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Her name was Eliza Tartt, but the crew just called her The Puppet Master.

She had brown, frizzy hair and large, thick round glasses. She stayed away from most of the cast and crew interaction, except to ask specific questions in regards to what they wanted from their puppets, otherwise she simply stayed in what the others referred to as "The Hole". It was her own private work station, far removed from the rest of the work stations, where she simply created puppets day in, day out, for the show. Once the series ended, except for Liam and Bea, everyone else stayed in contact with one another, except for The Puppet Master. Nobody heard from her again.

Which is why, when Beatrice showed up at her home, she was stunned. Even though it'd been so long, she looked exactly the same, almost as if she were somehow frozen in time. Same buck front teeth, same frizzy hair, just now wearing loose fitting clothes since she wasn't working in a studio. Eliza hadn't answered the door, however, that had been her father.

"Would you like to come inside? She'll be down in a minute," he said, leading Bea inside and towards the kitchen, where he offered her a cup of coffee, which she happily accepted as she seated herself at the kitchen table.

"You have a lovely home," Bea said as he filled up her mug and handed it to her, watching as she sipped it cautiously.

"Thank you! I've always enjoyed decorating," Don said, "My wife was an interior decorate for a long time before she retired, and she often employed my help," he added, chuckling. Just then, Eliza stepped in the doorframe that opened into the kitchen, and that was when Bea was struck by her immortal appearance.

"Hiya," Bea said, waving slowly, as Eliza stood, braiding some of her hair, her eyes looking everywhere else besides at Beatrice.

"I'll leave you ladies to discuss business, and please, have as much coffee as you want," Don said, leaving with his own mug.

"Do you wanna sit down?" Bea asked, "This could take a while."

"Could it?" Eliza asked, her speech fast and shaky, "Okay. I'll sit."

"You look great," Beatrice said.

"Do I? Do people change the way they look? I just always assumed people look the same forever, but then again I can't tell one persons face from another, so. You look the same. Just...older, sorry, that's rude. You should never tell a woman she looks old."

"No," Beatrice laughed, "No, I appreciate it. Wiser is better than naive. How've things been?"

"They've been," Eliza said, still refusing to look at her, "Um...why are you talking to me?"

"I've been given an incredible opportunity," Beatrice said, "and I want you to come with me. We're bringing the show back, and this time it's my creative control. No outside advertising, no blatant pandering. Now is the time for creator owned content to shine. Liam and I got a deal at a streaming network for a new batch of episodes, and I can't imagine doing this without my shining star."

"...you haven't talked to me in forever," Eliza muttered, "did I do something wrong?"

This question punched Beatrice in the gut.

"No, god no, I...Eliza, after what happened I just...vanished. I couldn't deal with anyone. I'm sorry I didn't stay in contact with you, but it wasn't like I forgot about you. Whenever people might find me, and if they were in the market for making their own things, I always directed them to you because I knew your work was so good. I don't know how much work that actually wound up netting you, but-"

"I don't make puppets anymore," Eliza said.

"Eliza-"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I need to go," she said, getting up suddenly and running back up the staircase to her bedroom. As Bea sat and watched in stunned silence, Don re-entered the kitchen, sipping from his mug and eating a shortbread cookie, one of which he offered to Bea, and she graciously accepted.

"What the fuck happened to her?" Bea asked softly, "I mean, she was always eccentric, that was why I liked her, but...what happened to her?"

"...I guess things stopped being alright when her mom died," Don said.

"I get that loss has an irreversible effect on people at times, lord knows I myself have experienced that first hand, but...but how could it-"

"Because she thinks she killed her, Bea," Don said, sighing, "She thinks she killed her mother. And no matter what I say to her, she'll never believe otherwise."

Beatrice went from looking at Don to looking back up the staircase, just wishing she could know what had destroyed her star.

                                                                                               ***

"You're playing with fire," Liam said, "You do realize that?"

Stephanie sighed and sat back down at her desk, twisting open the lid on her bottle of water and taking a long sip.

"Yeah, I do, but we have our set contracts, and we can't just back outright of them. We have people we hire to do this sort of work."

"She won't work with anyone she doesn't trust," Liam said, "and frankly, I don't think I would either at this point."

Stephanie, arms folded now, glanced from Liam to Michelle, seated beside him.

"What about you? You know her too, what do you think? Could I sell her on this idea?" Stephanie asked.

"I...I don't think it's a good idea. She already vanished for almost 20 years just thanks to another studio hurting her and trying to make her work into something it wasn't, and here she thinks she's safe, because you've told her as much. I think you need to honor that. She can't be hurt again, she can't..." Michelle said, sighing before saying, "...she can't lose Beatrice again."

"How about this? How about half and half? She gets to hire the most important folks. The costume designer, prop maker, stuff like that. We choose the more film ground crew; editors, sound designers, stuff like that. That sound like a fair mix? This isn't us trying to hurt her, for what it's worth-"

"We understand that," Liam said.

"-it's about us having to honor pre-existing contracts we have with our workers," Stephanie said, "we're already doing a risky thing bringing back a kids show basically nobody ever heard of. In this day and age, when nostalgia sells like nothing else, to back something unheard of instead of a well known IP is kind of a shaky move, but we believe enough in the product and in your guys efforts to warrant the decision. That being said, Bea does not have the same clout as other successful saturday morning kids shows from the 90s."

"Fair, and totally right," Liam said, "Alright, I'll talk to her about it, but she might not be happy."

"We wanna keep her happy," Stephanie said, "But we also are legally obligated to keep everyone we work with happy, so."

After the meeting ended, Liam and Michelle were heading down the hall and towards the parking lot, when Liam stopped and pumped a dollar bill into a vending machine for a snack pack of chips. Michelle took a puff from her inhaler and exhaled deeply.

"This is beginning to feel like a mistake," Michelle said softly.

"I'm annoyed too, but this is business, this is what it is. It isn't all about making dreams come true," Liam said, popping open the bag and eating a few chips as they continued walking, adding as he chewed, "and besides, I think what she offered was a fair enough deal; so long as Bea gets to pick the most crucial people, I think she'll continue to feel safe."

"The thing I've learned in the past year, Liam, is that...the people you think are the most crucial are rarely the ones that actually are," Michelle said.

                                                                                           ***

"Eliza's always had...I don't wanna say 'problems', but, she's always been different," Don said, "When she was a little girl, she fell off a piece of playground equipment and hurt herself on the way down, hitting her head on a big piece of metal. As a result, she's...she's never really been the same. Not that she was exactly 'normal' before that. She was diagnosed with ADHD and a slew of other things but...that fall really did more than anything else did."

"I never knew about this."

