"I can't believe this! Can't you tell those girls to move outta the way? We're wasting time here."

Dallas Banks was barking at the poor driver whose hands went white from nervously clutching the steering wheel. The manager was riding shotgun, gesticulating towards his act with wild hand movements. His daughter, and lead singer of Fantasia, tried to soothe him from the backseat, where her bandmates sat. Half-sleep.

The truth of the matter was, Dallas had dragged them out of their hotel rooms way ahead of schedule because he had been convinced that their performance would crash and burn if they didn't rehearse their sorry butts off. The band was set to showcase a few tracks they were planning to put on their next album, which meant they had never played them live.

Which also meant that Dallas wouldn't rest until every note, every riff, every chord was practiced until mastery was achieved. (Dallas had a feeling, call it an intuition only he understood, that the rival was going to be testing out new material. He wanted a leg-up on them).

This was all shaping up to be a fiasco. Now that they'd arrived at the venue a whopping two hours before they were set to go onstage, they were boxed in at the gate by a herd of eager fans clamoring for attention. Hence the reason Dallas had snapped at the driver.

Dakota was slumped back in hear seat, unfocused gaze set ahead, partially zoned out. Julie leaned in and whispered. "You think this is a bad sign?"

"I think it's a sign that Tex is gonna flip his lid," she nodded to their manager. All of them collectively called him Tex, or Texas (except for Geneva, who adressed him as "'pa") as a play on the whole everything's bigger in texas saying. Not just because he shared the same name of a city there, but because he was quite literally larger than life (metaphorically of course, though he was quite physically tall and broad, a bit imposing to most people). He had the meticulously neurotic personality earned from being an actor, and not a very good one, otherwise he wouldn't be their manager, as Dakota often teased him about.

Dakota's gaze slid over to her older sister, who was sat on the far left end, next to Eileen who had her arms crossed, looking impatient. Kendall was waving to the fans.

Dakota's lip curled into a scoff. "Yeah, go ahead and egg them on, Kendall. That's real helpful," she spoke over the racket of Dallas and the driver arguing, because the driver didn't want to risk trampling anyone.

Kendall swiveled around, and Dakota was not met with her gaze, as her eyes were covered by a pair of round, champagne-colored glasses that took up a good chunk of her face. When they weren't doing a show, Kendall usually wore spectactles of a similar shape, smaller in size. Like the kind John Lennon wore.

"Hey, what's the big deal? I'm just saying 'hi' to them," Kendall's words floated breezily, lighthearted, easygoing. She was used to the disrespect from her sister, and if it bothered her, she never showed it, just responded with an airy smile on her face.

Dakota snorted, but didn't reply. Another failed attempt at pushing Kendall's buttons.

By this point, Dallas had rolled down the window and was ordering the fans to clear out, in the kind of authoritative tone only a father could possess. And it worked. Geneva giggled at her father, no doubt spurred by a moment when she received a similar scolding.

"Finally," Eileen huffed under her breath, and the car gave a lurch through the gate and chugged towards the garage, followed by the box truck that was hauling their equipment.

There was a moment when the atmosphere in the car was lighter, then quickly replaced by the crackling electricity of anticipation.

"Alright," Dakota spoke up, sluggishly clapping her hands together. "Tex, spare us the lecture of how we're gonna give this our all, and how we'll knock Ecstasy into the dirt, blah blah blah- we know we're gonna kill it. Right, ladies?"

Julie gave a thumb's up, Geneva cheered with an enthusiastic yeah! Eileen and Kendall nodded.

And with a sense of duty that vanquished any lingering exhaustion they had, the girls exited the vehicle, one by one.

Dakota hung back as her bandmates slipped into the backstage area. Roadies were flying past her, whisking equipment with them. Her eyes honed in on one, a real scrawny guy with pale hair that drooped over his eyes. He struggled to haul the guitar-shaped case in his hands.

The case that held her Telecaster. Her pride and joy. She swept over him, dodging a pair that were hauling an amplifer.

