Edge of Seventeen (Part 1)
Title: Edge of Seventeen
Author: xjekkix
Word Count: 2263 words
Summary: A chance encounter leading to a chance romance.
Rating: PG-13, some swearing
Disclaimer: This is not real.
It's Friday night. She shouldn't be here - for a few reasons. She has a phone interview first thing in the morning, she told her parents she was just going to dinner with a few friends, but mostly because a club is no place for a 17-year-old.
But they let her in, after she flashed an innocent smile and promised she wouldn't drink - not even a little. She feels like an adult here, like she can get away with just about anything - and she plans to find out just how much.
Her head is spinning from the excitement of it all. There are so many Hollywood hotshots in the building and she wants to talk to all of them but can't think of how to make an entrance.
She wishes she could have brought a friend but none of them were willing to risk it. So fuck it, she said, I'll go alone and make some new friends. And there are so many candidates that she's not sure just who to choose. She wanders around, pushing through crowds of sweaty dancers, everyone stylishly dressed. Her eyes could be betraying her but she's never seen quite so many cute boys - ahem, she means men - in one room before. Every one of them looks especially yummy in the ambient lighting of the club.
Especially him, she thinks, watching a thin frame. Dressed head-to-toe in black, wearing a blazer and jeans, a top hat and a pair of sneakers to accessorize. She leans forward to tap the boy on the shoulder when he turns, hand out to the person next to him.
"Hey, Samantha. Nice to meet you."
Lindsay's jaw drops and for an instant she feels mortified. She takes a few steps back, feeling positive that the woman knew just what she was thinking. How could I have been so wrong?
But from where she stands now, she sees just how feminine the 'boy' she saw is. She's got soft features, a beautifully well-defined jaw line, and mid length brown hair. Her fingers are long with manicured nails to boot. She's about the handsomest woman Lindsay has ever seen.
It's decided; this girl will be Lindsay's new friend. Determined, she marches right back over and taps the girl on the shoulder gently. The woman turns, a set of headphones sandwiched between her chin and shoulder. She looks annoyed at first but soon a heartwarming smile spreads across her face.
"A little young to be in here, don't you think?" the woman yells to her, letting the headphones fall back to her shoulders.
Lindsay stands up tall, hoping better posture will make her look more grown-up. She knows the woman is older than her, but she can't tell by how much. "Bouncer didn't think so," Lindsay says, flashing a cheeky grin. "I'm Lindsay," she says, offering her hand.
The girl holds Lindsay’s hand gently in her own and kisses her knuckles. "I know who you are."
Lindsay laughs, because of course she knows. Everyone knows who she is wherever she goes. It's often a curse but this time she's glad she doesn't need to do any explaining. "So, are you going to tell me your name then?"
The girl smiles slyly at her while she scrolls through music on her laptop. It's just now that Lindsay realizes the music playing is all thanks to this woman right here.
"Can I buy you a drink or anything?" the woman asks, sipping from a bottle of Corona.
Lindsay shrugs cutely. "I promised I wouldn't drink if they let me in." Instead she takes a long swig from the Corona bottle, licking her lips seductively afterward.
For a while she just stands, dancing along to the music that’s playing. She takes another sip from the beer bottle, sets it down and lingers at the girl's shoulder as she steps back. She whispers a breathy song request in her ear and steps back to watch her at work.
She watches the girl duck beneath the table as she lights a cigarette. She smiles mischievously and ducks under as well.
“You know you can’t smoke in here, right?” Lindsay says. The woman shrugs and slowly releases smoke from her mouth.
“Who’s gonna stop me?” Samantha asks, offering Lindsay a drag. She declines but there’s something about this woman that makes her want to break all the rules.
“I’m probably in enough trouble already,” she says, faking an innocent smile and lifting the drink in her hand. She swallows the rest of it quickly and heads outside to smoke. Despite her hopes, the DJ does not follow.
Instead, she meets some friends outside. She doesn’t tell them about the girl, afraid she’ll gush and reveal feelings even she’s not sure of yet.
She’s not sure how long she’s been outside - the inside of her head tickles with an incessant buzz - but she figures it must have been awhile when she spots crowds of people leaving the club and waiting for their cars.
“Shit!” she yells. Her friends watch her, confused, as she tries to run back inside, nearly tripping on her strappy stilettos.
She gets to the front of the club just in time to catch the girl ducking sideways into a shiny black Porsche.
“Hey!” she yells after her. Samantha smiles and gives her a two-fingered wave as she speeds off into the night.