"She doesn't talk about it, she's not embarrassed but...she doesn't think others should have to know," Don said, "and for the most part, I think she's right. Her mother took her to weekly therapy sessions for physical and mental therapy, because Eliza never learned to drive. One day they were on their way home after a particularly stressful session, and Eliza was just inconsolable about her lack of progress or what she perceived as lack of progress."

"I don't like where this is going," Bea mumbled.

"We've all heard the same story a million times, because it happens so often. It's a cliche for a reason, because it continues to occur. Rainy roads, loss of control, an accident, and eventually a death. My wife was my best friend, but losing her hurt Eliza more than it hurt me, and even I can openly acknowledge that. After that she stopped working on puppets entirely, and now she doesn't do much except play with her model trains."

"...I just always thought she was weird, in a good way, not...I don't know."

"Damaged?"

"I don't think damaged is the right word, because that insinuates there's something wrong with her, and there's not, she's just different," Beatrice said, making Don smile wide.

"You really are good at boosting a kids self esteem," he said, making Bea chuckle.

"I should get going," Bea said, "If she changes her mind, please let me know."

"Will do."

Bea got up, pulled her coat back on, threw her scarf around her neck and headed out the front door, Don leaning in the doorframe as he watched her descend down his porch. After a moment, she stopped and turned back to face him.

"You know," Bea said, "When we were in studio back in the day, I sectioned off an area specifically for her to work in, called The Hole. Nobody else ever went there, and she had the entire place to herself, far removed from everyone else. I just assumed she was a weird hermit, a sort of creative savant, and I respected her for that. I haven't lost that respect upon learning this, but...it makes a lot of things a lot more clear in regards to her behavior. I guess I felt protective of her, because I felt like I could relate to her. Just two weird girls making weird shit. I hope she comes around. You have my number."

"I do," Don said, smiling, "And thanks for everything you've done."

With that, he shut the door, watching Beatrice get into her car and drive away. After he saw her car turn the corner, he headed up the stairs and opened the door to Eliza's bedroom; it was filled with puppets she'd made over the years, and of course, model train tracks and small towns made of miniatures. She didn't even look up from him as he sat on her bed, and instead she continued to paint a small tree she was planning on inserting on a hillside.

"I know that might have been stressful, and I apologize for that," Don said, "Um...are you okay?"

"Okay," Eliza said flatly.

"There's something I think you should know," Don said, "...Bea paid for everything after the show ended. She continually sent money to help you stay afloat. Most of your therapy was paid for by her, even if she didn't know that was what the money was being spent on. Now I'm not saying this so you'll feel guilty and work for her again, but I want you to know that, yes, the world is cruel a lot of the time, especially to vulnerable people like you...but there's also those elite few who really do care, Eliza. Beatrice loves you. She loves your work. Just like you mom and I do."

Eliza stopped and looked at her dad.

"...I don't know that I know how to make," Eliza said, stuttering, "I...I'm scared I won't be good anymore. What if she isn't happy with me? Most people aren't happy with me."

"She came to get you specifically because she believes in your work," Don said, smiling, adding, "You're just as capable as you ever were. She told me she's best friends with a young woman who has breathing problems and often uses oxygen tanks. She works with people the rest of society considers broken because she sees that just because they have cracks doesn't mean they're broken. It means they're strong. To be that supposedly damaged and still going? That's power to her. Whatever you wanna do is fine by me, but I...I just don't want to see you give up a chance to do something great because you don't believe you're capable of it, when I know fully well you are more than capable of it."

Don stood up, kissed his daughter on the head and left the room. Eliza looked around the room at all the puppets, sighing, still braiding her hair as she usually did when nervous.

What would mom do?

                                                                                                ***

Beatrice was sitting in her apartment that evening, eating a sandwich as she listened to old jazz records and read a big book of paintings and their meanings. She'd always looked art books. She always found things in these deep dives to apply to her own work ethic, and she appreciated that. As she chewed, there was a knock on her door, and she stood up. It was probably Michelle, as she had said she'd stop by to discuss the meeting with Stephanie, but when Bea finally opened the door, she was surprised to find Eliza standing there.

"Oh!" Bea said, taken aback, "...Hi! Do you wanna come in?"

Eliza nodded, and Bea stepped aside, allowing her to enter.

"I'm sorry," Eliza said, "Um, I'm afraid of disappointing you. I don't wanna disappoint you. I always wanted you to be proud of me."

"I was always proud of you. You made me realize how important it was to connect with people the rest of society has thrown away and ignored. The sick, the ill, the damaged. Eliza, I don't wanna pressure you into this job, I just-"

"I wanna do it," Eliza said, "but, I'm not...mmm..."

She paced before sitting on the couch, leaving Bea standing and staring at her.

"Can I tell you a story?" Bea asked, and Eliza nodded as Bea finally sat down beside her; she continued, "a little over a year and a half ago, I met a young woman named Michelle. At first, I considered her to just be another overly enthusiastic fan, but...I quickly saw the value of what she saw value in, and I saw that because I saw that same enthusiasm in you and what you do. Michelle remade the set to the show in her basement. That level of commitment...I'd only ever seen it from one other person, and that person was you, Eliza. You won't be alone. Michelle will really like you, just like I do, and Liam does."

"...dad told me you paid for everything," she said.

"I did. I knew whatever the money from the network would be wouldn't be much, and I...I just felt like you deserved to be more well taken care of. Your passion for what you do reminded me so much of myself, so yeah, I sent monthly checks to your family. I didn't know until today that they were likely paying for medical expenses and whatnot, but..."

She paused and sighed.

"...it doesn't matter what they were used for. The point is the money was for you, and it went to helping you. I would do anything for the people who matter to me. Michelle knows this too. Vulnerable, different women in society are so often taken advantage of, and if all my work in life has been for nothing else than to show that they deserve better, than that's been worth the effort alone. Sure, a dog is mans best friend, but Beatrice Beagle is womens best friend."

Eliza smiled, and threw her arms around Bea, squeezing her tightly.

"I missed you," she whispered, crying against her shoulder. Bea stroked her back and sighed.

"I missed you too, sweetheart," Bea said, "I'm sorry I wasn't more involved. I promise, I won't ever leave you again. I'm nothing if not loyal."

                                                                                         ***

Michelle and Liam were standing in the parking lot of the streaming studio, eating breakfast together, waiting for everyone else to arrive. Liam bit into a breakfast biscuit from a nearby fast food place and moaned deeply.

"You don't have to sound like you're having sex with it," Michelle said, making him almost choke from laughing.

"I just really enjoy it! I never eat garbage like this, so it's nice sometimes to remind myself how bad it is for me while enjoying how good it tastes," Liam said.

Suddenly a car pulled up and parked. The door opened and Eliza stepped out, her hair fully done up in braids. She was wearing overalls and big clunky shoes. Beatrice got out of the drivers side and walked around between Eliza and the other two.

