"I used to be into pop," Vicky said. It was only a casual comment, but she still wondered why she'd said it as they walked outside of the live house, sodas in hand. Just something, anything, to keep this fun, cute girl talking to her, she guessed.
"Who, you? You're so cool, so... Sane. Somehow I can't imagine you as the typical Chip Skylark fangirl," Sam said, then sipped on her soda.
"Yeah, I liked him," Vicky admitted.
"What? Not him! He's one of the worst!"
"Come on, there's a little Chip Skylark fangirl inside us all, hm?" Vicky joke.
"Sure, possibly, buried deep down inside with all of our other inner demons," Sam said.
"Not as deep as you might think," Vicky said darkly. As Sam raised an eyebrow, she kept talking. "Um, well, the only thing that really made me stop liking him was when he wrote that song about me."
"Wait, your name's not..." Sam began.
"You got it, it's Vicky," Vicky confirmed.
"Wow. I thought it was a really nasty song toward teenage girls with low self esteem in general, but I guess that song was really unnecessarily cruel to anyone named 'Vicky,' huh?"
"Uh- Oh, yeah. Anyone named Vicky," Vicky quickly said as she opened her bag and dug around inside. "Hey, what's your name, anyway?"
"Oh, tomboyish, I kind of like that," Vicky said as she keyed the name into her cell phone. "And what's your number?"
Sam told her with no reservations, then took out her own cell to exchange. "Chip Skylark's corporation produced songs aimed at the lowest common denominator of mass appeal could never be as deep and meaningful as this group's, but I'm sure you've figured that out already."
"Sure. The anger of it really appealed like Chip's never did." Vicky decided it was best not to mention that the music helped her get through the depression and broken heart that Chip had given her.
"Oh, that's for sure. The raw emotion of their performances are so awesome. And I love the main singer. How cool to have a female role model that's not all cuteness and sweetness and light."
"She is hot though," Vicky said. "Um, well, she reminds me of you," she quickly added. "Well, just the hair. I guess you're a lot better looking than her." Vicky now realized she was rambling.
"Woah," Sam said, somewhat at a loss for words. "You're not saying that you think I'm hot, are you?"
"Well, yeah," Vicky said, trying her best to sound casual. "Not in a creepy way, though."
"Of course not," Sam said. "I take it as a compliment. Hey... You don't happen to already be going to their next show, do you?"
"You can't be seeing this girl, Sam!"
"Come on, Danny. I never really saw you as the homophobic type."
"I'm not! It's just I'm worried about her. She's not your kind of person."
"How would you know anything about what my type is, let alone knowing better than I do?"
"Well, um, she's just not a good person in general. She's the original Icky Vicky, you know!"
"Lame comparison, Danny. Vicky and I joke about that stupid song all the time. You're going to have to think of something better than that."
"Well, she abuses those kids that she baby-sits all the time..."
"Not even funny. I'd think you'd know better than to throw around a serious accusation like that."
"But I'm not-"
"Danny, unless you have information that she's some ghostly overlord, how about you just not tell me anything? And even then I'm going to expect real proof."
Click. Vicky smiled as she sat by her surveillance machine. Sam liked her. She might not know everything about her, but she liked her. Sam was the only person that was really on her side and really thought well of her, and Vicky was ecstatic, since after all, she really liked Sam back.
Yeah, there was the matter of this Danny kid, some geeky guy she'd never met but Sam had mentioned once or twice. He was a friend of her's or something. How did he know so much about her, anyway, Vicky wondered? They'd never met or anything. Even so, he could be trouble, a person she might have to stalk and threaten and intimidate and possibly even torture in order to keep Sam in her life, but for now this didn't even bother Vicky. She only sat smiling at her cell phone picture of Sam, in a state of absolute bliss.