Lindsay stands there, shocked and disappointed. She throws a lazy wave after the car and walks back toward her friends.
Before reaching them she bumps into a man she recognizes from inside. “Who is she?” Lindsay asks, throwing her arms into the air.
“Who is who?” he asks, looking confused.
“The DJ! I have to know who she is.” Lindsay knows she sounds hysterical but can’t control her curiosity.
“Oh, Ronson. Samantha Ronson. You’ve probably heard of her brother Mark.”
Lindsay thanks the man. She recognizes the name but isn’t quite sure where she’s heard it before. All that matters is that she knows the girl’s name - and needs to see her again.
She spends the next day searching online and through countless resources trying to remember where she’s heard the name Ronson. To no avail, she gives up and calls a friend who knows just about everyone there is to know in the music business. Surely he’ll be able to tell her something of use.
But when she calls, he’s already got a conversational agenda of his own. “I’m in the studio tomorrow recording and mixing songs for your movie. You should come by if you’re not busy,” he says, before a call on the other line forces him to hang up, promising to see her tomorrow.
Samantha arrives at the studio early the next morning. She’s nervous and beyond excited. It’s still surreal to her that she’s going to have her song in a big movie.
“So when do I start?” she asks, propping her guitar case gently against the wall.
“Soon,” the man says, typing a text message on is phone. “Got someone coming in to check out the song, if that’s cool.”
“For sure. Who?” Samantha says. She’s just glad she won’t have a big audience. Just thinking about it makes her throat tighten a little.
“Miss Lohan,” he responds, casually. “It’s her movie. Figure she should be the first to hear the song.”
Samantha’s palms feel sweaty and her lungs feel like they’ve gone on strike. She didn’t see that one coming.
“You met her before?”
“Briefly, the other night,” she says, remembering the look of intrigue on the girl’s face. The feeling was mutual.
“What’d you think? She’s a knockout eh?”
Samantha shrugs. “Yeah, she’s pretty cute, I guess.” But, of course she thinks the girl is stunning. She tries to seem calm, aloof, but inside she’s terrified at the prospect of playing her song in front of such impressive company.
They wait a while, Samantha fidgets nervously with the clasps on her guitar case. Eventually the producer agrees to let her begin recording. After all, it usually requires a take or two to reach perfection.
She’s relieved and gets to work right away. With the right amount of focus and concentration, surely she can have the song nearly finished when Lindsay arrives.
Lindsay decides to make an appearance at her friend’s studio because what else would she do all day? She knows that she would spend most of it wracking her brain, wondering who this Samantha Ronson is.
She walks down a long hallway until she finds the door she’s looking for. An incredible acoustic sound comes out as she opens it but she’s not prepared for what she’ll find inside.
The man waves her in, smiling and mixing the track. She sits down in a plush chair beside him. It takes her a moment to recognize the woman inside the soundproof booth.
She looks different; very natural and extremely comfortable in her own skin. The pink Clash t-shirt she’s wearing rides up just so on one side, revealing a peek of the girl’s lightly tanned midriff. Her jeans are torn at the knees - from wear and tear; not the kind of ripped that Lindsay is used to paying hundreds of dollars for. She’s got her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail; a few pieces have escaped and are resting on her forehead.
“That’s her!” Lindsay shouts sitting upright in her chair. “That’s Samantha Ronson!”
“Yeah, she’s good eh?” the man says, leaning back in his own chair, looking satisfied.
“She’s incredible,” Lindsay says, but her admiration for the girl far surpasses just her musical ability. She stares, unable to believe her luck.
The girl’s love for music is evident in how focused her face is as she plays. Lindsay wishes she would look up but at the same time she is afraid of what she’ll feel when they’re eyes meet again.
“Heard you guys met the other night?” the man says in passing. Lindsay gulps.
“Yeah, sorta. Why, did she say something?” She’s barely sitting on the edge of her seat now, anticipating his response.
“Said you were a knockout - and you are, of course.” He winks at her flirtatiously. She grins, but not at his advances.
The man presses a button that leads to a speaker inside the soundproof room. Samantha’s eyes are still on her guitar as she strums away. “Sounding good, kid. Come on out and have a listen.”
Lindsay braces herself in her chair as she catches the woman’s eye. Her face reads of recognition and a little embarrassment. All Lindsay can do is muster half a smile.
When Samantha sees the girl, the bashfulness she feels is not unexpected. She did not, however, count on feeling so winded. The girl’s appearance quite literally takes her breath away.
She drags her sneakered feet across the carpet and out into the studio’s main room. Lindsay stands to greet her, seeming much shorter wearing flats as opposed to high heels.
