#mel mason

[ceruleanmusings]

btw, i have a public pinterest board for the masons in case anyone wanted to get a better idea of how their lives are shaped / how i see them in my head

[ceruleanmusings]

since @partiallypearl sends me so many song suggestions for the mason girls, i decided to (aka she pushed me to) make playlists for them that would either play in the "background" of scenes, be something that reflects their headspace, or be included on their "tie-in" album that goes along with btr season 1.

fun fact: in my head, they have their own "spin-off" show that focuses on the girls going through life and the growing pains of moving in with their aunt kelly they, at that point, only saw twice a year while the btr stuff goes along concurrently. go figure would be their theme song and escape route would be the credits song for every ep.

fun fact#2: "where i belong" is a song they'd record that features kendall

[ceruleanmusings]

Big Time Audition - Masons

while going through these ep rewrites i couldn't figure out how i wanted to include "big time audition" since the masons don't meet the guys until a few episodes later and this finally hit me! and it also has finally spurred me to re-write the fic depicting them first meeting the guys because, well, frankly I can do it so much better now and make sure each girl's personality stands out a bit more. but, in the meantime, you can see what they were like before the guys changed their lives. (again this is less a rewrite and more a long scene addition but, hey, semantics.)

@witchofinterest @raging-violets @partiallypearl @myloveforhergoeson

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The ping of an email sliding into her inbox set Jazz scrambling off her bed. Finally! Setting aside the half-assembled skateboard deck, trucks, and screws she'd been tinkering with, she landed on the hardwood floor with a heavy thud and grabbed her laptop off her desk. The slam of her fingers on the spacebar cut off the quick lick of a guitar solo slicing through the air. High-stepping over Mel's assorted Nikes scattered on the ground, she approached the pocket door in the nearby wall of her room. Extending her foot, she planted it on the door and slid it open.

It smacked against the interior wall with a heavy thud, revealing Sammi perched on the side of her bed, body curled over her legs where she applied nail-polish to her big toe while bending her head to hold her cell phone in place.

"Jazz!" she shrieked, unfurling from her position. Irritation weighed down her brows as she gazed down at the black line dragging across her toenails. "Do you see what you did! Now i have to start all over!"

"No one's gonna be lookin' at your toes, Sam," Jazz said with a roll of her eyes. "And if they're really getting that close, they have bigger problems."

"You're gonna have big problems! It's taken me two hours to get this design right!" Huffing, Sammi reached over to yank sheets of tissues out a nearby box. "God! if i can't fix this you owe me a new outfit."

"How?"

Sammi uttered a world-weary sigh and spoke slowly. "This design goes with a specific outfit. I can't wear the outfit without the polish and i can't wear the polish without the outfit. It doesn't make sense."

"You don't make sense," Jazz grumbled, resting her laptop on her hip. "Who cares if your toes and your eyebrows match?"

"Just because you dress like Tony Hawk threw up on you doesn't mean everyone wants to walk around looking like a grease stain. Some of us take pride in how we look." Sammi patted her large cloud of curly hair to emphasize her point.

"Yeah, yeah, hope when you swallow that pride you don't choke on it. Blue's not your color—literally." Jazz laughed and danced out of the way of Sammi throwing her large, fluffy pillow at her. "Quit with the dramatics! Look, Aunt Kelly sent us another round of audition videos! From Minnesota this time! —I know." Sammi held the same confused expression on her face Jazz was sure she'd made only a few seconds prior.

Why Aunt Kelly and Uncle Gustavo's last star search stop was in Minnesota of all places, she didn't know. Especially in the middle of winter. Uncle Gustavo didn't do well with the cold. Or people. Or cold people. So this was Hell and Hell freezing over for him at the exact same time. He was not going to be in a good mood.

"Hurry up! I want to see if these people are terrible too."

"Relax, no one can be as bad as Opera Guy," Sammi said with a scoff. "For one, he chose a terrible song for his range. Two, I could have done it better. And three, his shirt was untucked, his tie was too short, and he thought square toed shoes fit this century. He should have called me for help. He would've looked at least half-way presentable, which is the best he could have pulled off."

"Isn't most criticism supposed to come with a compliment somewhere."

"Sure," Sammi said with a shrug. "He'd never be able to afford me."

"Don't break your arm congratulating yourself," Jazz said. "Just hurry up!" Her feet slapped against the ground as she ran out of their connecting rooms, Sammi's phone conversation fading behind her as she jumped down the stairs, slamming to a stop on both landings. Navigating around the corner, she burst through the kitchen and went straight for the connected living room.

A stack of neatly folded blankets sat on the nearby ottoman, the creases so sharp it could cut glass. Just the way their dad liked it. A tray filled with a half empty glass of orange juice, toast two bites away from being finished, a mug with a dredge of dark coffee remaining, scattered silverware, and a balled up napkin balanced on a haphazard scattering of cycling and running magazines on the nearby coffee table.

And Mickey moved about straightening it all: adjusting the dented pillow left on the recliner, tucking the transfer board between the chair and end table, moving the lone navy blue slipper—left foot—to sit just beneath the coffee table, pulled the extended foot rest back in, and rolled up the long cord of the nearby vacuum around her arm.

"Hey." Jazz waved her arm, her voice and movement breaking Mickey out of her productive haze. She paused in the cord rolling, eyebrows lifting in a silent question. Or at least Jazz guessed from her head being pointed in her direction; her long locs hid most of her face. "We got more audition videos from Aunt Kelly. The last stop in Minnesota." Mickey's eyes slowly moved from the tray to the blankets to the recliner and back to the tray. "I'll get Mel so you can finish up," Jazz continued, "But Mick, seriously, Dad's not gonna care if it's not all spic and span by the time they get back."

Her mouth twisted to the side and she was quiet as she placed the wrapped cord around the back of the vacuum. Stepping on the petal that unlocked it, she turned to maneuver it out of the room, stopping only to say, "It matters to me" before passing.

Jazz stepped aside. Mickey preferred to keep everything in the right place to make his life easier. Jazz very much preferred that their dad was still around to have a life.

She made a beeline for the garage, a wall of sound knocking into her once she popped the seal on the door leading off the kitchen. Their dad had made it soundproof the day Mel got her first drum-set for Christmas on year. He re-enforced it every couple of years, for their' mom's sake since she worked most nights he said.

Mel's arms were almost a blur with how fast she hit the drums and symbols in succession. Her shoulders rose and dropped and her body moved along to a groove Jazz couldn't hear, half from the steady drumbeats and half from the large headphones Mel wore over her ears. With a grin, Jazz tiptoed forward until she stood behind Mel, able to see the lines of bright purple weaving into her long, dark braids. It was a recent changeover from her usual cornrows. It made playing goalie in soccer easier without having to fuss about her hair. As captain of the team, she didn't let anything get in her way. Literally.

"Yo!" Jazz snickered when Mel jumped at Jazz's shout after yanking a headphone off her ear. The drumbeat finished off-time due to Mel's flailing. Yanking the other headphone off, Jazz jerked her head backward when Mel whipped around with one drumstick pointed right at her nose. "Easy Jack Sparrow, you'll put an eye out."