"Eliza, this is Michelle, and you remember Liam," she said.

"It's nice to meet you," Eliza said, holding out her hand so Michelle could shake it, which she happily did.

"You too, I like your braids!"

"Beatrice did them this morning," Eliza said, giggling, before glancing at Liam and adding, "It's nice to see you again."

"It's great to see you Eliza."

"So, let's get to work guys, we got a show to write," Bea said, clapping her hands together as she lead the group inside the studio, all cracking jokes together on the way in, knowing this would be a wonderful work environment.

                                                                                              ***

"This is it," Bea said, opening the door to area, "The Hole."

Eliza, young and bright eyed, walked inside, carrying some of her equipment.

"It's big!" she said.

"It is big, yes," Beatrice said, "This is your space, and nobody else's. Feel free to decorate it, and just generally do whatever the hell you want. Passion projects? Go for it. Just be sure to get your work for the show done too."

"Absolutely!" Eliza said, her buck teeth lisping her speech a little, "Thank you Beatrice!"

Bea smiled and left the room, leaving Eliza to make The Hole her own little home, and she did. She made it her own space, and she loved it. Years later, upon tearing it all down, it felt like she was breaking herself down as well, and she never really recovered from that. The last time she saw The Hole was the saddest moment of her life, and she cried for days. She thought nothing would ever top this grief, until her mother died, and she realized the difference between creation and loss.

One you chose, and one you didn't.

And after her discussion with her father and Bea, she knew which was the one she wanted to fight for.
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"It creeps me out when they ask me to keep the crown on," Lillian said, thinking back to the endless sea of single men she'd hooked up with at countless kids birthday parties, "They wanna call me stuff like their little princess and there's just something slightly unnerving about the whole thing. Not unnerving enough to keep me from orgasming, of course, but still."


She sighed, crossed her legs and looked towards the painting on the wall. A field of sunflowers. Beautiful. Calming. Meant to evoke happiness.


"And I used to find all of this so fun. I used to find joy in childrens joy, but after a few years of dressing up in the same outfit regularly like some cartoon character, now I find their joy grating, which sucks. A childs joy should never be grating. There are some perks. Sometimes a kid will give you a piece of candy, or a hug, and that always does melt my heart, because I'm not a monster, but overall..."


She glanced at the man sitting across from her jotting something down in his notepad as she sighed deeply and shook her head.


"Every little girl wants to be a princess, but...man...some dreams just shouldn't come true," she said quietly.


                                                                         ***


Lillian picked up the salt and pepper shakers and began daintily dashing them over her plate of scrambled eggs before mixing it all together and taking a bite. She leaned on the diner table and scoffed.


"It's like...imagine being the ruler of a beloved kingdom, but the kingdom is full of subjects you'd rather not rule and don't really care about, and they all look up to you so you can't disappoint them even though you've already thoroughly disappointed yourself time and time again. That's what it's like, honestly. Every single day is the same thing. Every single day, I put on the crown, I step out onto the balcony and I deliver a message of hope and togetherness when really it's a complete and utter lie."


She looked at her friend, Vera, sitting across from her. Vera, a light skinned young black woman - her short salmon colored nails tapping nervously against the coffee mug between her hands - furrowed her brow and grimaced.


"There's a balcony? Boy, these kids parents go all out," she said.


"It's a metaphorical balcony, genius," Lillian said, chuckling as she took another bite of eggs.


"I don't get it, how is what you're doing lying? You're just an entertainer playing pretend."


"That's lying! That's, like, the definition of lying!" Lillian replied, laughing now.


As the girls continued to laugh and eat their breakfast for dinner, a young man dressed as a cowboy walked slowly up to the table, scooted into the booth and took his hat off, plopping it on Vera's head, making her smile. He sighed and ran his hands through his scruffy short brown hair.


"Hard day down at the rodeo, tex?" Lillian asked.


"A kid died today," Tyler said softly, surprising both girls.


"One of the kids at this party I was at today grabbed a bunch of candy when the pinata broke, and I guess he just, he didn't know there was peanuts in one, and he just ate it, and he fuckin', like..." Tyler said, clearly trying not to break into tears; he waited a moment and held back his tears as Vera rubbed his back, before he continued, "he just died, man. He's dead."


"Are you kidding?" Lillian asked quietly.


"Yeah, this is my idea of a good time joke, dead children," Tyler said sternly, making Lillian hold back a smirk as he continued, "it was mayhem, just absolute chaos. Parents are screaming, kids are running around thinking the candy is poisoned, and this little dude's just lying on the grass as his throat closes and his little eyes are buggin' out-"


"I'm tryin' to eat here!" Lillian said.


"And I'm standing there, and I'm watching this, and I'm thinking to myself...I'm supposed to be a hero. I'm the sheriff. I'm supposed to keep people safe and maintain order in the face of abject evil, and be this grandiose fucking champion of the wild wild west and protector of the innocent, and I can't do anything to stop this. I just...fucking stood there...and...watched him die."


Vera put her forehead against his shoulder, still rubbing his back, trying to keep him calm as Lillian scooted her plate of eggs away from herself.


"I don't really have an appetite anymore," she muttered.


                                                                          ***


"His name was Thomas Middleditch, he was 7 years old," Lillian said softly, sitting across from her therapist, "I saw it on the news that night. A brief 45 second stint of recognition followed by the weather. That's it. Seven years of life summed up in a segment shorter than a commercial, and immediately followed with 'there's wind, Jill!'. Just bummed me the hell out, man."


"Are you still bummed out?" her therapist asked, and she shrugged.


"I don't know. My moods don't last more than a few minutes it feels like, so who knows," Lillian said as she slouched on the sofa and blew her bangs out of her face, adding, "it just feels really unfair. That sort of thing has never happened to any of us, and for it to happen to Tyler of all people, man...it really bothered me. He's a really fragile person. He didn't deserve that."


"Think about the kid whose birthday it was," her therapist said offhandedly, making Lillian raise an eyebrow and perk up a bit.


"What?"


"Sorry," her therapist said, chuckling a little, "I have a hard time keeping my thoughts to myself now and then. I was just thinking about the child whose birthday party it was. Someone their age, maybe even a friend, died at their party. That's gotta be traumatizing."


"I...I hadn't even really considered that," Lillian said.


"So tell me, how's your week been otherwise?"


But Lillian was now off on another tangent in her head, and there was no stopping what was coming from it.


                                                                          ***


Tyler was seated at a small, plastic, multicolored lunch table in the backyard, scooping a piece of cake up with a fork, when he looked up and saw Lillian sit down across from him. He furrowed his brow at her as he slid the cake bite into his mouth.


"What are you doing here?" he asked.