"I'll take that," she said, not asked, rather sharply as well. She didn't give the man a second to respond before she snatched it out of his grasp. He flipped his bangs out of his face and stared at her, wide-eyed, slightly disgruntled.

"Oh, don't give me that look," Dakota sneered. "You and me both know you were going to drop it."

With a roll of her eyes, she turned and speedily walked away, catching up with the others. She ended up next to Eileen, who glanced at her through the corner of her eye.

"You know we have people for that, right?" she joked, nodding to the guitar case.

"Yeah, and we used to do this all by ourselves," Dakota retorted. "Besides, do you really trust other people with your stuff?"

"I trust them more than I trust myself," Eileen shrugged. "Remember when we were playing that one club, back in the beginning? What was it called... Chrome?"

A smile was starting to form on Dakota's face. She knew where this was going.

"And we were playing on the second floor, so we had to haul our gear up this narrow staircase," Eileen continued, "and Kendall bumped into me, then I dropped my bass and it-"

She was stumbling over her words as she and Dakota started breaking into giggles. "And it... it just kept rolling down the stairs! And it wouldn't stop!"

Dakota let out a bark of laughter that was immediately silenced as Dallas stopped, turned to the band, and cleared his throat. Dakota sighed, shoulders sagging, prepared for him to shell out orders.

"Alright, girls. We have to get moving, I want you all to head to the stylist so you can get changed, then I want you in hair and makeup. Then we'll rehearse. Got it?"

Dakota raised her hand. "I'm sorry, but who's this we you keep talking about? Are you getting your hair done too?" she then pointed to his balding head. Dallas glared, setting his hands on his hips.

"I think you'd benefit from it, Tex," Kendall chuckled, grinning at her sister. Dakota only returned a stone-faced glance before averting her gaze back onto the manager, who was still scowling at her.

"Okay, okay... we'll get going."

And with that, they were off, led by Julie, who seemed to have an uncanny sense of navigation even in a venue that was foreign to everyone. Kendall was complaining to Eileen about still needing to tune her guitar, Geneva was at the edge of the group, not sure how to dive into the conversation.

Then there was Dakota, who wanted to skip through all the nonsensical preparations. She wanted to get out onto the stage and blow everyone away.

"This is the room... I think!" Julie exclaimed, halting in front of the door. She opened it and entered the room, followed by the others.

The room was empty. It had the usual leather seats propped up in front of a vanity or two, but other than that... nothing.

"Are you sure we're in the right place?" Geneva asked

"Are you looking for Isabelle?" a voice piped up from the corner. There was the janitor, a frail older man slouched over a mop, a bucket with cleaning solution in it stood near his feet.

Well, at least he knows who our stylist is. That has to count for... something, Dakota thought as her bandmates exchanged puzzled glances.

"Yes, we are!" Eileen slid to the front of the group. "Do you know where she is?"

The man scratched at his head. "She was here an hour ago, started saying stuff about her allergies acting up real bad. Then she left."

Dakota turned to the person standing closest to her, who happened to be Julie. "Allergies, huh?"

It was no secret that Isabelle had her reservations when adhering to the individual styles of Fantasia's members. She always tried turning them onto clothes they considered gaudy and stiff. Stuff with no personality, and yes, Dakota had actually said that to her face once.

So no, she didn't believe that Isabelle was actually fighting her allergies. Especially when she spent the last show complaining that her "artistic visions are never respected." And how she could spend her time working for much more compelling subjects, and yes, those were the words she used.

Julie, however, offered a meek smile. "I don't know, 'Kota, if that's what she said, I'm willing to believe her. Until we hear otherwise."

"What are we going to do now?" Eileen suddenly groaned, dragging a hand over her face.

"If it helps," the janitor chimed in, "after Isabelle left, some people came and moved all your clothes to the room of some lady named Diane... or was it Diana? Anyway, they were supposed to let you know that you can go see her instead."

