February 2008, Staples Center, Los Angeles, CA, USA
"Why did we leave the red carpet early?" Scarlett asked in a low whisper as we were guided to our seats. The auditorium was already half full, buzzing with murmured conversations and the low hum of anticipation. Most of the non-red carpet guests had already arrived. My family had stayed behind this time for security reasons.
"It's just security being security," I replied, keeping my tone casual. "They initially told me not to stop for fans, but you know how that went. I got swept away, and they didn't like it. So they rushed me inside as a precaution. Just paranoia, really."
From the skeptical look on Scarlett's face, it was clear she didn't thought it was just paranoia. Truthfully, neither did I. But if I kept flinching at every shadow, I'd forget how to live. If something happened to me, it happened. What would truly haunt me is if something happened to someone I cared about. In that case, I'd burn the world down and make sure everyone involved in the Epstein case ended up the way he did in the original timeline.
I decided to steer the conversation elsewhere. "I'm surprised you agreed to come with me tonight. Not that I don't love having you here, but I clearly remember you not wanting to make our relationship too public."
She smirked. "Why, Mr. Armitage, trying to impress that hussy who hit on you out there?"
Her tone was light, teasing, but her eyes told a deeper story.
"Honestly? I just don't care anymore. Everyone already knows about us. And besides, I know how boring these events can get. I didn't want you to suffer alone."
She had a point. I hadn't told her, but if she'd said no, I probably would've asked Taylor to be my date for the night. Speaking of her...
"Troy!" came Taylor's voice, bright and full of excitement. She practically skipped down the aisle toward us. I stood to greet her, and she threw her arms around me in a warm hug.
Then she turned to Scarlett and pulled her into an even more enthusiastic embrace.
One thing I've always admired about Taylor is how genuinely warm she is, especially with other girls. While some women seem to thrive on rivalry, Taylor builds friendships. At this point, it wouldn't be a stretch to say she was closer to Scarlett than she was to me.
"I can't believe I finally have a Grammy nomination to my name," Taylor gushed as she pulled back from Scarlett. Her eyes sparkled under the soft lights. "And it's all thanks to you."
"Now that's not true," I countered immediately. "You got the Best New Artist nomination on your own merit. Your debut album earned that, not me."
She grinned, but didn't back down. Her other two nominations were both for songs we'd collaborated on, so I let that one pass without argument.
"But it definitely helped," she said, flashing that unstoppable smile.
Before I could continue the conversation, my eyes landed on someone I hadn't seen in a long time. A knot twisted in my stomach. I wasn't even sure I wanted to see her again, not after everything that had happened between us. We had agreed to stay friends, but that promise had faded with time. In truth, we hadn't spoken once since we shared the stage at last year's Grammys.
It would've been a lie to say I felt nothing. There were still echoes of what we once had. But they weren't enough to make me forget who I loved now.
And then our eyes met.
Rihanna stood across the hall in a sleek black gown that shimmered faintly under the lights, framed by a crowd but somehow alone. Her expression shifted the moment she saw me. A flicker of emotion, recognition, nostalgia, maybe even regret passed between us like a silent current.
"Hey, Scar, Tay," I said, turning to the two women beside me. "I'll be back in a sec."
I didn't wait for a reply. My steps were quick and purposeful as I crossed the space between us.
"Hey!" I greeted, keeping it casual. "How're you doing?"
She surprised me. Without hesitation, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me in a warm hug.
"I'm great!" she said brightly. "It's so good to finally see you. I've been meaning to talk to you for a while, but I thought…"
"Yes?" I prompted softly.
She gave a slight shrug. "I thought you'd think I was being opportunistic. You know, calling you right after you became a billionaire."
"I was a billionaire the entire time we were dating," I said simply. Despite what Rihanna may tell you, there was no arrogance in my tone, just plain, factual truth.
Was that guilt I saw in her eyes for a moment, or was I imagining it?
"So," I asked, shifting the mood, "what's new with you?"
"Nothing much," she replied with a small shrug, one she'd unconsciously picked up from me back when we were together. "You should meet Chris, my new boyfriend. He's here too, catching up with some friends."
"Chris... Brown?" I asked, the realization hitting me like a cold slap.
