Chapter Text
The music is thumping so loud in the club that Nat can feel the vibrations of the bass in her chest. It's some top 50 hit that would normally annoy the shit out of her, but it's so packed and busy in here that the bass' buzzing is about the only thing that she can make out of the song. Though being drunk probably doesn't help.
Nat has a history with alcohol that she likes to ignore whenever the moment calls for it, but who could blame her, right? Tai and Van are dancing alongside her but they only have eyes for each other, off in their own little world. Jackie and Shauna finally managed to book a sitter for long enough to have a night together so they’re so busy jumping each other that they didn't even bother coming out tonight. That just left Misty, and Misty is, well, Misty. The girl is sweet but she and Nat had already tried and decided to end it for the better of both of them (and the band). But the drinks are flowing and the music is blaring and Nat is having fun so what does it matter in the end that she is on her own?
The DJ does a weird, forced transition into something sickly pop-y that makes everyone around her cheer like they just won the lottery, and Nat decides that now is a good time to go to the bathroom so she can just skip… whatever it is that is playing right now. She slaps Tai on the shoulder to get her attention, and Tai leans her head towards Nat so she can hear better through the blaring speakers.
“I’m gonna go piss,” Nat says in passing, trying to orient herself and remember where the bathroom is. Tai lets go of Van and catches Nat’s wrist before she can get too far.
“You want us to come with?” Tai says, slurring her words just a little bit, but with genuine concern on her face. It’s sweet, but Nat can’t help but laugh at the way she says it.
“I’m good T, I’ll be quick. Just stay nearby.”
Nat pulls away from Tai’s grasp and squeezes through the crowd, trying her best not to spill anything on anyone on the way, until she finally manages to escape the intoxicating, electric thrum of the crowd and make her way to the bathroom.
Somehow the bathroom is basically empty with no line, which seems like a minor miracle in a place like this, but one that Nat gladly accepts. When she is done, she stands and reaches out to unlock the stall when suddenly she hears the bathroom door burst inward like somebody had just barreled through it, and then it is shut with a slam. Nat hesitates, utterly still and suddenly clearheaded as she listens, trying to gauge what is happening. After a few moments of silence, a quiet sniffle echoes through the empty bathroom, followed by a choked sob.
Merda. A cry-er. Nat is not the right person for this. Tai and Van were way better at bathroom pep talks with random strangers, and yet somehow it always seems to be Nat who gets stuck in bathrooms where someone is crying. Quietly, she finishes unlocking the stall and walks out. The crying woman startles and quickly looks down, hiding her face from view, but Nat can still make it out in the mirror as she washes her hands. The first thing Nat notices is that the woman is gorgeous, which she is certain would get her a ribbing from Tai and Van if they ever found out, but Nat could easily see the weariness behind the statuesque face.
“Hey…” Nat starts, trailing off as she wipes her hands with a shitty little paper towel. Fucking smooth Scartorccio. “...are you okay?” The girl seems taken aback a little by Nat even asking, but she recovers quickly with a sad smile.
“No, it's… I’m fine it’s just. Personal stuff. I thought I had something with this girl but. I guess not,” The woman laughs, almost real enough to fool Nat, but a little flicker in her eyes betrays her. Whatever it is, it’s eating the poor girl alive. Nat swallows hard, bracing herself for whatever this girl needs right now.
“Ah, dyke drama. I’m familiar,” Nat says, hopping up to sit on the sink next to where the woman was standing. The woman laughs along, this time with an actual hint of sincerity. She turns towards Nat and they finally look each other in the eye. The woman is familiar, like she’d seen her on a poster somewhere before, but Nat couldn’t quite place it.
“Wait. Natalie?” The woman squints at her, and Nat is suddenly on the back foot. Did they actually know each other? Nat scans the woman’s face, again and again, trying to place where-
Che cazzo…
“Lottie? Lottie Matthews?” Nat asks incredulously. Lottie practically beams that Nat seems to remember her, but if Nat is being honest with herself, it was only barely.
