Stories Based On Taylor Swift Songs

RED: 77. Nothing New

77. Nothing New (12/3/21)

The first fall of snow drenched the city in puffy white flakes, and Veronica couldn't help but relate to the overwhelming onslaught of chilly winter weather. She adjusted her sunglasses and checked her phone one last time before entering the underground bar. The screen was blank, no text or call from her agent telling her the offer was all a joke. It was a quarter past ten on a Tuesday night. She couldn't remember the last time she slept.

Inside the bar, the heater was on high and a few local patrons huddled around tables, talking in whispers. Veronica didn't recognize anyone, and no one recognized her, which was perfect. No paparazzi or fans asking for pictures. The press would immediately question why she was spending a Tuesday night alone at a bar.

She took a seat at the bar towards the door and removed her black coat, revealing her black turtleneck and skinny jeans underneath. Around her neck was a silver pendant, a gift her father had given her on her nineteenth birthday, right before she left for California. That was six years ago, and she still hadn't contacted her father and apologized. She pictured him sitting in his chair by the window, watching sports highlights and waiting for the phone to ring. Or maybe he was watching a Western and thinking of her, since he had shown her all the good Westerns and mob movies by the time she was ten.

Veronica impatiently tapped her fingers on the bar top, which was made of glass on top of a wooden structure. Against the wall were shelves and shelves of alcohol, and on the other side of the bar was a stage that was most likely used for karaoke nights and visiting musicians or comedians. But, on a Tuesday night, the bar was quiet. Veronica made sure to sit at the end of the bar closest to the door just in case she would have to make a quick getaway. One never knows when a camera could pop up, but Veronica figured none of the old men in the back would care about selling pictures of her to a needy tabloid.

Tucking her sunglasses into her bag, Veronica ran her fingers through her straight, brown hair and checked her phone again. She was becoming paranoid. Instead of a text or phone call from her agent, she received an email.

"Veronica, I'm sorry about the call earlier," her agent began. No hello, but at least he offered an apology. "I didn't think you would be so upset. I know you don't want to accept the role, but I think it will be a great opportunity. Critics already say there is Oscar buzz, and they want to see more serious roles from you."

There were a few more lines of the email, but Veronica deleted it right away; it was all the same shit her agent had said on the phone. She rolled her eyes. If she had to hear her agent talk about Oscar buzz one more time, she was going to strangle him.

The bartender approached her, and even though Veronica had come here a few times before, he pretended as if he didn't know her; she was thankful for that. "What can I get you?"

"An old-fashioned, please," Veronica said, speaking against the lump in her throat.

A few moments later, the bartender was handing her the drink. She had to stop herself from guzzling it and hiding her pain in the alcohol.

Veronica was lost in thought for a moment, until she heard someone clearing their throat at the other end of the bar. She glanced up and saw a familiar woman nursing a beer. The other woman had wavy blonde hair, pale skin, and light gray eyes that could draw a person in. Veronica wanted to say she was beautiful, but that didn't seem like the right word to describe her. She tossed a few words around in her head and finally landed on "striking." Yes, the blonde was quite striking, and Veronica felt her heart race as she took the other girl's appearance in. She looked either pissed off at the world or like she wanted to rule the world. She wore a faded gray Led Zeppelin shirt with ripped mom jeans.