, but grinning.
She was prepared to go back to her dressing room to decompress, but Caroline intercepted her. “Aren’t you going to watch the boys perform?” she asked.
“I was actually-”
“I think as an artist, it’s so important to support other artists. Besides, don’t you want to be a person who gives back like that?”
“What?”
“And they watched you, you know. Come on-” And Caroline linked arms with her, pulling her over to a spot backstage that still gave them a place to watch them, even if the angle was a bit rough.
“I’m sure we’re in the way,” Lizzie said, lips against the shell of Caroline’s ear so she could be heard over the noise of the dancers entertaining the crowd.
“Nonsense. I do this for all my brother’s shows. I haven’t missed a performance of his in years.” Caroline’s smile was warm and genuine, and in that moment, Lizzie could see why people were drawn to her.
She saw the three of them get into place, and heard the announcer’s voice, and then she could see a slice of the amphitheatre despite the hot lights and rising smoke from the dry ice. The fans she could see were going absolutely nuts, holding up glittery signs and cell phones, and screaming as though these guys weren’t just regular guys. She’d known them since the premiere of The Rose, an indie movie that had featured songs by both bands, and Bing was just a sweet guy dating her sister. Fitz was a goof, but sweet as hell. And Darcy was awful. And yet those fans were acting like they were God’s gift to straight women and gay men.
The familiar opening bars of their latest single, “Pumped,” came over the speakers, and Lizzie was grateful for her earplugs that muffled the song to almost-reasonable levels.
The three of them launched into a dance routine. Lizzie was impressed to see just how good they were, even Darcy; he who had danced with her on daytime tv like she had cooties. She’d seen their videos before- a hazard of being Jane’s sister- but they were really pulling out all the stops on this tour.
And she found herself transfixed as they danced through a dizzying array of ridiculous party music, incorporated more than three costume changes, and generally whipped a stadium into a frothy frenzy.
Three songs from the end of the set list, Darcy procured a mic, and launched into her favorite song. Lydia had been right, it was on her iPod, but that version was from a studio. Here, he was singing live, though the music was clearly still canned. She glanced over at Caroline, who was watching her, an indecipherable look on her face.
The lyrics of the song referred to young heartbreak, a person being left by their cruel and feckless lover. And Darcy sang them with such angst in his eyes that she wondered suddenly if someone had hurt him this way. He’d been in the public eye for almost three years now, and despite Lydia’s obsession with the gossip magazines, she’d never seen any evidence of his dating. Rumors swirled around him, but he was so intensely private, no one knew for sure. And for the first time, she wondered.
When the song was over, the mic discarded, and the three of them back to their regular-if impressive-song-and-dance routine.
The last song was a spectacle, even in a show devoted more to spectacle than talent. The highlight-at least, according to the noise in the stadium-was when the foam hose came out, and there was William Darcy, getting hosed down with an endless supply of bubbles.
When it stopped, he was still dancing, but now his white shirt was pasted on to his chest.
Fan service, clearly. It was gross and pandering and ridiculous.
And she was unable to look away.
When they took their curtain call, she was prepared to take off to the bus, but suddenly, there was Darcy, yanking on her arm like he didn’t get that it wasn’t his place to touch her.
And then he pulled her out for another bow.
This time, she savored it; committed every second to memory. It was glorious, how the fans loved her, and she wasn’t going to even pretend she didn’t enjoy the attention.
When she turned back around, there was Darcy, shirt still plastered to his chest, and for a moment, the crowd melted away.
She realized, belatedly, that the two other guys had also gotten sprayed with the foam hose too.
***
“The fans loved you,” Jane said to her the next morning. “I did some googling and last night and you were all over Twitter. One girl who had never heard of you went to the concert and claimed you changed her life.”
Lizzie smiled tiredly, leaning against the window. She was exhausted, but getting a phone call from Jane was worth staying awake for.
“Then she went on to say some not-so-appreciated things about Bing.”
Jane and Bing had been dating for only a few months, but already Jane’s relationship with Defective Tuxedo’s fans was complicated. The Bennet Sisters had had fans, and their debut album had sold a respectable number of copies and done fairly well on iTunes, but their fans skewed older (and in some ways, less crazy) than the mostly-young boy-band fans. Bing had been open about their relationship in the media, and Jane occasionally made the mistake of looking at Twitter, where his followers talked openly about their love for him and subsequent hatred of her. Luckily, after a few months, most of that had died down, but Jane still got her share of hate.
“Twitter is the worst,” Lizzie said. “You’ve got to avoid it.”
