[ she's a little longer, but i couldn't find a good stopping point ]
☆︎
INDIANA, MICKEY IS NOT COMING BACK.
☆︎ JANUARY, 2000 ☆︎
"You have to calm her down!"
Sophia paused, a potato chip halfway to her mouth as she was answering a call from Dewey. She was backstage, waiting for their Utah concert to begin, and didn't even get to greet Dewey before he started talking.
"Whatever happened to 'hello'?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "And we literally just saw each other two days ago."
The Woodsboro Killer's tour was put on hold for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day so that everyone could be with their families. Then after New Year's passed, they were back on the road to finish out the rest of the stops in states lining the southern border. The tour was nearly over anyway and would be finished by the end of the month.
"I'm not joking, Soph. She is gonna call you, and you have got to calm her down," Dewey hissed, clearly panicking.
"Calm who down?" she asked. "What did you fucking do?"
"It's Virg—"
Then Sophia's phone buzzed in her hand and let out a chime, telling her that there was another incoming call. She pulled it back and looked at the screen, seeing Virginia's name flash across it.
"Virginia is calling."
"Goddamn it!" he cursed. Then he sighed heavily, sounding defeated. "You should take that."
Sophia was very confused as she swapped phone calls, moving from one angry adult to another. And just like her boyfriend, Virginia didn't even bother to greet Sophia or let her say anything.
"You need to talk some fucking sense into your brother — not Jackson!"
Everyone knew Dewey thought of Sophia as a sister in the same way that Jackson and Indiana were as good as siblings.
"I'm sensing Deputy Dipshit has done something wrong," Sophia said, smirking a little bit.
"You're not gonna believe him," she said, practically seething. "You know how he's been sort of on the fence working at the station at the desk?"
"Yeah," she said, taking it a little more seriously. Dewey had been miserable as of late when it came to his job. He'd always tied his self-worth to being an officer, so being unable to do that — even though he was moving better every day — was hard on him. "Did he get fired or something?"
"No, he got a new job. I will give you three guesses as to what his dumbass did."
"I'm not good at guessing. What did his dumb, flat ass do?"
Virginia paused her anger for a moment and rolled her eyes. "It's not that flat — Indy's is flatter."
"Damn," she snickered. "White-on-white crime. Anyway, what's the job?"
"Well, since all of you refused to help assure everything is authentic to Woodsboro in Stab 3—"
Sophia gasped and sat up straighter, her bag of chips falling on the floor. "He did fucking not?"
"He fucking did!" Then Virginia let out a frustrated scream. "And knowing how I already feel about all of you being on that set again."
"Did he even talk to you about it before accepting the job?"
"No. He just called a few minutes ago when my break started and told me he was the new technical advisor for the movie, and he'd be leaving for L.A. in two weeks."
"Damn," Sophia mumbled, knowing Dewey really stepped in it this time. "You gonna dump his flat ass?"
Virginia let out an exasperated sigh. "No, I'm not going to dump his ass, Sophia. Even though that sounds quite enjoyable right now," she muttered. "Do you think you can talk him out of it?"
Sophia took a moment to stare at the crushed chips on the floor, thinking it over. "Maybe, but I won't," she said softly.
"Soph—"
"Listen, Virginia," she cut her off. "He's miserable. I know he loves you and he loves Woodsboro, but maybe a few months in L.A. will be good for him. We all worry about him, but he can move a lot better now. And we get to California in a few weeks and will be on the set to keep an eye on him at the end of the month."
"I can't believe you're taking his side. You never take his side," she said, scoffing.
"I do get why you're mad, though," she said in a softer tone. "He's leaving for a few months and didn't ask how you feel about that. You two are getting serious. You're living together. And you can't just take off work and follow after him. That's probably gonna suck."
"What if something happens to him?" Virginia asked, clearly worried about his safety. "He's Andy Griffith, not Thomas Magnum."
"Well, luckily, your sister is a perfect blend of slasher villain and final girl, so Dewey will be in safe hands once we get on the set too," she told her, managing a smile. "Dewey will be okay. And you're only a few hours away, so you can still visit every few weeks to check on him and Indiana. And honestly, with how bad Roman is making the movie sound, it may not even get made if we're being honest."
"God, I hope so," she muttered. "Just... just punch him really hard when you see him, okay? And call him every stupid name you can think of. I'm so goddamn angry at him."
"Well, it was guaranteed that I was going to be mean to him when I saw him again," Sophia said, grinning now. "You are justified in being angry, Virginia. But just try to understand what he's going through. I felt useless all those months I couldn't play drums or even pick up a pencil after Billy almost killed me. Him not being able to help people is like me not playing music. I guess he feels like he can be useful on the Stab 3 set."
"I just hate it," Virginia said, rubbing her forehead, still frustrated. "I feel like something bad is just waiting to happen with all of you working on that movie."
"You felt like that with Stab 2," she reminded her. "And all that happened was a Grammy, VMA, and a cross-country tour. It'll be okay, Virginia. And Dewey and the rest of us will be right back in Woodsboro before you know it."
