Chapter 12 – Interview with A Vampire
This is THE LAST CHAPTER EVAR!
And SANK YOU to all my readers and reviewers and all those other people who just pressed my link (teehee…pressed my link x3) and gave me hits ;3
Or rather, in the words of ShimmyCocoPuffsss: To all my lovers, haters and masturbators xD
Anderson is a fame actor now.
Beck is working as a writer for Vancouver papers.
She's assigned an expose on city-born superstar.
Ooh…I've already got another story idea…it's a slash one though!
My boss called me. Well…one of my bosses.
Becks, I want you to do the expose on Anderson. He's known as a renowned playboy now, so I want you to not look like yourself…and use your pen name, okay?
First time she asked, I refused…severely refused. I even threatened to quit if she didn't leave me alone about it. But of course, she never took me seriously and assigned it to me anyways… Yeah, I'm talking about Ginger…she's one of my new bosses…
Fawking whore… I looked at myself in the mirror the day I was supposed to interview him. I had changed a lot. First of all, I thought I was done growing…I shot up another 3 inches since finishing school; my hair grew back a bit…it's now mid-back, still black and I still have bangs. My face lost its roundness and so did my mid-section. To say I was hot…er…I still don't see it. The freckles lessened, though…but I still needed cover-up for them…
And if I didn't cover them up, it would be a sure sign I was me… My style now was…business? I don't know…I used 'professional' clothing now, though. I didn't really like it before, but now that I've got my own 'style' to business, it's bearable.
Anderson McCoy. I know his story—who didn't? He hit it big in a local Indy-movie, went off to Broadway for a year and then made it to the big times when he hit a role in this Hollywood bound movie… To be honest, I never seen the movie, nor do I want to see the movie. I did have to go on and read reviews about all his movies, though.
He's done 5 in the last 3 years. I reviewed everything I needed to know. I changed how my hair was by putting it in a bun on my head and I wore thick rimmed glasses and cover-up with a light lipstick. I was very professional looking.
But I was nervous…
I googled him. Apparently now, he had short black hair, it wasn't in the emo fashion anymore; he was clean-cut, making him seem younger than 23; he was still as tall as ever but now he stood tall and proud, and he usually had this grunge thing going on with ripped jeans and shirts with vests over them… That was his signature style. So close to stealing from Pete Wentz, but whatever… He was even sporting guy-liner…
I reviewed my questions again.
Even though I could probably answer half of these on my own…
First production you were in?
Best friends in high school…
Nicknames in high school—explain?
Favourite article of clothing (this one I cannot answer anymore…)
What is it that you stand for in your humanitarian stance on the environment, or animal rights? (Yeah…he was on that wagon now, too…)
As you can possibly see…Ginger ran a rag-mag. I think the only reason he agreed to be in this magazine was because 1: it was Ginger, and 2: She didn't smear the truth… She was reputable in her niceness.
I rocked out to good ol' 2010 Adam Lambert and some Lady Gaga…old ones…
Because I was still stuck in the past, I guess…
When it came to music, at least…
When I got to the building he was staying at, at the moment, I had to do some breathing exercises. I also had to learn yoga…prescribed to me by that doctor—who I happen to still go to…
But that's beside the point!
Ginger stepped in the front of my parked car, tapping her foot. "What?" I got out of the car.
"You're still too hot!" she yelled dramatically.
My face turned red and I smacked her over the head. "Stop yelling!" I yelled…yeah… I'm a hypocrite.
She frowned, "Let's see the questions," she ordered. I handed them over. She looked at them and started scribbling furiously. "You're going to film this, too," she handed me a hand-held camera and a tri-pod.
"Why?" I took them and gave her a confused look.
"Blackmail…memories…etcetera," she shrugged lazily.
"Remember, Beck…you are Jackie Price," she took me by the arms. I towered over her now, but she still seemed to make herself seem bigger than she was. "Jackie Price…not Becka Pandanski…er…Reynolds, sorry…still getting used to it," I changed my name…never got married…changed my name… My mom and dad were pissed, but I needed to get away from their…identities.