"I need to ask you a question," she said.


"How...how did you even know I was working here?" he asked, looking around.


"Vera told me. Anyway, I have to ask you a question...who's party was it where that kid died?" Lillian asked, and Tyler stared at her, deadeyed now, his fork dropping onto the paper plate.


"...why?" he asked solemnly.


"Because I wanna know how they're doing. Think about it, dude, some kid died at their party. That has to be traumatizing. I wanna see that they're okay," Lillian said, "So just tell me the name of the family and what street it was on and I'll leave, okay?"


Tyler sighed, setting his plate down as he scratched at his forehead. He cupped his hands together on the table and shook his head slightly.


"...if you're absolutely determined to do this, then we go together," he said, "I'll be done in an hour."


Lillian spent the remainder of the time at the party sitting in the living room, thumbing through an old book about birds and various diseases they contract (she presumed this kids parents were veterinarians), anxiously awaiting Tyler's job to finish. She thought about what would happen when they saw this kid. What could they even do if they were traumatized by it? It's not like they were child psychologists, or worse, the kids parents. After what felt like an eternity, Tyler walked into the living room, hat under his arm.


"You ready to mosey on over?" Lillian asked, smirking.


"You really need to stop with all the cowboy lingo," Tyler replied.


"No can do, pardner," she said, making him chuckle.


The two headed outside and into Tyler's car. He said he'd drive Lillian back to get her car afterwards. As she buckled her seatbelt, she looked over at him. Poor Tyler. He came from a broken home, and he was doing all this to help his mother pay bills, and he never even got to attend college. He was handsome, but in an approachable way, not a 'so handsome you can't take him seriously' leading man kind of way, and he was extremely nice. Always helpful, always considerate. If they each didn't have the baggage they had, Lillian had often considered asking him out.


The party in question had taken place over on Briscane, only a few blocks away, oddly enough, from todays job. Tyler didn't say a thing the entire way over, instead leaving Lillian to make awkward small talk for the both of them as she fiddled with his air conditioner.


"What would you be doing if you weren't doing this?" she asked.


"Going home."


"No, I mean, this job, in general. What did you wanna do instead?" she asked.


"Oh," he said, "Uh...I don't know. Something useful. I like the idea of being a firefighter, but fire scares me, so. Plus I'm not very strong. You need to have a lot of upper body strength for that sort of work."


"Well, yeah, how else are they gonna move those shirtless charity calendars?" Lillian replied, making him chuckle.


"I like this job cause it lets me work with kids when they're at their happiest, and I think that's what screwed me up about this incident because the happiest day of the year for this kid and now another child has died near them. Just felt sick. I always wanted to work with kids, but after..." he stopped suddenly, clearly choosing his words carefully, "uh, anyway, I didn't wanna do sad kid work, so this let me work with happy children, but of course, sadness exists everywhere. There's no escaping it."


"Have you ever considered seeing a therapist?"


"Like I could afford to."


"I was just asking."


Tyler pulled up to the curb and stopped the car, pointing across the street at a small, yellow house with white wooden window trim shades and beautiful rose bushes out front, where a little girl was sitting on the lawn, reading a picture book. Lillian felt her heart sink as she slid down in her chair. For some reason she'd expected this boy to have died at another boys party, she hadn't expected to see a small girl. That threw her for quite a loop.


"She seems rather indifferent," Tyler said quietly, "but perhaps I would be too."


"This is bumming me out."


"You asked to come here."


"...I wanna talk to her, I wanna...I wanna see that she's okay," Lillian said, exhaling deeply.


As she put her hand on the door handle to exit, Tyler stopped her, as the front door to the house opened and a man stepped outside, walking towards the little girl, patting her on the head and making conversation with her.


"...that's her dad," Tyler said, "he wasn't at the party, he was running late."


"She seems to listless," Lillian said, "So totally morose."


"Nice observation Professor Synonym," Tyler said, making her smile as he added, "...she didn't really respond to what happened. She just sort of hid away when everything was going down. Maybe she feels responsible, I don't know, but it struck me as odd either way."


"...I feel terrible," Lillian whispered, "I feel like we should be able to hide kids from stuff like that, especially on their birthday of all days, but it still happened. Look at her. She's got no bounce. She's got no glee. She's just...cold. No child should be cold. You shouldn't be cold until you reach at least 15 years old."


"And even then it's a mild cold, not the bitter cold you attain once you're in your twenties," Tyler said.


"Let's get outta here," Lillian said softly. Tyler nodded, starting the car back up and pulling away. Lillian could see the little girl on the lawn in the rearview mirror, but she quickly adjusted it, turning it away so she didn't see her anymore. It was simply too painful to watch.


                                                                            ***


"When I was a kid," Lillian said, chewing on her nails as her therapist listened, "I went to Disneyland. The happiest place on earth, right? I had so much fun, running around, riding the rides, meeting walk around characters and getting pictures and signatures and all sorts of good stuff. And then, on the last day there, we were waiting for Big Thunder Mountain, you know that train ride? It was about to start again, and out of the corner of my eye I saw this woman who was a walkaround for Cinderella, and she was standing nearby. I watched her closely, and as one of the other trains started to speed by, not yet done with its run, she just hopped the fence and let it hit her. There she is, Cinderella, smeared across a railroad track right in front of me."


"Holy shit," her therapist said softly as he started writing something down, "and this had an adverse effect on you?"


"Ya know, I don't think it had any effect on me, except to learn that there's no such thing as the happiest place on earth, because apparently even someones paradise can be someone else trap," Lillian said, running her hands through her long brown hair, "...did you ever have people come to your birthday? Not like a clown or something, but like what I do."


"No, but my child has," her therapist, Greg, said, continuing "they asked for a princess to come to their 6th birthday party. My wife and I are open minded people, so we were totally fine with them wanting a princess party. We got them a dress and everything."


"...why would you need to be open minded for that?"


"They were our son at the time," Greg said, "that party answered a lot of questions, heh. Now they wear dresses all the time and go by a girl name and we're just happy they're happy. By allowing them to explore that part of themselves via a birthday party, they were more at ease with who they were, and are happier now. They weren't happy before. We could always tell something felt off. So see, what you do is important. You help people."


Lillian smiled. She wanted to appreciate this. She wanted to feel like what she did did in fact matter. And yet she couldn't shake this horrid feeling that not only was she wasting her own life, but she wasn't really able to help anyone with what she was doing.


"I'll see you next Thursday, same time okay?" Greg asked, checking his watch.


"Am I...sick?" Lillian asked suddenly, jarring him from the unusual question.


"Uh...what do you mean?"


"I don't...I don't feel like I respond to things the way a person should. I feel like I either care too deeply or too little. Am I just a sociopath?"