"You better be," Virginia mumbled. "Alright, I know you've got a soundcheck soon. I should call Dewey back anyway."
"Yeah, he's probably trembling in fear wherever he's at."
☆︎
To finish off The Woodsboro Killers' North American tour, they had eight shows across California, with the final four being held in L.A. during the last week of the month. And since they'd be staying in town afterward to write and record music for Stab 3, Rod put the band up in a fairly nice house that the record label owned, which was better and cheaper than paying for a hotel. It was huge, had two living rooms, and everyone got their own room, which was a gift after sleeping on a bus for months together.
Jackson was enjoying some actual alone time as he watched an episode of Smart Guy with his feet propped up on the coffee table — Rod would yell at him for putting his shoes on the furniture if he was there, but he wasn't. He was making sure everything was ready for the next few nights at the Hollywood Bowl, which was easily the most famous venue the band would be performing at.
"Hey, Jack," Isaiah said while walking through the room. His hand was intertwined with Luca's, who was wearing a pink Hawaiian shirt that made Jackson roll his eyes — it was fifty-three degrees outside. "We're going to meet Soph for some lunch. Wanna come?"
In response, Jackson held up the huge bear-shaped box of animal crackers that he'd been snacking on. "Got my lunch right here."
"Very nutritious," Luca said, grinning at him. "What about Indy? Is she around?"
Jackson looked away from the TV and smirked at them. "She's in her room, making the most disgusting and degrading sounds known to man with that Mark guy."
"She brought him here?" Isaiah asked, his eyes going wide. It had always been Indiana going to the older man at his apartment when they were in town. "What's he look like?"
"No clue," he shrugged. "Was walking by the door and overheard their activities. I wish I could reach into my brain and scrub it with soap to forget."
"What kind of activities?" Luca asked, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously while Isaiah rolled his eyes.
"I believe he was requesting she sit on his face," he replied before gagging. "Remind me to tell Rod the walls need to be thicker."
"I'm gonna go barge in," Luca declared.
But before he could make it more than two steps away, Isaiah was pulling him back with a tight grip on his hand. "Leave them alone," he said, grinning. "I'm hungry, anyway."
"Fine," he grumbled, a pout on his lips. "But she better not be giving him any blow jobs before the tour ends. We need her throat in perfect condition."
Then Isaiah kissed the pout off Luca's mouth, making the older boy smile sweetly.
"I'll be sure to yell that at them through the door," Jackson said, smirking. "Who knows? Maybe he'll still be here when you get back, and we can all embarrass her."
"I don't think Indy has enough shame to be embarrassed," Isaiah said, remembering the morning they walked into her room after she slept with Billy. The girl wasn't even phased by being caught naked in bed with a taken man.
"Call us if you want us to bring back anything," Luca told him. "You know, a burger, some fries, a protein shake for the catholic rabbits in there."
"Oh, I'm sure they'd be very appreciative," he said, rolling his eyes playfully. "You better get going. Soph is bitchy when she has to wait."
"I can handle Sophia's temper," Luca said, puffing his chest up.
"She terrifies you when she's angry," Isaiah said flatly.
"Yeah, let's go," he said quickly, switching up quite fast. "Later, Jax."
Jackson waved halfheartedly while focusing back on the episode of Smart Guy. And he turned the volume up higher, not wanting to risk hearing any other noises coming from Indiana's room.
Because there were noises coming from Indiana's room for a very long time.
And she was exhausted in the best way possible when they were done. Indiana was still in her messy bed, leaning against the headboard as she watched Mark get dressed. He had to go to work — whatever work was. She eyed his chest sadly as he began buttoning his shirt up, covering the expanse of his toned body.
But when he got halfway up, he sighed, realizing two of the buttons had been ripped off completely while Indiana was undressing him earlier. He looked toward her with a smirk on his face.
"You owe me a new shirt," Mark informed her.
"If we're gonna start keeping track of ruined clothes, then you owe me two different pairs of underwear that you've ripped in the past," she counted, grinning proudly at him. "But I should have one of Jackson's in my closet."
While Mark moved across the fairly large bedroom, Indiana crawled out of bed and picked up the sweatshirt she'd been wearing before Mark came over, figuring she ought to be dressed to walk him out of the house. Just as she pulled her head through it, she saw Mark pulling out a hanger with a familiar faded blue t-shirt on it.
"Not that one," Indiana said quickly — so fast that she couldn't even hide the defensive edge in her tone.
Mark looked up at her quickly, seeing the hard look in her eyes as she looked at the shirt. He'd never seen Indiana anything but happy, laughing, and totally blissed out, so it was almost startling.
Slowly, Mark put the shirt back in the closet and then hovered his hand over a plain gray button-up, raising a questioning eyebrow. And Indiana nodded, giving him the go-ahead to take the garment that belonged to Isaiah.