"You're mixing up your movies," Mel pointed out, curling in the drumstick to spin it around her fingers. Her chest heaved and Jazz didn't need to check her pulse to know it was high. She swore Mel used drumming as an excuse for exercise as well to keep her skills up. As she liked to point out, you can't have an out-of-shape drummer and Mel needed to work twice as hard to get even some semblance of recognition for her contributions to their school's jam band or percussion section.

"Speaking of movies, we have a new installment of America's Funniest Audition Fails!" Jazz wiggled her laptop around as if displaying a prize on a game show. "Come on!" She started bouncing on her toes. "I want to know if they all sing with those accents."

Mel hummed. "That's assuming they're all able to keep time." That was a sticking point for her from the auditions in Salt Lake City, Philadelphia, and Houston. Most of the auditions, really. That even the well-prepared singers couldn't seem to stay on time with the music they chose. They either rushed or dragged, or worse, changed the arrangement to something so flashy it didn't showcase their voice but rather pointed out the sharp strains, the flat hits, or displayed their flaws rather than their strengths. She went on a rant about each location's auditions for days. (Though that could also be leftover disappointment at not being allowed to audition in D.C., even though they weren't accepting drummers.)

"Well, here's the good part! You can take all the videos of the bad ones, explain why they're so bad, and throw in some of your drum reels and send that to Uncle Gustavo!" Jazz said with a sparkle in her eye, a finger pointed upwards in the air. "All Mom and Dad said was it wasn't a good idea to audition. They never said you couldn't show them your reels by accidentally sending them a link in an email you never meant to send."

Chuckling, Mel grabbed a gray towel with faded Gatorade logos on them and wiped sweat off her brow. "Remind me to hire you as my lawyer."

"Why? They can't get mad at you for that."

"No, but they'll be impressed with how much you can twist their words to fit your needs before they ground you for a month."

Shifting her finger from vertical to horizontal, Jazz wiggled her finger between herself and Mel. "You mean ground us."

Mel laughed and shook her head; her braids swayed as she swung one leg over her stool. "No, I mean you. I'm an innocent bystander."

"Annnd that's exactly where you'll stay if you don't take this chance," Jazz said. Mel's smile immediately dropped to a frown and she scratched at her hairline. "It's an opportunity of a lifetime. You want it bad, so you keep saying, but you're going to let something as small as an email stand in your way? What's that phrase?" She tapped her chin. "Ask for forgiveness rather than permission?"

"Will that still hold up when I shove this down your throat?" Mel asked, waving her drumstick at her.

Jazz grinned, pushing it away. "You know I'm right!"

"No, you're annoying."

"Same thing!"

Laughing, Jazz ran out of the garage, making it to the living room in time for Mel to jump onto her back and the two to slam down to the couch. Jazz managed to move her computer out of the way in time, twisting herself to take the blow of the soft landing. Sammi and Mickey trailed in a few moments later, squeezing themselves onto the couch in their usual order: Sammi on one end, then Mel, Jazz, and Mickey on the other end. Stretching her legs onto the coffee table, crossing the angle with the thin metallic red band over the other, Jazz balanced her laptop on her lap and pressed play on the video.

They laughed, cringed, groaned, and booed through the clipped together reel of auditions. Some people were flat, some were sharp, some didn't even sing, instead choosing to do an interpretive dance about acid rain and a mime act. Unsurprisingly, Gustavo whisked them off the stage fast yelling about how a mime can't have seriously tried to audition for a singing competition. (Plus, he found mimes creepy.)

One girl stood out, someone named Jenny Tinkler, simply because her audition started with her taking in a deep breath and then the shot cut to a firefighter using a fire extinguisher on curtain, some tiles hanging from the ceiling, the recording tilted, a few holes in the wall of the stage, and Jenny running around with security guards chasing after her all the while screaming "But I'm gonna be the next Gwen Stefani!" Kelly could be see in the background, wiping leftover extinguisher

"Whoa," they girls uttered in unison.

"She should come with a warning label," Mel said.

"So should her outfit," Sammi said. "Bows that big only belong on big presents."

"The dog was cute though," Jazz said. They all voiced their agreement as she fast forwarded through the next clips. It was a blur of color, of scuffles, of someone jumping off the stage, of—

"Wait! Go back!" Mel jabbed at a button on the keyboard, sending the reel backward.

"Hey!"

"Just—look!"

She hit another button and the video started playing again. A boy walked on stage wearing audition number 810, wearing a gray sweater and brown pants. He introduced himself as Logan and, instead of singing, started beatboxing.

"Not bad," Mel said after an approving hum.

Gustavo didn't agree by yelling Logan off the stage like everyone else. Mickey made a noise of sympathy at the zoom-in on Logan's shellshocked expression and robotic walk out of the room.

811 was next, a boy in a blue hoodie named Carlos who swung the microphone around until he farted into it, causing Jazz and Mel to crack up and Sammi to utter a sound of disgust.

James was 812, a tall boy with a confident stride and his chin held high. He took his time before he started, looking at his feet, taking a breath, and positioning the swoop in his hair.

"People say I'm the life of the party... 'cause I tell a joke or two..."

"Wow." Sitting next to her, Jazz caught Mickey's soft uttering of awe. And, out the corner of her eye, she watched Mickey sit up straighter and lean closer to the screen.

"Sam?" Jazz appealed.

Sammi nodded once. "He's good," she stated, running a ring along a chain around her neck. And she'd know, she was born with near perfect pitch. Which she loved to remind them about any chance she got. Which Jazz understood, despite how annoying it could get. Any way for them to be different.

"So Minnesota does have some talent," Mel remarked.

Not that Uncle Gustavo agreed with them. Before their very eyes, he started shouting about how the James guy had no talent (Mickry gasped at that) and how he was wasting his time. Then all hell broke loose when some blond guy sporting some impressive eyebrows came into the shot, yelling about Uncle Gustavo not having any talent and then singing about how he was a "giant turd" which started a brawl with security guards.

"Whoa! And I thought people from Minnesota were supposed to be nice!" Jazz said between her laughter which started up again when an older black woman started beating up the security guards with her cane.

"Uncle Gustavo kind of deserved it," Mel said. Sammi nodded in agreement.

"Let's see it again!" Jazz went backward on the clip only to jerk out of the way when Mickey's arm extended past her face, her cell phone in hand. "What the-?" her cry was cut short at the snort she emitted when spotting the deep disapproving frown on Mickey's face. "Oh, this'll be good."

With a sigh and half smile, Mel took thr phone out of Mickey's hand and held it up to her ear. Jazz leaned closer to listen, the buzz on the other end trilling three times until it was picked up.

"Hey Mel," Aunt Kelly greeted her warmly. "Hey girls. What's up?"

"Mickey's mad at you," Mel singsonged.

"How? What did I do?"

"We saw the auditions. Mickey's mad you didn't pick-"

"The hot guy," Jazz cut in.

"The hot guy," Mel repeated, "812."

"That was Gustavo, not me. You know I don't have much of a say."

"Then how do you call yourself a talent scout?"