“Some of the concert-goers were wondering why you didn’t perform your song with Darcy.”
“It’s not my song anymore. He took that away from me.” There’d been a temporary bump in sales of “Bottles and Cans,” but it had slid right off the charts, while the mashup was riding high at number eight.
“Try to look at it as an opportunity.”
Lizzie sighed. “Speaking of opportunity, tell me, what’s going on in LA?”
“I just got here three days ago. But I’m looking into some internships. It’s time to find a new passion, I think,” Jane said, sounding hopeful. “I’m working on my resume.”
“How are you and Bing doing?” Lizzie knew, from seeing him almost daily, that Bing was depressed Jane wasn’t on tour with them. But she’d mostly refrained from sticking her nose in his business.
But Jane was her sister.
“He’s still upset I didn’t follow you guys round, but what was I supposed to do? I told him, I’m not a professional groupie, or a professional musician either.”
“Did you use your bar voice?” Years of playing dive bars had given Jane a chance to grow from the meek flower she’d been into a woman who occasionally had to shout, and when she did, it was glorious.
“Lizzie. The point is, I can’t define my life according to one failed career.”
“Jane, you’re not a failure,” Lizzie said, feeling like a jerk..
“I know,” Jane said. “And Bing knows that too. He’s just disappointed our band broke up.”
“Me, too. You’re still going to be here next month, right?
“They haven’t changed the concert, no.”
“I’ll see you then, ok?”
***
Jane should intern at a psychic's office, Lizzie reflected, as she and Darcy stared each other down.
He was always looking at her. It was uncomfortable.
They had a concert tonight, but never mind resting up first. The two of them were going to perform that song. Never mind that the mashup wasn’t for singing. Never mind that she and Darcy not only can’t dance together, but one would watch them and think they were alien babies unfamiliar with the concept.
Lizzie hasn’t had to lip sync since her music videos, but the fans had spoken.
As had Gardiner.
“Okay, once more from the top,” said their choreographer, a gamine dancer named Bobbi. “Now!”
Somehow, despite the fact he danced for a living, and she was at least a tolerable dancer, the two of them looked like robots.
The only thing that kept her from pitching a fit and storming off were those contracts, looming over her head. And an email from Charlotte that she was going to respond to the moment this stupid rehearsal was over.
***
“What I don’t understand is how someone completely mainstream can be such a snob.”
“He’s a total snob,” Caroline agreed.
“I feel sorry for the woman that’s walks down the aisle only to find him at the other end,” Lizzie said, taking a gulp of Mike’s Hard Lemonade. She was feeling a little swirly from the alcohol, and her accent was starting to come out. “I wouldn’t marry him if I was fixin’ to be tied up and carried into the church.”
“As if he’d have you. His list of qualifications for being an accomplished woman leaves you right off his matrimonial prospects.”
Lizzie scoffed. “There’s no women who’d even come close to matching that list.”
“Well, his sister is-”
“No! I’m sure no one does”. Advanced degrees. Ridiculous. “He’s a snob and his newsboy hat is stupid.”
“He’s too, too much,” Caroline said, drinking delicately from her own bottle.
“All I want in a guy, Caroline, the only two things that I need: respect me, and make me laugh.”
“Those are good qualities,” she agreed thoughtfully.
“And Ryan Gosling’s abs.”
“Better.” They giggled. This was the best possible use of her day off, and Lizzie was glad she’d invited Caroline to hang out with her. She was such a good friend, and Lizzie told her so. “I don’t know how you stand Darcy. You’re so cool and he’s so Darcy. You must have a douche-proof hazmat suit.”
“Of course. But you know, I’ve been with Defective Tuxedo since their inception. Three years.”
“Three years, thick as thieves with him.”
“More like three years with my brother and his bandmates,” she said, a warm smile on her face.
“Not if Snots McGee has his way.”
“I’m sure he’d never break up the band. At least, I hope not.”
Lizzie rolled her eyes. “Just saying. As if he could make it in the music business without foam hoses and synchronized dance moves. Like he’s going to find some people or group willing to put up with his shit.”
“I’m sure he won’t,” Caroline said, grabbing Lizzie’s hand and giving it a squeeze.
***
“Lizzie?” Darcy said. He’d changed from his concert-wear to a button-up white shirt and a skinny tie. “I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”
Lizzie looked around the green room. “Now’s not really a good time, actually.” The concert tonight had been a disaster. Bobbi had told the lighting team to compensate for their dancing- seven concerts in, and the two of them were no better- with more strobe lights. But Lizzie wasn’t used to dancing with strobe lights, and had pitched forward, almost falling flat on her face. Darcy had seen that she was falling, and had grabbed her hand, only instead of hauling her up, he’d fallen too. There were photos. According to the Internet, they were well on their way to meme status.