"Thanks," Mark said in a careful tone, not wanting to make her upset as he started to get dressed once again.
"Well, don't want you getting arrested for public indecency," Indiana said, laughing off her moment of weakness for the shirt that belonged to Mickey. "Though I think covering you up is considered a criminal offense."
Mark snorted at the horribly cheesy pickup line, walking over to her as he finished buttoning the shirt up. "I could say the same for you," he murmured before leaning down to kiss her softly.
Indiana hummed happily against his lips and slid her hands up his arms. When they parted, she smiled happily. "And you're sure you have to go to work?"
Mark groaned, clearly wishing he could stay. "I really do. But how long are you in town for this time?"
She grinned brightly and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Two months."
At her answer, he raised his eyebrows with interest while pulling her body closer to him, already thinking of all the fun they could have in that amount of time. He hated going months at a time in between seeing her, so two months sounded like heaven after the morning he just had with her.
"In that case," he said, rubbing small circles on her back with his thumbs that had slipped underneath the fabric of her sweatshirt. "What would you say if I were to ask you out to dinner? I figured it was probably time I offer more than a hook-up."
Indiana could feel herself tensing up as Mark essentially asked her on a date. And she was sure she hadn't felt so torn in a long time. Because deep down, she wanted to sit next to Mark at dinner and get to know him better. But on the other hand, she just couldn't.
"I don't know," she said with a coy smile, tangling her fingers in his hair to try and distract him. "You are pretty good at the whole hook-up thing, and I'm not really a go to dinner kind of girl."
It seemed Mark realized she was turning him down as gently as she could manage and nodded, hiding his disappointment well. "Then I guess I'll see you next time you call," he told her while taking a step back — Indiana still never called from her personal number, so Mark could never reach her even if he wanted to.
Indiana didn't know why the sudden uncomfortable shift made her feel sad. She didn't know why turning him down made her feel sad. But like always, she pushed any lingering thoughts about Mark that weren't about his body to the back of her mind, not wanting to dwell on the man that had been slowly creeping up on her heart over the last few months.
That uncomfortable shift seemed to hang over them as Indiana walked Mark through the house and to the front door. And as if that wasn't awkward enough, Jackson was sitting in the living room, which they had to walk through. Immediately, he noticed them and forgot all about the show he was watching.
"Well, well, well," Jackson said, looking between the two with a smug expression on his face. "Look who's taking her boy toy out for his daily walk."
Indiana rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Jackson, this is Mark. Mark, this is Jackson."
Ever the gentleman, Mark moved to shake the bass player's hand. "Nice to finally meet you. I'm a fan of your band."
"Mhmm, I bet you are," he said, sliding his eyes to Indiana while shaking the older man's hand. "So, I didn't catch that last name, Mark."
"Oh, it's—"
"No!" Indiana cut him off, grabbing the back of Mark's — Jackson's — shirt to pull him back. "Don't tell him your last name."
Mark looked between the two in confusion, not knowing what the big deal was.
"You've had sex with this man how many times and still don't know his last name?" Jackson asked, raising an accusing eyebrow.
Indiana then shrugged and looked pointedly at Mark. "You never told me, and it didn't matter at first. But now, it's just a bet to see how long this can go before I learn your last name and a few other things about you."
"Ah," Mark said, nodding in understanding. Then he grinned at Jackson. "I guess you can call me just Mark for now."
Jackson rolled his eyes in annoyance. "I feel like him knowing about the bet is cheating. The whole thing should be thrown out," he complained.
"Uh, that was never clarified in the initial terms," she shot back. Then she looked back at Mark. "I'll call you soon, yeah?"
"Yeah," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. Then he decided to try once more, so desperate to spend more time with her that he wasn't even embarrassed by her rejection. "And that dinner offer — it's still on the table if you change your mind."
Jackson bit the inside of his cheek, seeing the look that resembled a grimace on Indiana's face as she nodded. "Got it," she managed to say with a tense smile. "And get to work safe. Don't let anyone bruise you up this time. I like you in perfect condition."
"I'll try my best," Mark said, smiling because she was worried about him even if she didn't want to go on a date. "Bye, Honey."
Mark kissed her slowly once more, ignoring the overdramatic gagging sounds that Jackson was making. Then he waved goodbye, heading to the precinct that they had no idea he worked at.
The living room was silent except for the voice of T.J. Henderson. Jackson was looking pointedly at Indiana, who was looking pointedly at the TV screen, sucking on her teeth.
"Shut up," she said after a moment, feeling his stare.
"I didn't say anything!" Jackson said, putting his hands up in defense. "I mean, I'm definitely going to say something, Honey."
"Well, I don't want to hear it," Indiana told him, crossing her arms.
"A handsome man that you clearly like asked you out on a date and you said no? What's up with that?"
She just shrugged and sat on the arm of the couch, still looking at the TV. "I don't want to date him. I just want to keep fucking him."
"Right," he said, nodding and not believing her for a second. "And why is it that you don't want to date him?"
