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It was nice, being decently indie. Having the creative control that many of her peers lacked. Having a notable say in what became a single, or what got banished as a b-side to said single, or what got put on the deluxe edition of the album. Lucy was respected at her label. She hadn't had to fight any sexist, dismissive assholes. They were pretty progressive that way. And Lucy was pretty opinionated that way.
However, there was something that she hadn't had much of a say in, and it was allowing her song to be used on New Town High. She wasn't happy when they ran it by her, and even brought up what she thought was a very good point - what teeny-bopper watching New fucking Town fucking High was going to listen to her alternative-metal-twinged single? She wrote it after listening to nothing but A Perfect Circle and Chevelle for a week straight. Nobody could convince her that it was a good idea for that song to be on a show that was hailed by preppy teenage girls across the country.
She wasn't trying to be judgemental, or fall victim to the same misogynistic stereotypes that had stunted her own work for years, she was only trying to be realistic. Not all publicity was good publicity. And she didn't necessarily care who did and didn't like her, but it's like, why would she put herself in that position? She didn't make music for television. And she most certainly did not make music for New Town High.
That was a few months ago - last October, as the episode was Halloween-themed. That was another thing she didn't like - the way her song was used in the episode as a novelty. As if it was supposed to be scary, to fit in with the supernatural, witchy plot line. If she cared enough, it was almost insulting. But regardless, that was four months ago, and now she was at the premiere for New Town High's series finale. Everyone was so shocked that it was ending, but Lucy wasn't. It had been seven seasons and for God's sake, they started introducing supernatural elements into the damn show. That was, historically, concrete proof that a show was on it's last legs and that the writers were just throwing shit at the wall to see what stuck. Show should've ended years ago, if you were asking Lucy.
Nobody was asking Lucy, though, because she was a speck in the crowd of people at the premiere. There must've been three thousand people there. Easily one of the larger events Lucy had willingly attended. She spent an eternity on the red carpet, the lights blinding, the demands behind them dehumanizing. She smiled through the smoky-dark makeup, hands at the sides of her lacy black and purple dress, hair obsidian black around her shoulders. It was all routine. She moved down the line, again, one of hundreds of people.
So it was a wonder that she found Jo Taylor, that Jo Taylor found her, and that they found each other pressed into a stall in the desolate women's bathroom.
Jo Taylor had left the show in season four, and after that, she was Around. She was now the face of an acclaimed adult-comedy series on CBS, and she was in a few movies, and she launched a few perfumes, partnered with a few brands. The baby fat of her cheeks had been shaved away to reveal high cheekbones, she'd grown her hair out and added some brunette to it for dimension. That sunny-sweet smile she used to sport had dulled into something a bit more subtle. She no longer looked like the girl who had whisked Lucy's almost-boyfriend away from her half a decade ago. Even if she did, Lucy probably still would've fell.
It wasn't revenge or anything silly like that - Lucy hadn't thought about Kendall in a couple years now. They were strangers, the way Jo and Lucy had been back then, the way they really always were. And maybe that's all this was - Lucy dying to know what the fuss was about. Because Jo had found Lucy sitting alone, shoveling wine and strawberries into her mouth, and Jo said, "Lucy?" in that sugary voice. The name came out like a question, and even when Lucy greeted her back, Jo still looked like she wanted an answer. Her cheeks were flushed, no doubt from the same wine Lucy was gulping down. Her eyes were hot, wide.
Lucy had thought about it, back then. After she moved out of the Palm Woods when Kendall picked Jo. Lucy and Kendall weren't ever exclusive, but they had slept together the night before Jo came back from New Zealand, and it was all sorts of awful. And there was Jo, all virginal and purified, and Lucy couldn't stop thinking about the way Kendall would treat her. If he'd make her sore the way he had Lucy. It had filled her with equal parts delight and disdain. She had wanted to warn her.
"I wanted to warn you," she told Jo, minutes after Jo had sat down and they began recounting the Palm Woods Days.