They didn't need to see her face to know she rolled her eyes. "Look, Gustavo's looking for a certain thing and he didn't have it. So Mickey can be mad at him."

"She is. You should see her face."

"Send it to me. I'll show him."

Snickering, Mel took out her phone to snap a pic of Mickey's still present frown, now with her arms crossed, and quickly sent it over. "For what it's worth, if he went this far and still didn't find someone, that guy may be his best shot."

"Try telling him that."

"We will! We can spam him!"

"Jazz."

"I said spam him. We won't do anything else. This time. We got grounded hard for signing him up for that toupee of the month thing."

"You. You got grounded," Sammi, Mel, and Mickey said in unison.

"Anyway, he seems to have his mind set. I'll try talking to him. He might not want him after being escourted out by security."

"Or, maybe that's the fire he's looking for!" Jazz said. "Just think about it! He'd have a built-in bad boy type!"

"We'll see. I talk to you girls later. I think he's about to yell at the bellhop. I love you. And stay out of trouble."

"We always do," they chorused before saying goodbye and hanging up.

Jazz drummed her fingers on her laptop, a slow smile pushing onto her face.

"Oh no," Sammi groaned at the sight of it.

Mel sighed. "You gonna order something?"

Jazz nodded.

"You gonna send it to Uncle Gustavo?"

Jazz nodded again.

"Are you gonna send a mime to glare at him?"

"Nah," Jazz said, shaking her head. "I could send Mickey to do that for free." She laughed, leaning out of the way of Mickey's attempts to hit her with a pillow.

"Well whatever it is, I'm not going down for it this time," Mel declared. "...Let's go to the library and use their computers. At least that way the IP can't get directly traced back to us."

"Good idea!"

All at once, the girls lept off the couch and raced each other for the front door.

[ceruleanmusings]

Mason - Fashion

eventually i'll do a visual fashion post for the mason girls so i have a place to reference their styles without needing to describe everything they're wearing.

but to keep it short:

Sammi - "classy", sundresses, platforms and heels, skirts, and jumpsuits are her go-tos. if it's cute, great, if it's mint green, even better! has a makeup look, shoes, a bag, jewelry, and nails to match any and every outfit. coat slings for looks rather than actually wearing them. wears mint green, florals, gingham, and houndstooth patterns. has a metallic green cartilage earring.

Jazz - "sassy", lots of cropped shirts, loose tanks, skinny or distressed jeans, muscle shirts, cold-shoulder shirts, so. many. vans, ever-present backwards red cap, short-shorts and high-waisted shorts, knee-high socks, surfer/paradise/skater brands, tends to wear rings. goes for reds, pinks, tans/creams, and black attire. always wears dark red polish. easy makeup, foundation, eyeliner, eyeshadow, mascara, dark red lips, has a metallic red eyebrow piercing.

Mel - "funky", collegiate-meets-sporty, letterman jackets, nikes, collared sleeveless shirts, high-tops, leather jackets and vests, tapered cargoes and split color jeans, lots of band tees or vintage tees, baseball jersey-style shirts and local small business pieces, tends to wear bracelets and anklets. goes for purple, black, white, tan, and gray attire. always wears black polish. easy makeup, foundation eyeliner, eyeshadow, mascara, neutral lips. has a metallic purple lip ring.

Mickey - "fresh", partial to big hoodies and sweatshirts, simple jeans, overalls, doc martens (pre-style evolution, s1 + s2), punny or sarcastic graphic tees and outerwear, 90s pop culture t-shirts, jean jackets, mickey mouse shirts/patterns, hooded shirts, cuffed or skinny jeans, doc martens (post-style evolution, s3 + s4), tends to wear necklaces, mostly bowtie shapes. always wears blue, will occasionally swap in black or gray. no makeup, but if needed then just eyeliner and mascara. occasionally wears black or blue glitter polish. has a metallic blue nose ring.

[ceruleanmusings]

Mason - Band Dynamics

If you ask the Mason quads they'll readily say they're four parts to one whole person. That doesn't come across in a better way than how they handle their band. Each girl has unofficially taken a part of their band to become in charge of and it is because of this, and their sisterhood, they've become one cohesive unit and helped make their band successful.

Sammi - The fashionista of the group, she very quickly made their clothing choices her responsibility. It's not that she doesn't trust her sisters to "get on her level" when it comes to dressing up for appearances, photo-shoots, or engagements (well, sometimes she doesn't), but it's that she knows the weight and the value that comes with using your clothes as a way to express yourself and say something. She's not just looking at them through her own eyes, she's looking at them through the eyes of the world. They're an anomaly: a black all-female pop-punk/rock band made up of quadruplet sisters. They're going to get noticed, people will talk, and people will compare. She'd never give anyone else the chance to say something for her and for them.

So she makes sure their looks, while individual, are also cohesive and helps each sister shine. She knows Mel tends to wear something sleeveless or short due to how hot she gets on stage from the ferocity of her drumming, anything restrictive will in turn make her feel restricted and caged in; she knows that Mickey is more comfortable covered up and sans makeup, and the more comfortable she is, the more confident she feels; Jazz is the easiest to get her to try new pieces and makeup styles, her easy-breezy nature helps her carry her choices well. But Sammi, she wants to look her best at all times; for a while she wore wigs instead of her natural hair but she sheds that quickly once Mason starts to pickup steam from being BTR's backing band because she wants the world to see her, big, curly, natural hair and all. Not to prove a point to anyone else but to let them know she's worth it, and she's a person, and she will take up space, her space, in the world. Clothing, makeup, and fashion are her armor and she'll always go into battle prepared.

Jazz - She's the "vision" of the group. She's the one who comes up with the concepts for their music videos and their staging. Much like Sammi, the visual element is where she shines and she has a way of tying together the lyrics that Mel wrote to a story that plays in her head for their songs. She has great instinct when it comes to pushing forward a certain feeling or a certain story for their videos, to the point she may as well end up directing them herself (they end up recruiting Stephanie King to direct most of them because she's the only one they know who understands their vision. Yes it's a gamble, but it saves Griffin money so he doesn't care that much.) Her sisters trust she always has their interests in mind and will make sure any lighting, makeup, and blocking will be available to make them standout and shine.

This carries over to their staging as well. When playing for Big Time Rush, they're placed up on risers, usually split two and two (Jazz and Mel stage right, Mickey and Sammi stage left). Jazz makes sure for Mason's live shows they each get their own space and spotlight. Sammi is always to her left, Mickey to her right, Mel behind her. She is very hands on with making choices for risers, elevators, lighting, explosions, confetti, streamers, videography, and visuals. Hell, she's the first to come up with the idea of incorporating the flooring into their stage so the people in seats further back can have a great view with their stage lighting up. (ex: any time they walk around their stage, colored footsteps follow behind them.) With Sammi's penchant for Kpop, Jazz knows all about people having "biases" so she comes up with the idea for every video they make, every concert tour they release there's an "all band"viewing option and a specific mason girl option. Not to mention each individual girl's solo they throw into a set to give the others a break mid-show. While some would think it would create competition, she leans into it to make sure they all get great angles and clips showcasing their talents. If people want her to be the leader so badly, she'll make sure to lead them into taking them as the unit they are.