Of all the people. After me, she had ended up with that arrogant, abusive scumbag? I rarely paid attention to gossip or tabloids, so the news had completely passed me by. Why couldn't the butterfly effect have spared her from that path?
"Yeah," she said with a smile. "He's so good. You two will definitely hit it off."
I highly doubted that. If anything, the best-case scenario would be me hitting him and breaking his nose.
"Ri," I said, my voice suddenly low and serious. I hadn't even realized I'd slipped into the nickname I used when we were together. "He's bad news. I've heard from some sources... he's not good. Especially not for you."
The warmth drained from her face.
"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked sharply. "Who exactly are these sources of yours?"
I shook my head slowly. "I can't tell you that. All I can say is... he has anger issues. I just wouldn't want him to take it out on you."
Rihanna's expression tightened. She didn't take well to the warning.
"Since you're being so cagey," she said, her voice sharpening, "I'll assume the worst. Let me guess—your 'sources' are private investigators? Did you hire someone to keep tabs on me? Still hung up on me, is that it? Or maybe you're just jealous that I've moved on?"
"That's not true," I replied calmly. "I didn't hire anyone, and I've moved on too. I'm with Scarlett now. I could introduce you, if you'd like."
Rihanna stepped back, her jaw set.
"Please," she said coldly. "You come here and throw accusations at the man I'm happy with? That's just pathetic, Troy."
I opened my mouth to respond, then closed it again. Anything I said now would only make me sound like a desperate ex trying to sabotage her relationship. There was no way to get through to her.
"Fine," I said quietly. "Don't believe me. Just... if he ever does anything to you, anything at all, promise me you'll get out before it turns into something worse. I'll always be there if you need help. And I won't say 'I told you so.'"
She didn't respond. Her expression remained unreadable. I gave her a small nod, then turned around and made my way back toward Scarlett and Taylor, who had both been watching the exchange from a distance.
"What was that all about?" Taylor asked before I even reached them.
Scarlett didn't say anything, but her face was unreadable. Not angry. Not amused either.
I sighed and gave a half-hearted shrug. If it were just Taylor, I would have avoided talking about it, but since Scarlett was also here, I kinda had to. "I thought we could be civil again, but I was clearly wrong. I even invited her to come meet Scarlett, but apparently she didn't want to."
That did the trick. Scarlett slipped her arm around mine, her touch warm and reassuring.
"I'm glad she didn't come over," she said softly. "I don't like her much."
I let out a low chuckle and gestured behind us. "Come on. Let's sit. The show's about to start."
(Break)
"It's on, it's on, it's on!" Patty bounced on her seat in excitement before turning to Claire. "Wanna bet that Troy will bag the most wins this year as well?"
Claire scoffed, "That's a loser's bet. Of course, he's gonna sweep the Grammys. I wouldn't have been completely sure of it till December, but Troy literally ruled the news in January, and mostly for good reasons. You know how Hollywood feels about their need to push against political correctness, and Troy was literally the torchbearer of that this past month. I would be shocked if he walked out empty-handed tonight."
"True," Patty agreed. "And with a total of ten nominations in nine categories this year, he'll definitely win something."
Patty pulled out a newspaper from a few weeks ago, that had listed out all of Troy's nominations this year. They were:
Album of the Year: 2006
Record of the Year: Somebody That I Used to Know (Shared with Taylor Swift)
Song of the Year: Rolling in the Deep
Song of the Year: Counting Stars
Best Pop Collaboration with Vocals: Arcade (Shared with Taylor Swift)
Best Male Pop Vocal Performance: We Are Young
Best Pop Vocal Album: 2006
Best Dance Recording: The Nights
Best Short Form Music Video: The Nights
Best Rap Solo Performance: That's Hilarious
"I am more excited for Troy's performance," Claire said, breaking Patty's attention from the nominations of their favorite artist. "They haven't announced what song he will be performing, but the Grammys have promoted this year's performances to hell and back, implying something big will happen because of their 50th anniversary."
"That doesn't matter right now," Patty reminded her. "It's the premiere ceremony we are watching right now that they are streaming on YouTube for free for the first time. Say whatever you will about Troy, but he's an excellent businessman."
"And I thought he was not a part of YouTube's internal working, only the ownership," Claire pointed out.
