September 26, 2001
notes: the boys are inspired by nsync. the girls' band may be a bit axl rose influenced at times. sylvia noventa is britney five years ago. jive records and johnny wright belong to themselves.
pairings: DxR, 9+H, 2+1, 4+3
Warnings: OOC. Majorly.
Noin couldn't have said when she first realized it, and definitely not _why_, but it became very apparent that Jive Records was replacing them. Maybe it was the first time she nearly got mowed down by two boys she didn't know, one a blonde with a toothy smile and the other with pretty green eyes, as they took the corner at a sprint. Maybe it was that Monday afternoon that she came in a little early and saw a an especially young-looking boy laying down vocals in *their* soundbooth.
But she hadn't really suspected anything at the time; Jive sometimes offered charity recording sessions for church youth groups. Giving back to the community, Johnny called it. Relena, who thought that being the lead singer meant that she automatically led everything, dismissed the mention of the boys with a toss of her newly shaved head.
Une had gasped and nearly dropped her bass guitar when she saw it. "Why?" she said, running her ragged nails gently over the remaining blonde fuzz.
"I'm tired of everyone calling me a pretty little blonde thing," she said. Then she burst into tears.
But now, at the Jive Christmas party, Noin felt that something very wrong was going on. True to form, most of the other artists were snubbing them, disdainful of their black ripped clothes and their goth makeup, but not a single record exec had come over to congratulate them on their latest Hot 100 number one. They'd been seated at the end of a long, white table, virtually isolated from all conversation.
"This sucks," said Relena, picking at her salad.
"Yeah," said Hilde, who was always a little bit oblivious, "what's with the buffet, anyway?" Une and Noin exchanged looks. "The carrots are decent," amended Hilde, coughing. She could work wonders with a keyboard, but outside her stage persona, she left a lot to be desired in the maturity department.
Not, thought Noin as Relena began throwing cherry tomatoes at the back of someone's head, that their officially youngest member was growing up any faster. The band had been together for almost six years, through countless incarnations. They'd had almost nine other guitarists before Dorothy, Dorothy with her rows of black hoop earrings and her electrically white teeth, came and swept Relena off her feet.
It had been Dorothy that convinced Relena to shave her head. It was just now growing back, and Johnny had nearly threatened to sue them on a breach of contract that specifically limited the ways they could change their physical appearance. "Wonder what all the fuss is about," said Hilde, nodding toward a crowd of people at the front of the banquette.
"Dunno," said Noin, groaning as she saw Dorothy stalk through the door, an hour late and six inches taller in her stiletto heels. God bless those fingers of hers, but Dorothy herself was a certifiable bitch. She would never be sure of her intentions toward Relena, nor of how happy the blondes were together.
Relena and Dorothy exchanged a long, tongue-twisting, tonsil- flicking kiss, much to the dismay of their bandmates and Johnny Wright, their current manager. "Miss me?" said Dorothy, sliding into the seat next to Relena. "What's this shit?"
"Buffet food," said Une. She had put her glasses on in order to better view what was going on up front. Hilde and Noin always teased her about being over the hill at twenty nine years. 'First the eyes go,' they'd say, but she'd always take it in stride. "You know what I think it is--"
"Excuse me!"
Noin groaned as the microphone shrieked, making an anorexic blonde in front of them cover her ears and frown. The one speaking was Johnny, hiding a set of speech cards in his large hands.
"Isn't that Johnny?" said Hilde, pouting as everyone ignored her.
"I'd like to welcome everyone to this year's holiday get- together. I hope everyone's having fun, relaxing a little. Marie and her staff did a fabulous job on dinner, especially on such short notice. Save some of the apple pie for me!" A few generously chuckled. He paused, shuffling his cards around. "Last year at this time of year, Lou and I sat down to discuss Jive's future. Is rock still going to sell? we wondered. What's going to top the charts?" He looked solemnly at his coterie of musicians, all of whom would sell their souls to the "greatest hits album" devil if he asked them to.
"We found our answer in five incredible women; they responded to our question with an album that went diamond and spawned three hit singles. They ruled the summer tours this past year, commanding almost 85 million dollars in concert revenues." Noin grinned at Une, loving the way that number rolled off his tongue so smoothly.
"We regret to announce that the ladies of Pandemic have decided to retire after their new album comes out." Noin blinked. Did he just say...? Beside her, Hilde looked blank with shock.
"Fuck no," said Dorothy, starting to rise. "What the hell does he think he's doing?" Only Relena's hand on her lover's thigh stopped the irate blonde, and even then, Noin saw the way Dorothy's eyes narrowed at the blatant check.