"Alright…" she pushed me towards the entrance, "Go knock 'em dead!" she did her solo-wave (you know…how they do it in the crowds…yeah…she did it by herself…a lot.)
I rolled my eyes and walked into the building…hotel…whatever. When I gave them my name, they ushered me into this small room with a couple of lights and some camera equipment set up already. I deadpanned. Ginger did this…I'm sure…
I set up the tri-pod and camera and sat in one of the seats.
And waited some more…
Finally, after an hour of waiting, and ordering a lunch from the hotel's restaurant, he showed up. "Sorry I'm late!" he sat in his seat and let out a deep breath.
"No problem…" my smile was tight and I had an annoyed tick in my one eye… Calm yourself, Beck…calm…
I turned on the camera. "Hello, my name is Jackie Price," I held out my hand but retracted it quickly when he took it.
He looked at his hand for a second before smiling at me awkwardly. I turned to the camera and glared at it slightly, "I'm interviewing the star heart-throb Anderson McCoy."
"Aw…you don't need to put it that way," he gave me a good natured hand wave.
I gave him a sardonic smile and looked at the notepad. "So, Mr. McCoy…"
"Call me Anderson," he offered.
"Anderson," I smiled at him. "As you know, this is technically a rag-mag, yes?" He nodded. "Good…we know your name, but can you tell us about your high school career?" I adjusted my glasses.
"What do you want to know?" he smiled at me… So cheesy.
So movie star.
"High school sweetheart?"
"First, last, or most memorable?" he asked with a joking grin.
I had to close my eyes for a second, "How about all of them?" I asked.
"Um…first was in 8th grade…her name was Jackie, like yours," he gave a good natured laugh. "Last was a girl named Terry…she was in the play I was in," he looked skywards for a while, "She was great in bed," he added.
I winced. "How about most memorable?" I asked. Ginger did this to me… I know it…
I knew she was evil…but damn, this evil?! I was going to have some words with her when this was over…
"…" he stared at his hands before giving me another fake smile. "Her name was Becka," I sucked in a low breath before he continued. "She was amazing…" he leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, seeming thoughtful.
"In bed?" I deadpanned.
"No…well…yes, but-!" he looked shocked. "It was so much more…deeper…than that," he chewed his nail. "Can we move off the subject of her?" he asked nervously.
"Of course," my accommodating smile was back in place. "What was your first production in high school, and what was it about?" I asked.
"Well…weirdly enough, it was supposed to be a modern-day Beauty and the Beast…I guess the writer had a more interest in me and Becka's life, because it turned into how we met and how we got together…" he snorted quietly, "I still don't know who the writer was," he added.
I nodded. "Sounds epic," I was sarcastic in the epic part, but I still found that amusing… I didn't know who wrote that play, either…
And who fucked up the facts.
"Was the play accurate?" I asked.
"Well…some of it was…like how we first 'bumped into each other', but a lot of it wasn't,"
"Like?" I was going to make him admit all the shit that was wrong! If it made this interview run short, I was going to do it!
"Um…Garvin," he snapped his fingers, "He didn't love Becka the whole time through school and finally found the courage after her makeover," he rolled his eyes, "He was a shallow…er…he wasn't into personality, let's say that," he chewed his lip as he thought. "The makeover—your boss was the one who gave her the makeover, not some contest she won," he rubbed the back of his head, "She definitely wasn't a damsel in the distress, like the writer made her out to be," he smiled to himself as some memory came back.
I don't know what it was…I wasn't a mind reader!
I personally remember myself 'taking his dad out' one time…
And then beating that Corbin kid up for tripping him…
"I don't really want to embarrass her, but she wasn't a wreck when her parents split, and I was her first in a lot of things," he never went into detail, but I could do that later…
When I had to write this out…
"Alright…who were your best friends?" I asked.
