...and she's just my type. [Adam Yauch / OC]

Grade A Class, #1 in her division

A/N: Oh shit, I can't believe I'm actually back to writing fanfiction. Let's kick start this with a disclaimer/trigger warning. The story takes place in the mid 80s, there's reference to a lot of underage drinking, both consensual and non-consensual sex, use of drugs and sort of being a slave of the business (both Hollywood and the music biz). I'd try to keep the references as such, references, nothing too cruel or graphic (except for maybe some consensual sexy time later on), but it's still a bit rough. This chapter does include references to that.

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May 1985. Los Angeles, California.

I've been 18 for a couple of months. In some places of the US, that means I can drink now. Technically, not in California. But Hollywood is not California. Hollywood is its own community and place.

I've been in the "business" for about two years now. It's insane how much it makes you grow. Physically and mentally. I wish I was 21 so that I could do a lot more. Like get the hell out of here and be able to do whatever I want. But for now, I have to follow instructions. You see, I had this dream. I wanted to be an actress. I do believe I have what it takes to make it big. But my agent... He's either not convinced or he is in his comfort zone having me around. The thing is, I haven't booked anything that big. A few commercials here and there, but nothing that can make me earn enough to be independent. So I've been crashing my agent's place, and he pays for my meals and stuff. But I have to pay him somehow... If you know what I mean.

When you don't carry much cash, life in a place like this is paid in particular ways. Sex, drugs, companionship, you name it. I wish I could tell you I'm not doing coco puffs and random guys to afford my "lifestyle". I'm a girl for hire, right now for everything but I hope soon just for acting. Or modeling. Or something that pays enough but does not involve losing a little bit of hope every day.

This lifestyle means to search for the thing that will make you be noticeable. That's either being spotted with someone who takes your name to newer ears. Or literally meeting someone with power to take you to places and make you a star. Personally, you could see me in every single club in the general Los Angeles area. I go out as much as I can, hoping I do get to meet someone important this night. And try again and again. One day I'll get it.

Tonight, there's this live show after-party. For the past few months, everyone wants to either be with Madonna or be Madonna. I'd take any. But perhaps tonight I'll actually get it. You see, her label is celebrating the success of the album and her sold out show in the area, and are having this sort of "biz party", where anyone with enough credentials gets in, where people with cameras might be. And, surprisingly, my agent managed to get me a pass.

As I walk in, dressed all in black, "Easy Lover" by Philip Bailey sounds in the system. The place is packed, and I notice a few familiar faces around. I'm not the only girl with the same dream and same M.O., and we sort of protect each other when things get out of hand. I also immediately notice the drug dealer of this area, and I believe he noticed me too. I've 'help him' sometimes, like a 'messenger' for some of his clients, those that people can't find out they consume. A friend, Oli, is great enough to gift me a drink pass, and I head down with her to the bar to change it. We chit chat a little bit there, watching the action slowly unpack, and notice a pair of brown eyes from a cute guy in a leather jacket staring at us. I smile back at him, waiting for my drink to appear in my hand, before my friend interrupts my staring contest.

"You know who that is, right?", she says, just loud enough for me to hear. "Not really. I haven't seen him around before", I replied. It's not like I know everyone in this town, but I am familiar with several celebrities and he's not someone I remember from before. "He's in a band. I think they are opening for Madonna all around the country", she continues. Now, I'm not that familiar with the music world, but if they are opening for Madonna, they most be huge right? Right?

"Oh really? So there's more than one for us to catch?", Catch... Ew. Sometimes I hate the way I talk. As if this people are only wallets to steal from. I bet there most be good people around in the world. But in this business, every guy wants to have sex with you at exchange of something. And you bet your ass I ain't that cheap.

My thoughts are dissipated when I hear the first drum notes of Blondie's "Rapture". If a song is MY song, is that one. I quickly drink the rest of my Cosmo and pretty much run to the dancefloor. I'm not that much of a great dancer, but this song just makes me move like the bass runs through my veins, and people can notice it. Soon, I feel an arm wrap around me from behind, and dance close with me. I look behind my shoulder and catch the same brown eyes as before, his smile tells me he's had a few beers already, but also that he's actually enjoying this. I hit jackpot and I'm not ever trying hard at it. "Hi", I exclaimed as I start to dance around with him, his hand now in mine. He clearly is not a dancer either, but at least his head and shoulders do move to the rhythm. We keep on dancing until the song changes to Depeche Mode. I like that one too, but I'm here with a mission, and I'm staring at my mission's eyes. "I'm Nora. Thank you for joining me", I expressed with a big smile. "Hi Nora. I'm Adam", he answered, his left arm wrapped around my waist, our faces close to each other.
It's go time. I'm not letting this one pass.

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A/N: I know Nora sounds like a bitch right now. But it's part of the plot ok? And don't forget, the Beasties were kind of dicks in the 80s too.