Mel - The literal heartbeat of the band, the band would not exist if not for her love, drive, and passion for music. If she hadn't believed in herself as much as she did, her sisters wouldn't have jointed in to help make her dreams of being a drummer a success. Once she believes it, it will happen. She made the band happen, it is her to her core. She eats, sleeps, breathes music. With her trained ear, she can catch rhythms in any sort of mundane noise and can easily call out someone being even the slightest bit sharp or flat when they're singing or playing an instrument. To her, music is a way to communicate with the world so why not say the exact thing you want to say the right way?

Out of all of the girls, she's the one who practically lives at Rocque Records. She involves herself in every part of the production of their albums and songs, learning from the songwriters, producers, and engineers that Griffin brings in. Because of this, she's the one that Gustavo openly likes the most because she is sincere in learning from him and his methods (even if she fights back against his ego.) She is the lyricist and songwriter of the band. Her songwriting process comes from writing down various phrases and words she hears and tend to stick with her. From there she builds a story around an emotion the word or phrase brings while also tapping into experiences from herself and her friends. The music, tempo, and rhythm comes next, as she tests chopping, elongating, stretching, and sounding out the word or the phrase. After that the song falls into place in a way none of her sisters or herself can explain, like someone else guides her hand. The stories and emotions she talks about comes from a real and vulnerable place that connects well with their audience, almost like giving them access to a diary. She would never write or release something her sisters don't approve of or are uncomfortable talking about but they trust her instincts and don't dare to stifle her creativity. Studious, pedant, and articulate, she's very aware what the power her words can hold, keeping that in mind while using lyrics to voice her opinions and thoughts on the world.

Mickey - She's in charge of the social media and fan interactions. A big fan of boybands, she understands just what the connection between the artist and the entertainer can mean to the average fan. Having experienced certain meet and greet setups herself, she never liked the quick "hi and bye" set ups against a random wall. It felt too impersonal and if people are shelling out money to see them it should be worth their while. She's pushed for their meet and greets to be more personal, having a group get togerher to talk, laugh, sing some songs, tell stories, and do a q+a. She also thinks up and creates each goody bag the meet and greet and VIP fans walk away with. Concerts should be memorable and she works hard to ensure everyone leaves having the best time of their lives.

When it comes to social media they each have their own but she mostly runs their group account. Of course they could hire someone to handle it but she likes having the direct oversight of the message they want to send. Most of their posts, stories, and pics are curated to show them their true, dorky, silly, selves and prove that they are, in fact, just like everyone else. They have to be "on" in a lot of spaces but around their fans she feels they'll connect better when they're just existing. Because of this, she's aware that people who look like them, POC, and other minorities, don't get as many chances as others do for exclusive events and experiences so she makes sure those that may be pushed out or unseen or underprivileged get their chance. It's important to her that they can see themselves on stage and think "I can do that too!"

Bonus Fun facts:

Sammi is the only one with proper vocal training.

Their influences are Blink 182, Joan Jett, Pat Benatar, Green Day, Jimmy Eat World, Whitney Houston, Tracy Chapman, Pink, Alanis Morissette, TLC, and Phil Collins.

While not looking to go solo, they each take lead on a song in their discography that best showcases their voices:

Sammi: Ballads / AC. With Sammi's rich voice and soulful vocals, she handles their sweeping ballads.

Mickey: Pop / AC. Mickey's honest yet haunting voice allows her to bring the heavy emotion to their slower and stripped songs while pumping fun into their pop songs.

Jazz: Rock / Nu-metal. Her natural rasp lends a hand to Jazz bringing soaring vocals to their heavier songs and throw a level of sass and defiance to their strong, empowered lyrics.

Mel: Alternative / Post-Grunge. Golden and agile, Mel's voice gives her the space to try different tempos and textures for their songs that are a little off the beaten path.

Their solos during live shows are covers. They each chose the band/singer, time period, or genre to best show off their voices and interests:

Jazz: A Day to Remember, New Found Glory, Yellowcard, Hoobastank

Mickey: 80s or 90s pop/rock

Mel: Phil Collins, Genesis, Slipknot, Thrice

Sammi: Whitney Houston, Celine Dion, Diana Ross, Donna Summer.

The song that got them signed to Rocque Records was a cover of Don't Stop Believing.

Their individual logos and themes are centered around card suits. Jazz is the heart, Mickey is the spade, Mel is the clubs, and Sammi is the diamond.

Jazz's guitar influences are Van Halen and Brian May.

Mickey was so nervous to present a song she wrote (TMI) that she had to sing it to a wall.

Their favorite song off their debut album:

Jazz: Shake the Ground or Opinion Overload

Mickey: Try or TMI

Mel: Escape Route

Sammi: You Don't Love Me Like You Should

Their album titles have a color theme:

Debut: Technicolor

Sophomore: Chromatic

Followup: Spectrum

"You Don't Love Me Like You Should" is their debut single and debuts at #1 on the Hot 100 chart.

Occasionally they replace the "o" in their Mason band name graphic with a star; each point represents them and the extra point is to include their aunt, Kelly, because she is their biggest supporter.

Even though they can get separate hotel rooms on tour, they always choose one with a king-sized bed so they can have sleepovers every night.

Their promo song, Hit Like a Girl, is the main theme for the New Town High movie.

Mel is an amateur photographer; she takes a series of discrete candid photo at every show. By the end of tour, she makes "yearbooks" for the crew.

They had a guest appearance on New Town High where they played sirens. They performed Sweet Melody. On tour, they add a rock version of Sweet Melody to their setlist.

@partiallypearl @raging-violets @witchofinterest

[ceruleanmusings]

Big Time Reality - Big Time Rush & Mason

this is a rewrite in the true sense that i'd re-write the ending of the episode to fit a different plot since the masons are included. it involves the palm woods potentially getting bad press for a "murder" that takes place on reality cameras that forces the reality show to shut down. anyway, here's the scene that leads to that plan!

@partiallypearl @raging-violets @witchofinterest

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The door swung open with so much force it slammed against the trashcan on the other side. The clamor elicited a loud shriek from Carlos, catapulting him off the floor and into James’ arms. James caught him in midair, holding onto his friend with little effort as if he weighed the same as a sack of feathers. All their heads swiveled to Mickey’s still form. The door eased shut behind her, contrasting the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the red tinge to her cheeks, the malice in her eyes, and the sparks dripping from her nose.

“Where…is he?” she demanded, her question coming out as a guttural growl. Everyone’s eyes widened, her question hanging in the following silence. It broke at the low pop sound coming from Jazz’s mouth as she pulled out the lollipop she’d been sucking on. A smirk of approval sat on her lips as she surveyed her sister.

“…I think this is the most I’ve ever heard her talk,” Kendall said, words tinged in awe. Jazz laughed at him taking a step back when a growl sounded in Mickey’s chest. He couldn’t go far, not with Logan near him and the paper towel dispenser hanging on the wall.

“I…have no idea if I should be terrified or intrigued right now,” Logan commented, inching his way behind Kendall.