Lottie Matthews was on her high school soccer team for basically a year and a half. They had hit it off well enough, they worked well as a team, and then her rich-as-fuck dad produced some hit movie and hauled his entire family off to California never to be seen again. Nat hadn’t taken it too hard, they were only sophomores after all. The only person she remembered even caring at the time was Jackie, whose plans for the season had been thrown off by the need to field a random backup as their new striker.
So this is where she ended up.
“What are you doing all the way out here?” Lottie asks incredulously, seemingly distracted. Nat isn’t sure if she believes that Lottie is truly over whatever just happened, but at least she isn’t crying anymore.
“My band is doing a tour! We’ve mostly been opening for people but we’re doing a mini circuit around SoCal right now before we go back to New Jersey.” Nat explains, used to giving the whole speech. She manages to hold back from inviting Lottie out to their next show, given that Lottie was sobbing in a public restroom less than a minute ago. Lottie doesn’t seem to mind though, because she probes deeper.
“What’re you called? Maybe I could come see you sometime.”
“We’re actually playing at Lucky’s on Friday! We’re the YellowJackets. Like…” Nat trails off, embarrassed. Most of the time people didn’t know the story behind their name but with Lottie here it seems almost childish.
“Like the soccer team! Wow, that’s cute. Is anyone else from the team on it?” Lottie asks with a smile.
“Practically the whole team it feels like. Tai, Van, Shauna. Jackie comes along sometimes when she can get away from school and the baby. We even have Misty as our manager, which was a little weird at first but she’s been good, she got this tour for us actually.”
“That’s so cool! I’ll come check it out, I’d love to catch up sometime.”
“What about you, what are you doing these days?”
“Oh, just following the dream, trying to make it as an actress. Same as everyone else in this city.”
A moment passes between them as Nat waits for Lottie to expand on that at all but she’s met with the woman’s gentle stare in silence.
“Well, I’m gonna get back out there,” Nat begins and is immediately reassured by Lottie, who gives a pat on her shoulder.
“Yeah totally! Go get it, I’ll see you around.”
Nat nods and opens the door a crack, but stops herself. Why is she stopping herself? Lottie Matthews is effectively a stranger, why does she care to pry into what Lottie seems adamant to obscure?
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Nat looks back, and Lottie, who had already turned back to the mirror, faces her again. There is a rawness in her eyes, once again caught off-guard that Nat would even bother to ask. Lottie opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by a woman pushing in the door, nearly smacking Nat in the face. She apologizes to Nat and squeezes through to get to one of the stalls. Lottie gives a little laugh, but Nat can’t tell if it's genuine or not. She gives a silent thumbs up and mouths “I’m good” to Nat, before turning back to the mirror and fixing her makeup, back to her statuesque and perfect mask. Nat shrugs. Can’t say she didn't try.
The music on the floor is back to something more dancey, which is an acceptable step up from when Nat left. She tries to find Tai and Van in the crowd, but they aren’t where she left them. There is a brief moment of panic as Nat’s eyes race through the crowd to make sure they hadn’t gotten snatched or something, but then she sees them. They’re up against a wall making out so violently that it almost looks painful, and if Nat’s eyes could roll all the way back into her skull they would. At least it seems like they’ve(?) steered themselves somewhere close enough for Nat to see them as Van has her hand between Tai’s legs. Her entire band is a bunch of unrepentant horndogs and here she is alone on a Saturday night again . Even Misty had said that she was going to video call with some girl named Crystal back home.
Nat’s heart is pumping in her ears and she decides that she’s not drunk enough for this.
She barges her way to the bar and grabs a tall glass just as the bartender is sliding it across the counter for someone, ripping out the straw and opting instead to just pour it directly into her mouth. The guy who ordered it looks stupified, stunned into doing absolutely nothing as Nat downs his drink. The drink itself is kind of sickly sweet, but she can taste the heavy pour of the rum mixed in and that works just fine for her. She slams the glass down with a thud next to the guy, and the bartender looks a mix of impressed and ready to call a bouncer. Nat’s head is already swimming with a mix of brain freeze and buzz, but somehow the strawberry syrupy taste in her mouth just doesn’t feel right.
