Two and a Half Men: Waking up as Charlie Harper

[One Week Later] [Charlie's Studio]

Charlie Harper was driving Prudence to Los Angeles in his Mercedes. The radio was low, playing a jazz station he had forgotten was still programmed, while Prudence was sprawled in the passenger seat like she was posing for a swimsuit calendar. She wore low-rise jeans, a tiny pink crop top, and sunglasses that were far too big for her face. She chewed gum with an expression like she was auditioning for a commercial.

Charlie drummed his fingers on the wheel. "Okay, let's get one thing straight before we walk into the studio. This is about your voice, not your… whatever you're doing over there."

Prudence blew a bubble and let it pop. "What am I doing?"

"You're leaning back like you're trying to win Miss Teen Maxim."

She smirked. "You noticed."

"I notice a lot of things. Like how I'm probably going to hell just for driving you across county lines."

She laughed. "Relax, Charlie. I'm eighteen. It's legal."

"Yeah, and so is jumping off a roof, but that doesn't mean it's a good idea."

Prudence kicked her shoes off and rested her bare foot on the dashboard. "You worry too much. I bet you used to be fun."

Charlie snorted. "Yeah, and I also used to have better judgment. Look how that turned out."

..

[Inside the Studio] [Recording room]

The studio was tucked in a side street of Los Angeles, walls lined with gold and platinum records. He bought the place and turned it into his personal studio. The place is big enough with one big recording room, one small office, and a cozy lounge-like area with a big TV. At the present time, he records there.

Charlie led Prudence inside.

She looked around, wide-eyed. "Wow. So this is where the magic happens?"

"Yep. This is where we turn noise into money."

Prudence ran her fingers across the soundboard. "So, do I just… sing? Or do I need to do a sexy dance too?"

"Sing. Just sing. The dancing we'll save for when you've got an actual career and a contract with MTV."

She pouted. "Boring."

Charlie handed her a set of headphones. "This is not boring. This is work. And if you stick with it, you can actually have something big. So go in that booth, put on the headphones, and sing on my cue."

Prudence wiggled her eyebrows at him, then walked into the booth. She adjusted the mic stand and gave him a playful wink through the glass.

Charlie muttered to himself. "This is either going to end with a hit single or me in a courtroom."

He leaned into the intercom. "Alright, Prudence. Just sing something. Anything you like."

She thought for a moment, then launched into a pop song from the radio. Her voice wasn't polished, but it was surprisingly strong, smooth around the edges with just enough rawness to stand out. Charlie raised his eyebrows. It wasn't perfect, but it wasn't bad either. She hit most of the notes, and the ones she missed weren't catastrophic. There was something there, something worth shaping.

When she finished, she pulled the headphones off and looked at him expectantly. "Well?"

Charlie leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin. "Not bad. You've got potential."

Prudence grinned. "So I'm a star?"

"You're a karaoke star. But with practice, maybe you can be the real thing."

She leaned against the booth door. "And if I practice really hard, do I get a reward?"

Charlie groaned. "You're like a human sexual harassment lawsuit."

"I'm just saying, motivation helps."

"Fine. Your motivation is that if you stick with this, I'll write you a track for your debut."

Prudence crossed her arms, pretending to pout. "And what if I stick with this and also keep hitting on you?"

"Then you'll get a debut track and a restraining order. Two for one."

..

[Afternoon – Japanese Restaurant]

By noon, Charlie decided he had earned a break. Prudence had spent the last few hours alternating between singing scales and leaning on the mic stand like she was auditioning for a perfume ad. His head was pounding, and his stomach was growling. When Prudence suggested Japanese food, he decided to risk public exposure and took her to one of his favorite spots in downtown LA.

The restaurant was quiet, a traditional place with sliding doors and soft music playing. Charlie ordered a ramen bowl. Prudence ordered enough sushi and side dishes to feed a boy band.

As the waiter walked away, Prudence leaned across the table. "So, is this like… a date?"

"This is lunch. On a date, I usually expect at least the possibility of dessert."

She licked a piece of tempura shrimp slowly, eyes locked on him. "There's always dessert."

Charlie rubbed his temples. "You are going to be the death of me."