"I don't have to have a reason," she said sharply.
"Humor me with one, anyway."
It was silent again, and Jackson watched how she clenched her jaw and swallowed thickly.
"I can't," she whispered. "I can't go on a date with him."
"Why not?" Jackson asked, scooting closer to her. "What's so bad about dinner and a movie?"
"Jax, I haven't been on a date since..." Indy trailed off, but he knew what she meant.
"Indiana, that was years ago," he told her as if she didn't know. "Don't you think it's time to put yourself out there — more than just physically."
"I can't!" she said again, this time louder. "I can't put myself out there. I can't move on. I can't forget about him."
"Can't or won't?"
"I don't want to," Indiana admitted, looking at him. Jackson could see tears welling in her brown eyes. "I don't want to move on and then realize one day that I can't remember his smile or his laugh or how it felt when he held me. And if I go on a date with Mark or anyone else and start to fall for them, then I'll forget what it was like to fall for him. And I won't do that to myself."
"Indiana," Jackson said in a firm tone, "Mickey is not coming back."
"I know that!" she snapped, wiping her eyes.
"Then why are you letting him dictate your life still?" he asked. "He's the only bad thing in your life, and he's buried back in Kentucky. And no amount of playing make-believe in your head, wishing he was here will change that, Indy."
"Can you just... just drop it, Jackson," Indiana said, rubbing her forehead. "You don't get it, and it's fine that you don't get it. You don't have to."
"And maybe I never will," he said softly. "But Mark seems like a good guy. He seems like he likes you a lot. And one date doesn't mean you'll forget all about Mickey."
"But what if I do?" she asked him, swallowing thickly. "I don't want to risk that."
"You'll have to one day — for Mark or someone else," Jackson told her, reaching for her hand. "You've always needed people, Indy. You're not made to be on your own, and that's not a bad thing."
"Well, maybe I'd like to be on my own for a little while longer," she mumbled, not even convincing herself as she said so. She didn't want to be alone — but she also wanted Mickey, which wasn't an option.
"Just think on it," Jackson said, letting the argument rest. He got off the couch and kissed Indiana's forehead. "You know I just want you to be happy again."
"I know," she whispered, appreciating the thought even if it hurt.
"Now take a shower," he ordered. "You smell like you've been fucking for three hours."
"I have been fucking for three hours."
Jackson rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Mark keeps his Honey real busy."
Indiana smirked at him while backing out of the living room. "He says he calls me Honey because it's as sweet as honey when he ea—"
"EW!"
☆︎
With only one concert left on the tour, The Woodsboro Killers took their day off before said show to visit the Stab 3 set. Roman invited them so that they could get a feel for things and also show them the script. And Dewey was there as well, giving Sophia the chance to punch him at Virginia's request.
"So," Roman was saying while walking them through the set that was full of fake houses. "What do you think?"
It was unsettlingly accurate to many of the memorable places of Woodsboro. All of it was there — Indiana and Billy's neighboring homes, the house where Sidney's mother was murdered and Stu chased her and Indy through it in the Ghostface costume, and even the Macher house where Tatum was killed.
"I think Dewey is earning his paycheck," was all Indiana managed to say. There wasn't anything positive she could think of, honestly, but she understood that Roman was just doing his job and trying to make a name for himself in such a tough industry.
"Yeah, when Jennifer isn't following him around," Jackson said, watching as Dewey walked briskly across the set with Jennifer Jolie trailing behind her.
Dewey called a mere two days after filming started to tell them that the C-list actress had set her sights on him despite him telling her repeatedly he had a girlfriend and was only interested in being workplace friends. But Jennifer was nothing if not pushy and overbearing, meaning she didn't give up, especially when Virginia wasn't around as proof that Dewey was taken.
Wherever Dewey went, Jennifer went. And anywhere Jennifer went, her bodyguard, Steven Stone went — because for some reason, she thought she was famous enough to require a bodyguard.
"So, it's half a new story and half flashbacks?" Isaiah questioned while flipping through the final script Roman gave them. Evidently, there had been quite a few major script changes, as no one was one hundred percent sure what to do with the story despite it already filming. Half would be the death of Sidney's mother and Indy's parents, and the rest would be set in modern-day Woodsboro.
"Yup," he confirmed, nodding. "You guys are gonna be mostly in the flashbacks. It's the only way I could have you, Jackson, and Sophia put in. Sorry, Luca — no you."
"Well, now wait a fucking minute," Jackson said, having been reading over Isaiah's shoulder. "This shit says Soph and I die! You're killing us off?"
"Oh, that is so not cool, Roman," Luca said, shaking his head in disapproval.
"I didn't write the whole thing," he said defensively. "But Milton said some of the original characters had to die or it wasn't going to be a good trilogy."
"So kill Indy!" Sophia said, pointing to the girl.
"Tell me how you really feel," Indiana muttered with a small grin on her face.
"We can't kill Indiana," he told them. "She's the final girl."