“Gimme whatever was in that, straight,” Nat says, fishing change out of her jeans and slapping down a twenty in front of the guy, “and give me three of them,” Nat finishes, slapping down two more twenties in front of the bartender. The bartender’s eyes flick down to the bills, and then back to Nat. She rolls her eyes, “please?” The bartender looks over to the guy who just had his drink downed by a girl half his size, and the guy raises both hands up like he was surrendering, not wanting to get involved. The bartender shakes his head and lines up the shots and pours them out. Nat hardly waits for him to finish before downing them all in a row. “Thanks,” Nat gasps out, swallowing hard as a more familiar, comforting burning sensation slides down her throat. She grabs the rest of the change in her pockets — a five and a couple of ones — and puts it down on the bar, putting the last of the shot glasses on top.
She stumbles back from the bar, almost tripping over her own boots from the headrush, but manages to catch herself on a nearby table (which is thankfully empty at the moment). The dance floor is a blur, and the crowd is packed and alive just the way that Nat likes. She pushes back into the mass of people on the dance floor, ignoring the complaints and startled exclamations, and when she stops moving it feels almost like she's floating.
There is a pull on her jacket, gentle but firm enough to turn her around even in the crowd. Nat instinctively wants to lash out, to smack whoever had the nerve to bunch their fists in her leathers, but when she blinks up to give them a verbal lashing, she sees that it's Lottie. She's breathing heavily, and even with everything Nat drank in the last twenty minutes, she can smell the alcohol on Lottie's breath. It's strong, really strong, maybe just straight vodka Nat thinks to herself, until she catches just the faintest whiff of something sweet like fruits. Rich girl Lottie Matthews trying to get trashed and ordering shots of peach vodka — Nat almost laughs at the image of it.
And then suddenly Lottie’s lips crash into hers with enough force to make their teeth click, which normally would have pissed Nat off but in the moment she can't seem to care. Nat registers one of Lottie's hands still fisted in her jacket and the other snaking around Nat's waist until it slipped to her rear and grabbed a handful of her ass, making Nat gasp. The entire world narrows until it's just Lottie and Nat, and the bodies around them that are keeping the two of them pressed together like magnets. Nat quickly adjusts, her hands locking behind Lottie's neck and pulling her down to Nat's level so that Nat can kiss her harder.
Nat can taste the peach vodka still fresh on Lottie's tongue as it enters her mouth eagerly. She tilts her head slightly to give Lottie better access, and their tongues dance, mixing Lottie's peaches with Nat's overproof rum to make a taste that she couldn't describe but found intoxicating nonetheless. Lottie moans into the kiss, which sends Nat's mind racing, frantic for more, more, anything for more of this, her lungs are burning, it's like she can't breathe—
The two break apart with a gasp, panting for air. Nat notices that at some point she started standing on her tiptoes, her back arched so that she could press her body deeper into Lottie's. She relaxes a little, falling back to the flats of her feet, and Lottie's grip tightens, trying to keep Nat in place. The lights around them are disorienting, even when Nat isn't this drunk, but in the flashes of lighting that she does get…
Lottie looks like a hunter; like a predator stalking prey. Her pupils are blown wide after their extended kiss, and even as she pants for air she's tensed up, like she's ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. It's almost alien compared to the crying girl Nat had seen in the bathroom less than half an hour ago, or even compared to the mask she caught her hiding behind. Nat has never felt more like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming truck and for some reason that is really doing it for her.
And yet… this is Lottie Matthews. The girl who used to bring cookies for the whole team when it was someone's birthday. The girl who was practically bawling her eyes out in the bathroom when she thought no one was looking. The girl that just told Nat she was in her feelings about some dyke drama that Nat had no part in. This whole thing seems off but Nat is struggling not to cave and give in.
"Are… Should…." Nat struggles to find the words to ask what she wanted to ask. For as hungry as Lottie looks, she’s patient, only flexing her fingers where they grip Nat like she might turn to dust if she let go. "Is this a good idea?" Nat finally manages to get out, her arms loosening behind Lottie's head. Lottie stares for a moment, eyes flicking across Nat's face in an attempt to read her.
"P… probably not…" Lottie says, her breathing heavy, grip tightening. She stares at Nat, waiting for some kind of sign, some indication of intent.