“Hey, thanks for coming,” Samantha says timidly, offering her hand. Lindsay’s is just short of her own when a shock extends between their fingertips. They both step back in a daze.
Samantha apologizes profusely, having a flashback of her mother’s advice - “Always lift your feet when you’re walking please!”
Neither girl is really paying attention but Samantha catches the end of a comment the man makes; he mumbles something about electricity and chemistry. Samantha knows he’s not talking about science.
“So what did you think?” Samantha questions the redhead, stuffing her long fingers into her pockets. She bends her ankle out, a trait she and her twin sister Charlotte share during moments of sheepishness.
“It’s perfect,” Lindsay says, unable to take her eyes away from the girl’s mouth as she speaks. She senses a slight accent, and though she doesn’t know its origin, she would give anything to just keep the girl talking.
All three lean closely together over the mixing board as they replay the raw version of Samantha’s song. They all nod their heads in approval, both girls looking to the man when the song has finished.
He uses a hand gesture that plays up his satisfaction. “Flawless. All it needs is mixing and we’re golden.” He pats Samantha firmly on the back and gets right down to work.
Samantha carefully lays her guitar back in its case while Lindsay stands nearby, watching her intently.
“He’s right. You did an amazing job,” Lindsay says, finally approaching. Samantha nods and blushes, feeling more modest than usual.
She picks up her guitar and turns back to look at Lindsay. Impossibly so, the redhead looks even more glamorous dressed down in a pair of leggings and a long-sleeved t-shirt.
They both go to speak at once, cutting each other off. Lindsay signals the other girl to go first.
“I was just gonna say, I’m heading to a buddy’s place later to jam. You’re welcome to come hang out, if you want.”
Lindsay feels the sensation of butterflies rise in her stomach; she feels a goofy grin spread onto her face. “Sure, I’d love to.”
“Great,” Samantha says with a bright smile. She hands Lindsay a pen and her outstretched palm. “I’ll call when I’m leaving and pick you up.”
Lindsay cradles the girl’s hand in her own, pleased by how soft they are. She writes her number down and hesitantly lets go, handing back the pen.
She watches Samantha leave - the older woman says goodbye again with her typical two-fingered wave - and can’t help but laugh. She wonders if women are any better than men at calling when they say they will.
Author: xjekkix
Word Count: 2263 words
Summary: A chance encounter leading to a chance romance.
Rating: PG-13, some swearing
Disclaimer: This is not real.
It's Friday night. She shouldn't be here - for a few reasons. She has a phone interview first thing in the morning, she told her parents she was just going to dinner with a few friends, but mostly because a club is no place for a 17-year-old.
But they let her in, after she flashed an innocent smile and promised she wouldn't drink - not even a little. She feels like an adult here, like she can get away with just about anything - and she plans to find out just how much.
Her head is spinning from the excitement of it all. There are so many Hollywood hotshots in the building and she wants to talk to all of them but can't think of how to make an entrance.
She wishes she could have brought a friend but none of them were willing to risk it. So fuck it, she said, I'll go alone and make some new friends. And there are so many candidates that she's not sure just who to choose. She wanders around, pushing through crowds of sweaty dancers, everyone stylishly dressed. Her eyes could be betraying her but she's never seen quite so many cute boys - ahem, she means men - in one room before. Every one of them looks especially yummy in the ambient lighting of the club.
Especially him, she thinks, watching a thin frame. Dressed head-to-toe in black, wearing a blazer and jeans, a top hat and a pair of sneakers to accessorize. She leans forward to tap the boy on the shoulder when he turns, hand out to the person next to him.
"Hey, Samantha. Nice to meet you."
Lindsay's jaw drops and for an instant she feels mortified. She takes a few steps back, feeling positive that the woman knew just what she was thinking. How could I have been so wrong?
But from where she stands now, she sees just how feminine the 'boy' she saw is. She's got soft features, a beautifully well-defined jaw line, and mid length brown hair. Her fingers are long with manicured nails to boot. She's about the handsomest woman Lindsay has ever seen.
It's decided; this girl will be Lindsay's new friend. Determined, she marches right back over and taps the girl on the shoulder gently. The woman turns, a set of headphones sandwiched between her chin and shoulder. She looks annoyed at first but soon a heartwarming smile spreads across her face.
"A little young to be in here, don't you think?" the woman yells to her, letting the headphones fall back to her shoulders.