"Yes, you're a sociopathic princess," Greg said, laughing, "No, Lily, I don't think you're sick. I think, like a lot of people your age, you're stuck because the world is burning down and nothing works, and you don't know how to get better. You don't know how to get unstuck. And I can't help you with that, sad to say. I can maybe make you feel slightly better about it, but I'm not going to be able to fix all your problems. No matter what I do, the world's still gonna suck and you're still gonna be stuck, and I think this job might be the only thing keeping you going."


"...well now I'm depressed, thanks," she said with a smirk.


"Hey, don't mention it," Greg remarked, laughing with her.


As she stood up and headed for the door, he stopped at the door behind her. She turned and looked at him for a moment, with a quizzical look on her face.


"Did you ever have a character at your party?" Greg asked.


"Yeah, once, when I was 9," Lillian said, "I asked my parents if I could have a clown. They got me a clown. But jesus was he a mess. After that I stopped having birthday parties altogether. Nobody really showed up anyway, so it was just me and Stinko all day long. That was perhaps the weirdest day I've ever had in my life."


"Stinko? Really? Stinko The Clown?" Greg asked, chuckling.


"Hey," Lillian said, shrugging, "It's a living. See you next Thursday, doc."


And with that she left, putting her tiara on her head as she walked out to her car. She had a job to get to.

Published on
"I have to admit, this is sort of exciting, I've never been in an actual production studio before," Michelle said as she, Keagan and Beatrice walked through the back halls of the lot where the show was to be produced.

"It gets less exciting, trust me," Beatrice said, "Not to sound jaded or anything, but...once you see where the magic comes from, that same magic stops being magic. That's why a magician never reveals his secrets, because he knows the value of a mystery."

"I disagree," Keagan said, "I find the creation aspect fascinating. I mean, here's an entire group of people working together to bring one idea to life. If government worked even half as well as the entertainment industry, the public would be ecstatic."

Beatrice couldn't resist chuckling at this sentiment, as she did have a point. The girls approached a room with an open door and peered inside, only to see a young woman finishing makeup on an older womans face. She looked up as they entered, and she smiled.

"Sorry, didn't know something was going on in here," Keagan said.

"No, it's fine, come on in," the young woman said as she turned away from her client, "We're done anyway."

The older woman stood up, checked herself in the mirror and thanked the younger woman before taking her leave. The three entered the room fully now as she the makeup artist wiped her forehead with a rag and exhaled loudly.

"They workin' you hard?" Keagan asked, arms folded, smirking.

"No," the makeup artist responded, laughing, "no, the air conditioner has been broken in this back area for weeks. You'd think that a streaming service could put up money into this part of their business, but apparently not. It's fine, I have my desk fan. Just can't have it on while doing someones makeup cause it blows everything around."

She clicked the desk fan on, then sat in her makeup chair and looked at the women again.

"Are we going to be working together?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm the only one who's going to be on camera, and even then I'll be wearing a mask, so likely not," Beatrice said, holding her hand out to be shaken, "I'm Beatrice."

"Clara," the makeup artist responded, shaking her hand firmly, "Well, someone in your cast is going to be utilizing me, so just send them my way when you know who."

Just then the little beeper on her hip sounded, and she groaned, excusing herself into a smaller, separate room from them. The women stood there momentarily, until they realized she wouldn't be coming back, and then turned to leave. As they crowded back into the hall, Beatrice shook her head.

"I've been out of the business for so long, and it hasn't changed at all. Sad," she whispered.

                                                                                              ***

Liam was sitting in a booth at a diner near the production studio lot when he heard the bell over the door ring, and quickly found Beatrice sliding in across the table from him. He sighed, put down his fork and looked at her as she skimmed through the menu.

"I take it it didn't go well," he said.

"Actually it went fine. The girls were far more enamored than I was, obviously, but nobody was rude or demanding or anything. We just took in the studio site, all that, and we gave the photos of Michelle's basement to the set designer, considering her mockup was the best photographic evidence we have of the set we used to own."

"They couldn't just use the tapes for that?"

"Please. Don't get me wrong, Keagan did a wonderful job cleaning them up, but the image quality is still so old that it wouldn't work," Beatrice said, "You are reprising your role, right? I wouldn't be doing this without you by my side."

"Yeah," Liam replied, smiling a little at her insistence, "Yeah I'm reprising my role, don't worry."

"Good. They want us to do 20 shows this year, each airing a week apart. Sounds brutal, but really it's the same as the old schedule."

"A week apart? Isn't the whole point of streaming to drop giant batches of content at once?" Liam asked, scratching his head.

"Yes, but that doesn't work with childrens programming. Children have school, homework, social duties. I don't want to overload them with things they won't have the time to watch, and then feel bad if they aren't as up to date as their friends are. That's why I fought for the weekly drop. I want it to be something special, something that feels like it happens only once a week and only for them."

Liam smiled. He'd forgotten just how endearing Beatrice could be. Sure, she'd done nice things like this on the previous show; birthday shoutouts and the like, but she was always genuinely nurturing little children in many ways they couldn't even comprehend, and he found that extremely kind. He was starting to feel grateful to work with her again.

"You have the puppet, right?" she asked.

"Yep," Liam said, "In my apartment, fit as a fiddle."

"Good," Bea said, sighing as she set down her menu and looked around, "...you know, if you'd told me when the original show ended that we'd be doing it all over again, I would've not only laughed at you but I might've beaten you to death too."

"Understandable."

"But the more I think about it, the more I wonder how lucky we really are. I mean, how many people are lucky enough to get to do what they want once, let alone twice? How many people make something that touches that many people that they want it to come back? That's...I don't know. I guess I feel special that Beatrice touched that many lives."

"You should," Liam said, itching his mustache, "I mean, you're going to be the bright light for a whole new generation of kids, and that's....that's simply not a thing everyone gets to do. To help mold a child, even if only through a TV show? That's a unique attribute that only a few people, and dogs, have."

"Though I gotta tell ya, I don't really enjoy the idea of being inside that wretched costume for hours on end again. Don't get me wrong, I love Bea, but that thing is brutal to be inside of."

"Yeah well, we all suffer for our art," Liam said with a chuckle, making her laugh.

                                                                                            ***

"I hate the idea of working with others," Keagan said as she put her laundry away into the closet.

Lexi, pulling her earrings from her ear and setting them on the vanity table before brushing through her long golden hair, simply nodded in response to this. When Keagan went off on something, she knew it was best to just let her blow off the steam as much as she could without interrupting or countering.

"I mean, I don't mind working with Michelle, because that's a real friendship, but...I don't know. These other people, like the makeup artist...it's weird. I guess I always feel like I have to prove myself around white people more than anyone else. Like...like if I don't, then they'll just immediately associate me with all the racial biases they already have or something."

