No Way Back (a Taylor Hawkins fan fiction)

Chapter 1 - Red Lipstick

Genevieve King was tired.

“what can I get you?” she shouted across the bar with little enthusiasm.

“8 polar bear shots!” the unnecessarily overdone and underdressed blonde squealed back from the other side. Gen fought the urge to roll her eyes as she reached for her shaker and a bottle of peppermint schnapps.

She’d been working at The Sun Room, a dive bar in Studio City for just over 6 months. Sure, The Valley was not the most glamorous part of Los Angeles, but the rent was cheap, her bar was a few blocks from her apartment and she lived just off Laurel Canyon - one of her favorite drives in the city.

“It’s my birthday!” the blonde shrieked at her as she strained the sugary mixture into shot glasses.

“Happy Birthday.” Gen responded, forcing a smile, “where are you from?” She could always tell tourists and this one fit the bill. Too much makeup, too much enthusiasm and her eyes were constantly searching the room for a glimpse of someone important.

The blonde giggled. “North Dakota, how did you know I wasn’t from here?”

“I have a sixth sense about these things.”

 “I’m totally moving here though, I’m an actress!”

“No kidding!” Gen replied with mock surprise.

“Yup! I read online that Robert Pattinson comes here a lot. Is that true?”

“I’m not sure, I’ve never seen him on my shift.”

In truth, Rob was a semi-regular patron of the bar. The Sunroom was just far enough outside of Hollywood that you could usually enjoy a drink without being hassled, causing it to be a bit of a celebrity hot spot, but Gen wasn’t about to perpetuate the rumors. The last thing she wanted was a bar full of Twihards, eagerly watching the door for their vampire obsession.

The blonde pouted, turned and teetered across the room with her tray of shots to a table full of girls in similar states of undress.

“Happy Birthday, Bitch!” screamed one of them, raising her glass. A chorus of squeals followed and Genevieve turned to the register to hide the look of irritation on her face.

"Like ohmygod! It’s my b-day, bitches!" came a whisper from behind her. She laughed and turned to see Rachel, her raspy-voiced roommate and best friend making her most convincing Valley Girl face.

“Wow, Rachel,” she smiled, “you should be an actress.”

“I know, right?” Rachel laughed.

Rachel was, in fact, an actress. The girls had met as extras on a film set two years ago. Gen had been there to make some quick cash, Rachel was taking whatever her agent would throw her way. Rachel had been out of cigarettes, Gen had a pack. Gen had been couch surfing in North Hollywood, Rachel needed a roommate in Studio City. Three days later Gen moved in and the two had been partners in crime ever since.

"Alright, smoke time," sighed Gen, grabbing her pack from behind the register.

“I got you covered,” said Rachel with a nod, cracking her knuckles dramatically. Gen smiled at her friend and made her way through the dark bar and out the front door, high-fiving Dom, her favorite doorman as she stepped outside.

She lit her cigarette and appraised her reflection in the window. Her long chestnut hair was tied back, thick bangs hanging in her eyes. “Time for a trim,” she thought to herself. Tired, she hadn’t done much with her face tonight - just her go-to black liquid liner and a coat of mascara. She dug in her back pocket for the tube of dark red lipstick she always had on hand, a firm believer that red lipstick could solve the world’s problems, or at the very least, distract attention from the dark circles under her eyes.

She expertly applied a rich red coat to her full lips and cursed as the tube slipped out of her hand and onto the sidewalk. She bent down to grab it but as she did a man’s hand snatched it first, bold black feather tattoo on his forearm coming into view as he rose to hand it to her. She straightened to find herself face to face with a handsome stranger, his big smile framed by a thick dark beard.

"You’re quick," she said as he handed it to her.

“Yeah, I got excited for a minute but it’s not my shade.” He replied, frowning, then pulled the tube back before she could grab it. “Hey, T! Are you a red lipstick kinda guy?”

He held the tube out to an approaching lanky blonde with tousled surfer-blonde hair poking out from under a green trucker hat. The newcomer flicked his cigarette into the street and eyed the lipstick.

“I generally prefer more of a gloss,” he said wistfully, flipping his hair for dramatic effect.

“I guess it’s your lucky night then!” the dark haired one said to Gen as he once again handed the tube to her.

“Nice T-shirt” the scruffy blonde said with a lazy grin as the pair headed towards the door, gesturing to the vintage Stooges T-shirt Gen was wearing over her denim cut-offs.

She took a last drag of her smoke and smiled her thanks.

"Better call Jerry up from the office," she said to Dom after the men had entered the bar.

Glen smirked.

“Operation red carpet,” he laughed as Gen walked back inside, the phone to his ear.

“Yeah, Jerry? Dave Grohl and his drummer just walked in, you might want to come upstairs.”