Lindsay stands up tall, hoping better posture will make her look more grown-up. She knows the woman is older than her, but she can't tell by how much. "Bouncer didn't think so," Lindsay says, flashing a cheeky grin. "I'm Lindsay," she says, offering her hand.
The girl holds Lindsay’s hand gently in her own and kisses her knuckles. "I know who you are."
Lindsay laughs, because of course she knows. Everyone knows who she is wherever she goes. It's often a curse but this time she's glad she doesn't need to do any explaining. "So, are you going to tell me your name then?"
The girl smiles slyly at her while she scrolls through music on her laptop. It's just now that Lindsay realizes the music playing is all thanks to this woman right here.
"Can I buy you a drink or anything?" the woman asks, sipping from a bottle of Corona.
Lindsay shrugs cutely. "I promised I wouldn't drink if they let me in." Instead she takes a long swig from the Corona bottle, licking her lips seductively afterward.
For a while she just stands, dancing along to the music that’s playing. She takes another sip from the beer bottle, sets it down and lingers at the girl's shoulder as she steps back. She whispers a breathy song request in her ear and steps back to watch her at work.
She watches the girl duck beneath the table as she lights a cigarette. She smiles mischievously and ducks under as well.
“You know you can’t smoke in here, right?” Lindsay says. The woman shrugs and slowly releases smoke from her mouth.
“Who’s gonna stop me?” Samantha asks, offering Lindsay a drag. She declines but there’s something about this woman that makes her want to break all the rules.
“I’m probably in enough trouble already,” she says, faking an innocent smile and lifting the drink in her hand. She swallows the rest of it quickly and heads outside to smoke. Despite her hopes, the DJ does not follow.
Instead, she meets some friends outside. She doesn’t tell them about the girl, afraid she’ll gush and reveal feelings even she’s not sure of yet.
She’s not sure how long she’s been outside - the inside of her head tickles with an incessant buzz - but she figures it must have been awhile when she spots crowds of people leaving the club and waiting for their cars.
“Shit!” she yells. Her friends watch her, confused, as she tries to run back inside, nearly tripping on her strappy stilettos.
She gets to the front of the club just in time to catch the girl ducking sideways into a shiny black Porsche.
“Hey!” she yells after her. Samantha smiles and gives her a two-fingered wave as she speeds off into the night.
Lindsay stands there, shocked and disappointed. She throws a lazy wave after the car and walks back toward her friends.
Before reaching them she bumps into a man she recognizes from inside. “Who is she?” Lindsay asks, throwing her arms into the air.
“Who is who?” he asks, looking confused.
“The DJ! I have to know who she is.” Lindsay knows she sounds hysterical but can’t control her curiosity.
“Oh, Ronson. Samantha Ronson. You’ve probably heard of her brother Mark.”
Lindsay thanks the man. She recognizes the name but isn’t quite sure where she’s heard it before. All that matters is that she knows the girl’s name - and needs to see her again.
She spends the next day searching online and through countless resources trying to remember where she’s heard the name Ronson. To no avail, she gives up and calls a friend who knows just about everyone there is to know in the music business. Surely he’ll be able to tell her something of use.
But when she calls, he’s already got a conversational agenda of his own. “I’m in the studio tomorrow recording and mixing songs for your movie. You should come by if you’re not busy,” he says, before a call on the other line forces him to hang up, promising to see her tomorrow.
Samantha arrives at the studio early the next morning. She’s nervous and beyond excited. It’s still surreal to her that she’s going to have her song in a big movie.
“So when do I start?” she asks, propping her guitar case gently against the wall.
“Soon,” the man says, typing a text message on is phone. “Got someone coming in to check out the song, if that’s cool.”
“For sure. Who?” Samantha says. She’s just glad she won’t have a big audience. Just thinking about it makes her throat tighten a little.
“Miss Lohan,” he responds, casually. “It’s her movie. Figure she should be the first to hear the song.”
Samantha’s palms feel sweaty and her lungs feel like they’ve gone on strike. She didn’t see that one coming.
“You met her before?”
“Briefly, the other night,” she says, remembering the look of intrigue on the girl’s face. The feeling was mutual.
“What’d you think? She’s a knockout eh?”
Samantha shrugs. “Yeah, she’s pretty cute, I guess.” But, of course she thinks the girl is stunning. She tries to seem calm, aloof, but inside she’s terrified at the prospect of playing her song in front of such impressive company.
They wait a while, Samantha fidgets nervously with the clasps on her guitar case. Eventually the producer agrees to let her begin recording. After all, it usually requires a take or two to reach perfection.
She’s relieved and gets to work right away. With the right amount of focus and concentration, surely she can have the song nearly finished when Lindsay arrives.
