Interview With A Beca

The stage lights were blinding, and Beca Mitchell was already regretting her decision to do this interview. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her leather jacket. It was her signature look—black leather over a band tee, ripped skinny jeans, and scuffed combat boots. Her hair was casually tousled, an artful mess that took more effort than she’d ever admit.

This was not her scene. She was a producer, someone who liked to be behind the scenes, pulling the strings, not in front of the camera under the scrutiny of a live studio audience.

But her agent Jesse had insisted it would be good for her career. “It’ll make you more relatable,” he’d said. “You need to get out there, be seen.”

Yeah, well, right now she just wanted to disappear.

The stage music swelled, and the audience erupted into applause as Chloe Beale, the host of Chloe Beale Live!!! (note the three exclamation marks), the top rated day time talk show among women aged 21 to 50, bounded onto the stage, all smiles and kinetic energy. Beca’s breath caught in her throat. Chloe was stunning. She wore a figure-hugging purple dress that stopped just above the knee, paired with killer heels that made her legs look impossibly long. Her red hair was perfectly curled, cascading over her shoulders, and her blue eyes sparkled with excitement.

Those bright blue eyes locked onto Beca’s, and Chloe’s smile grew wider. “Beca Mitchell! Oh my god, I’m so excited you’re here!”

Before Beca could even stand up, Chloe was hugging her, her arms wrapping around Beca like they were old friends instead of two people who’d never actually met. Beca’s body went rigid before she forced herself to relax, awkwardly patting Chloe on the back. “Uh, hi.”

Chloe pulled back but kept her hands on Beca’s shoulders, her face dangerously close. “I’m obsessed with your work. Seriously, your production on Echoes was a masterpiece.”

Beca’s cheeks turned pink. “Oh, um, thanks. I just… you know, pushed some buttons.”

Chloe’s laugh was musical, her head tipping back as she released Beca’s shoulders and took her seat. “Oh, you’re funny, too. I love it. And for the record, you can push my buttons any time.”

Beca blinked, her heart doing an unexpected flip-flop. What had this woman just said to her? Okay. Chloe Beale was even more charismatic in person. That was unfair.

What had her doofus of a manager gotten her into? An interview with a woman that was reducing Beca to a stammering, hormonal teenager? Why?

What had she ever done to him?

I mean, sure he repeatedly called her his most difficult client and cited her frequently as the cause of his early onset male pattern baldness and chronic gastric reflux.

And she’d have to let him know, firmly, that her gayness prohibited her in any way shape or form from even considering for an iota of a millisecond that them dating would be good for her career.

Yes, maybe she could of been a bit less caustic in her response. Turned out Jesse, while a decent agent, was an ugly crier.

But.

A: Be professional, dude.

And

2. Sack up, dude.

Aside from that bump in the  road, she’d thought they were getting along.

And now this.

The two women settled into their seats, and the interview began. It was mostly standard stuff at first—questions about Beca’s music, her creative process, her upcoming projects. But as the conversation flowed, Beca found herself relaxing, Chloe’s easy-going nature soothing her frazzled nerves.

Chloe leaned forward, her chin resting on her hand, eyes sparkling with genuine interest. Beca found herself instinctively leaning in as well.

“So, you’re always behind the scenes. Do you ever want to step out front? You know, be the star?”

Beca shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Nah. I don’t like being in the spotlight. Too much pressure. I like to keep my life private.”

Chloe’s lips curled into a teasing smile. “Oh, I don’t know. I think you’d look pretty great in the spotlight.” Her gaze was steady, playful, and Beca’s breath hitched.

Was she… was Chloe flirting with her?

Chloe’s fingers lightly brushed Beca’s knee as she leaned further in. “Speaking of keeping your life private… you’re single, right?”

Beca choked on air. “I—what?”

Chloe’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh, just curious. I mean, with all those rumors about you and that singer… what was her name? Maddy? Muddy? Moldy?”

Beca’s eyes widened. “We weren’t… we weren’t like that. She’s just a friend.”

Chloe’s shoulders relaxed, her lips curving into a satisfied smile. “Oh, good. I mean, not that it matters… but good to know.”

Beca’s heart was racing, her brain struggling to process the words. “Uh… yeah. Totally. Just friends.”

Her hand frantically rubbed the back of her neck.

Chloe leaned back, crossing her legs in a way that was entirely too distracting. “So, what kind of person do you find attractive, Beca?”

Beca blinked. “I… um… what?”

Chloe’s expression was innocent, but her eyes were sharp. “You know… what’s your type? Tall? Short? Funny? Serious?”

Beca’s mouth went dry. “I… I don’t know. I guess… someone confident. Kind. Funny.” Her eyes flicked to Chloe, who was smiling brightly. “Redheads, apparently.”

The audience erupted in laughter, a few people even whistling. Chloe’s cheeks flushed pink, but her grin was dazzling. “Oh, really? Interesting.”

Backstage, Aubrey Posen paced, her headset clutched to her ear as she barked orders at the crew. Her normally perfectly coiffed hair was becoming increasingly dishevelled as she repeatedly ran her hands through it. This was not how the show she’d produced for five years was supposed to go. “Chloe! What are you doing?! Stick to the script!”

Chloe’s voice came through the monitor, sounding entirely too pleased. “You know, Beca, I’ve always had a thing for girls who know their way around a soundboard.”

Aubrey’s face turned bright red. Her left eye started to twitch, “Oh my god. She’s flirting. On air. With a guest. Stacie, do something!”

 Stage manager Stacie Conrad, leaning casually against the control panel and watching the segment unravel, did nothing. Unless you count grinning at an increasingly frazzled Aubrey Posen as something.. “Oh, I don’t know, Aubrey. I think it’s good television.”

Aubrey’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Good television? She’s basically asking Beca Mitchell out on live TV!”

Stacie shrugged. “And the audience is eating it up. Ratings are going to be through the roof.”

Aubrey scowled; her arms crossed. “This is a disaster.”

Stacie leaned in, her voice dropping to a low purr. “You’re cute when you’re stressed out.”

Aubrey’s eyes widened. “Wh—excuse me?!”

Stacie winked. “Just calling it like I see it.”

Aubrey’s face turned an even darker shade of red as she turned back to the monitor. “I hate you.”

Stacie just laughed. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

Back on stage, Beca was struggling to keep her cool as Chloe’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “You know,” Chloe said, her voice low, intimate, “I’m always looking for someone to show me how to mix a track. Maybe you could give me some private lessons? And teach me how to mix too”

Beca’s mouth went dry. “I… I think that could be arranged.”

The audience erupted into applause, whistles and catcalls echoing around the studio. Chloe’s smile was wide, triumphant. “Perfect. I’ll hold you to that, Beca.”

Beca could only nod, her brain short-circuiting as Chloe’s hand found hers, giving it a squeeze before pulling away.

The cameras zoomed in on their intertwined fingers, the audience going wild as Aubrey’s voice echoed through the control room. “I’m going to kill her.”

Stacie just laughed. “Best. Episode. Ever.”