"I've always had Ginger—your boss," he smiled, "I wouldn't consider Becka a best friend, because we dated instead of being friends first,"
What the hell?! I was so trying to be his friend before we dated! I clutched the pen in my hand as I tried calming myself.
"Cool." I closed my eyes for a split second, "Nicknames and why were they your nicknames?"
"Ginger called me And," he shrugged, "It was a shortening of my name," he thought. "Becka called me Arson a lot…she never told me why, though," he gave me another fake smile.
I returned it. "Let's move on from your high school career, to you now," he brightened at that. "I mean, really…I think we all want to know some personal things about you," I added.
"Ask away, m'dear," he smiled and leaned forward.
I leaned back a bit and looked at the notepad. "What's your current article of clothing you can't live without?"
"My belt," he showed it. It was a studded belt that bordered on looking exactly the same as the one I bought when I went on that shopping spree with Ginger.
It even looked old…
"Can I not answer that?" he covered the belt up uncomfortably.
"Of course," I looked towards the camera and gave it a 'what the hell am I doing?' look. "What are you humanitarian stances, at the moment?" I asked.
"I'm really into WWF, the wildlife one," he did a thumbs up at the camera before thinking again, "I've adopted a child in Africa—her name is 'Samantha'…they changed it…which kind of pissed me off, but hey…what ya going to do about it," he sighed forlornly for a second before smiling at me again, "And I'm all for helping shelters out when I have the chance,"
Oh…he was the greatest Samaritan…I let out a low sigh. I wasn't going to compare him to myself—what kind of reporter would I be, if I did? Who cares if I volunteer every Saturday and Sunday at the homeless shelter, or had adopted a kid in Somalia? Psh…not the readers, that's who…
I went onto the next question. "Current squeeze?" I pretended I was interested, by leaning forward and smiling.
"No one right now," he glanced at me and leaned forward, "That could change, though," he said suggestively.
Snorting, I leaned back and rolled my eyes, "Biggest regret?" I changed the subject.
Who cares if he came onto me?
He was known as a playboy now, after all.
"That's a hard one," he thought for a while before a cloud overcame his expression. "Hurting her,"
I sucked in a breath and he looked at me strangely. "C-care to explain?"
"Okay," I shrugged and looked at my new question. I turned to the camera and glared, "I am not asking that, Ginger!" I snapped before promptly shutting my mouth and freezing.
He took the notepad and read aloud, "Will you marry me?" he raised an eyebrow at me, "What are you…" he squinted at me before reaching out and taking the glasses off, then pulled the bun from my hair. "I knew Ginger didn't want this for the obvious reason…" he muttered before looking at me again. "Was it your idea, so you could ruin me, or something?" he snapped.
Now…if I were me before I met him, I'd have stuttered out a "No, I'm sorry! I didn't know what she was doing!"
But it was me now…after I grew a spine. "Oh, get off your high horse, you phoney," I snapped, "I wasn't going to do anything a regular rag-mag would've done," I rolled my eyes and stood.
He stepped back and then looked at my feet, I was wearing flats. "Fucking sakes," he grabbed at his own head, "What are you doing here?!" he yelled.
"Trying to conduct an interview!" I snarled. He and I glared at one another.
I finally looked away. "I knew I should've just quit…"
"I was ready to quit this job if she made me do it!" I snapped. "I should've…" I grumbled, "You know, I finally moved on from hating your ass, okay?" I crossed my arms, "I was ready to actually see one of your movies, I was…I was ready to watch a movie, where you go and fuck or makeout with some famous chick, okay?" I fell back into my seat and glared at the ceiling.
"I currently hate Ginger, happy?" he glared at me, "I don't hate you, I hate her,"
"Yeah, that makes me feel better," I snorted, "Get a life dude, not everything revolves around you,"
"Excuse me?" he was flabbergasted.
"I think you heard me."
We glared at one another. "Why did you ask me all those questions, if you knew them already?" he asked.