Lindsay decides to make an appearance at her friend’s studio because what else would she do all day? She knows that she would spend most of it wracking her brain, wondering who this Samantha Ronson is.
She walks down a long hallway until she finds the door she’s looking for. An incredible acoustic sound comes out as she opens it but she’s not prepared for what she’ll find inside.
The man waves her in, smiling and mixing the track. She sits down in a plush chair beside him. It takes her a moment to recognize the woman inside the soundproof booth.
She looks different; very natural and extremely comfortable in her own skin. The pink Clash t-shirt she’s wearing rides up just so on one side, revealing a peek of the girl’s lightly tanned midriff. Her jeans are torn at the knees - from wear and tear; not the kind of ripped that Lindsay is used to paying hundreds of dollars for. She’s got her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail; a few pieces have escaped and are resting on her forehead.
“That’s her!” Lindsay shouts sitting upright in her chair. “That’s Samantha Ronson!”
“Yeah, she’s good eh?” the man says, leaning back in his own chair, looking satisfied.
“She’s incredible,” Lindsay says, but her admiration for the girl far surpasses just her musical ability. She stares, unable to believe her luck.
The girl’s love for music is evident in how focused her face is as she plays. Lindsay wishes she would look up but at the same time she is afraid of what she’ll feel when they’re eyes meet again.
“Heard you guys met the other night?” the man says in passing. Lindsay gulps.
“Yeah, sorta. Why, did she say something?” She’s barely sitting on the edge of her seat now, anticipating his response.
“Said you were a knockout - and you are, of course.” He winks at her flirtatiously. She grins, but not at his advances.
The man presses a button that leads to a speaker inside the soundproof room. Samantha’s eyes are still on her guitar as she strums away. “Sounding good, kid. Come on out and have a listen.”
Lindsay braces herself in her chair as she catches the woman’s eye. Her face reads of recognition and a little embarrassment. All Lindsay can do is muster half a smile.
When Samantha sees the girl, the bashfulness she feels is not unexpected. She did not, however, count on feeling so winded. The girl’s appearance quite literally takes her breath away.
She drags her sneakered feet across the carpet and out into the studio’s main room. Lindsay stands to greet her, seeming much shorter wearing flats as opposed to high heels.
“Hey, thanks for coming,” Samantha says timidly, offering her hand. Lindsay’s is just short of her own when a shock extends between their fingertips. They both step back in a daze.
Samantha apologizes profusely, having a flashback of her mother’s advice - “Always lift your feet when you’re walking please!”
Neither girl is really paying attention but Samantha catches the end of a comment the man makes; he mumbles something about electricity and chemistry. Samantha knows he’s not talking about science.
“So what did you think?” Samantha questions the redhead, stuffing her long fingers into her pockets. She bends her ankle out, a trait she and her twin sister Charlotte share during moments of sheepishness.
“It’s perfect,” Lindsay says, unable to take her eyes away from the girl’s mouth as she speaks. She senses a slight accent, and though she doesn’t know its origin, she would give anything to just keep the girl talking.
All three lean closely together over the mixing board as they replay the raw version of Samantha’s song. They all nod their heads in approval, both girls looking to the man when the song has finished.
He uses a hand gesture that plays up his satisfaction. “Flawless. All it needs is mixing and we’re golden.” He pats Samantha firmly on the back and gets right down to work.
Samantha carefully lays her guitar back in its case while Lindsay stands nearby, watching her intently.
“He’s right. You did an amazing job,” Lindsay says, finally approaching. Samantha nods and blushes, feeling more modest than usual.
She picks up her guitar and turns back to look at Lindsay. Impossibly so, the redhead looks even more glamorous dressed down in a pair of leggings and a long-sleeved t-shirt.
They both go to speak at once, cutting each other off. Lindsay signals the other girl to go first.
“I was just gonna say, I’m heading to a buddy’s place later to jam. You’re welcome to come hang out, if you want.”
Lindsay feels the sensation of butterflies rise in her stomach; she feels a goofy grin spread onto her face. “Sure, I’d love to.”
“Great,” Samantha says with a bright smile. She hands Lindsay a pen and her outstretched palm. “I’ll call when I’m leaving and pick you up.”
Lindsay cradles the girl’s hand in her own, pleased by how soft they are. She writes her number down and hesitantly lets go, handing back the pen.
She watches Samantha leave - the older woman says goodbye again with her typical two-fingered wave - and can’t help but laugh. She wonders if women are any better than men at calling when they say they will.