Jo gnawed on her glossy lower lip. She looked so astoundingly human. Lucy had always made the unfair assumption that fame had crept its ugly shell over Jo, rendering her into the type of asshole that only the likes of James Diamond could get along with. "You probably figured I wouldn't have listened," she said, then, lifting her eyes to meet Lucy's, "but you really should've told me that he was inside you not even twenty-four hours before I came back."
Lucy arched a penciled brow, challenging. "Would you have still taken him back? Slept with him that night?"
Jo peered at her over her glass of burgundy liquid. "Maybe so. Maybe that would've made me more inclined to."
So, this is what it was, Lucy guessed. Her guitar-thrashing song was on a washed-out teen show, she had to suffer through Hollywood red carpet bullshit in return, and Jo Taylor was making her clench her thighs together in a ballroom full of people. The Palm Woods Days, while fleeting, seemed to have made their mark.
Jo was wet when Lucy pinned her against the tile wall in the bathroom and slipped a hand up her dress, into her cotton underwear. Lucy tried to remember when she had seen those headlines about Jo and Kendall breaking up. Could've been a few months ago, could've been well over a year ago. The rumor was that Kendall had cheated, which, given the circumstances, and Jo's tired eyes, wouldn't surprise Lucy. They had publicly been on-and-off for years. It sounded exhausting. Jo made a choked little sound when Lucy ghosted a finger over her clit.
"Did it ever get better, with him?" Lucy asked, staring at the white expanse of skin on Jo's neck, at the gold necklaces dipping into her weak cleavage, at the frilly straps of her white dress.
"For awhile. I guess, sorta." Jo scoffed humorlessly. "It was bad towards the end, though. I don't think he made me come once during our last year together."
Lucy whistled in disapproval. "Jo. Jo, Jo, Jo." She slid her finger between Jo's lips, down down down until she was circling her entrance. Jo sighed. Her hands found either side of Lucy's jawline and remained there. Lucy pressed her finger inside, biting her lip at the way Jo tensed then relaxed around her.
"You won't believe this part," Jo warned. Her hazy eyes were locked on Lucy's tattooed arm, the way it moved as her finger pumped in and out. "He thought I was a pillow princess."
Lucy laughed out loud at that, the sound bouncing off the walls of the empty bathroom. "Did he now?" she jested. Jo was smiling lazily, though her soft moans quickly turned her lips into a circle. It was then that Lucy angled forward, ignoring the incoming cramp in her wrist in favor of attaching her mouth to Jo's neck. Jo tangled her hands in Lucy's hair, milky white against the black strands.
"I was, but it was his fault." Jo ended her words with a sharp gasp. Lucy had added another finger, and she ground her palm against Jo's swollen clit. Jo was trembling, her heels sliding against the linoleum as her knees buckled. Lucy breathed a haughty laugh.
"Shit, if this is how you are in bed, you can get away with being a pillow princess."
Jo managed to say, "Wasn't like this with him." And then she came, her walls pulsating around Lucy's deft fingers. Lucy watched her, watched her head lull back, watched her throat as she let out a long, scratchy moan. It hadn't even been five minutes. Lucy thought about the way Kendall made her sore and her chest thrummed with something like pride, something like possession.
It was all a daze, from there. Jo got on the shiny bathroom floor, dress pooling around her like a princess, and peeled Lucy's black tights and lacy underwear down. The insides of her thighs were slick, and Jo caught it all with her mouth. Lucy pulled her dress taut against her skin so it didn't obscure the view - and man, what a fucking view - and pressed against Jo's face. She realized quickly, really the moment Jo's mouth closed around her clit and their eyes locked, that Jo must have some experience. It made the coil in her lower abdomen tighten all the more to think about Jo, during the off-parts of her relationship with Kendall, spending her time with women. It was no wonder why Kendall didn't do anything for her anymore.
It wasn't revenge. It really wasn't. Lucy didn't care about goddamn Kendall Knight. Yet, when the bathroom door swung open, Lucy fantasized, in her pleasured haze, that it was him. She fantasized about him opening their stall door, being met with the sight of Jo Taylor between Lucy Stone's legs, the humiliation on his face. Lucy pressed the meat of her arm between her teeth and came.
There are, decidedly, worse things to come of having your song featured in a shitty television show.