"It's my job, maybe?" I snorted. "You were phoney as hell with all your laughing and smiling, by the way…if you're that bad an actor in your movies, I may as well not see any of them," I added.
He bristled, "I happen to be a great actor," he snapped.
"Your personal interaction needs work, then," I retorted and looked at my nails.
"How did I…ergh…" he pulled at his hair again in frustration. "When I said hurting you was my biggest regret, I take it back," he snapped, "Going out with you and taking a chance is my biggest regret."
I felt stung, I did. I mean, seriously…he was the one who hurt me… "Oh, fuck you, asshole," I sat up again and glared at him from behind my bangs, "You're the one who went and fell in love with Terry, dumped me nearly two months after it was apparent it was over anyways, through text message and then you brought her to the concert I paid for, okay, I doubt you constitute in the feeling of betrayal."
"Wait…you-you paid for that concert?" he looked confused, "The one a month after my play started?" he held up his hand.
"I freaking put my name on the envelope they came in, asshole!" I raised my hands in frustration.
"I didn't get a freaking envelope!" he yelled back.
"Well, it doesn't matter anyways," I flipped my hair out of my eyes, "That was 5 years ago, and you already fell for Terry, even before your play started," I scoffed when he started denying it. "I seen you opening night, asshole…I did make it, I was going to surprise you," I looked away and scowled, "I was going to be your date for the concert, I was going to move back to Vancouver for University-and I did…" I scowled.
I was also going to protect him…
And try my best to be his best friend…
And all this other shit that never happened and will never happen, because let's face it…he's an asshole stuck in his own world where he's the center of attention.
"You came to opening night?"
"Yeah, I'm guessing you didn't get the rose, either," I scowled, "I got a special one, black…but whatever," I started packing my stuff up. "I'm done the interview anyways, I won't go into detail on your 'faithlessness' so your female fans can stay in the dream that you're sweet, and shy, and would never hurt anyone," I rolled my eyes and walked out.
He had the audacity to try playing innocent? I threw everything into the car and got in before falling against the wheel. "What the fuck was Ginger thinking…?" I mumbled.
My passenger door opened and he got in. "Where are we going?" he asked.
"You're going to hell, and I'm going home," I replied as I unlocked the door again.
"C'mon, can we talk?" he asked.
"Why?" I looked at him. "It's not like you like me like that anymore," I snorted, "Or I like you like that,"
"You mean love," he corrected.
"Okay, it's not like we're in love anymore—you proved that with the girl that was great in bed," I snorted.
"And what, you're all that more innocent?" he scoffed, "Please," he added.
"If you must know, I haven't had sex once since we broke up," I blushed furiously, "I was kinda scarred from you," I added as I unlocked the door again. "And I never fell in love either…again, I was scarred," I was sarcastic saying it.
"You mean I scarred you, or you were emotionally scarred?"
"You're not that big, asshole," I snapped.
I had to turn away to hide the smile. Asshole…making me smile while I tried being angry. We sat in silence for a few seconds. "And besides, its not like you haven't moved on…Mr. Playboy of the year," I mockingly said.
He rolled his eyes, "So you read tabloids,"
"I listen to Ginger," I retorted.
"Oh…" he frowned at that. Ginger was a gossip, sure, but she only said what she knew to be true. "Well, I didn't move on completely," he crossed his arms, "Have you ever though that I could be trying to get over you?" he asked.
We stared at one another before I laughed. "Oh, you are a gem," I started up the car and started driving, "Now, while we're lying to one another, I don't hate you anymore,"
He looked stung.
When I drove us to Stanley Park, I got out and went to the burger shack. I ordered my second lunch (I eat when I'm mad…) and sat on one of the benches. He did the same and sat beside me. "Why are you so angry?" he asked.
"Think to all the shit we went through together, and then your dumping me," I ate my onion rings while he thought.