If only Nat knew what her intent was. The high of being this close to Lottie is mixing in with everything else in her system and the music and the crowd and and and…
Nat leans forward, bumping her forehead against Lottie's and staring at the girl from across the small gap between them. "It would be- It would be smart to stop." Nat leans in, her eyes flickering between Lottie's intense gaze and her puffy, swollen lips.
"Uh huh," Lottie says, matching Nat inch for inch as they both lean in. Nat stops herself centimeters from Lottie's lips, which Lottie immediately clocks and stops as well. Her breath hitches, and her jaw trembles, though Nat can’t tell if it's nervousness or anticipation. Lottie leans in, almost imperceptibly, before leaning back, like she's trying so very hard to wait for Nat to make a decision.
"Fuck it," Nat whispers into Lottie's lips, cutting herself off as she melts back into the brunette. Lottie exhales a ragged breath, pulling Nat back in as if she could make the two of them merge into one if she only held her tight enough. Absentmindedly, Nat registers that Lottie is, quite aggressively, pushing Nat backward through the crowd. Whenever Nat feels someone behind her that she is about to smack into, Lottie just moves them out of the way without a second thought, like she’s parting the sea.
"Mine?" Lottie asks as they near the edge of the crowd, but it comes out more like a command than a question.
"Yeah, mhm," Nat nods vigorously between kisses, "yes."
They break out from the mass of people on the dance floor, but somehow Nat still feels like she's floating. Lottie pulls away from Nat and grabs her hand to lead her, but she moves with a clumsy speed that betrays her need to finish what they'd started on the floor.
At some point, Lottie must have called for a Lyft or something because a very nice-looking black car is waiting outside the second that they make it through the doors, though Nat barely notices. As soon as the doors are flung open, lights are flashing in her face, forcing Nat to cover her eyes with the back of her hand. Luckily, Lottie seems to still know where she's going, because soon enough she ducks her head into the car, very quickly followed by Lottie herself.
The car begins to move and Lottie dives towards Nat to continue where they'd left off, but Nat stops her with a gentle hand against her face.
"Wait, I gotta text…" Nat trails off, reaching into her jeans and struggling to extract her phone. She sends a quick text to the band group chat chat that reads 'dont worry, hooking up. fmf is on. text u tomorrow' And then she quickly tucks the phone into the side of her boot as she reaches up and tangles her fingers into the hair at the nape of Lottie's neck, pulling her in. The car starts moving but Lottie’s arms are enough to keep Nat from rolling off of the expensive leather seats. In the back of her mind, Nat worries about not being buckled in during the drive, but the driver seems to be taking it slow and Nat has more important things to worry about.
Lottie is nuzzling into Nat’s neck, biting hard enough that Nat is surprised that she doesnt draw blood, before licking the tender area long and slow. Nat is lost in the sensations, pushing Lottie harder into her neck with one hand and riding up Lottie’s dress with the other. Lottie moans into Nat’s neck and picks up the pace when she squeezes Lottie’s ass through her panties, so Nat takes that as a sign that she is doing a good job. The car rolls to a soft stop at a red light and Lottie takes the opportunity to grab Nat and flip her over so that Lottie is sitting normally on the seat and Nat is sitting on her lap, her hardon pressing into Lottie’s stomach. Lottie gives a cocky smile and Nat’s face goes flush, partly in desire and partly in anger that Lottie gets to be so hot and annoying at the same time.
“You’re gorgeous, you know that? Absolutely stunning,” Lottie says with a sparkle in her eye, completely genuine. Nat doesn’t even know how to respond to that — she’s already blushing like a fucking tomato — so she just grabs the back of Lottie’s head with both hands and pulls her in for a bruising kiss to shut her up. Of course, Lottie has the gall to smirk into the kiss, which only drives her to kiss her harder, rocking her hips back and forth on Lottie’s lap. The car stops a little too quick and Nat has to reach out and catch the back of the seat to stop herself from toppling backwards off of Lottie. She wants to turn and say something to the driver but Lottie is picking her up and ushering her out of the car so they must have already arrived at their destination.