Darcy ignored her, and gestured towards the couch. She sat. The sooner this was over, the better.
He wet his lips, looking nervous. “I have to tell you, we’ve known each other for a while now, and getting to actually work with you has been amazing.”
Amazingly awful, she thought.
“And I realize I can’t wait any longer. Lizzie Bennet, I’m in love with you.”
She was stunned. Confused. Annoyed.
“I realize we’re from very different places in our careers, and you have your situation with your mother’s addictions that you’ve sung about so eloquently, and your little sister-has left me some voicemails that are perhaps a sign that she’s taken recent career shifts very seriously. And may need a new outlet in which to vent her frustrations.
“But despite the fact that I’ve found great success professionally up to this point, and you’ve been struggling professionally until recently, I think the two of us could-if you’ll forgive the expression-make beautiful music together.”
Lizzie stared at him, her mouth wide in shock.
“Romantically, I mean,” Darcy said, then nodded to himself, looking satisfied.
“Are you joking?” she asked him. “Is there a hidden camera here?”
“I don’t know what you’re referring-”
“Then you aren’t listening. Darcy, I would never, could never, wouldn’t ever fall in love with you.”
“And why not?” he asked, his mouth twisting.
“Because you’re a snob! Because you make all these sarcastic comments about me in the media. I think she’s got a great voice for pop and a real sense of what makes a good dance song. I’m not a pop singer, Darcy, I don’t care if you remixed me into one!”
“I just thought our voices would work well together. And everyone agrees.”
“And I’m not too pleased with that song either. You took a deeply personal song about my mother and made it some stupid dance number. And now I’m a pop music star and I would rather be back in those terrible bars with my sisters, singing the kind of music I love.”
Darcy’s jaw twitched, and she could see him grip his knees tightly. “I’m sorry for causing you a rift with your sisters. Though I think they were holding you back, professionally speaking.”
“You know, we can’t all be like you. You might be able to dump George from your band and never look back, but some of us care about those around us.”
“You don’t know what happened with Wickham.”
“Don’t I? I’ve spoken with him, at length. You think it’s easy for him? You kicked him out. And he was your friend. I could never be that cruel to my friend.”
“Clearly you know everything there is to know about Wickham.” He pushed down on his knees and stood up. “Well, Lizzie, I’m sorry about this. I should’ve kept quiet. I hope you’ll be able to dance with me, but if you can’t, I can discuss this with Bobbi.”
“We’re fine,” Lizzie said, jumping up. “Just. Fine.” She stomped out before he could get the last word.
***
She’d just never see him, except for the brief periods of time they were on stage together. They had separate tour buses. They rarely had to give interviews together. Netherfield Tour was going to end one day, and she’d pack up her suitcases and plan her next move.
She didn’t anticipate how Darcy’s confession would affect their dancing.
They were spectacular.
Maybe it was the anger she had, or the embarrassment he was probably still reeling from, but the day after his confession, the routine finally took.
It did make the grinding part even more awkward, but Lizzie couldn’t have everything.
They froze in place to massive applause, the lights went out, and they exited, same as they had the last seven times.
Only this time, he swung around her, breaking her stride.
She stopped herself from crashing into him. She braced herself, arms crossed. “Yes?”
He held out both hands as if to placate her. “I think we danced well tonight.”
“I think I’m not in the mood for small-talk.”
“Fair point. Listen, Lizzie, I just wanted you to know-” he stopped, looked down at his shoes, then took a breath. His head scrunched back. “I can’t take back the mash-up. I can’t fix the rift to your band. But you should know the truth about Wickham.”
“Okay,” Lizzie said.
“I sometimes have difficulty explaining myself, which is probably why I never tried to explain this before. And I felt there are certain things-when they involve other people I care about-that should remain private. But my sister-”
“Lizzie B, what’s happening?” Fitz strode into the wing, pushing the leg curtains aside. “Darcy, my man, are you ready to go out there and be outshone yet again by your most handsome friend?”
Bing smiled at her, friendly as always. “Hi Lizzie. That was a great set! But we’re going to have to take Darcy since we’re on in three minutes.”
“I’ll be there momentarily,” Darcy said.
“In the correct costume?” Fitz said with a smile.