"I'm not a final girl," she grumbled, crossing her arms. "Sidney's the final girl."
Roman slowly shook his head. "Not in this movie. You, Isaiah, Gale, and Dewey are the last ones standing."
Indiana looked at Roman in disbelief. "You cannot kill Sidney! She's perfect and the kindest person in the whole world with zero flaws. I would sacrifice my life and all of yours a million times over for her."
"Yeah, she's not being dramatic about that either," Jackson added.
"So it's unrealistic for me to survive in Stab 3 and for her to die," Indy said, crossing her arms.
"Yeah," Roman said flatly, "because these movies are so accurate to what actually happened. Look, I've been arguing since the first day I came to the studio. I've made what improvements I can, but this disaster is getting made."
"And all six of us get to slap our names on it," Luca said, slinging his arm around Isaiah's shoulder. "We'll claim the disaster together. C'mon, we can't let Roman fail on his own."
Roman narrowed his eyes at Luca. "I'm not going to fail."
"Okay," Indiana grumbled, rubbing her forehead. "We'll stay and make the music. But if I really hate something, nothing on this planet will be able to keep me from marching into Milton's stupid office and changing it."
"And I won't complain when you do," he said, managing a smile. Indiana got so much changed during Stab 2, and he could use her power of persuasion — or rather her threats — to make his movie better. "Now, c'mon, I'll introduce you to the new cast members."
So, the band was walked around the set and introduced to all the new people and the crew working on the movie. Soon, Dewey joined them, managing to hide from Jennifer while the other six made a protective circle around him. They met Sarah Darling and Tyson Fox, both of who were playing characters that would be killed off early.
"Oh, my god," Indiana said suddenly, spotting someone across the room and getting makeup put on him. She grabbed Roman's arm and brought him to a stop before he could lead them to the young girl named Angelina who was playing Sidney. "Is that Cotton fucking Weary?"
All the others look in the same direction and spotted the talk show host that they hadn't seen since being on his show. Roman nodded in confirmation while freeing himself.
"His people and the studio thought it would look good for him to have a cameo in the movie, especially since you all turned cameos down," he explained. "He's been quite unpleasant to work with so far."
"Uh, yeah, because he's a dick," Jackson muttered.
"Yeah. We offered him those tickets to our last show tomorrow," Isaiah recalled. "And then once the cameras were off, he told us and our mediocre music to suck it and that he had better things to do on a Tuesday night."
"Kinda wish I'd have killed him," Indy mumbled under her breath. Then she sighed. "Whatever. If he talks to us, we'll let Soph handle him."
"Hell, yeah," the other girl said with a smirk, just ready for the chance to make a grown man cry.
Speaking of grown men she'd like to make cry—
"Oh, hey there, guys!" Tom Prince-Starnes greeted while walking up to the ground. "There's my cousin!"
Isaiah clenched up when his older cousin hugged him tightly, pretty sure that they'd never shown each other any physical affection before. Tom didn't live near Woodsboro, so they only saw each other on major holidays.
"Hey, Tommy," he greeted awkwardly while patting him on the back. "I had heard you got the job."
"Good to see all your kids again," Tom said, nodding to all of them with a big smile. Then he met Indiana's gaze and his smile dimmed — which of course, made hers grow. "Indiana."
"Thomas," she greeted, tilting her head.
"Stab anyone recently?" he asked, crossing his arms.
"Tommy!" Isaiah hissed.
"Not today," she replied, not phased. "Yet, at least."
"Jesus," Jackson muttered, rubbing his forehead. He put his hands on Indy's shoulders and started to lead her away. "Let's go say hi to Jen and keep her away from Dewey."
"Ooh, I'll come!" Luca said excitedly. He quickly kissed Isaiah's cheek before following after the two friends, leaving Tom with his cousin, Sophia, Dewey, and Roman.
"Dewey's been giving me some stellar tips on the role," Tom told them, nodding to the older man. "I think I'm gonna really be able to elevate it in a way that David Schwimmer couldn't."
Roman groaned, unable to believe a novice was running around and claiming to be better than one of the actors on the most popular sitcom in the world. Isaiah had been right — Tom was unbearably annoying and full of himself.
"I can't have another conversation with him," Roman said, waving his hand and walking off. "I'll find Indy and discuss where we want the songs to be."
As Roman left as well, Isaiah smiled lightly at his older cousin. "So, how has it been working on your first big movie set?" he asked, trying to make conversation.
"Well, it's not my first set. I was a featured extra in An American Werewolf in Paris," Tom said proudly.
"Yes," Sophia mumbled sarcastically, "because that movie's something to be proud of."
Tom ignored her snarky comment and bumped his shoulder against Dewey. "So, what do you think? I'm totally killing the Dewey look."
Sophia looked him over in the police officer uniform and grimaced at the mustache glued to his upper lip. "That thing on your lip is revolting. You look stupid."
"It looks exactly like mine," Dewey said, frowning at her.