Nat grabs Lottie’s hand as she gets out of the car and drags Lottie out with her, the two of them nearly tripping and falling at the force of it. They manage to catch themselves, but they both burst out into laughter at the close call. “Pump the breaks Scatorccio, we need to get in to the house first.” Nat relents, allowing Lottie to drunkenly fish around in her purse for the keys. As she does, Nat comes up behind her and snakes a hand under Lottie’s dress and into the waistband of Lottie's panties. Lottie’s breath hitches and she stops what she’s doing, hand frozen in her purse.
“What, I thought we were going in the house first?” Nat says innocently, drawing lazy circles just above where she knows Lottie wants her to be. Lottie gives a frustrated sigh and begins looking more frantically for her keys, doing her best not to give Nat the satisfaction of a response. She triumphantly pulls out the keys from her purse and then proceeds to fumble with them, trying to get her front door unlocked as Nat continues to draw lazy patterns just above Lotties clit. One by one, the bolts all begin to open with audible clicks and then the massive door finally swings inward with a creak. Nat withdraws her hand from Lottie's panties, eliciting a frustrated noise from her.
“Alright smartass,” Lottie says, spinning to face Nat with a desperate look on her face, “get in here.” Lottie grabs Nat by her jacket, pulling her aggressively through the door and slamming it shut behind them.
Nat wakes with a startle. Her head feels like it has been beaten with a hammer, and she has to drag her hand across her face to get all of the hair out of her eyes. She looks around the room with bleary eyes, but it’s so bright that she can barely make anything out. She screws her eyes shut tight for a few moments, willing her vision to clear up, before opening again.
Where the fuck is she? This room is enormous , way bigger than a bedroom has any right to be, and there are clothes strewn everywhere . Nat recognizes bits and pieces of her own outfit from last night on the ground leading off in an almost comical trail out of the room, which is when she suddenly realizes that she’s almost completely naked. Her hands fly down to her waist and she lets out a sigh of relief that at some point she managed to put her boxers back on.
The rest of the room is strangely empty. After adjusting to just how impressive it is to have a bedroom of this size, the second thing she notices is how lifeless it feels, almost utterly devoid of character except for the wine-red comforter on the bed. The walls are all dark wood, which makes the entire thing feel almost sinister. Nat turns to the other side of the bed, only to discover it empty with the sheets pulled back already.
Nat gets up out of the massive bed and immediately regrets it once she steps away from the warmth of the sheets and into the freezing cold room. She crosses her arms in front of her chest for warmth as she picks through the piles of clothing on the floor looking for her belongings. Her boots are easy enough to find, but her phone isn’t in them anymore. Fuck . She digs a little more and manages to find her jeans so she quickly shakes them out and shoves her legs in, tucking her boxers beneath the waistline. She spots the buckle of her belt underneath what looks to be a pink tank top and a bra, and Nat feels a flush rising in her cheeks.
Vaffanculo Scatorccio, have you never seen a fucking bra before?
In truth, Nat has been in this scenario a lot. She was, as Van loved to tease her, “a goddamn transexual slut”. The thing was, though, that she was usually the one who was doing the seducing. She thought the whole top/bottom dichotomy was stupid as all hell but that didn’t change the fact that she was apparently a way easier lay than she thought she was. Her mind flashes back to Lottie’s face in the car, one of the last things she remembers from last night, and shivers at the memory of how utterly starved the girl looked whenever she and Nat locked eyes.
After like five minutes of checking every pile of clothing in the room twice she resigns herself to the fact that, apparently, she was so horny last night that she took her shirt off before they even made it to the bedroom. Internally, she hopes that walking around this place topless might startle Lottie and maybe give Nat a little more power in… whatever the hell their dynamic is at the moment.
Nat peers out the crack of the door, boots in hand, and then swings it open after confirming that Lottie is nowhere in sight. Lottie’s coat is shed directly outside of the bedroom door but there is no sign of Nat’s t-shirt or leather jacket, leading Nat to believe that Lottie was probably undressing her the moment she walked in the door. The hallway seems to be warmer at least, so she doesn’t feel like she needs to hug her chest to keep her nipples from freezing off.