That name didn't ring a bell with anyone, but the band was willing to accept help in any kind. After walking out of the room, the janitor pointed down the hall to where they were supposed to go, so they headed that way.

The five girls were all getting weary at this point, their spirits nearly broken. Some part of Dakota wondered if this was all building up to a disaster of a concert.

The members of Fantasia were standing awkwardly around the door, knowing they interrupted... something, not sure what, but they seemed to cluster together in an attempt to stay out of the way.

That's when a frantic woman, flitting around in a bird-like fashion, drifted over to them. This must've been Diane. Or Diana? Whoever she was. Eileen stepped up to deal with her, ever the reluctant diplomat.

"Hello..." she greeted tepidly, lips pinched together in a pained smile. "We're from Fantasia. Our stylist is, uh, sick at the moment," she explained vaguely. "We were told our outfits for the concert would be here. If we can have them, we'll get out of your hair, I'm sure you're very busy."

Dakota was bored, and had been since they arrived. Her focus strayed to the two other people in the room. One was a girl, getting her hair styled, with a guy standing next to her. They were facing away from her, though she could faintly pick up snippets of their conversation. Because she could mostly hear Eileen and the stylist yammering in her ear.

All she could gather were two names: Danny, which was vaguely familiar, like the second one Kiyan, which rang a bell in the sense that the names must be associated with each other and the two people who were talking about them.

But Dakota couldn't pinpoint where exactly she knew them from, and before she could try to think on it, the door flew open, almost smacking Geneva in the face.

"Are you okay?" Kendall softly asked, laying a hand on the vocalist's shoulder. Geneva was about to respond when the guy who barged into the room went on a mad tirade, picking an argument with the other man.

Recognition struck Dakota when the song Energy was mentioned, then it became clear to her when he continued with we are an opening act.

These were the people from Ecstasy.

Dakota almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all, but she bit her tongue (shockingly)! Their biggest opponents, the people they were constantly battling with to gain higher placings on the chart, they were right here. Neither side had acknowledged each other.

Maybe they didn't recognize us, either, Dakota mused to herself.

Then the blond guy had finished yelling at his bandmate, shoving his way past the members of Fantasia. Oh, Dakota certainly was not going to let him get away with that, whether or not she had figured out he was a member of Ecstasy.

She leaned out the door and braced her hand against the frame. "Watch it!" she screeched at his retreating back.

Dakota snorted, unbothered as the guy flipped the bird at her. "Real charmer, ain't he?" he muttered to herself, slipping back into the room. Only to see Julie glaring at her with dark, disapproving eyes.

"Can you keep your head down and quit making this worse?"

Julie had turned that quiet voice of hers into a hiss of warning. A low, snake-like sound, the only kind of resemblance Julie shared with the reptile.

Dakota replied with a devious smile that reached her cheeks.

"Hey, he started it," she gave a bob of her shoulders, completely dismissing what her friend had said. Julie huffed and turned away, done dealing with her.

Dakota watched as the girl who'd gotten her hair done stood up and left the room, a glare on her face. Dakota's gaze flitted to the guy who remained in the room as she made the connection. Infighting, perhaps? This just kept getting better and better.

It was just more frazzled energy that she could feed off of and manipulate, as if it were her life force. It was all simply hilarious to her.

But the amusement died down as she couldn't find a way to goad anyone at the moment. She just had to settle on watching Diane fly nervously around the space. Until she settled next to the man, who Dakota now learned was Alex, and ordered him out of the room.

Dakota perked up, gaze vulture-like as he awkwardly brushed past her.

"Nice outfit!" she remarked sardonically, teeth pressed together in an impish grin. She slid over and muttered to Eileen, talking to her like she had been in on her little joke. "Tassles, really? How lame can you be?"

Eileen shot her a confused glance before shushing her. "I don't have time for this right now."

"No fun," Dakota huffed. Eileen looked at her again, brows furrowed angrily, before turning back towards Diane.

"We're kinda pressed for time..." Eileen spoke up weakly, hoping to subtly rush the stylist along.