"Well," Lexi said, turning on her stool, setting her hairbrush in her hands, "You didn't have to prove anything to Michelle, and you certainly didn't have to prove anything to me."

Keagan blushed. She knew Lexi was right. Both she and Michelle had liked her right from the offset, but still...she couldn't help but feel nervous going to work in a predominantly white studio. She'd always hated being the 'token black girl' no matter where she was, but especially at work, where she felt she had to show her worth far more than any white folks had to, as if to say she was worthy of being there whether her skin color was different or not.

"I'm just nervous, I guess," Keagan said, sitting on the end of the bed, "...like, all my life I wanted to work in media of some kind, and when I found out about lost media, I got so excited because here was a field that there was a lot of room for success in. I wanna be of help to Bea, and Michelle, but I just don't know that I know enough about actual media to really justify whatever credit it is they decide to stick me with. And with the makeup artist...it feels like I'm always wearing makeup, no matter what I'm doing or where I am. I'm always pretending to be someone else. Someone society will respect. I guess I understand why Bea hid behind a mask, because whether you're black or a woman - or in my case both - society is going to judge you doubly hard. But at least under piles of makeup, or behind a mask, it makes their judgement a bit tougher to make."

Lexi, using her toes, pulled her stool towards the bed and ran her hands into Keagan's bushy hair, smiling as she leaned in and kissed her cheek.

"Your skin color is your personhood, not a tool to be used for the debating of your skills," Lexi said, snuggling up to her, making Keagan want to cry. How did she get so lucky to have someone so loving in her life? Sometimes, admittedly, she missed having her solitude just like Michelle did, but a lot of times, also admittedly, she couldn't deny being so thankful to have such caring people around her all the time.

This was one of those times.

                                                                                            ***

Michelle scooted another set of hangers further down the rack, pulled a few back, then sighed and kept looking. Delores stood off to the side, sitting on a small bench, as she watched. After a little bit, Michelle stopped and turned towards her, looking dejected.

"I don't know what looks good on me," she said.

"Well, kiddo, nobody does except models," Delores said, "but if you pick something that isn't perfectly fitted, we can always have it tailored more to your measurements. Unless you feel uncomfortable in form fitting clothing, I don't know."

"Are suits supposed to be form fitting?"

"Everything is supposed to be form fitting on a woman," Delores said, sounding annoyed which made Michelle laugh; Delores chuckled a little and continued, "but yes, they're supposed to, generally, accentuate your best features. Same with dresses. Even for men, suits are meant to make them look good. But are you sure you even really need a suit for a job like this?"

"I wanna be professional," Michelle said, seating herself on the bench beside Delores, tucking some of her hair back behind her ear, "...I've never gotten the chance to be professional, and I want to make Beatrice proud."

"I think you've already done that," Delores said, rubbing her back gently, "after all, you got her show back on the air after how many years?"

"Yeah, but...I want her to see that I'm more than just some media obsessed weirdo," Michelle said.

"Why? That's obviously what she likes about you," Delores said, "Why rock the boat?"

"I...I don't know. I guess cause I could never prove it to my mom," Michelle said quietly and Delores exhaled deeply, straightening up and adjusting her sleeves.

"You know, when I was your age, I wanted to prove to my mother that I was professional too. I so badly wanted to show her that I could handle life in the work force, so I volunteered everywhere I could. I saved up my money, I bought myself some cheap second hand suits from thrift stores, and I volunteered anywhere that would have me. I did gofer jobs mostly, but it didn't really matter what the job was exactly, I was determined to show her that I could handle it because she thought I couldn't."

"Why'd she think you couldn't?" Michelle asked, and Delores sighed, shaking her head, her curly brown hair bobbing as she did so.

"Never really knew why, she'd never tell me and I rarely asked. I guess some parents just don't have very high opinions of their own children," she said, shrugging, "but I soon realized the one I was proving right was myself, not her, and that was far more valuable honestly. I proved that I didn't need her approval, because my approval of a job well done was worth far more."

Michelle smiled at this story as she looked at her shoes.

"I guess my mom thinks because I'm sick that I'm just not capable of doing much," she muttered, "is that what the whole world thinks of sick people? Why do people like myself have to prove our worth to a world that doesn't respect us to begin with?"

"You're a disabled woman," Delores said, "you're still capable of doing anything anyone else is, but so many are going to not see that or agree with it. Trust me though, kiddo, in the end, the only one worth proving anything to is yourself. Do things for you, not for them."

"...I like the color grey, I think I'll get a grey suit," Michelle said, standing back up and heading back to the rack; she glanced over her shoulder and smiled, adding "thanks for coming with me to do this, Delores."

"Anytime," Delores replied.

                                                                                                ***

Women, especially women who don't fit into the general "normative" culture as society sees it, often have to fight harder to be seen, recognized and even respected. Women like Beatrice, who share too much of themselves too easily, or women like Keagan, whose only real difference was something beyond her control, or women like Michelle, who just had trouble breathing a little more than most women do. None of these women had anything wrong with them. They were simply different, and it was those very differences that made them equal, not better.

This was something that Clara, as she was coming into her small apartment late that night, was coming to realize. She'd fought so hard her whole life to not judge, and to not feel superior to others, and the only way she could find herself feeling less superior was to ruin herself so she could have something to point to to say "look, I'm worse than you, see!"

As she unplugged the cork from the bottle of wine and sat on her couch, pulling the little baggie from her coat pocket and putting the coke into lines on the coffee table, she realized how ridiculous it was. Self sabotage only because society hadn't given her something to hate about herself. It saw her as a heteronormative, cisgendered woman - which she was - with no real ailments of any kind, so instead she created some of her own, simply so she could claim she wasn't as "perfect" as society seemed to claim she was.

Lying back into the couch after doing two bumps, she sipped her wine and exhaled.

"We all wear makeup," she'd told a friend in the business one day, "just that some of us wear it all the time."
Published on
"You...you're offering me how much?" Beatrice asked, sitting beside Liam and Michelle in Stephanie Mirk's office.

Stephanie smiled sweetly and cupped her hands together on her desk as she leaned forward, her voice buttery yet professional.

"It'd be exclusive only to our service. We pride ourselves on making content specifically for children, and family, and after the viral success your tapes had, we can see there's a market for such a show. We're prepared to offer you a million an episode, and full creative control so long as you don't include any adult material or offensive content."

Bea looked at Liam, who shrugged and smirked. Bea nodded, then looked back at Stephanie as she exhaled.

"We have a deal, but only if you include my friend here," Bea said, putting her hand on Michelle's shoulder, adding, "After all, I wouldn't have viral success without her efforts. If she isn't included, then I walk."

Stephanie chewed her lip for a moment, then reached across the table and held out her hand.