"I still don't get it…"
"Okay…events," I thought back to then. "I tried being your friend, you rejected me horribly; I got a makeover and started sorta dating Garvin; we only made up, sort of, after I got angry at Garvin's friend for tripping you—I beat him up, by the way;" I tried thinking some more. "After we made up, we started dating and I was there when you were stressing over the play, and I was also there when your dad almost beat the living shit out of you—and I seem to remember stopping that," I bit into my burger to have time to think of what else. "You were my first everything," I put my burger down and took a drink of soda. "I went through my parent's divorce and brief cutting phase with you," I chewed the inside of my cheek. "I was ready to fucking love you…and then was nearly ready to kill you when I seen you kissing Terry on-stage-,"
"That was a play!" he exclaimed.
"I saw your fucking expression when you did it!" I snapped, "It was the same one you had when we were in that stupid photo booth," I added as I stood. "I knew it was over, then," I shrugged.
"I surprised you on your birthday, because I was fucking in love with you, I loved you with every fibre of my being," he stood and glared at me, "I was ready to marry you, that's how in love I was," I froze. He froze for a second before turning away, "I didn't want to be rejected," he looked at me this time, "When you stopped texting me back, it hurt…I thought it was over," he glared.
"I was busy with school!" I smacked my forehead, "I told you I was, so many times!"
"Yeah, what about on the weekends?" he snarled.
"Have you ever thought that I could have had a job, so I could go visit you if it was a special occasion, or I missed you?" I rubbed my arm self-consciously. "I worked my ass off, just so I could go to your stupid play," I glared at the nearby swimming pool, "And I seem to remember you not texting all that much, anyways,"
"I was busy with the play!"
"Yeah, and your kissing scenes with Terry," I snorted and shook my head. "You know what, I don't even know why we are talking about the past," I glanced at him, "We're done, you're with whoever you want to be with at the moment, we're both busy with work, we don't even live in the same city anymore, and you're just here for work," I scratched the back of my neck. "I still can't stand you, even if everything was a 'mistake' in information in the past, because instead of being a man about it, you pussied out and decided to do it the way you did."
"Why do you get to be the one to play the victim?" he snapped. "I was just as hurt as you,"
"Which is why you decided to use the beginning of Alejandro as a break-up line," I replied sourly.
"I never texted you that!" he yelled in confusion.
"Who the fuck would do that, and who the hell would want to?" I asked.
"I don't know, maybe some bitter bitch?" then he stopped and frowned.
"I remember Terry playing with my phone once…" he mumbled.
"What…?" I could not believe this…
Ugh…why were we even dwelling on the past? And why did it seem like everything that happened when he supposedly dumped me was a mistake? Like, oh…so many people were conspiring against us…
My planner rang. I looked at it. "Listen, I've got an interview with a vampire," I was sarcastic, of course…but I left him there while he thought things through.
Ugh…the interview was laced with racy comments and sarcastic humour from the both of us, considering I was interviewing a new star on the scene…
A comedian, to be exact.
We got a good interview, and I went home for the day, because really…all I could handle was more of Ginger's questions. I sent her the video in her email and had a bath.
A nice, long, hot bath…
And I fell asleep…yeah…I was that tired.
When I woke up, music was playing in the living room and I could smell food. Climbing out of the tub and going to my room like I was a ninja, I got dressed and went to investigate the potential serial killer in my living room.
I hid around the corner and then heard the rustling of clothes by my couch. Jumping from around the corner, I let out a battle cry and stood in a fighting stance.
Anderson let out a yelp as he fell over my couch and onto the floor. I deadpanned, "What the hell are you doing here?" I asked, an annoyed glare on my face.
Wincing as he stood, he rubbed his head, "I thought we could have dinner and makeup,"
"I meant as friends," he snapped.
"Oh…" I thought it over. "Tough chance," I repeated.
"You really are a bitch, aren't you?"
"Meh, I've been told," I shrugged and then smirked at him. "How did you get in here?"
"Your doorman is a huge fan," Anderson smirked his god-awful cocky smirk. "And I told him I was here for an interview," he added.