“They don’t call it a quick-change for nothing,” Darcy said with a smile pasted on. He looked back at Lizzie, suddenly serious again. He leaned over her, cupping his hand to her head. His breath tickled her ear, and she suddenly felt very warm, even away from the stage lights. “The song ‘A Broken Heart.’ It’s about my sister...and her then-boyfriend, Wickham.”
***
“SEX TAPE?” Lizzie yelled. Radio silence from her sister since the band broke up, and now this? “You were stupid enough to make a SEX TAPE?”
Lydia didn’t want a lesson on morals, apparently. “Listen, Lizzie, Patron Saint of Totes Lying About Mom’s Drinking to the Press, if you can’t help me, then just shut it, okay?”
“You were supposed to be staying with Mary! Maybe taking some classes!”
“Mary’s was really boring, though.”
“And the tape, who was this with?”
Lydia was silent.
“I can tell you’re still on the phone. I can hear you breathing,” Lizzie said. She didn’t have time for this.
“It was-don’t be mad.”
“Talk.”
“George,” Lydia said, her voice suddenly small.
“George. As in George Wickham?” She’d kill him. That was the only solution. She’d spent a good portion of the tour listening to “A Broken Heart” on repeat, and even before this tape, she wanted to kill him, on behalf of Darcy’s sister.
“You said it wasn’t serious with him. Your exact words were it was totally casual.”
“I don’t care about it for me. It’s about-well, I can’t-never mind. Just, never mind.” Lizzie rubbed her temples and tried to collect herself. “And now he’s shopping it around?”
“Former music celebrity/sexy-up-and-coming-babe are a hot commodity, apparently. Lizzie. The magazines. The blogs. They are starting to find out about this. What the hell am I supposed to do?”
She almost preferred when she and Lydia weren’t speaking. “I don’t know.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have done it. Well, no, I thought it was the best idea I’d ever thought up, but now I realize I don’t want to be you.”
“I didn’t make a tape.”
“I want Mom and Dad to like me, though.”
Lizzie knew her parents liked her, no matter what Lydia said. True, they weren’t exactly pleased with “Bottles and Cans,” or the press Lizzie had done to promote it, but it wasn’t like they wouldn’t take her calls. They were just really busy lately.
“Focus, Lydia. We need to figure out how to make this disappear.”
“Make what disappear?” Darcy said. Lizzie almost dropped her phone in surprise. She should’ve locked the door, but who would’ve guessed anyone would assume they could just waltz in?
“I’ll call you right back.” Lydia gave a noise of protest, but Lizzie hung up anyway.
“My sister is having a crisis due to your former bandmate.”
Darcy’s eyes narrowed in disgust. “Oh?”
“It’s...never mind, I can’t tell you.”
“I understand. I’ll see you onstage.”
“Wait!” she said, and he whipped around. She bit her lip. Darcy was awful, but he understood Wickham. “My sister and George Wickham made a sex tape, and I need to make it disappear before the gossip sites catch wind of it.”
Darcy blew out a breath. “That’s terrible.”
“Obviously.”
“How would you feel about bring in some other people to consult on this? I promise you they’re trustworthy.”
But Fitz and Bing turned out to be just as lost on how to fix this as Lizzie was. Meanwhile, every minute that went by with no solution, Lydia got closer and closer to being a porn star.
“Lizzie B, I got it,” Fitz said suddenly, fire in his eyes. “You can’t get rid of the file, and we aren’t allowed to murder Wick-”
Bing shook his head, as if to confirm this.
“But if there’s a bigger story, no one will care about this one. Right? Right.”
“Nonsense,” Caroline said, sticking her head in from the hall, where she was apparently eavesdropping. She sat down on one of the couches, shaking her head. “Lawyers, does no one remember we have access to lawyers?”
“Let’s hear him out,” Bing said to her.
“So all we have to do is give the gossip outlets a new focus?” Lizzie asked. “Because I’m fine with kidnapping Suri. Oh! Or making out with James Marsden.”
Darcy looked appalled.
“You really need to watch 30 Rock,” Lizzie told him.
“No, I’m not talking about making out with my future ex-husband or kidnapping a Scientology kidlet. I’m talking about getting on the gossip sites yourself,” Fitz said.
Lizzie rolled her eyes. “I’m hardly big news. Hell, neither are Lydia or Wickham, except for the sex tape part.”
“I agree,” Fitz said. “But someone else here is pretty damn big, plus he’s kept the media out of his personal life for years.
“Oh no,” Lizzie said.
“And if they have a rising star on the back of a comet, they have to pay attention.”
“No, no, no, no,” Lizzie said.
“Which is why you and Darcy need to fake date for the paps,” Fitz concluded, triumphant.