Which, speaking of, is this Lottie’s fucking house? She knows her dad was rich as fuck but this is something else. Nat walks through the lonely halls, finally coming to what looks like some kind of living room or den (do you even call it that if it’s in a fucking McMansion?) where she finally finds a massive open door to the backyard of the house. The room overlooks the entirety of Los Angeles, a number of other, similarly sized mansions sitting at lower positions on the hill that Nat is standing on top of.
On one of the walls, Nat’s attention is drawn to an enormous movie poster, one of the decorative ones you would see on the side of a theater. And directly in the middle, just to the right of some bland-looking white man, is Lottie. Or, according to the poster, Charlotte Matthews. Her mind suddenly flashes back to Jackie mentioning keeping up with previous Yellowjackets, and she realizes that Jackie actually had mentioned Lottie in one of her late-night rants about the state of film as an art and the dying medium of storytelling. Nat searches the rest of the walls and finds other posters, all of them featuring her somewhere. Nat finds herself wondering what the hell she’s gotten herself into.
An indistinct shout from further into the house startles Nat out of her amazement and she turns towards it. It sounds faintly like arguing, but she can’t make out any of the words so she elects to get closer. This area of the house feels smaller, not quite so vacuous as Nat navigates through it. She passes through what appears to be a massive dining room when she can finally start making out the conversation Lottie seems to be having with someone on the phone.
“-aren’t some ‘free love, sluts rights’ girl Charlotte, okay, we can’t just have a million pictures of you taking some trailer trash back to yours when you were just caught making out with her very very publicly in the middle of one of the hottest clubs in the city!”
Nat’s jaw clenches and she stops where she is, just behind the entryway to the kitchen.
“I could do without the judgment, Rick, I don’t pay you to call people fucking names.” Lottie’s voice chimes in, clearly annoyed at whoever this Rick guy is.
“Well then what do you pay me for, huh? This was stupid, Charlotte, and you know it. You’re supposed to be the ‘underappreciated talent good girl next door’ that upstart directors think will make them the next big thing. There’s already plenty of rich nepo babies who got to the club and do whatever the fuck they want.”
Lottie doesn’t have a response to that. Nat peeks her head around the corner and can see Lottie resting her face in her hands as she leans up against her counter. She’s wearing a nearly sheer robe that hangs off of her shoulders delicately, which feels like a stark contrast to what Nat remembers the woman doing to her last night. Rick audibly sighs into the mic and continues. “Who is she anyway, did you get a name at least?”
“Natalie Scatorccio,” Lottie mumbles through her hands. The sound of keys clacking away echoes through the phone speaker as Rick presumably looks Nat up.
“Scatorccio, Jesus what a name. I feel like I’ve…” Rick trails off in thought. “Yes! She’s touring right now, her manager was asking around about opportunities to play extras. I can work with this.”
“We met in high school if that helps,” Lottie stands up straight and stretches, revealing that she is also not wearing anything but shorts under her robe. Of course she isn’t wearing a bra, Nat thinks to herself, trying to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks, this is her fucking house. “Maybe it was a long-lost love? Heat of the moment after seeing a childhood sweetheart again?” Lottie prompts, turning to pace around the kitchen. Nat tries to back out into the dining room but she isn’t fast enough and Lottie spots her out of the corner of her eye. Nat freezes under Lottie’s gaze, waiting to see her reaction.
Lottie stares silently, eyes locked with Nat’s before flicking down to her exposed breasts and then back up again. She can see the faintest of red in Lottie’s cheeks and she smiles, knowing that Lottie isn’t the only one who can make the other feel like a scandalized teenager.
“No,” Rick says, unknowingly breaking the awkward silence, “a sweetheart hookup is still a hookup, and you were clearly sloshed in that place. We need something else.”
Nat makes a face at Lottie like What the fuck is going on? And Lottie responds with a sort of apologetic face and mouths It’s complicated . Nat rolls her eyes. Of course this one-night stand is fucking complicated, nothing is ever easy for Nat. Where is my phone? Nat mouths back, holding her hand up to her ear like she was talking into it.
“Hello? Earth to space case, are you still there Charlotte?” Rick interrupts once again.