One of these days, thought Noin, it won't be enough.
Someone in the crowd sniffled. Johnny waited a bit, then pressed on. "Luckily, Pandemic's decision coincided with the signing of a new generation of talent. Six months ago, we found a smart, bright and fun young lady named Sylvia Noventa in Mississippi at a cheerleading competition." He motioned off to the side, smiling as a young girl no older than fourteen almost fell out of her shirt as she moved to stand beside him. She beamed at the crowd, cute dimples belied by the dangerously low cut of her skin-tight jeans.
"Cheerleading competition my ass," said Dorothy. "More like a Playgirl photoshoot."
"Playboy," said Une. "Not all girls are lesbians." Her face was strung taut, making her look older than her age.
"Sylvia knew Sally, an incredible gospel-singer turned ballad queen, and we nabbed her too." Johnny flagged another girl out, this one taller, but equally as thin and young. "Sally Po's self-titled debut will be coming out in March. Sally?"
"We haven't decided on a first single yet," she said huskily into the proffered microphone. Noin snorted. Musicians never got to choose their first singles. Who was she kidding? Creative control was a joke. The one song they'd wanted to release as a single hadn't even made their first album. Or their second. Or their third.
"And last, but not least, please welcome L5, the future of Jive Records!" Fireworks lit up the elegantly dim room and five figures rushed out, microphones in hand.
Noin immediately began trying to get as drunk as possible as quickly as possible.
"Auugh!" Noin gasped as she was showered with a deluge of ice cold water. Beside her stood Dorothy, arms crossed nonchalantly beneath her breasts, and Relena, who sat on the edge of the bed. "Where am I?" she said, looking around.
"We had to drag your sorry ass back to the hotel," said Dorothy. "Fucking alcoholic."
Noin rolled her eyes. "Thanks, D; you're a big help." Une began rubbing her back gently; as the drummer, it was of utmost importance that her entire body stay relatively stress free. She was the only one that had to sit the entire concert, and she'd already tried two different types of back braces to alleviate the pain, but they didn't work. Preventive measures, said the doctor, work better than a quick fix.
"They..." Hilde's voice was quiet, disbelieving. "God, they were like fifteen years old. Little babies running around and dancing."
"Oh no," said Noin. "What did you guys think of their music?" Please, she thought, biting her lip, please say that it was nothing like ours.
"Nothing as good as ours," said Dorothy, sniffing, "but it's been dumbed down for mass appeal. 'Tearin' Up My Heart', or some such shitty writing. Just little boys doing a stupid line dance. They didn't even play their own fucking instruments."
"Nothing to worry about," said Une smoothly. "They're a fad. We're the real deal, ladies. We write our own music, we play our own instruments and we put on one hell of a show. We're the biggest band in the world right now. We're *Pandemic*!"
"Not for long," said Noin. "What's this shit about us retiring from music?"
They all exchanged a look. It said a thousand things without wanting to.
"I don't know," said Une. "I couldn't get a hold of Johnny after the reception. He just disappeared. He was probably avoiding us."
"Of course he was avoiding us!" said Dorothy. "Don't you see? Out with the old, in with the new. Music acts don't have great shelf lives. We're lucky we lasted through three albums. We're lucky we weren't one-hit wonders, for Jesus fucking Christ's sake. They're moving on. Did you see anyone there that wasn't in fucking Prada or Gucci or shit?"
Relena stiffened; she was wearing black Galliano, but Dorothy didn't seem to notice or care.
"Anything there that wasn't complete and utter jailbait? Where were Otto and the Specials, you fools? Otto turned thirty last month. You can fucking bet that he's gone. Check in the mail room; I bet his box belongs to someone else now, maybe little Miss Mississippi. And Walker Ramone? Haven't seen him around in the longest time, come to think of it. And--"
"Stop it," said Hilde, holding her hands up to her face, as if to disguise her tears. Oh God, thought Noin. Oh God, she's crying. "Just fucking stop it, okay, Dorothy?"
"Dorothy," said Une.
"What?" She tossed her long, platinum blonde hair over her shoulder and ignored Relena's envious look. "It's the truth. Deal with it, Hilde. They want to get rid of us as fast as they can. You think it's any coincidence that all us old-timers got signed to 5 year contracts? We're expiring. They don't want us anymore."
"Stop being a bitch," said Une.
Even the rare curse word from Une failed to stir up any emotions other than exhaustion in Noin. Ignoring the staring match between Dorothy and Une, Noin stood shakily, running a hand through her dark hair. "I'm tired," she said. "I think I'm going to rest now."
"Right," said Relena. "Get some sleep or something, girl. You look like hell."
End Part One
Bianca
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