Talk less, smile more (LMM/reader)
Chapter 3
Author’s note: wow, a year later I’m only at chapter 3 and still far away from all the ✨spicy✨ parts. I’m so sorry to disappoint, but this is a slow burn-y kinda fic. Please leave some comments if you feel like it, positive or negative alike, as it helps me so much with motivation. Also, if you have any ideas/promts you’d like me to include, feel free to comment or dm me 🥺 ps. This is my first fic ever and English is not my first language, so there might be a few errors. TW: mentions of panic attacks Tags: @biafbunny @raiseaglasstothefourofus
“So... I don’t know where to start, actually. But I’ll try not to take too long.”
“Oh no, take your time, tell us everything from the beginning” my sister replied.
Then they all had their eyes on me like vultures on a fresh carcass.
“Ok, so last week, I was at work, minding my own business and making the last adjustments to the layout of that flat we had to renovate, as one interior designer does, when Maya called.
“Y/N! Hi! How are you? Well I don’t have much time for chit chat, so... ehm... can you talk right now?”
“Hello to you. Yeah I’m fine... probably... but, uhm, I’m kinda in the middle of something right now. Is this important?” I whispered, trying to keep the volume of my voice as low as I could, in order not to stand out among the monotonous buzz of my fellow working bees.
“No! I mean, yes! I don’t know. Is it?”
“Maya, calm down, you sound like you’re having a panic attack”
“I’m not sure but I probably am.”
“Ok, give me a second and I’ll call you back. I have to become a ninja and disappear from the office.”
And so I did, I got up from my painfully uncomfortable swivel chair, I made painfully uncomfortable eye contact -the kind of eye contact that makes it obvious you have to go pee- with my desk neighbours in our hipster-modern-industrial open space and I took refuge in the farthest bathroom stall from the door. Thankfully, the whole bathroom was empty. I knew I didn't have much time before someone came in and heard me speaking on the phone and reported it to my boss, because that's what his reign of terror forces us to do, so I called Maya back.
She replied on the first ring.
"Hey Y/N. Ok, I know you have little time, so I'll try to be quick."
"Yes, please, you're making me anxious."
"Ok, so... ehm... you know I'm getting married next week, right? Right, of course you know. So... you also know we have a thoroughly planned reception with you know... entertainment for the guests?"
"Maya. Please. Get to the point."
"Yes. Well... they... I mean, they can't..."
"MAYA! For God's sake, breathe, and tell me what's going on!"
After a brief pause, she continued
"Ok, ok, so... the lead singer of the band we hired called Carlos an hour ago. He told him they can't come. He caught a very nasty flu, poor boy, and his bandmates too. So, there's that."
"Oh no, that's bad. Do you already have a plan B? Maybe they can recommend someone they know can be booked last minute?"
Another brief pause
"As a matter of fact we do have a plan B.”
"Oh?" I replied, a little bit confused
"It’s ... honestly both a genius idea and a very bad one. And it's not confirmed yet..."
"Maya, if you don't tell me everything in the next ten seconds, I'm going to hang up on you."
"Please promise me you won't freak out."
"I'm already freaking out!!"
"Ok, don't freak out more than this?"
"I'm hanging up right now."
"No! Wait! Please, I have to give him confirmation ASAP!"
"Him? Who's him?"
"Carlos' friend from Puerto Rico. I mean, he lives in New York now, but still, they played together when they were little."
"Ok? So?"
"He's not the point. I mean, he kinda is, only half of it though. He very kindly accepted to be our DJ for the whole night. He's lovely, Carlos told me he is a fairly known rapper and songwriter or something. But. Two things. One. I still need a singer for our first and second dance and for the... spicy broadway medley we planned together. You know, those couple songs we discussed?”
Of course I remembered. I have a digital copy of her 110-Pages-long planning journal, inclusive of 19 pages dedicated to the musical entertainment, with all the songs and dances and every one of the sneezes and farts the band, which was more like a little orchestra than a band, would make. Also, a couple of classic love ballads from the ‘80, such as(I’ve had) the time of my life so they can do the lift plus the infamous spicy Broadway medley, in which two unfortunate singers shout to the audience the joys of steamy lovemaking.
"I remember. Yes. Some of the hottest songs in musical theatre. Also, you said he’s a rapper?"
"Yes, I guess. Or something like that. I don't know him, Carlos does. That's not what concerns me though... The real issue here is that I have only one option right now. You."
"I'm sorry, WHAT?"
"I said you. You're my only hope, Y/N. Please, consider it. Please please, I need you to go back to singing, just this once, for me and Carlos. Please. I know you promised not to sing anymore in public, but..."
"Maya, no buts. I'm sorry, but I can't. Can't you ask the DJ if he could sing instead?"
"I did, but he told us he's not much of a singer on his own, but maybe... a duet? You and him together?"
"What? Me and a total stranger singing about how much we want to bone each other? Hell no. No way. It's been ages since I last sang. And even if I’d sung until yesterday, no. I'd have to prepare both physically and psychologically. And with work and everything, I can’t. A week it’s too soon.”
"But you know those songs so well already! And you love musical theatre! And all the Broadway hits are your jam! You know Rent and Chicago and that other one about a hot and sassy Thomas Jefferson by heart! No one is better than you at this, Y/N, please."
"I know, but I don't want to risk having a whole panic attack at your wedding. I’ll ruin it, and I don’t want that.
And that’s Hamilton, by the way, and it’s not about a hot and sassy Thomas Jefferson, although there is, in fact a hot and sassy Thomas Jefferson.”
"You see? You know everything there is to know about musical theatre!
I promise, you’ll be fine. Just trust me, please. Please don’t say no to this, if you know what I mean”
“Maya, please, don’t force me into this. Also, what about the DJ? Does he know the songs at least?”
“Carlos said that he too is a Broadway enthusiast, you both know your shit, you’ll be fine, I promise! I’m begging you, you’re my only hope. Please, please, pretty please.”
She then proceeded to implore me another twenty times or so, until I budged.
“Fine.” I said, eventually “I’ll do it. But just because I couldn’t stand to hear the butchering of the songs I love.”
“Great! You promise? You said you’ll do it, you can’t back down now.
“I promise”
“God,I love you Y/N”
“I know. But we’ll talk later about the specifics. Oh and by the way, do you know his name? The dj, I mean…”
“Sorry, no, I don’t remember… No wait, maybe something short like Tim? Or Jim? Maybe Lenny?”
She didn’t have time to finish the sentence, though, because I heard the door creak open.
“Shit I have to hung up now, someone’s entered the bathroom, talk to you later” I said, in a whispered hurry
“Ok, thank you again y/n, I love you so much. Bye.”
“Wait, so you hooked up with someone famous?” Liz interjected “Oh my god, is it daddy Yankee?” Continued liz with a screech.
“What the hell liz, no, it’s not daddy Yankee”
“Bad bunny?” Squeaked Kate, an octave higher than her normal voice.
“No. Not Bad Bunny.”
“So who is he?” The four women asked almost at unison.
“If you shut up, maybe, I’ll tell you”
So they nodded, slightly disappointed, and went back to stare at me with gossip-fuelled hungry eyes.
