Beezus leaned over her guitar, tuning it softly, as her mind raced with ideas for her song. Plucking at the last string, it snapped, curling towards the neck with an odd twanging sound.
"Damn," she hissed, unlatching her guitar case. She fumbled through the small compartments, finding all empty but for a few extra picks. Her brow furrowed as she searched for a spare string a second time. Again, her efforts were fruitless. "Double damn." She lay the guitar gently on her seat as she stood, pausing a moment to ensure its stability. Leaving the hall of studios, Beezus continued her search through the drawers of Max's desk. She was sure that there were a few extras, stowed away for emergancies such as these.
"Didn't you get in trouble for shuffling through Max's stuff last time?" She snapped her head up, her hand still in the drawer, to see Brian leaned against the doorway in a relaxed manner. She curled her top lip in disdain, then persisted in her search. "Well, aren't you going to at least tell me what you're looking for?" She stood upright, slamming the drawer shut with a loud banging noise, her arms crossing over her stomach indignantly.
"Now remind me why I should do that, Mr Know-It-All," she quipped. "So you can scoff arrogantly, then tell me exactly where Max's extra guitar strings are? And then to tos some salt on the already open wound, mock me for the rest of my days here?"
"Surprisingly enough, no, I wasn't," he answered serenely, no traces of mockary or teasing in his voice. "And they're in the bottom left." Beezus whipped open the drawer and grabbed a string from the bag. "You don't want to hear the message?" She sighed softly, and looked back up at him, cautiousness intruding her voice as she spoke.
"Message? What message is this?" she asked, walking around the desk and leaning on it casually. "Then again, it's not like my morning could worsen any time soon. . ." Brian cleared his throat, ignoring her muttering, and stood so that his weight was even between his feet in the center of the doorway.
"He wanted me to tell you--"
"Who'se 'he', Brian?" He shook his head with a slight smile.
"I speak of one without a formal name," he answered, joking. "Actually, he told me not to say, he wants it to be a surprise. Said you'd probably figure it out on your own, since you're fairly smart." Beezus raised an eyebrow, toying with the string in her hands. "He wanted to know if you saw the dedication on the video the other day."
"Yeah, I saw it," she answered. "Didn't this . . . this person with no name hear me carrying on up here?"
"Apparantly not."
"All right, then. Is that all? Because I have a song to finish, and I don't want to--"
"No, sorry. One more interruption. He requested that I give you these," he replied, reaching into the hall and lifted a rather large box from the floor. Bringing it to the middle of the room, he patted the lid and smiled. "Enjoy." He left, closing the door behind him softly. Beezus warily crouched next to the box, unsure of what it held. She lifted the lid, and gasped in surprise.
The complete collection of Beatles records--the real vinyls--plus every cd available to own, original and modern posters, several collecters' books, and an authentic t-shirt, autographed by the four members, lay inside. She sorted through the contents, running her hands over the carboard of the record covers, the plastic of the cd covers, and cotton of the shirt, her eyes misting over.
Quickly she calmed herself down, replacing the items into the crate from which they came, and stood up. It was most obvious that the gift and dedication were from Lance; he had taken so much interest in her the first day she had seen him at Jive back in June; she had to set him straight about her feelings about him. In her eyes, he was nothing more than a nuisance, and that was not apt to change any time soon. Pushing the box into the corner of the room, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She left the room, walking over to the balcony and peering over the edge. The blonde figure of Lance Bass caught her eye, and she hastily called down to him.
"Hey, Lance! Yoohoo!" She waved a hand when he looked up. "Up here!" He smiled and waved, having come to a stand-still in the center of the lobby. "Stay right there, I'll be right down in a minute!" He nodded, and she raced towards the elevators, hopping into the first one that arrived. Catching up to him, she forced a smile. "How are you?"
"I'm fine," he replied slowly, "Other that having everyone staring at us right now, of course. . ." Beezus quickly glanced around, smiling nervously when she realized the multitude of eyes on them.
"Come on, we'll go down to the cafeteria," she suggested, taking his sleeve and pulling him along. They made their way down a flight of stairs to the basement cafeteria, and took a seat at a small corner table. "Now, I have one question for you, and please answer me truthfully."
"All right." She folded her hands together on the smooth surface of the table, and stared at him.
"Why did you bother to get me all of the Beatle's memorobelia?" she asked. "It's a very nice gesture and all, and I am grateful, but, well, it seems kind of expensive. I wouldn't want you to blow all of your money on me. . ."
"Wait, Beatrice, what Beatle's stuff?" Her jaw dropped slightly.
"You mean. . .You weren't the one that bought me all of that crap?" He shook his head hesitantly.
"Why would I?" he added. A flash of embarrassment sparked in his eyes, and he smiled apologetically. "I mean, I wish I had thought of doing that, but. . .Well, if I barely know who the Beatles are, then how could it have been me?"
"Whoa," she murmured. If Lance hadn't been behind this, which of the remaining four was it? She could immediately rule out Justin, given how much he hated her on a general level, so that left three options. "Well, thanks for your help." He nodded.
"Anytime, Beatrice. Anytime," he answered, standing with her.
"Um, Lance? You haven't seen any of your parteners in crime lately, have you?" They walked out of the dining area and up the stairs as they spoke.
"I think Joey went out to eat. But JC and Chris are somewhere in the building," he replied helpfully.
"Thanks, much appreciated." She jetted off towards the elevators, wanting to get this search overwith quickly.