“I’m both,” James and Carlos said in unison. They both flinched when Mickey’s arm shot up, her finger jabbing in their direction, eyes wide and wild.

“Don’t! You two are the reason we’re in this mess!” Her finger alternated between pointing at James’ face and Carlos’s face so fast she could have created a draft. “You and your stupid fighting!”

“Calm down, Mick,” Jazz said, crossing her arms. “They’re just as innocent as you are.”

“Calm down? Calm down? Do you know what Snake did? Besides mess up my reputation?”

“What?”

“He ruined my vanilla beans!”

Jazz closed her eyes in a slow blink. “…Come again?”

“My vanilla beans!” Mickey’s voice bounced around the tight quarters of the women’s bathroom. “I was going to make a dessert after recording today and, lo and behold, what do I find? An empty jar and my beans burnt to a crisp in the kitchen.”

“Relax,” Sammi said. She sat atop the counter, leaning back against the mirror, one glossy leg crossed over the other. The buffing scrape of her nailfile against her mint green acrylics sawed into the space between their words. “They’re just vanilla beans.”

“No, they’re not! They’re Tahitian vanilla beans!”

Sammi’s eyes flicked upwards, nose wrinkling. “…Does that make them warmer or something?”

Mickey’s heaving breath could’ve knocked down one of the Three Little Pigs’ houses. “No. They’re the most expensive vanilla beans in the world and I was saving them to use for a special dessert.”

“How expensive are these beans?” Mel asked. She twirled a drumstick around her fingers as she spoke, elbows resting on the counter behind her. Her relaxed posture made her appear as if she were having a normal conversation by the watercooler rather than them all being stuffed in the women’s bathroom at Rocque Records.

Mickey’s eyes turned to the ceiling as she began to rock back and forth on her feet. “Like, $400.”

Kendall, Logan, and Carlos appeared indifferent compared to Sammi, Mel, and Jazz who all spluttered, “You spent four hundered dollars on beans!?” James, on the other hand, looked offended, as if they’d pushed their incredulous outburst in his direction.

“…They’re Tahitian!” Mickey repeated, as if more emphasis would help them understand.

“That’s still stupid!” Jazz said back, wiggling her lollipop in Mickey’s direction.

“Oh that’s not that bad,” Kendall cut in. “James once called emergency services because he ran out of hairspray.”

“Hey!” James’ exclamation was almost drowned out by Carlo’s yelp at falling to the floor when James let him go. James didn’t bother looking at him as he continued, “That was my good hairspray.”

“It was $50 for a 5oz bottle,” Logan supplied.

Mel wheeled around to look at James, her braids whipping around her head like the ribbons on a maypole. “Seriously?” she asked, deadpan, eyelids drooping.

“The price means it’s worth it!” Mickey and James all but shouted in unison, simultaneously throwing their arms in the air and rolling their eyes.

“How’d you know it was Snake?” Logan asked Mickey.

“It had to be him! Earlier, Snake and his camera crew popped out of nowhere giving me a note from ‘Carlos’ suggesting that he was ‘jealous’ that I played foosball with James and was ‘making eyes at him’.” Her finger quotes could’ve clawed holes in reality with the ferocity behind the gesture.

“You kind of were,” James said.

“No I wasn’t,” Mickey replied. James lifted his hand, holding his finger and thumb a few inches apart while mouthing “little bit”. She closed her eyes in a slow blink, pushing a few fingers against the side of her head. “Look, it’s one thing to mess with me. I can take that, but you don’t mess with my friends, you don’t mess with my family, and you don’t mess with my food!”

“Regardless of that insanity”—Sammi used her nailfile to motion in Mickey’s and James’ direction—“they have a point. This Snake guy is barkin’ up the wrong tree. He tried to mess with my relationship and I don’t play that.”

“Yeah, that’s why we’re here. For your help,” Kendall said.

“Wait. Kendall Knight doesn’t have a plan?” Mel asked.

Kendall shoveled a hand through his hair. “I’m all out of ideas. And if we don’t do something soon, the whole world is going to get a shot of my butt!”

“Ooh, that’s gotta suck.”

“Thank you!”

“I mean I’d be embarrassed too if that was shown.” Mel gestured at him with her drumstrick. “It’s flat as a pancake.”

“What?” Kendall recoiled, face swiftly switching between bewilderment to offense. Exchanging quick looks, Sammi, Mickey, and Jazz all leaned over, head tilting to look past Kendall. Holding his arms behind him, he backed up against the wall, cheeks blazing. “Not the point! Katie hasn’t come up with anything either so you’re our last hope.”

“Hmm. I’m almost insulted,” Jazz said. She slowly pulled the bright red lollipop out of her mouth and spun it between her fingers. Her lips pursed, red and shiny, as her wrist fell limp, tilting her lollipop backwards. “They’re just going to keep filming everything right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, why don’t you just give them something to film?”

“Look, I’m getting really tired of fighting with James all the time,” Carlos whined. They whipped around to see Carlos lounging on the couch by the door, hands clasped beneath his helmet. “My bruises are getting bruises.”

“Yeah, and my lips are getting really chapped,” Logan added, rubbing his fingers against his mouth. Sammi dug into the pocket on her romper and handed over a stick of lipbalm.

“I don’t mean that.” Jazz waved away their concerns. “If they want to film something good, make sure they film something good. But I mean something bigger.” A spark caught in her eye and she briefly bit down on her tongue out the side of her mouth. “Something that will put their name in the headlines, but maybe not for the most ethical reasons.”

“I’m not showing them the front,” Kendall insisted, eyebrows furrowing.

“We want them to change their minds, not be scarred for life,” Mel said. Kendall shot her a look and she wiggled her eyebrows.

“No one has to drop trou…any more than you already have, anyway,” Jazz said to him. “But we will need to get a little sneaky. Sam.” Sammi lifted her head, the large hoops in her ears swinging beneath her nestle of curls. “Do you have any makeup on you?”

Sammi placed a hand to her chest, affronted. “Of course! You can’t leave home without your makeup!”

“Great. I need you to get in touch with Camille. Tell her we need some of her prosthetics.” Sammi nodded. “Mel. How about you? Still got those frequency jammers?”

“I think so. Should be with my other surveillance stuff.”

“Great. Call Katie, we’re gonna need her to wiggle into some tight spaces. Mick, what about that fake blood recipe?”

Mickey shrugged. “I can whip up as much as you need.”

“Can you do enough to make it look like a crime scene?” Jazz asked, grin getting bigger if possible.

“You got it. But I will need some help carrying the pots.”

“Well, you got two boyfriends now, just put them to work,” Sammi said with a teasing grin,

Mickey glared. “Still not funny.”

“As for you,” Jazz said, addressing the boys, “for now just keep doing what you’re doing. We don’t want Snake thinking anything’s up. We’ll let you know when we’re moving onto part two of the plan.”

“We don’t get to know anything else?” James asked.

Sucking air in through her teeth, Jazz reached out and slapped her hand down on James’ shoulder, giving it a little shake. “You just stay pretty and leave the rest to us. The less you know, the better.”