In response, Sophia just looked at him with raised eyebrows, silently replying with 'Yeah, and?'. Dewey rolled his eyes, used to her by now.
"Now," Tom said, moving over to Isaiah. He rubbed his shoulders, and Isaiah tried to move away from his touch. "I promised Uncle Marshall I'd show you a fun time while you're in L.A., so just promise not to let my rising stardom overwhelm you, Zay."
Isaiah grimaced for two reasons. The first was that he knew for a fact his dad didn't care if he had fun in the big city — he barely asked about the tour and didn't come to any of the shows. He and Luca were the only two that didn't have any of their family to support them. And secondly, already, Tom was getting on his fucking nerves.
"Tommy, I'm in a Grammy and VMA-winning band, and you're replacing David Schwimmer in a movie that's about to suck ass. You got this gig because you're my cousin," he said pointedly, scoffing at the end.
Tom dropped his smile and narrowed his eyes. "Are you implying that I'm not talented enough to have gotten it on my own?"
"Yes," Sophia spoke up, looking at her nails, "that's exactly what he's implying."
"No one asked you, Sophia!" he whined.
"Well, actually, you just asked," Dewey told him, a slight cringe on his face.
"Excuse me while I go talk to people that actually matter," Tom grumbled before stomping off.
"This is gonna be a long three months, isn't it?" Sophia asked, sighing heavily.
"Yup," Isaiah mumbled. "Like, I love him, don't get me wrong, but god, what an ass."
"He's just living up to the stellar Starnes family reputation," she joked.
Isaiah rolled his eyes and gave her a good shove before heading in the direction his boyfriend and the others went. "You're lucky you're my best friend."
☆︎
The answering machine in Mark's apartment was blinking slowly as he came in early in the morning, having finished up a long night and closing a case about a string of robberies. And because of how sleepy he was, he debated forgetting about it until he'd rested, but knowing it wasn't wise given his dangerous and time-sensitive line of work, he did move to check it.
As he was loosening his tie and pulling his blazer off, he was surprised to hear Indiana's voice coming through. And she sounded almost shy.
"Hey, Mark. We've got our last concert of the tour tomorrow night and there's a ticket with your name on it if you want it," she was offering. Then she seemed to take in a deep breath. "Then I thought maybe if the offer still stands, we could try that dinner? I thought it might be... nice. Uh, anyway, yeah, it's a great view of the stage and you can come backstage before it starts if you want."
Mark slowly began to smile the more she talked, realizing she was opening up a bit more to the idea of taking things a little further between the two of them. Maybe she'd been spooked at first, but after having time to think about it — and think about the things Jackson said — she was reconsidering things.
"I guess, I'll see you tomorrow — or I won't. It's fine if I don't," Indiana said quickly, trying to play it cool. "And you can call me back at this number any time. It's my cell. I figured I was holding the number hostage long enough. So, um, bye."
The message ended with a loud beep, and there wasn't another that followed. And he just stared at his phone for a silent moment, already frantically thinking of different places he could take the younger girl.
Mark had a date with Indiana, and he could not screw it up.
☆︎ FEBRUARY 1ST, 2000 ☆︎
Indiana was backstage at the Hollywood Bowl, only thirty minutes away from the last show on their tour. Martha Meeks was with her and carefully putting gold, shimmery eyeshadow on her face, not bothering to be neat because Indy thought more glitter was better. The other Meeks sibling was excitedly looking over all the expensive equipment used to run the lights and sound.
All the other band members were lingering around as well, making finishing touches to their outfits or tuning their instruments or just laying down for a power nap in a separate dressing room like Luca — but was it really a power nap if he'd been asleep for two hours?
"Are you guys staying for a few more days?" Jackson asked. He was sitting on the floor next to the chairs the two girls were in.
Martha rolled her eyes. "No, we're driving home right after the show. Mr. Clingy doesn't want to be away from Sidney — it's like they're basically living together now. Very domestic and gross."
"Of course, it's domestic. They've been friends since the fourth grade," Indy told her, doing her best not to move her head. Glitter in her eye was the last thing she needed. "Friends to lovers is always domestic and gross, but also cute."
"Well, just be careful getting back," Jackson told Martha with a frown. "That's a long drive to make so late at night."
Martha smiled shyly, knowing that Jackson was just worried about her, and it felt nice to be worried about. "We will be. And I can call you when we get back if you want."
"Yeah, thanks," he said, feeling a little better.
"Okay, and done," Martha then said, leaning back from Indiana and setting the eyeshadow brush down.
Indiana looked in the vanity mirror and beamed, knowing she'd be glowing under the stage lights. Then she swooped in to kiss Martha's cheek, leaving behind a lipstick print. "Thanks, babe. Put some on Jackson. The gold looks good with his skin."
Rather than protest like Isaiah probably would, Jackson didn't complain or pull away as Martha dusted glitter on his cheekbones and the tip of his nose. While she did that, Indiana ran a hand through her hair, knowing it wouldn't matter much once they started performing, as it'd get sweaty and the wind would be blowing it around.