"Deal," she said, as Bea shook it, adding, "And Michelle, welcome to show business."

                                                                                              ***

                                                                                 3 WEEKS EARLIER

"You do know your calendar is out of date, right? It's from 4 years ago," Bea said, knocking on it with her knuckles as she turned to see Michelle adjusting the knob on her oxygen tank before plugging the cannula into her nose. Michelle nodded as she seated herself back on her bed.

"I like the pictures," she said, making Bea smile.

"You're like a child, it's cute," Bea said, taking a seat in Michelle's desk chair across from the bed; she exhaled and looked at her, asking, "You sure you're doing okay? You don't need any help? You know you can ask me for anything."

"I'm okay," Michelle said, "I've had a hard time adjusting to living with people, admittedly, but it's somewhat easier seeing as they're friends of mine and not strangers. Still, I miss my solitude...and my basement."

"I'm sorry," Bea said quietly, "I know how that feels."

Bea had spent so long missing the set, that she knew how deeply it must hurt Michelle to miss the set she'd recreated in her basement. Somehow bother women had fallen in love with the same imaginary place built in two entirely different areas. Bea shook her head, then remembered and clapped her hands together.

"I forgot to tell you, I got a phone call the other day!" she said happily.

"Did you not own a phone before, or?"

"No," Bea said, laughing, "No, I mean someone from a streaming service called me and said that they wanted to meet with Liam and I about the show. They said they'd seen the viral success of the episodes you and Keagan had recut, cleaned up and uploaded to the site and they wanted to talk to us about doing something together."

"That's awesome," Michelle said.

"And I want you to come with me," Bea said, surprising her.

"You want what now?"

                                                                                                ***

Liam couldn't believe his ears. Standing in his apartment as he watered his plants, he mulled over what Beatrice and Michelle had just told him. He finally put his small brown watering can back down on a bookshelf and, using his cane, turned towards the women.

"Are you telling me you're actually considering going back to the business?" Liam asked, "Because I find that hard to believe after what happened. I find it even harder to believe that you want me to be a part of it, considering what happened."

"Yeah, well, I'm trying to be a more forgiving person these days," Bea said, shrugging as she leaned against the armchair and watched Liam waddle his way back towards his kitchen to make some more coffee.

"And you want her to come with us?" he asked, pointing at Michelle with his cane as he filled the pot with water from the sink.

"Yes," Bea said, "If it weren't for her and Keagans efforts, I'd still be a hermit and you'd likely be dead, so, I think we owe quite a bit to them. I want Michelle to be considered a co-creator and Keagan a consultant or executive producer."

"But neither one has any experience in the industry."

"Exactly, they aren't tainted by its ills."

Liam smirked. Bea always knew just what to say to counteract his points. He sighed as he waited for his coffee to brew, and looked at the two women in his apartment. He knew he didn't have a choice. Instead he just sighed and nodded.

"Then I guess we're doing this. I'll have to dig out some of my nicer clothes," Liam said.

                                                                                             ***

Keagan was upset, but she didn't want to say it.

As she watched Lexi cut a sandwich into pieces, Keagan wanted so badly to just stand upright from the table she was seated at and shout that she was angry, but her reasoning for being angry was so stupid, she thought, that she couldn't fathom actually doing such a thing. Lexi turned from the counter and brought the finger sandwiches back to the table, setting them down in the middle before bringing them each a glass of carrot juice to go with it.

"I think I eat a lot healthier with you around, that's for sure," Keagan said, "Doesn't help that I'm too broke to pay for fast food though."

"It's good to eat well. Gives you more energy," Lexi said, seating herself and taking a sandwich, "besides," she added, "I like cooking. I always wanted to maybe be a chef of some kind of something. It was a hobby I always really enjoyed, and I especially like it when others appreciate what I've made."

"Well, I certainly appreciate you making food, because I suck at it," Keagan said, "I could burn water."

Lexi laughed loudly as she popped her sandwich into her mouth and chewed. Keagan liked making her laugh, that she couldn't deny. As she watched Lexi lift up the newspaper and read, Keagan started to feel a bit better. She had to admit, domesticity was nice, and certainly far better than the loneliness she had experienced beforehand. Lexi also would agree; no longer living with her mother and sister, she was thrilled to be living with someone she felt truly enjoyed her company.

"I think...I have to say-" Keagan started, but Michelle walked in through the side door of the kitchen, smiling at them.

"I've had an interesting day," she said, putting her canister and cannula in the corner before looking at Keagan and saying with a grin, "How'd you like to work in television?"

                                                                                              ***

Sitting in the pizzeria after the meeting, Bea, Michelle, Liam and Keagan were enjoying a pizza pie and soda. Laughing and eating, it was like having a real family, Michelle thought. Liam sipped his soda and smacked his lips, exhaling.

"God, I'm so glad I stopped drinking," Liam said, "I mean, sure, it makes eating out kind of bland, but I recognize it's better for my health."

"So what is it like, working in show business?" Michelle asked.

"Well, you'll both get regular paychecks, for starters," Bea said, "Much higher than whatever you're making now is, I guarantee that much. Plus, Michelle, health insurance. That alone should cut your living costs drastically, not to mention make you even less reliant on your mother for financial support."

Michelle's lip quivered, she wanted to cry, but she held it back and waited for Bea to finish.

"And Keagan, this will help get your foot in the door to do more work on this type. I know you've always been fascinated by lost media and whatnot, and this could easily get you access to vaults worth of forgotten content to discover."

"That sounds amazing," Keagan said.

"Who knows, if things go well enough, perhaps you'll even be given the chance to do your own show all about lost media," Bea said, "Lord knows upping the intelligence of the public in regards to the arts is certainly a worthy and valiant effort."

"I'm scared I won't know what to do," Michelle said, finishing her slice and wiping her mouth on her napkin.

"Just stick with Liam and I and we'll navigate you through all of this, okay?" Bea asked, rubbing her back and smiling, "Don't worry, we won't let you get lost in the shuffle. You're the heart of this thing. If people see you're passionate about something, it gives them the illusion that it matters, and they become passionate too. You're passionate about the show. About the dog. Others have been proven to follow that lead already."

Michelle nodded and smiled. She loved Bea so deeply, but she was also afraid to attach herself to something so iconic, of getting too close and witnessing the evils it could produce. After all, if things had gone wrong once...

...who's to say they couldn't go wrong again?

                                                                                                 ***

Sitting in her hospital bed as a little girl, staring up at the TV screen and watching Bea sing a song, Michelle had forgotten all about the fact that her mother hadn't come to see her in days. Secretly she wished Beatrice Beagle could be her mother, and when she napped, she often had dreams about such a thing. Being with Beatrice, even just on the television, made Michelle feel as though she were cared for after all, and that she should get better because Bea would be proud of her for doing so.