"Maybe," Patty agreed, "But it surely must have helped in negotiating that deal with the Recording Academy."
Just then, the ceremony finally started without much fanfare. Honestly, it was quite boring in Patty's opinion, with no musical performances or anything worth rooting for. They didn't even announce the nominees; they directly read out the winners. But still Patty endured. They didn't even show the audience's reaction to the award, simply the winner walking on the stage to make a quick speech.
Just when she thought she would doze off, the first interesting thing happened.
"The Grammy for Best Dance Recording goes to… The Nights, Troy Armitage."
"Yes!" Claire and Patty were on their feet in unison with identical grins on their faces.
"I knew he won't go home empty-handed," Patty announced excitedly.
Troy walked on the stage pretty quickly and accepted the award before turning to the mic, "Thank you. It was a privilege."
And then he left the stage.
"Huh," Patty said in disappointment. "I don't know why, but I was expecting something grand from him."
"They're already strapped for time with this ceremony," Claire reminded her. "And Troy already has so many awards under his belt. If he gave a long speech, no one would dare play him off, but then they'd cut off other artists. So, if you think about it, it's actually noble of him to keep it short and save his words for the main ceremony."
Patty couldn't argue with that.
The next category Troy was nominated for was Best Rap Solo Performance for That's Hilarious, where he defeated heavyweights like Kanye West, 50 Cent, Common, and Jay-Z to take home the award.
The next win for him was for Best Short Form Music Video for the Night. It was also Troy's directorial debut, which made the win even more meaningful.
The ceremony dragged on. Award after award went to various artists. Patty sat through them all, waiting for the next big moment.
Finally, a category she actually cared about arrived—Best Pop Collaboration with Vocals. Her current favorite song, Arcade, was in the running.
"And the Grammy goes to... Gone Gone Gone (Done Moved On)."
Patty groaned. "That's so unfair. Arcade is better than any other song in that list."
Claire nodded in frustration. "I know, right? I love Taylor Swift so much. She should've won something, at least."
"That's all for this show, folks," came a male voice from backstage as the camera panned over the crowd. "The rest of the ceremony and awards will follow on CBS, so meet you there shortly."
"I hate that we have to wait for the rest." Patty sighed. "At least the rest of the show won't be so boring."
"Exactly what I was thinking," Claire agreed.
They turned the TV to CBS and waited. It took a full two hours for the main event to begin. The Grammys had gone with their usual hostless format again this year. But as the broadcast resumed, something felt different.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said the familiar male voice from earlier, "this is the 50th Grammy Awards, the Golden Anniversary. To celebrate this milestone, we present the most versatile singer of the current generation, performing a tribute to the original King of Pop."
Patty's breath hitched. "Is it…?"
She didn't finish the question. She couldn't. The music answered for her.
A familiar melody filled the hall, instantly recognizable and deeply moving. One of Michael Jackson's most powerful songs.
~ What about sunrise?
What about rain?
What about all the things
That you said we were to gain? ~
Patty was speechless. On the stage stood Troy freaking Armitage, delivering a haunting, soul-stirring rendition of Earth Song. His voice carried the emotion of every word. With each line, he owned the moment.
~ What about killing fields?
Is there a time?
What about all the things
That you said was yours and mine?
Did you ever stop to notice
All the blood we've shed before?
Did you ever stop to notice
This crying Earth, these weeping shores?
Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh ~
When Troy hit the high note, Patty felt goosebumps ripple across both her arms. The moment was glorious and heart-wrenching. The message of the song echoed through the hall with devastating beauty.
Just when she thought the performance couldn't possibly be topped, something unexpected happened that made the entire crowd gasp.
The intro to Rolling in the Deep began.
~ There's a fire starting in my heart
Reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark
Finally, I can see you crystal clear
Go ahead and sell me out and I'll lay your sh** bare ~
Only... it wasn't Troy singing.
The camera cut to a different part of the stage.
There, standing under a soft spotlight, was none other than Michael Jackson himself, belting out Troy's biggest hit from his second studio album, 2006.
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AN: Visit my personal website to read ahead, or check out my second Hollywood story set in the 80s.
Link: www(dot)fablefic(dot)com