Date is changing to the 20th so you guys can add more stuff in if you’d like :D
Summary: Gaga can’t go to the VMAs, so she employs Plan B.
SMOKE AND MIRRORS
Click. Sizzle. Tongue of flame. The deathstick crackles to life between Jo’s lips, and before long, poison puffs out into the air around him from his mouth in wisps of gray. One puff. Two puffs. Three puffs. And then the cigarette is abruptly pulled from between his lips by bigger, rougher hands, is dumped unceremoniously onto the floor, and is crushed by a heavily booted foot.
“Morning to you too, pop,” Jo greets unenthusiastically.
“How many times, Joseph?” growls his father, all coffee grounds and muddled accent, “Not near the cars.”
“About as many times as mom says not near her fucking geraniums,” Jo replies nonchalantly.
“Language,” warns his father, tossing him the keys to their newest patient, “Pop the hood.”
Jo does as he’s told without much more argument. The sedan’s hood comes up with a metallic pop!, and immediately, Jo’s father ducks under it, checking each and every hose, cover, cap and filter he can get his hands on. And then he moves on underneath the car itself, rolling under it on a makeshift cart. It doesn’t take him long to roll back out, holding a greasy cylinder in his hands.
“Leaky oil filter,” he says, handing it up to Jo, who takes it from him dutifully, “Go see if we’ve got any more of that in the back.”
“The Back” of course refers to a room off to the side of the garage stocked from floor to ceiling with auto-parts bought and traded over the many years that Jo’s father has been running his workshop. And by “room,” what is actually meant is a 1.5mx1.5m niche that his father had installed a door in, leaving virtually no space to manoeuvre when looking for parts long buried underneath its fellows. With a sigh, Jo checks the brand and part number on the filter he’s holding and, soon as he has it memorized, starts digging.
He doesn’t dig long, not because he finds what he needs right away, but because the phone rings.
“Calderone’s Car Care, you got Jo,” Jo greets into the phone monotonously.
“There’s my special guy,” says an all-too familiar tiny, slightly raspy voice.
“Stefani,” Jo replies, smirking slightly.
Click.
Jo chuckles to himself and hangs up as well. A few seconds later, the phone rings again, and he answers it in the same manner as before.
“You are such a bitch sometimes,” Gaga answers after his greeting.
“Understatement of the fucking year,” Jo shoots back, “Why’re you calling?”
“How’d you like to go to Los Angeles for a night of music and miscellaneous mischief?” Gaga offers in that soft little tinkling voice of hers, “Free flowing drinks and a bevy of the biggest stars you’ve ever wanked to.”
“What’s the catch?” Jo asks as he finds the exact filter he’s looking for. Pressing the phone between his shoulder and ear, he picks up the heavy box and blows some dust off of it.
“Catch?” Gaga asks as Jo exits The Back.
“Don’t give me that innocent farm girl routine, lady,” Jo says, handing off the filter to his dad, “It’s been two whole fucking months, and you think you’re still gonna be able to play me for a fucking patsy?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, baby,” Gaga counters, although a bit of edge has crept into her tone.
“For someone who hates the truth so much, you’re not a very good liar, are you?” Jo asks, “What do you really want?”
“The MTV Video Music Awards,” Gaga finally relents, “I can’t go, and I’m supposed to perform. It’s too late to back-out now.”
“…What are you saying exactly?” Jo asks, eyes narrowing as he leans against the wall, his free hand in his pocket.
“People loved you in the music video,” Gaga reasons as Jo pulls out another cigarette and lights it up, “You had fun, didn’t you? Besides, that’s not all you’re gonna do. You get to present a really important award to Britney Spears! Britney fucking Spears! You love Britney!”
“What if I don’t want to go?” Jo answers after a protracted puff of smoke, “What if I’m thinking now that it’s way too soon for you to be asking me fucking favors again? What if I’m thinking you should still be the one going, coz that ain’t my fucking place? I don’t belong there, and you know it.”
“Fuck you,” Gaga hisses, “If you really love me, you’ll go, and you’ll get in that spotlight.”
Jo takes his time and enjoys his cigarette. “Don’t say that,” he groans after what feels like a century, “How dare you fucking say that to me?”
“You love me,” Gaga repeats, and Jo throws his head back against the wall and swears soundly, “I know you do.”
“You left me, bitch,” Jo reminds her, “You told me to go, so I did, and I never fucking asked you why. Yeah, I love you, but you never gave me much of a choice, did you?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Gaga replies, indignant, “Look, will you please just do this? For me? You always said you wanted to be part of what I do. Well, here’s your chance. It’s your spotlight now, Joey baby. Get in it.”
“It ain’t my fucking spotlight,” Jo disagrees, “It’s on loan. From you. It’ll always be your spotlight. People are gonna see me there, and they’re not gonna think I’m great or anything. It’s your fucking song I’ll be doing, isn’t it? They’ll see me and think, ‘Goddammit, where’s Gaga?’ I’m just some guy.”
“What I’m getting from this is that you’ll do it,” Gaga answers, triumphant.
“Only coz no one else loves you enough to do it,” Jo shoots back, “No one loves you like I do. No one knows you like I do.”
“Fuck yeah,” Gaga replies.
“When do I have to be there? And how the fuck am I getting there? And what the hell am I gonna wear?” Jo asks, flicking his cigarette butt onto the floor and putting it out with his shoe, “You ain’t putting me in some sequinned unitard or whatever, I’m not gonna be your experiment.”
“You let me worry about all that,” Gaga tells him, “Rehearsals start the week before the show.”
Jo sighs heavily. “Fine, whatever,” he replies, lighting yet another cigarette.
“You’re a doll, Jo,” Gaga sighs in relief, “Thanks for doing this for me.”
“Except that I’m not doing this for you,” Jo replies, letting out a long breath of gray smoke, “I’m doing this for Britney.”
And he hangs up, shoving his phone back in his pocket. He grabs the nearest cloth and slings it over his shoulder as he puts out his freshly lit cigarette.
“Who was that?” his father asks as Jo climbs back into the driver seat of the car they’re working on.
“Gaga,” Jo answers uninterestedly.
“She was a nice girl, Joseph,” his dad points out from underneath the car, “Why’d you ever let her go?”
“Coz I was an asshole,” Jo mutters, rolling his eyes.
His father hadn’t heard.
Entry by: Mochaciana86
The deadline of is pretty close. I may extend it is we don’t get any more entries…One is not okay…
So please get your entries in as soon as possible…The deadline is closer then you think!
For your contest!
My girlfriend and I dressed as Jo Calderone and Yüyi
If I win I suppose a photo edit would be cool.
Posted by: notrealjusttheater
<3 amazing
When will we have some entries?! :C <3
:C I’m getting kinda sad gais
Whoever made this is amazing <3
(Source: vivalanikkki, via fyeahjocalderone)
Well Hopefully some of the people will end up entering cosplay pictures!