“Yeah sorry, I’m just thinking,” Lottie says quickly, scrambling to fill the air. Lottie points over to one of the counters and Nat slinks over trying not to make any noise. The corner of the phone looks lightly scratched like Nat dropped it on the tile at some point, but it seems fine otherwise. It’s even plugged into the charger, which Nat can only assume was Lottie’s doing. She has a dozen unread messages from the band all asking where the fuck she went and why she isn’t responding. Shauna must have roped Jackie into it too bc she has texts from Jackie’s (intentionally) unsaved number as well.
“What if we said it was real?” Lottie says, bringing Nat back to the moment.
“What?!” Rick says loudly into the phone at the same time as Nat locks eyes with Lottie and mouths What?!
“I mean like. What if we said the relationship was real? Like what if it was a PR thing,” Lottie rambles, stumbling like she’s just trying to get it all out.
“NO!” Nat whispers, still trying not to be heard by Rick.
“Yeah… alright this could work. She’s a bad idea but you date for a couple weeks or something, she breaks your heart, and you come out on top as the too-trusting girl with a heart of gold. Do you think you could get her on board?” Rick spins as the idea formulates in his head. Lottie swallows, glancing between Nat and her phone.
“Yeah, I think so,” Lottie says, finally looking Nat dead in the eye as Nat violently shakes her head no. A wave of heat washes over Nat’s face and she storms out of the room, determined to find her shirt and get out of this miserable place, and she can hear Lottie calling out behind her. “Natalie wait!” but Nat keeps moving until Rick’s incredulous “Wait, she’s still there?!” fades from Nat’s earshot. She barges through the rooms, trying to find the exit while still in search of the last of her clothes. She heads down a massive staircase where she can see her tattered white shirt hanging limply over the handrail. She tosses her shoes down and grabs the shirt, throwing it over her head as she hears Lottie catch up to her.
“Nat please, I’m sorry about all of this, I’m just in a really weird place right now-”
“Oh don’t worry, I get it. Don’t want this trailer trash tearing up your reputation. Gotta protect your brand or whatever,” Nat spits out, dripping with venom. Lottie’s mouth moves like she’s trying to respond but she can’t seem to come up with anything.
“He didn’t mean that,” Lottie says weakly, “That isn’t what I think of you!” she finishes, a little stronger. “If I didn’t respect you I wouldn’t have suggested this.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not a toy for you to walk around as a little brand management tool. We fucked one time alright, I’m not playing this game. You picked me, you could’ve said no, but you didn’t.” Nat practically chants out to Lottie, but more than a little bit for herself too. She hops up on one foot, refusing to sit down to slide her boots on as she continues, “You made your bed so don’t make me lie in it.”
Lottie stands with her hands balled up into fists at her side, more out of lack of something to do with them rather than of anger. Her breathing is erratic as she puts a hand to her forehead, trying to come up with anything.
“I had a really good time last night! It was…” Lottie trails off, following Nat as she stomps violently down the stairs to where her leather jacket lying on the ground by the door. “I hope you had fun too?” Lottie says, but it comes out more as a question than anything. Nat picks her coat up from the floor and dusts it off, sliding it on as she unlocks the several locks on Lottie’s front door.
“Listen babe, this was great, you give great head, you fuck like a champion, but all of this?” Nat says, motioning to the house and to Lottie with frantic hand movements, “This is not for me.” With that, Nat exits the door onto the massive and perfectly paved entry driveway to Lottie’s mega-mansion and just starts walking.
“Um… I’ll call you! Or, uh, your manager! Just think about it please!”
Nat does like to think of herself as the queen of dramatic exits, but after it takes about a mile of walking to get to the main road from Lottie’s mansion (which was apparently in the middle of fucking nowhere in the Hollywood hills), she’s starting to regret storming out. Eventually she relents and calls a Lyft to come pick her up, and she ignores the stare she gets from her driver in a honda civic when they see Nat sitting on an ornate decorative wall on some random property.
She calls Tai first, which might be a mistake since Nat knows Tai is going to rip her a new one for not telling Tai in person that she was leaving with someone.
“Girl, did you text me and then throw your phone into the fucking ocean?! Where have you been!” Tai shouts over the receiver. Nat can hear her calling behind her to let the others know that she’d gotten hold of Nat.
“Listen it’s a long fucking story, but I’m okay, everything is alright. I just wanna get back to the hotel, I’ll tell you everything there.”