“And yet he doesn’t know much and things aren’t that much better,” Logan commented.

“Don’t make me punch you!” James threatened.

“Save that energy for the cameras, Diamond. We still need to put on a good show.” Jazz tossed her lollipop into the trashcan and let out a long sigh. “All this goes to show, never let a man do a woman’s job.”

[ceruleanmusings]

Big Time Secrets - Lucy & Mason

going a little bit different with this one. the guys are involved peripherally but i wanted to give a better insight to their relationship with one of the girls on the show.

@partiallypearl @raging-violets

---------

Big Time Rush’s and Camille’s shouting faded down the hallway once they streamed out of Lucy’s apartment. Lucy and the Mason girls stared at the open doorway; bewilderment written all over their faces. Save for Jazz, who snickered while pulling the bowl of popcorn onto her lap.

“So…you knew they were figure skating the whole time?” Lucy asked, head slowly turning to face the giddy girl.

Jazz snorted, stuffing popcorn into her mouth. “Of course I knew.” She tossed a piece into the air and caught it with a triumphant smile.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Because of you, I had to deal with an axe-wielding maniac all day!”

“Because Knight asked me not to and I prefer that my boyfriend can trust me.” She tossed more popcorn into her mouth. A second later an explosion of popcorn flew around the room due to the pillow Lucy threw at her knocking the bowl out her hands. Unperturbed, Jazz’s smirk, if possible, got wider.

“I don’t see what’s so funny about it! They ruined my choreography!” Sammi said with a huff. Perched on the arm of the couch, she crossed her arms, thin bangles slid down to mid forearm. “Do you know how many hours I wasted for that showing? Camille at least kept her lines clean but Kendall; I swear, he forgot everything I taught him! I can’t put my name on that! No ma’am! Samantha Mason Does. Not. Lose!” The bangles on her arms and the hoops in her ears shook with the force of her ensuing clapping.

“And you thought Logan was bad?” Jazz asked, giving Sammi a look. Jerking her thumb in Sammi’s direction, she added, “Try having to deal with that every day for the last two weeks.” It all came out afterward that Sammi had Kendall and Camille’s skating instructor. While she was more adept at roller skating, she had figure skating for a few years in her youth before switching over. James, Logan, and Carlos didn’t take it too well when learning that both Sammi and Jazz kept the secret from them, yelling about breaking a “No Secrets Between Friend Groups” code.

Jazz threatened to break something of theirs in return and it wasn’t related to a code.

“Besides, this is kind of your fault,” Mel pointed out from where she was tucked in the corner of the couch. She dug her elbow into Sammi’s leg only to flinch when Sammi reached out and flicked her behind the ear.

“How’s this my fault?” Lucy asked.

“If you hadn’t brought up that game of secrets in the first place none of this would’ve happened,” she said. “Then I wouldn’t have had to deal with Gustavo and Aunt Kelly, the cookie monsters. Emphasis on monsters.” She patted her arms as she spoke, plumes of flour bursting and curling into the air. “We could’ve been writing The Guys’ last song but noooo, they needed to get more of those cookies. I was in the zone, too.”

“You really should’ve seen that coming though,” Sammi said from where she sat poised on the arm of the couch, one leg over the other, ankles crossed. “Remember Christmas ’00?” At Lucy’s raised eyebrow she explained, “She straight up stepped on Jazz and knocked Mel into a chair to get first dibs for our Christmas cookie swap.”

“Yeahhh, I got my first set of stitches that year,” Mel said, lifting the hem of her jeans. A crescent-moon like scar webbed around the curve of her kneecap. “Who knew a Barcalounger had so many sharp parts. I think Jazz still has her shoe print on her back, too.”

“Wow. And I thought the guys were crazy,” Lucy muttered beneath her breath, tucking her hair behind her ear. Then she shrugged in nonchalance. “But the cookie insanity thing wasn’t my fault. Besides, why didn’t you just ask Mickey to make them? It would’ve saved you the time.”

“Because she was busy going to camp,” Mel said. With a swing of her head, she turned an accusatory glance the silent sister’s way.

Sitting on the floor, Mickey’s head bent over a popsicle stick bird house. But with a tall ceiling and thin walls, it resembled more a little pavilion than a bird house. Silence stretching, she slowly looked up only to jump at the four pairs of eyes set on her. “What?” she asked.

“Well, unlike the rest of us, sounds like you had a fun day,” Lucy said.

Frowning, Mickey eyed the gleam in her eye. “It was okay.”

“Easy for you to say when you roasted marshmallows and had sack races and did arts and crafts,” Jazz said. She idly pulled a kernel out of her thick hair and popped it into her mouth.

“All you did all day was sit back and watch all this blow up. With popcorn,” Mickey pointed out.

“But I didn’t get marshmallows out of it.” Pressing her finger into Mickey’s forehead, she pushed her sister’s head backward with a poke. “Besides, you and James looked awfully cozy cuddled up on the floor.”

Lucy, Sammi, and Mel reacted all at once: “What!?” “Excuse me?” “Say what?”

“Back up.” Sammi held her hand in the air, as if pressing a large pause button. “I need context.”

Huffing, Mickey relayed the story: how James talked her into making gourmet corn dogs for an apology to Carlos, how he talked her into pretending to be Heather Fox’s agent on the phone to figure out where she was in town, and how he talked her into helping him and Carlos turn the Palm Woods into Camp Wonky Donkey and to play games with them in an effort to get Carlos and his camp crush back together. All because she had to abide by the “Don’t Break Carlos” Heart’ code.

Mel shook her head. “That’s crazy.”

“I know,” Mickey said.

“No, I meant that they went to a camp that’s actually named Camp Wonky Donkey,” Mel said with a snort. “Was Camp Lame taken?” She and Jazz snickered, reaching over the table to slap a high five.

“Anyway, in the end Heather ended up writing a note to tell James she liked him and not Carlos which was…eh.” She made a face and waved her hand, batting away the thought and the returning annoyance of reliving witnessing the moment. “And then Lucy ran up and you know what happened.”

“Which reminds me…” Lucy’s words stretched out as a sly smile came to her face. “You never told us what your secret is.”

Mickey blinked. “Huh?”

“Everyone’s been spilling or keeping or trying to crack secrets all day. The ice skating, the cookies, the camp thing, sneaking around. You’re the only one who hasn’t said anything. So out with it.” Leaning forward, she sat nearly nose to nose with Mickey while wiggling her eyebrows. “What’s your secret?”

“I don’t…” Mickey gulped, forcing the lump in her throat down. “I don’t have one.” How did this suddenly become about her? She’d been doing nothing but minding her own business.

Leaning back, Lucy rolled her eyes. “Everybody has one.”

“What’s yours?” Mickey asked, irritating sparking inside her. That felt too familiar.

Lucy laughed. “Oh, I don’t keep secrets. There’s no point. Besides, everything you need to know about me you’ll find in my music.” Her head tilted to the music equipment spread around the room, from the piano, to the various microphones, to the range of acoustic and electric guitars leaning against one another.

“That’s a bit of a cop out don’t you think?”

“Don’t change the subject. C’mon, Mick, what’s your secret?”