"Hey, Indiana," Rod said while walking into the room to get her attention. She looked at him expectantly, seeing the lines on his forehead already creasing. "There is a... Mark in the green room for you."
Instantly, she brightened up and scrambled out of her chair, feeling excited to see Mark. And for once, it wasn't just an eagerness to have sex with him. She was excited to go on her first date since Mickey even if she was a little scared.
Before Indy could run off, Rod grabbed her upper arm and looked at her pointedly. "The show starts in less than half an hour. You do not have time to have sex with that man."
"Oh, Rod," she said, patting his hand with a condescending smile. "A lot can be accomplished in thirty minutes."
"Indy, Martha just did your makeup. Don't ruin it," Jackson instructed simply.
"Fine," she sighed before going down the hallway and to the room meant for people with backstage pass privileges — it was where Randy and Martha had to wait before someone came to retrieve them.
As she got closer, Indiana's heart felt like it could break through her ribs from how nervous she was. Because if she were going to fall for anyone again, it'd be a man as perfect as Mark was. But Mickey had seemed pretty goddamn perfect to her too, and that didn't end well at all. In fact, he'd ruined her life in some ways. And she wasn't sure if she wanted to give another person enough power over her to ruin her life again.
Indiana entered the room with a little knock on the door, instantly gaining Mark's attention. For once, the older man wasn't in a tie and dress attire. He was in dark jeans and a white t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up once in a cuff, fitting disgustingly snug around his biceps. He looked fucking hot, as always.
And his green eyes lit up when he saw Indiana coming closer in an outfit that nearly matched his own. Mark was appreciative of the small, cropped, crochet tank top she wore that fit more like a bra than a top and the high-waisted jeans with fraying holes in the legs to show off her thighs.
"I didn't know if you'd actually show up," Indiana said, speaking first as she walked up to him.
"Of course, I'm here," he said while wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her closer. "I've been dying to see you perform again."
"Then I will try to not disappoint," she said, smiling up at him. Then she nervously bit her lip. "And what are your thoughts on my other offer?"
"I think there is a very nice sushi place not far from here that I'd love to take you to," Mark told her. "It'll be a million times better than what I made for you at my apartment."
"I don't know," she mused, shifting her weight between her feet, swaying a little bit. "That was a lot of fun, and the staff might not appreciate me trying and failing and making a huge mess while trying to throw a California roll into your mouth."
Mark tilted his head while gently rubbing his thumbs along her exposed sides. "Then how about after dinner, we get some to-go and you can practice your aim back at my place?"
"I like the sound of that," Indy said, sliding her hands up to tangle her fingers in his thick hair. "Maybe, if you'd like, we could stop by a Blockbuster to grab my favorite scary movie to watch."
"Oh, I've reached the magical level five status?" he asked, grinning widely.
"Yes, but if you say any wrong opinions about it, you drop back down to level three," she informed him matter-of-factly.
He nodded in understanding, taking the favorite movie ordeal just as seriously as she was. "Well, I don't want to risk that," Mark claimed. "Guess I better make sure to maintain my current standing."
Then Mark leaned in to kiss Indiana softly. And she all but melted in his arms, sighed happily against his mouth, giving him the perfect opening to deepen it, sliding his tongue past her lips. His warm touch moved up her sides, fingers toying with the thin pieces of fabric keeping the back of her top tied together.
"Mark," Indiana moaned. And Mark didn't bother to stop the kiss as his lips moved from her mouth to her jaw while she continued to speak. "I've been given explicit instructions to not let you defile me before the show."
Mark snorted in amusement and pulled back, looking down at her. "I think we both do our fair share of defiling," he reminded her.
"Very true," she admitted with a smirk. Then she lightly pushed on his chest until the back of his knees bumped into a couch, which he sat down on, looking up at Indiana with excited eyes. "Now let me do some defiling of my own."
☆︎
By the time Indiana and Mark parted, the older man made his way to his spot in the VIP tent with lipstick stains smeared across his mouth and neck — he had no clue they were there, as Indiana was too proud of her work to tell him about it. And though it got on Rod's nerves, the quick makeout session with Mark certainly put Indiana in a fantastic mood for the final concert.
When the time came, all five members of the band rushed out onto the stage for the opening number. And though they'd made a stop in every state, the musicians still couldn't believe that so many people loved them and knew the lyrics to all their songs. The show went on for an hour and a half, and Indy would glance at the VIP tent every chance she could, spotting Mark just a few feet from Randy and Martha, the Meeks siblings having no clue who he was.
The Woodsboro Killers sped through all their original songs and a handful of some of the more iconic rock and pop-punk songs that they loved to play. And near the end, just before they'd play Sweet Child O' Mine, the bright, rainbow-colored lights dimmed, and Luca, Isaiah, and Sophia all left the stage.
Mark leaned against the metal barricade, his eyes staying on Indiana as she and Jackson each sat on a stool, trading out the guitars they'd been using all night for simple acoustic ones.