Smacking my forehead, I turned to the stereo and turned the music off. "What's for dinner?" I asked in a bored voice. He grinned and led me to my dining table. He brought Chinese. "Yum…you really outdid yourself," I was so…monotonous.
"I know your sarcasm is a mask for love; now eat up!" he sat in the seat opposite me.
"A mask for love?" I deadpanned.
"Well, the re-beginning of love," he started piling food onto his plate.
"Oh, you know what I mean!" he sounded annoyed.
I rolled my eyes but put food onto my plate. "If you think buying me Chinese food is going to suddenly re-light my doused flame of love for you, you're 95 percent wrong,"
"So you 5 percent love me already," he speculated.
Raising an eyebrow at him, I shook my head and opted for silence. He grinned and started eating again.
"I know feeding you food isn't going to make you love me anymore," he said after he was done.
I slowly chewed my food. He was a fast eater…get off my back…
"But I will get you to love me again, whether you like it or not," he stretched; "And you can't have the fact that 'I dumped you', hanging over my head anymore, because I technically didn't do it,"
"Yeah…your silence all those months really, really spoke to my soul about your love," I acted like I was touched before rolling my eyes. "I remember during the summer when you called."
A whole half-year went by and he called. "Middle of August, you asked me what I was doing, like it was old times…then when you asked me to hang out, I couldn't," I looked at him, "Do you know why I couldn't?"
"Busy with school?"
"I was in counselling with a psych," I shrugged. It wasn't meant as an 'It was all your fault I have to go to a shrink!', it was a fact. I was too busy with a shrink to hang out with him—even if he probably could have cleared everything up and I wouldn't have needed the shrink.
"So, if you didn't go to the shrink, and came to hang out with me, what do you suppose would have happened?"
"I'd have fallen in love with you all over again, we'd have gotten married and I'd be barefoot and preggo while you're off doing some minimum wage shit-job," I replied instantly.
Don't get me wrong…I had thought about what 'could have' been.
"Not a famous actor and a successful writer?" he chewed his lip as he thought it over.
"Not even close," I quit eating, "We'd both be regretting everything, even for being together, because let's face it, we'd both know we could do so much better…as you can probably tell from the reality of us not staying together," I motioned around my apartment.
"I guess it was a good thing we weren't together, then," he mumbled.
"But now that we are a successful actor and writer, then what's there to be regretful about?" he asked brightly, "You can still be barefoot and pregnant while I'm off doing a movie," he said happily.
"Because being a stay-at-home mom is all I've ever wanted to be," I sarcastically.
"Well, what would make you happy about being with me?" he asked sourly.
"Probably nothing," I shrugged, "I can get over what happened, if I really tried, I could," I looked at him while he stared at me.
He was trying to smoulder me!
His eyes were—ugh! "Stop that!" I snapped. I wonder if he ever really knew it was his eyes that attracted me to him?
Probably, considering he's trying to smoulder the fuck out of me. He smiled, "Gets 'em everytime,"
"Yeah, man-who-," I stopped talking to look at my plate and smile. Why…why did the most awkward memory have to come up?
He was grinning, "You completely ruined the mood by laughing at that," he said softly.
"You ruined the mood, by making the joke," I corrected.
"Tomato-Potato," he shrugged.
Deadpanning, I covered my face to laugh.
"You see, I can make you love me again," he stood and struck a pose as he turned towards the living room, "Just wait…I'll have you loving me again before I have to go back to Cali," he stopped for a second, "And I still have your belt you left the day you moved," he wasn't at all embarrassed by saying this.
I deadpanned. I knew I knew that belt from somewhere…and what does he mean before he goes back to Cali? "Cause that's what you do when you love someone…leave em behind," I nodded my head, "It makes so much more-,"
He fucking surprise kissed me…
And as shameful as it is to admit it…I fell back into love with him…
There it is! The LAST CHAPTER EVAR! All together, it was 11 pages! WITHOUT any lyrics! :3 so happy! (5 words from 5000 words) I love you!
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