Chapter Text
Y/N
Southern California was unnaturally beautiful today. The breeze blew through your hair as you took in the sun, sipping your iced coffee slowly. Your best girlfriends, sat with you, babbling away about something or other.
Your head was a bit full however, your impending trip back to London at the forefront of your mind. You’d been going back and forth all your life — Living on two continents, on endless plane rides. You always felt more like an American, and since you were just graduating college after being at U.C.L.A. full time, you felt… at home in California. It was just right. Studying at the beach. The warmth the sun brought. London had always been a dreary existence for you. With the Father that seemed to never truly care for you.
Rupert was never really a father to you. He just… paid for college. Paid for your lifestyle. (Mostly to keep your mother off his back. That woman seemed to put the fear of God into him.) You’d barely seen him all year after last summer. The betrayal of his actions still fresh in your mind. There were plenty of idiot 20-something that were dying to keep him company and he decided to go after your best friend?
Sure it was just as much her fault, you’d been besties with Bex since primary school, and she could have said no.
But she didn’t.
“Earth to Y/N!” Cinna, your cheery red headed friend says, throwing her napkin at you. Her green eyes sparkling with mischief. “What’s up?” You ask, a small smile on your lips despite your thoughts.
“We’re talking about what we’re going to do in London.” Cinna says, nodding towards Sophie, who’s blonde hair is falling around her shoulders in waves. “We’ve never been.” Sophie says, “And it’s very generous of you to allow us on your private jet.” She snickers, and you roll your eyes.
“Daddy’s money will get you anywhere.” You say, resentment slipping in. The girls give you a wary look, “Still. We’re happy to be there for you.”
They’d also known Bex. Your California friends had been introduced to her last summer when she came to visit you in Los Angeles. That was when you found out about her and Rupert. She didn’t even have the decency to tell you. You had to figure out via the rag that was The Daily Mail.
You shook yourself, taking another sip of your coffee as your phone vibrated in your lap. It was from an unknown number. Your nose scrunched up as you opened it.
Text: Hello, Y/N. I hope you are well. x
You frowned, ignoring your friends' excited giggles over London. Honestly, did they even know how dreary the weather was? LA was heaven in comparison.
Y/N: uh, who is this? Ur not saved in my phone. You’ve gotta be british tho. only the brits end w and ‘x’
You waited, curiosity getting the best of you.
Text: It’s Rebecca… Welton. Former Mannion.
Text: Would it kill you to use full words? You have an Iphone for God’s sake.
Your jaw dropped, thought snicker broke though.
Same Old Rebecca, you thought.
Rebecca? Blonde, tall Rebecca? The woman you’d been obsessed with most of your young adult life? That Rebecca?
Y/N: Oh. Hey there. I’m well. At brunch with some friends. U?
You knew your ‘U’ would irritate the hell out of her, and you always loved getting a rise out of the older woman. She married Rupert when you were around 15, and you’d nearly worshipped her from afar ever since. They’d divorced only last year, and you were in your later twenties now. You’d known of your father’s infidelity over the years, and had thought him a moron for all of it. But Bex, did Rebecca in.
After all, Bex was your best friend. She’d also spent a lot of time with Rebecca prior to her stealing your father. Your stomach churned at the thought.
Rebecca: Do you have a minute to chat? I’d love to catch up. x
Without hesitating, you step away from the table, your friends give you a curious glance, but as you wave them off go back to chatting. You walk towards the end of the restaurant you’re at, the ocean waves lapping at the strong beams holding it up.
With your heart racing, and your throat thick, you hit ‘Call’. It rings only twice before a voice, that you’d longed to hear for months now is on the other end, “Hello, Y/N.” She says.
You swallow hard, “Hi Rebecca.” You sound more nervous than you’d like, and your cheeks flush. God. she unnerved you without even trying. “It’s been.. a while.” You add, cutting the few seconds of silence.
“It has. I hear you’re absolutely flourishing in La La land.” Her accent has your heart squeezing, and you feel yourself grin, “The land of fruits and nuts has been exceptionally good to me. How did you know I was here?” You ask, pacing a bit back and forth.
“Oh, Y/N. You must not get the daily rag that reports on the every move of quote, ‘Rupert Mannion’s ‘wild child’ daughter.’”
At that you frown, “The Daily Mail still has it out for me I take it?”
Rebecca laughs, heartily, and you know she’s a few glasses of wine deep. That laugh is your favorite. “They sure do, Y/N. Now the reason I called…” She says and you swallow hard.
“Yes?”
“I have a proposition for you.” Rebecca says, tone serious and even. As though the carefree teasing Rebecca never existed only a few seconds ago.
“Are you offering me a stake in the club? Great move by the way, taking it from the old man.” Rebecca pauses as those words leave your lips, and you grin further into the phone.
“Thank you. I want to extract a bit of revenge, Y/N and I’m hoping you’ll help me.” Rebecca’s voice is cool, back to serious and you raise an eyebrow, staring out at the Pacific Ocean.
“Ooooo I love a bit of revenge. What are we talking here? Arson? Armed Robbery? Oh my god, hear me out, home invasion-“
“Dear God. No. None of those things. This has less felony written on it, and more, satisfaction.” Rebecca purrs.
You’d agree to almost anything if she asked like that.
“Go on.” You say, a little more breathy than you’d have liked.
“I know you’re headed back to London soon, and I would so love to give you a tour of the club now that I'm running it.” Rebecca says, and you can hear the smirk in her voice.
“Okay and?”
“And if you happen to be around, there’s that lovely little gala I put on every year…” She trails off, her voice tight, “I’d love to have you on my arm.”
Your jaw nearly hits the floor, “Oh my God.” Your grin takes over your face, “Are you proposing that we fake date ?” You can’t help how euphoric your voice sounds. Fake dating Rebecca sounded like a dream.
A loud sigh sounds from the other end, the pulling you back down to Earth.
“I suppose I am.” Rebecca says, a frown in her voice.
“Hot. Okay. I fly into London tomorrow. How about i come by the club for a drink?” You ask, hope ebbing away at every part of you. You swear on your life you can feel Rebecca grinning, “How about tea?”
You sigh, “Only if there’s gin in it. London makes me cranky and I want to meet the American who replaced me.”
Rebecca snorts, “You mean Ted?”
You nod into the phone, (not that she can see it), “I’ve been reading all about him leading your club to victory. You replaced me with an American man of all things.” You laugh, half teasing.
Rebecca sighs deeper this time, “Y/N, you’re half British.” She says, annoyance in her voice. Your grin begins to hurt, “I’m mostly American Becca.” You hum, drawing out the nickname for the older woman. There’s a small, suprised intake of air on her end, and your teeth find your bottom lip.
“That’s that, then. I will see you soon, Y/N.”
“Okay Becca. Rest well. See you soon.”