Hello..um, what are bechloe fans called? Anyways, this idea came to me at like 2am in the morning and has been clawing at me for the past few days. Soooo I gave in and wrote it, as you would do when you're on holiday (which I'm not, but anyways). If you guys like it then hit me up with a review and I'll bake you chocolate chip cookies.

"Chloe Beale." Jesse Swanson (aka the worst manager ever in the history of the universe) announces grinning stupidly like he's just managed to steal the Declaration of Independence with Nicholas Cage or something.

"Chloe Beale?" Beca Mitchell, his first (and only. God knows, Beca enjoys his company, weird family games and borderline obsession with movie soundtracks but the boy's managerial skills were terrible) client and coincidentally also his half sister cocks a brow, looking up from her computer screen with a signature smirk on her face. The last time he was this excited was when his last OTP (whatever that meant) finally got together on Grey's Anatomy.

"Yep. The one and only."

"THE Chloe Beale? You mean the heiress to the Beale empire, blue-eyed, redheaded party animal, international sex goddess extraordinaire Chloe Beale?" Fat Amy - aka Fat Patricia aka The Crocodile Huntress no relation to Steve Irwin aka The Rebel aka Beca's current roommate - asks, poking her head inside the room. "I met her once. She had these clear blue eyes which were more magnificent than the ocean, bright flaming red hair which was probably dyed because there's no way Chloe's a soul-less ginger, and she had legs that went on for miles..." The blonde recounts dreamily, "turned out I was just dreaming about this one fanfiction I read. It felt pretty real though. Not that I'm gay, I don't think, but it's Chloe Beale, so..."

Beca and Jesse turn look at each other, then at Amy, mouth half open like a couple of fishes, trying to find a response to that. Both failing spectacularly.

"Yeah," Fat Amy continues, "I have a really overactive imagination sometimes. It's like a gift wrapped in a blessing." She shrugs. "But enough about me guys, what's going on with Chlo Be?"

Jesse immediately turns back to his half sister/only client, "Well she's turning 21 in like 6 weeks or something. So obviously she's having this huge bash and thanks to my awesome connections and managing," Jesse grins, crossing his arms proudly. "And I got you the DJ-ing gig there. You and I are gonna be leaving next week for Vegas."

"Ohh, and be bossed around and bitched at by some spoiled brat, daddy's girl who throws a tantrum everytime she doesn't get what she wants? Oh yeah, definitely. Who wouldn't want that, right? Thanks, but no thanks, Jesse. I actually want to keep my fucking dignity and not cater to the Paris Hiltons of society for the rest of my career," Beca snaps back almost instantly, taking off her earphones and practically slamming her laptop shut.

There was this edge in her voice that neither her friend nor brother had ever heard. Like he had actually insulted her with the notion of spinning for this girl. It left them both stunned speechless.

"Well, I gotta go. I'll see you later," Amy finally breaks the silence, only to leave the room and sudden tension there. If there's one thing she's learned from hours of watching American soap operas to prepare herself for culture shock, it's don't get involved in this kind of drama.

"Beca," Jesse starts slowly, "I don't wanna be the bad guy here but we kind of need this gig. Local gigs only pay so much, plus there's the factor of getting your name out there..I mean I'm trying my best but as fantastic a manager I am, I can only do so much."

"Right, by local gigs you mean a freakin junior prom. I don't care how many favors you owed the principal, who I totally saw you checking out by the way. She's like a million years old, dude," Beca scrunches up her nose at the memory. She did not want a repeat of the last so-called 'gig'.

Making it in this cut-throat business isn't easy, she knows that better than anyone. You have to work your way up from the bottom of the food chain if you want to make it to the top and stay there. But dear God, if she has to stand there and try to work while being pestered by horny boys that want to touch her boobs and mess with her equipment all night again...

"What?" Jesse places a hand on his chest, dramatically feigning hurt. "You always said you never got to go to your Prom…plus you made all those boys' dreams come true when you walked in wearing that-"

"One more word, Swanson," she glares up at him, (half) playfully punching his arm, "One more word."
Jesse laughs lightly and puts both his hands up in defeat.

"Seriously, I'm sorry I snapped at you like that. This mix I'm doing is just not clicking for some reason, but I meant it when I said I'm not gonna do this gig."

"Beca," he says seriously, placing his hands on either side of her shoulders, "Why not? It's fifty thousand dollars, and her people said to my people that we won't even have to pay for our expenses. So it'll pretty much be like a holiday."

The brunette sighs, brushing her fingers through her hair slowly, a sign that meant she's thinking, "First of all, you don't have any people. Secondly, I won't do it because..." she pauses, "Because of reasons, and you work for me, so you have to do what I say."

Then it's the boy's turn to let out a sigh, seemingly letting it go when he nods his head in defeat and leaves her in peace soon after. To be perfectly honest, Beca's a little surprised he doesn't push further, but thanks the forces at play that he does anyway.

But then, of course, he actually doesn't let it go and pesters her every single second of every single minute of every single day for the next week. So much so that even her dad (who's been surprisingly supportive of her decision to drop out of college and get into the music business, possibly too busy with the step-monster to care) has been asking questions as to why she's turning down gigs, and apparently one of her dad's friends knows Chloe's father's business associate and acts as if this is a chance for her to make friends with the redhead or something.

So at around 2am in the morning when she's way too tired to think properly about how she'll be selling herself out or her frustration about this new mix or who would really care about dignity when she could be rolling around in wads of cash anyway, Beca fishes out her phone from the bottom of her bag and texts Jesse one single word: 'fine'

She falls asleep that night convincing herself it's because of Jesse's annoying and relentless pushing, absolutely and certainly not because she's more than curious to see Chloe Beale.