Thundering footsteps and thumps on the wall grew. Mickey sighed. Saved by the bell! Shouts and grunts accompanied the rolling thunder, with a loud whooping leading the way. One wouldn’t be wrong for assuming a train had somehow made its way through the halls of the Palm Woods but it, in fact, was just the boys and Camille running along the floor for another lap chasing Carlos around. They looked worse for wear this time around, with Logan having to carry Kendall along on his back instead of letting him hop around on his foot. He used one of his crutches as an extension to poke at Carlos. James looked as if he’d been through a shredder, his clothes hanging off him in tatters, and Camille came up last, dragging her leg behind her with her once free hand stuffed in a vase.

Lucy pointed at the empty doorway. “How…?”

“It’s best not to ask,” Sammi said with a wave of her hand. “You’ll never get a good answer.” Releasing a long sigh, she slapped her hands on her knees and got off the couch. “Let’s go help them.”

“Why?” Jazz and Mel wore identical confused expressions, noses wrinkled. Mickey suspected half of it was due to, for once, not being involved in their issues and the other half was due to Sammi being the one to suggest helping them. She tended to stay away from their “white boy shenanigans” as much as possible. Unless she found a way to get something out of it, anyway.

“Yeah, I really don’t want to be dragged into anything else today,” Lucy added.

“You can’t be dragged into something you set in motion. And it’s the ‘I Will Take Responsibility for My Actions’ code,” Sammi shot back.

“Oh my gooodddd!” Lucy’s head tilted back at her exasperated exclamation. “Fine! But after this, I’m making my own code. It’s the ‘No One Makes Binding Codes Ever Again’ code!”

“Orrrr!” Jazz popped out of the chair, eyes lighting. “We can make a bet with Mr. Bitters that he’s the one who has to clean up everything they destroy.”

“I like that one better,” Mel said with a wicked grin.

Their bundle of friends moved past the door again, this time with Carlos struggling to run with Camille grabbing his ankle and James holding him in a headlock. Logan, now running much slower and panting, pulled up the rear with Kendall still on his back. Sammi, Mel, and Jazz hurried out the room after them. Mickey started to follow but Lucy stopped her, standing in the doorway.

“You don’t exactly like me, do you?” Lucy crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side, scrutinizing Mickey through squinted eyes. “That’s your secret, right?”

Figures Lucy wouldn’t let her off the hook. Still, the accusation had her heart drop and all the saliva get sucked out her mouth. Her eyes darted around, looking for an exit, but Lucy had her cornered on her own turf. “It’s not…that. Well, not exactly…” She fiddled with the hem of her bright yellow Camp Wonky Donkey t-shirt.

“Thennnn what?” An elongated squeaking sound came out of Mickey’s mouth as she struggled to find the words. Lucy, despite looking amused, rolled her eyes. “Don’t act all innocent now. I can handle it.”

She probably could. Very little seemed to faze her and maybe that was the problem. That her choices and actions didn’t seem to bother her, no matter how much they messed with someone else. Did she not care? Mickey looked just past Lucy’s head when she spoke, voice quiet but firm, “I don’t particularly like that you mess with my friends’ feelings.” Lucy moved to reply but Mickey kept on, her words building atop of one another, nearly colliding in her haste. “None of this would’ve gone on if you didn’t purposely bring up a game that would cause…this.” She gesticulated wildly around the room.

“I didn’t know it would cause this.” Lucy mimicked her gesticulation. “Trust me. You didn’t deal with Logan. No one would willingly want to.”

“It’s the guys,” Mickey said, exasperated, as if the two words held all the explanation in the world. (Which they did.) “They can’t play a video game without getting into some sort of death match. Getting them to spill secrets about the horrible things they’ve done to one another? That’s not opening a can of worms, that’s throwing a grenade on it. And you pulled the pin.”

“It was just a game.”

“It’s…it’s not fair to others to have them messed with for the sake of someone else’s entertainment. Feelings aren’t a game.” Not to me.

The longer Lucy stared at her, the more Mickey’s skin prickled and itched. Right when she felt ready to jump out of it, or form some sort of apology for something she probably didn’t need to apologize for, Lucy slowly nodded her head. “Alright. Fine. I get it. You may have a point. For the record, I was just—”

“Trying to make things interesting?” Mickey asked wryly.

“No. well, yeah, but no. I was just…trying to make…friends? Small talk and all that stuff…” She made a retching noise and Mickey nodded. Boy, did she understand that. She and small talk were mortal enemies. The accompanying awkwardness could kick rocks as well. “I’m still new and the guys are…well, the guys. And Camille’s great but kind of…all over the place? So I thought if we could get to, well, the good stuff first it’d make being new…easier.” Mickey stared. Lucy Stone was…unsure? She’d come in with such an aura around her, shaking up the guys’ worlds so bad, it was hard to grasp that even she had been worried about something as normal as making new friends. Mickey bit her lip. Maybe she’d been too hard on her? With a loose shrug, Lucy went to leave only to stop and lean back in the doorway. “Oh, and don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me!”

Even with the smile Lucy flashed at her, Mickey’s stomach turned at the following wink.

That secret was easy to keep and, maybe it wouldn’t be true after some time.

But if Lucy ever found out her real one, the one she was just coming to grips that existed, she wasn’t so sure that one could be kept quiet.

[ceruleanmusings]

Big Time Blogger - Big Time Rush & Mason

while this wasn't my favorite ep of the first season i still like how it highlights the leaps the boys' logic gets to sometimes so it was easy to write the mason's into this. i think i'll post BTRides next. i'm really quickly catching up to all my pre-written stuff.

@partiallypearl @raging-violets @witchofinterest

-------

“Hey guys…why are you hanging out with a garbage can?” Jazz asked, jerking her thumb in its direction. Behind her, her sisters exchanged confused glances as the boys in question all spoke over each other, mumbling something about air ducts, wifi cables, and biscuits.

“Better question!” Kendall’s pointer finger jerked into the air, accompanying the wide-eyed look he shot the guys. It made them all stop talking at once, clasping their hands together in front of them. “Why is Sammi carrying a tray of waffles?”

Mickey and Sammi glanced at each other and then at Kendall, Mickey with an unamused expression on her face to go along with Sammi’s huff and eye roll. “That’s Mickey,” Sammi corrected him, pointing over to her. Kendall let out a small chuckle, an apologetic smile popping a dimple into his cheek. Mickey, in turn, picked up a waffle and tossed it at him. It bounced harmlessly off his chest. “And Uncle Gustavo posted a Scuttlebutt about not liking Belgium.” They stared at her, expressions blank. Heaving a sigh, accompanied with a roll of her eyes, she continued. “The media thinks he hates Belgium so he tried to post another Scuttlebutt with a picture of him with waffles but they weren’t Belgian waffles so he asked—”

“—Yelled at—” Jazz cut in.

“—yelled at her to make Belgian waffles. The studio’s kitchen is too small, so we made a bet with Bitters to use the Palm Wood’s kitchen to make them.”

“According to Katie he’s been making bets all day,” Mel added.

“What’d you bet?” Logan asked.