At least it wasn’t the sex tape she expected Fitz to demand they make. That said...
“Absolutely not.”
“I know, but think about it. It’s the perfect solution. They can only care about one Bennet sister at a time.”
Bing spoke softly. “I could see it working.”
“It won’t,” Caroline said, a look of irritation on her face.
“But can’t it be someone else?” Even as she spoke, Lizzie realized she had no idea who else would make sense. Bing was dating her sister. Fitz was dating a boy.
She needed more famous friends.
***
Gigi Darcy was a beautiful woman with short, dark hair and Darcy’s nose. It was distracting.
“It’s so nice to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you,” she said with a wink.
“Were you watching my interviews or something?” Lizzie asked.
“Nope.”
Lizzie didn’t know what to make of that, so she switched topics. “Thank you so much for coming out here. I just can’t believe my sister thought it was a good idea to-”
“George Wickham is scum. Did my brother tell you I wrote a song about him? There’s nothing as cathartic as writing about your ex. So, you two.” She looked them over critically. “You need to look like a couple. Which means you two need to look less stiff around each other.” She clapped her hands. “Okay, let’s-” and she shoved them both on to the loveseat, next to each other.
“Your sister is crazy,” Lizzie muttered to Darcy. His thigh was pressed against hers, and she wanted to pull away.
“Ok, there’s a theory from tantra that says-”
“Gigi,” her brother said, sounding embarrassed.
She ignored him. “That the way to intimacy is to spend five minutes each morning looking each other in the eyes.”
“That’s not hard,” Lizzie said. After all, Darcy could just look at her, and think of all her flaws, as he did most days.
“You’d be surprised. All right, eyes only. I’ll pull out my timer. And...go!”
Darcy and Lizzie swung their heads around. Focus, Lizzie, she thought. She could stare at some dude’s eyeballs. Of course, letting him stare back was surprisingly difficult. It was even more intense than his usual judgemental staring. It was akin to stripping naked, almost. Could he tell she’d just thought about being naked? She blushed.
“That had to be five minutes, she said, turning back to his sister.
“No, that was one minute and twenty-three seconds.”
Lizzie grabbed the phone out of Gigi’s hand. “Wow.”
Gigi sighed. “We’ll work on it. Everyday, we’re working on it. Maybe you could both try holding hands?”
Lizzie looked at Darcy, but he was already sprinting out the door. “Or not,” she said. It wasn’t like she wanted to hold his hand, anyway.
***
“So how’re you going to leak this to the press?” Charlotte asked. Lizzie was thrilled her number one bestie and former manager was talking to her again, and she loved getting phone time with her, but at the moment, she wished Charlotte was busy with her new charge.
“I don’t know, maybe, just, like, a press release?”
“You have got to be kidding.”
“Of course!” Lizzie said, wracking her brain for what the actual answer was. “ I’m going to do it in a better way that you’re going to explain to me.”
Charlotte pulled out her professional voice, the one she’d perfected after so many business classes. “You don’t just send out a press release. You start dropping hints. Flirting in public. Holding hands when you think no one’s looking. Spending time together when there might be photographers. Keep them guessing.”
“Can’t we just tell them, and then continue behaving as-is, and then that’ll work.
“Lizzie.”
“I’m just tired of Darcy.”
“He’s doing you a favor. Play nice,” Charlotte said. “And take care of yourself.”
“Thanks. You’re the best,” Lizzie said, wishing the two of them could be geographically close again.
“Your sister’s ridiculous,” Charlotte added. “Honestly. What was she thinking?” Lizzie could practically hear Charlotte’s eyes rolling as she disconnected.
***
“We’re going clubbing tonight,” Gigi announced, hurling herself into Lizzie's tour bus without knockin, causing her and Darcy to startle. They’d been doing their Gigi-mandated staring contest, and it was just as awkward as it had been the night before
This time, they’d hit a minute and thirty -seven seconds. It was a record.
“We who?” Lizzie asked.
“You, me, Fitz, Caroline, and William, of course.”
“William?-Oh. Darcy. Right,” Lizzie said. “What about Bing?”
“He’s going to sit by his cell phone, moping over your sister, I assume,” Gigi said, an eye-roll implicit. “As for tonight. Yes, if you’re going to fake a relationship with my brother, you’re going to have to go fake-fraternize. Although. If you rather just let the paps know you’re together in here all the time...”
“No!” Lizzie said. She looked over at Darcy, who was tucking his chin, presumably to avoid eye-contact.
“Don’t worry, I’ll pick you out an outfit,” Gigi said, clasping her hands in delight.
Part two