When she came home, she continued to watch the show every day. Sitting on the floor in front of the television in their living room, often while her parents yelled at one another in their bedroom at the back of the house, Michelle was capable of tuning all the negativity out and focusing instead of this dog who told her that she was important, and she did matter. Only when Beatrice went away did Michelle start to have problems believing such things, but only from time to time. Deep down she internalized the things Bea had taught her on the show, and felt she deserved better. Felt she deserved more.

When she finally moved out - albeit into a home rented by her mother - she thought "Wow, if only Beatrice Beagle could see me now!"

Sometimes all we need in life is one person, imaginary or otherwise, to help us help ourselves.

                                                                                                   ***

"I can't believe you're doing this," Lawrence said, sitting in his office chair as Stephanie made herself a drink and then came and sat beside him; he stirred the ice in his cup and shook his head, chuckling, "Like, you realize often internet numbers don't match up with traditional media, right? Sure, people clamor online for something, and sometimes they even get something to come back in a reboot or an uncancellation, but rarely do those very same people follow through on the promise of actually supporting it once it's back on air."

"I know, but I think this is different. This is something children can connect with," Stephanie said, "Children are online more than adults, especially younger children. Parents don't wanna take care of their kids, they use devices to do the babysitting for them, and the tablet is the television. Everyday I see articles about how much screentime kids spend on sites like Youtube, just watching, aimlessly, for hours, in a trance. I think, with a built in recognition factor, we could have that very same audience. Think about it...we craft it as a forgotten icon, someone who was hurt by traditional media, someone who - like most of the young people today - was against capitalism and thus capitalism was used against her. They'll relate to that. They'll find her persistence admirable."

"I think I see where you're going with this."

"Right," Stephanie said, taking a sip, "so we build on that. 'Hey, we're the new way to engage in content, and we won't hurt them this time!' and people will believe it. Streaming services are said to be the new frontier, which we all know is bullshit. I mean, we have no advertisers, and our competitors pale in comparison when faced with our original output. We're the folks who say 'yeah, forget traditional television, come to us! We'll let you do whatever!' but it's a ruse, because we'll only do that for as long as it's profitable to our brand, same as anyone else, but because we can just make something and put it out there with no bullshit behind it, that entices people into thinking we're the good guys."

"You're so negative towards your own work," Lawrence said, laughing as Stephanie pulled a grape off the small silver plate on his desk and ate it. She shrugged.

"Listen," she said, chewing, "I grew up watching traditional television. Weekly appointment water cooler TV, okay? That's why I know streaming is no different. Does it have pros? Certainly, but its cons are just as bad as traditional television and far outweigh the few pros it has over its aged out predecessor. Once it's a success - and it will be because parents follow their childrens interests - then we start producing merchandising and once that takes off, the show is secondary to the brand."

"I see how you got to be where you are today," Lawrence said, "You're smart as hell."

"You don't watch a lot of TV and not come away with something," Stephanie said, the two of them raising their glasses in toast to one another; "To Beatrice Beagle," she said.

"To Beatrice Beagle," Lawrence replied, and they drank.

                                                                                                 ***

When Michelle and Keagan got home that evening, Michelle soon found herself alone, thanks to Lexi's insistence that she and Keagan also go out to celebrate this new job offer. Michelle didn't mind, though, she was more than happy to be home alone. Lying on her bed, looking at the glow in the dark stars she'd stuck to the ceiling, she couldn't believe what had happened. How had she gone from being just a sick child in the hospital looking to a fursuited woman for guidance to now working with that very same woman?

Beatrice Beagle was going to get another chance to shine, another chance to be adored by kids all over, and Michelle was so proud to be able to say she was a big part of that chance. She smiled to herself as she pulled her blankets up to her neck and shut her eyes. Everything Bea had taught her as a kid had in fact paid off. She'd believed in herself and look at where she'd gotten. She was no longer just some poor sick kid, no, she was going to be someone in the entertainment industry, guided by the very woman whom she'd once shared an intimate hospital room with.

And Beatrice, after arriving home that night, immediately pulled out the suit.

She set it on the floor and looked at it. It would need some minor adjustments, a bit of maintenance, but overall it was still in tip top shape, she was proud to say. She took good care of the thing, even if it had been stored in her closet for all these years. Bea ran her hands along the head and felt the fur on the ears. God, she was going to have to spend hours in this stuffy costume yet again, but this time...this time she thought it'd be worth it. Unlike the first outing, this one was paved with good intentions, at least from her and Michelle's point of view, and she wouldn't let the same thing happen this time around that had happened to her and Liam the first time.

But most importantly, she thought about Beatrice, the actual dog, and how much she wanted the world to recognize how special she was.

And now maybe they would.
Published on
The theatre was quiet, aside from a bit of shuffling and some folks clearing their throats or rustling their pamphlets. Natasha was seated on a couch on the stage, but the lights were off, and nobody could see anything. She took a long, deep breath, then pressed a button on the earpiece attached to her head and whispered, "Let's go."

The lights blasted on, and suddenly she was bathed in warm light, now clearly visible to everyone in the theatre, as they all began to clap. Natasha smiled softly and waited a moment, before cupping her hands and looking out directly at everyone.

"Thank you for coming," she said into the headset mic, "I'm Natasha Simple, and welcome to my first live show. If you're here, it's likely because you're lost, confused or in need of help, but let me assure you that you're doing better than me, and I get paid for this schlock. Either way, like me, you're likely dissatisfied with your life and I can understand why. Life is, as a concept, extremely dissatisfying. I mean, let's face it, most of us, myself included, are never going to be wealthy, or fulfilled or even what society often considers 'happy', but I think that's the biggest lesson I've had to learn since my husband left...is that it's perfectly fine to not be those things, and it's sick to think it's wrong to think that way."

A smattering of applause made Natasha smile as she stood up and started pacing.

"I mean," she continued, "I'm supposed to see my divorce as a 'fresh start' or some shit, but it's not, it's an ending, and that's okay. It's okay to see things as endings, not new beginnings. Why do so many self help books praise the concept of closure, yet are afraid to see things as endings? You can't have it both ways. Either be afraid, or lie, but don't try and have your cake and eat it too. You just wind up with cake everywhere, making a mess, and life is messy enough, isn't it? So let's try to conquer the mess, shall we? Tonight, you and me. Together, we could maybe make something out of nothing."

Some more light applause, as up in the booth where Corrine was doing her job with the lights and sounds, Jay smirked. He sipped his hot coffee and sat down on a stool beside Corrine, crossing his legs.

"It's so good to see her be so headstrong," Jay said, "this has been such a weird year, and it's nice to see she hasn't lost any of her step."

"She's a rock, yes," