10"You can't…do this!" My manager told me, lightly gripping my shoulders. "Tori, youralbum comes out tomorrow. You need to stick with the schedule and promote it, go on talk shows. Bring in new fans and even perform live!"
"I've done a few promotions already! It's just one small break, Arnold. Just a few weeks. Two at most," I say, taking his hands off of me. Arnold and I had been discussing a promotion tour when I asked if I could have a break before doing so. That was about fifteen minutes go. He has been giving me a lecture ever since. My eyebrows draw together as I frown slightly. I'd been in the studio for the past year. Jotting down lyrics and recording and then adding music to it or taking parts out was exhausting. I was only nineteen years old. Couldn't Arnold see that I was tired and deserved a period of rest? "Please?"
Arnold bites his lip and looks away from me, running a hand through his slicked back orange hair. It probably wasn't the best idea because now his hand is full of oil. Arnold looks at his hand with disgust before wiping it on his blazer jacket. His foot taps loudly as he thinks.
"…Just a few weeks, right? No more than maybe two or three?" He says slowly, making sure that we're on the same page and I'm not tricking him into something.
"Yes, yes." I say smiling. I nod my head so much and so hard that it hurts when I stop.
He sighs, "Then I suppose that you could—".
Arnold doesn't get to finish his sentence because I tackle him in a hug and drown him in "Thank-You's!". Arnold's arms tentatively wrap around my body as if he's unfamiliar with the feeling of a hug. I wonder how often he receives hugs or any signs of affection. I make a mental note to hug him more often.
He awkwardly ruffles my hair and then pulls away with a small smile on his face.
"It's about two hours until the studio closes up. Maybe you can start your little vacation sooner and go home early," Arnold says softly. Then he checks his watch and his eyebrows shoot up.
"What's wrong?" I ask, putting on my shoulder bag.
"My girlfriend's flight comes in in twenty minutes. I should get going too."
And before I know it we're both saying goodbyes in a parking lot and heading our separate ways. Well, he's driving. I'm taking the bus.
I got my driver's license early this year and sometimes I do drive myself around. Though I find myself enjoying observing the weird things people do on buses. Like right now, a boy in front of me is trying to stick his tongue to his nose while balancing an empty plastic cup on the side of his foot. To my left, a grandmother is wearing unfitting wrestling apparel. I try not to stare for too long.
The bus comes to a halt and picks up people from another stop. One person catches my eye as they enter—a girl my age with the colour of love for her hair. She starts a conversation with the bus driver about something recent on some TV show. The girl seems relatively normal, so I focus on the boy with the cup again. He's now trying to balance a pencil on the bridge of his nose.
The rest of the bus ride is fairly boring. People pile in and out; some loud and others quiet. I see new faces that fade quickly in my mind because they did not stand out. I can remember what Arnold had told me when I went into an audition once: If you want to be anything to them and have them remember you, you need to be really really good or so bad that they want to throw a spicy sauce in your face. Every single person in the room competing against me for the role seemed to be set on leaving a mark. I can't help but believe that if you don't leave a mark somewhere, you won't be remembered. Because that's how history made everything out to be. I highly doubt that in one hundred years everyone will remember our every day doctors or policemen. I don't know if I'm making sense or not, but these are my thoughts so let me ramble, okay?
By the time we get to the last stop, my stop, the bus is still a little full, so it takes some time for everyone to get out. I'm among the last to get out. I start the small walk home, but then I hear someone groan and something hit the floor. My head turns in the direction to see the redheaded girl who's kneeling down trying to pick up some of the things that had escaped her backpack and were spewed about the sidewalk. No one else had bothered to help her. I quickly walked back and began collecting her papers.
"Thanks," she says, not meeting my eyes. I look down at a bundle of papers I'm holding and realize it's a script. Maybe she's an underground actress or is into theater. It would sort of explain why her hair was red if she wanted to stand out during auditions. I wince. I'm supposed to be on vacation, not over-analyzing people. I hand it to her.
"Yeah." I mumble. "No biggie."
She finally looks up at me and the first thing I notice (besides her hair) are her eyes. They're big and brown and her eyelashes are thick with mascara. But her eyes are still pretty. When I look into her eyes I feel like I know her from somewhere. Maybe I had seen her at an audition. Or maybe a talent show or a singing gig I did—
"I had a friend who used to say no biggie a lot. But she did it with a goofy smile and voice and you did it normally. She moved away though and I don't know where she is now, we sort of lost touch. But it's weird that you both say no biggie, that's crazy!" She said with a completely straight face.
I blinked.
"A lot of people say no biggie, sorry?" I say. A smile melts onto my face and I don't know why. There's something about her that makes me want to smile.
"It's okay. My brother had a friend who used to say 'No biggie' too. But he got arrested. I haven't seen him much, either." She plays with the tips of her hair and looks around with her mouth open. "Um, where are we?"
"Washington and Third. Why?" I ask. Did she get off at the wrong stop?
"I think I got off at the wrong stop." Nailed it.
Her eyebrows draw together and she starts to breathe shakily. "Does the bus come back around or is it done for today?"
"It's done, I think."
"Dang it!"
"Hey, it's okay. Just call a friend and have them pick you up. I could even stay with you if you don't want to be alone. I wouldn't want to be alone either, it's getting dark."
It's silent between us. She rocks back and forth on her feet and wrinkles her nose.
"Idromphoninmehsoup…" She mumbled, looking ashamed.
"I'm sorry, what?"
She stamps her foot as she blurts out, "I dropped my phone in my soup to see if it would float! I was watching Drake & Josh and Drake said it didn't float but I wanted to see if he was lying…he wasn't."
At first I'm not sure how to react, but a laugh emits from my lips before I can stop it. I cover my mouth as I do so.
She stares at me like she doesn't know why I'm laughing and shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot. My laughter calms down eventually.
"Come on, there's a public phone a street or two down. I'd let you use my phone but I accidentally left it at home today. There's also a small coffee place extremely close. We could stop there after?" I offer. Hey, if I'm going on vacation I might as well enjoy it and have a friend to spend it with. She agrees and it only takes a few minutes to get to the public phone.
She makes the phone call and then we head down to the shop. She picks a spot to sit at while I order. When they ask for our names, I tell them mine, but realize I never got hers. I quickly walk back to the table.
"Hey, I never really got your name?" She blinks up at me.
"Oh, my name is Cat." I freeze. "Like the animal. It's kind of perfect for me because I love cats." She giggles. "It kind of just sounded like I said I love myself." Cat giggles even more at herself.
It all makes sense to me though. How could I not see it before? Her red hair, her random stories and mention of her brother, her eyes and voice should have signaled to me who she was. I'd gone to school with her for one year and I couldn't even remember her that well. I felt terrible.
She's still giggling when I leave the table to pick up our drinks. I sit down in the booth across from her and slide her the drink.
"So, Cat…" I start off awkwardly. Cat takes a sip of her coffee and bounces her back against the soft cushion of the booth.
"So," Cat laughed, "You've bought me a drink. Now fill me up on what's happened in the past two years to Tori Vega. You completely vanished off the face of Google Maps and your Slap page hasn't had a update in a year."
I almost choke as I sputter out, "How did you know it was me?"
Cat responds in less than a heartbeat and as if the answer was obvious. "Cheekbones, Tori. Dead giveaway."
A blush creeps onto my face and my hands fly to my cheeks. I answer her question. "I've been in a few plays and a TV show or two. I'm leaning more towards singing right now though. I actually have my first album coming out tomorrow."
Cat immediately claps and says in a sing-song tone, "Tori's gonna be famous, Tori's gonna be famous!" Several people look over in our direction and give us rude stares.
"Cat," I say, taking a hold of one hand to stop her from clapping again. It's surprisingly softer than what I would imagine. I brush my thumb over the top of her hand but she doesn't seem to notice.
"Oops, that was loud, wasn't it?" I nod. "Anyway, that is so cool Tori! I'll be the first one to buy it."
I don't want to point out that I haven't told her the name of the album yet.
She changes the subject to boys and then to jobs and so on and so forth. I'd like to say that I was still listening to her but that would be a lie. I couldn't concentrate on what she was talking about after the fifth subject change (how does a person go from stuffed animals to gross topics that I will not repeat here in .5 seconds?).
A car pulls into a spot a window away from us and honks its horn. Cat is caught off guard and jumps.
"Oh, that's for me. It was nice talking to you, Tori. We should do it again and hang out like we did in high school. It's so weird saying that. Soon, I'll be like forty and being all, 'Back in my day, in high school' and it will seem like such a long time ago because it was! Anyway, I'll give you my num…oh. I don't have a phone anymore. I always seem to forget. "
"It's okay, I can give you mine." I flip over the receipt and look for a pen in my purse. I scribble down various forms to contact me and hand it to her.
"Thanks again for helping with my papers and the phone." Cat stated. I smile and shrug, following her out the door. I watch as she gets in the car and drives off.
"No biggie." I say.
I start my walk home with a goofy smile on my face.
And here is my first ever Cori fanfic. This will not at all be even close to Gigantic.
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