“Ugh,” Tai groans into the receiver, “ Fine , but I swear to god we are talking when you get back here.”
The rest of the ride is basically fine, other than the occasional judgemental looks from her driver. She arrives at the hotel half an hour later, and Nat briefly wonders if she could just hide in the tour van rather than face her bandmates. She trudges her way up to their floor, and before she can swear because she suddenly realized she didn’t have a room key, the door swings open and she is face-to-face with Jackie of all people.
“Charlotte fucking Matthews?” Jackie says, wide-eyed and incredulous.
“I was kinda hoping she was lying about calling,” Nat mumbles, pushing past Jackie to get back into the room. The whole band has assembled, and Misty is talking with the rest of them when Nat approaches, all heads turning toward her.
“Jesus Christ Torchie,” Van says, a shit-eating grin plastered across her face. Nat flops down into the one big chair left empty, already exhausted by whatever is about to happen here. Shauna, seemingly the only one here not mad at her or laughing at her pain, puts her hand on Nat’s arm.
“I’m glad you’re back.” She says quietly.
“What did she tell you?” Nat asks with an exasperated sigh.
“Well,” Misty starts, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, “Technically it was Rick Ottawa, the PR manager — who I have to say is way more of a dickhead than I thought he would be, like I understand that you have to be bullheaded in this industry but it sounded like he was making all of these decisions without even asking her which is like so fucked up like yeah she’s paying you for this but-”
“Misty,” Tai says, gentle but firm, and Misty catches herself.
“Right! Sorry. Basically, he wants Nat to PR date Charlotte to save face from them apparently sucking face quite publicly.”
Nat groans loudly, throwing her head back against the chair and closing her eyes, hoping that maybe this is all just a bad, alcohol-induced fever dream.
“I will repeat, because apparently no one heard me the first time, Charlotte Fucking Matthews?! ” Jackie chimes in again, leaning against the back of Shauna’s chair. “Seriously? She was in Advent , that was, like, my number two movie of the year last year!” No one seems to know what Jackie is talking about, and Shauna reaches up to grab Jackie’s hand, pulling it down to cradle Shauna’s face. “Is there a reason why we’re not taking this right now?”
“Well,” Misty says, voice turning to Nat who still had her eyes closed, “It’s up to Nat. They kind of overplayed their hand and they sound pretty desperate so we actually have a lot of bargaining power here.”
“Why does it have to be me,” Nat asks rhetorically.
“Hey, I would love to be the one forced to spend time with her, do you know the kinds of questions you could ask her? The things she knows about this industry? But no, you were out playing tonsil hockey with the rich and famous while I was too busy being a faithful and loving girlfriend slash stepfather.” Jackie mocks, which elicits a burst of laughter from everyone, including Nat much to her own chagrin.
“Thanks babe,” Shauna says, trying not to laugh. Jackie leans further forward, resting her chin on top of Shauna’s head.
“Anytime Shipman, you know I’m good for it.”
“Technically it’s your decision Nat. But I think it could be good for us!” Misty says, her voice soft. Nat tilts her head back down to face the group, before locking eyes with Misty. “We can ask for a lot of stuff from this. It doesn’t have to just be us getting rag-dolled by the Big Bad Wolf.”
Natalie suppresses a shiver. She doesn’t know how it is that Misty is always able to drill into the heart of what’s bothering someone, but it’s uncomfortable every time — even when its helpful. She’s right of course. Nat doesn’t like being treated like someone else’s puppet, but as long as she gets to pull her own strings, she could probably make this work. The Yellowjackets may have gotten a tour going in this city, but they don’t have anything lined up after that, not even at home back in New Jersey. They all want this, they just don’t know how to make it happen. Nat doesn’t think anyone could have guessed it would involve frenching an actress after watching her cry her eyes out in the bathroom.
“Fine,” Nat says, after a moment of silence. Misty does a dorky little fist pump that almost makes Nat regret agreeing immediately. “But your ass better be there when we discuss terms. I need Maneater Misty.” Misty’s eyes glean dangerously and she smiles.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“So how was the sex,” Van interrupts, “Like the sex had to be crazy right?”