"Hello, Los Angeles," Jackson said into his microphone with a wide grin as the audience cheered.
"This tour has been everything that we could ever dream of," Indiana added. "And we are so excited to have a crowd as energetic and loud as you all."
"And for that, we think you deserve a little something special," he went on. "Something no one else has heard — it's so new that my sister and the guys haven't heard it yet either."
Realizing that they would be hearing a new song, the people in the audience began to scream and cheer with a new kind of excitement. And Mark saw quite a few people pull out handheld video cameras to get it on tape.
"This wasn't the easiest song for me to write," Indiana told them with an almost sad smile on her lips. "In fact, I think I've been working on it for almost two years now. And it's about struggling to forget and move on from someone that meant the world to you — a best friend, a parent, someone you love. So, uh, this means a lot to me, and I wouldn't want anyone but Jackson up here singing it with me."
Jackson smiled and leaned over, kissing the side of Indiana's head. Then he spoke into his own microphone. "This is Remember to Forget. We hope you like it."
The two best friends began playing a gentle melody on their guitars, and when they started to sing, a chill ran down Mark's spine from the sheer emotion in Indiana's voice. It wasn't just a song about the Ghostface attacks. It was for Cici Cooper, Indiana's parents, Derek Feldman, Tatum Riley, and Hallie McDaniel.
And up until then, Mark had never really taken the time to think of all that Indiana had lost in her life. He hadn't noticed how it still affected her. But more than anything, the song was still about Mickey Altieri. And for the first time, Indy was letting the public hear a song about how much she missed him, not about how angry and hateful she was toward him for what he did.
Indiana couldn't look over at Mark as she went through the song. No, she stared into the stage lights, keeping the tears that wanted to fall at bay while ignoring the people that held up lighters to the slow song. Had she looked his way, she'd have seen him receive a sudden phone call, one that had him briskly leaving the crowd in response to what was happening.
"How can I just move on now that you're really gone? Say 'I'm fine' when it's not true? Make myself unlove you?" Jackson and Indiana ran through the chorus one last time, their voices blending beautifully. "Am I supposed to pretend we never even met? How can I remember to forget?"
When the new song came to an end, they received the same applause they'd been getting all night. And Jackson gave Indy a side hug as they got off their stools while someone brought back their guitars to swap out. Sophia, Luca, and Isaiah rejoined them as well, ready to close out the concert.
Indiana then looked back toward Mark, only to see he wasn't there anymore. Her expression dimmed the slightest bit, but then she just told herself he was in the restroom or getting something from the food stands.
But Mark wasn't back by the time they finished the nearly six-minute-long performance of Sweet Child, which Indiana had perfected years ago. And he didn't return during the standing ovation as the five musicians bowed for the audience.
Sophia tossed her drumsticks out and watched as three girls tried to fight over them. Then the five of them ran off the stage, seeking out bottles of water and towels to wipe their sweat off with. And as Indiana was pulling her thick hair up into a ponytail, one of the stagehands came up to her, holding her cell phone out.
"You got a call during the last song," she informed her. "They left a message."
"Thanks, Makenna," Indiana said, still catching her breath as she took the phone.
It only took a few seconds to find the voicemail that was left by Mark, who was making good use of her number, it seemed. Indiana stared at the screen for a moment before playing his message back, holding the phone to her ear.
"Indy, I am so, so sorry, but something came up with work, and I needed to come in tonight," Mark said. It sounded like he was moving quickly, racing to his car. "But look, I promise to make this up to you. You deserve a real date, and I'm dying to give you one if you'll still let me. I - I gotta go, but you were amazing tonight. I couldn't look away from you for even a second."
As the message ended, Indiana let out a sad sigh, unable to believe he'd canceled on her. Part of her was wondering if it was some sign from the universe telling her that Mark wasn't the one. That it wasn't time for her to move on from Mickey.
Maybe Jackson was wrong — she wasn't ready to forget Mickey just yet.
☆︎
Indiana was less than thrilled when Dewey barged into her room at five in the morning, throwing her curtains open. She groaned and burrowed her head under the pillow, thinking it was cruel considering how late she and the band stayed out partying to celebrate the end of the tour.
"You gotta get up, Indiana," Dewey said, not bothering to keep his voice down. "It's important."
She just let out another groan that resembled a bear and held her hand up above her head, flipping the cop off. "No get up. Sleep!"
"Everyone has to be at the Stab set in an hour," he informed her.
Indiana rolled her eyes despite them still being closed. "We aren't scheduled to be on set today. We don't have to come in until next Wednesday to record."
"This isn't about recording—"
"Dewey!" Indiana whined as he pulled the covers off her, the cold morning air hitting her arms and legs.
"Indiana," Dewey said in a firm tone that the younger girl hadn't actually heard before.
With a loud, annoyed sigh, she sat up and looked at him, her hair falling in her face. "What?" she asked with a glare.
"Cotton Weary is dead."
"Oh, shit."