"Or the highlight of your week."

"Highlight of my week is finishing a song without my neighbor's dog barking through the track."

Their food arrived, and for a few minutes, there was peace as they ate. Prudence had the chopsticks down to an art, popping rolls into her mouth like she'd been born in Tokyo.

Between bites, she asked, "So, you're really going to write me a song?"

"If you keep practicing and actually get good, yes. But let's get something straight. You focus on your voice, not me. You nail the singing, then I'll consider all this flirting. Until then, it's all about the music."

Prudence smirked. "So you're saying there's a chance."

"I'm saying there's a process. Step one, don't sound like a cat in heat. Step two, learn to hit the right notes. Step three, we record something. Step four, maybe I'll let you hit on me without calling the cops."

She leaned back, satisfied. "Deal. But I get to sit in your lap while you write."

"No. You get to sit in a chair and maybe, if you're lucky, I'll let you use my lucky pen."

Prudence giggled. "You're no fun."

"I'm alive and healthy. That's fun enough for me."

...

[Back in the Car]

On the drive back to Malibu, Prudence was quieter, fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist. Charlie glanced at her, surprised she wasn't trying to climb into his lap.

"You okay over there?"

She shrugged. "Yeah. Just thinking. Nobody ever told me I was good at anything before. Usually it's just… don't get pregnant, don't end up broke, don't screw up your life. You're the first person who said I had something worth working on."

Charlie softened, glancing at her before focusing back on the road. "Well, you do. You've got a voice, and if you work at it, you can actually go somewhere. Just… don't blow it."

Prudence smiled, genuine for once. "Thanks, Charlie."

"Don't thank me yet. Wait until I make you sing scales for four hours straight."

She laughed, and for the first time all day, Charlie felt like maybe this wasn't going to end in disaster. Maybe.

Then Prudence propped her feet back up on the dash. "But just so you know, when I'm famous, I'm totally telling everyone you were my first."

Charlie groaned. "First what?"

She grinned. "Everything."

"Great. Can I request they put that on my tombstone?"

Prudence batted her lashes. "Sure. Right under 'Grammy Winner.'"

...

[Outside Prudence's Apartment]

Charlie pulled up to the curb in front of Prudence's building, a squat little two-story place that looked like it had been painted beige sometime in the late seventies and then given up on life. He put the car in park, glanced at the peeling paint on the stairwell, and sighed.

"Well, this is it. Voice lessons, sushi, and a ride home. Pretty productive for a Tuesday."

Prudence smirked, unclipping her seatbelt with a snap. "You're not getting rid of me that easily, Charlie. I'm your new project."

"Project, yes. Girlfriend, no. There's a difference."

"Fine." She leaned closer, her perfume filling the car. "But projects can still get… extra credit."

Before Charlie could process, Prudence pressed her lips to his. It was quick, soft, but deliberate. The kind of kiss that left no doubt she had planned it the whole ride over.

Charlie froze. "Whoa!"

Prudence giggled, grabbed her purse, and pushed open the door. She hopped out and jogged to the entrance of her building. Just before pressing the doorbell, she turned around, flashed him a wicked wink, and waved like they had just sealed some kind of deal.

Charlie sat there gripping the wheel, stunned, then slowly broke into a grin. "Well, damn."

The apartment door opened, and Berta appeared in the frame, squinting against the afternoon sun. "What the hell took you so long? You were supposed to have her home an hour ago."

Charlie rolled down the window. "Relax, Berta. She was singing, eating sushi, and not sneaking into bars. You're welcome."

Berta looked at Prudence, then back at Charlie. "Well, as long as it ain't some street magician or a hobo. It's all good. Thanks, Charlie."

Charlie held up his hands. "No worries. See ya tomorrow, Berta."

Prudence shot him one last grin as she slipped inside. "See you at practice, Charlie."

Charlie chuckled, started the car, and pulled away from the curb. As the streetlights flickered on and the city started to glow, he caught himself smiling like an idiot. He shook his head.

"Charlie Harper, what the hell are you getting yourself into?"

With that, he hit the gas and drove off toward his house, the grin still stubbornly stuck on his face.

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