Jazz shrugged. “That I could guess the number he was thinking between one and ten.”

“What was he thinking?” Carlos asked.

“Seven, duh!” Mel and Jazz said in unison, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

“You always go with seven,” Mel added.

The boys nodded and made noises of agreement. It was cut short with Carlos’ loud and prolonged “Mmmm!” causing them all to look at him. His dimpled smile quickly vanished, and his chewing stopped when he noticed them all looking at him. Clutched in his hands was a half-eaten waffle.

“Please tell me you didn’t pick that off the ground,” Logan said, eyes closing in pained dawning.

“Yeah! And it’s so good!” Carlos gushed. He took another large bite of the waffle, his eyes rolling in his head. Mickey’s face lit up and she bounced on her toes, the stacks of waffles wobbling slightly. “Oh my god! Can you make these for us?”

“Wait, I want to try one,” James said. He reached out for the one in Carlos’s hand only to jump and pout when Carlos slapped his hand away. Undeterred, he shrugged and turned to Mickey, reaching out for the stacks she carried. She, too, reached out and slapped his hand away, making him rub the back of his hand and pout even more. “I can’t handle anyone else being mean to me today.”

“You might want to stop rolling around with a garbage can, then,” Mel said. “Y’all’re weird but this is even weird for you.”

“We just…didn’t want to have to carry our towels and sunglasses and flip flops to the pool,” Kendall said with a wave of his hand. When the blue container started to rock from side to side, he rested his elbow on it and his chin upon his fist. “The sunscreen’s not great under pressure.”

Mel squinted. “Since when do you pale-ass boys wear sunscreen?”

“…Since we’re worried about…wrinkling.”

“Uh-huh.” Mel crossed her arms over her chest; her tongue poked at her cheek. “I’d believe that if he said it,” she said, lifting her chin in James’ direction.

“And why are you all dressed like…that?” Sammi didn’t bother to hide the disgust in her face or in her voice as she took a step away, as if their fashion choices were going to come to life and attack her. “Did your closets spit up on you?”

“Hey, I think we look good!” James protested.

“You do.” All their eyes swung over to Mickey whose own eyes, wide and round, bounced from face to face before pointing downward as she swayed from side to side, the tip of one doc marten digging and twisting at the concrete around the Palm Woods pool.

James grinned, standing up taller and grasping the lapels of his leather sports-coat. “Thanks for noticing," he said with a wink.

“Did anyone else notice there aren’t any airholes in here?”

The girls all jumped back at the voice, huddling together. Mickey pushed Jazz forward by a shoulder, earning a glare from her older sister. Huffing, Jazz shuffled back to the trash can and gave it a swift kick, jumping back again when a sound of pain came from it.

“Okay, start talking!” Jazz demanded.

The boys all spoke at once, talking over one another as they explained how Deke was going to write a blog post about spending the day with them, how it would make or break their careers, and how they needed a good endorsement for their album coming out. By the time they finished talking the girls looked as if they’d just been told clouds were made of spaghetti.

“You locked him in a closet!?” Jazz asked, incredulous cracking her voice.

“I’m stuck on chasing him through the air ducts,” Mel said, dragging a hand down her face.

“It’s the trash can for me,” Sammi said, pressing a finger to her temple.

“Look! We can’t let him out or anywhere near wifi or he’ll put the blog post online or we’re done! We got desperate!” Carlos cried out. Little bits of chewed up food fell out of his mouth, landing in a wet heap by his feet.

“You’re way past desperate, honey.”

“Can you guys help us out?” Kendall asked.

Sammi scoffed. “So we can get more than you for aiding and abetting?” Shaking her head, her curls bounced from side-to-side. “Nuh-uh, no way! I aint goin’ down like that.” She crossed her arms and muttered “white boy nonsense” beneath her breath.

“Just think, you’d be the prettiest one in jail,” Jazz commented.

Sammi scoffed, fluffing her hair. “I’m the prettiest one in general, but thanks.”

“I guess we’re your ugly stepsisters then?”

Sammi blinked. “We’re not stepsisters.”

“Well!”

“Guys! Focus!” Mel said, waving her hands. “Okay, let’s get the guy out of the trash can and—”

“No!” the guys all yelled.

“At least let us try to talk to him! We’ll tell him how you guys are just…anxious getting your music out and how you just want all your efforts to be worth it,” Jazz said. “You just want everything to go perfectly and…for the world to see what you’re capable of and how much you put your hearts into it.”

“I think that’s the first honest thing I’ve heard any of you say!” Deke’s muffled voice seeped through the thick blue plastic.

Kendall spared the garbage can a glance. “And if that doesn’t work?” he asked.

Jazz hummed, looking around, until her eyes zeroed in on the tray in Mickey’s hands. “Well…we can bribe him with waffles.”

“…Waffles?” Deke repeated, curiosity seeping into his voice.

“Yeah!” Jazz leaned over the garbage can, speaking directly to the lid. “We’ll let you out and give you a waffle as long as you promise not to take off. Got it?”

“…Got it.”

“Okay, let him out.”

Mouth twisting to the side, Kendall unlocked the latch on the garbage can. The lid flung open in a smooth arc and out popped Deke, cheeks red, hair mussed, and a deep frown on his face. He cast a suspicious look around at all of them and uttered, “Okay, where’s my waffle?”

Jazz grabbed one off the top of the pile and all but shoved it into Deke’s mouth. He took a large bite and chewed then he shrugged. “Eh…I’ve had better.”

The corner of Mickey’s lips twitched upwards, mimicking the twitch in one of her eyes. Her fingers gripped the tray, her tan skin turning a light beige in at the efforts. With one hand, she removed the plate from the tray and held it out to Sammi, completing the smooth motion without once taking her eyes off Deke. Her chest puffed up with the force of her inhale and she let it out slowly, her smile then turning eerily pleasant. And the smile, still so pleasant, remained on her face as she reared her arms back and charged forward.

“No no no no no!”

James lunged forward, looping his arms around her waist, easily lifting her kicking form off the ground amidst the screaming of protest from their friends. Her head jerked from side to side in an effort to get her dreads out of her face, spitting a loc away from her mouth every now and then.

“Everybody just…calm! Down!” Kendall yelled, waving his hands in the air, green eyes wide and wild. All commotion ceased, even around the rest of the Palm Woods pool. Even one guy at the edge, having frozen himself in a half-squatting, half-leaping position, looking very much like a stick figure on a crosswalk sign. “Heh…sorry!” Kendall called out. “We’re rehearsing for a play!”

“Okay dude—” Jazz said.

“Deke,” Deke corrected her.

“Bless you. You got your waffle, now you get to talkin’. Capiche?”

“Threatening. Great.” Logan let out a very strained laugh, his grin tight. “Might as well add that to the list of this horrible day.”

“it’s not entirely horrible,” James said.

“Yeah? How do you figure?”

“Well, I still look good.” James motioned to himself and winked Logan’s way. As Logan rolled his eyes, James adjusted Mickey who hung dangling over his shoulder, her mouth drawn up into an angry pout then he took a bite of a waffle and said out the corner of his mouth, “And these are great.”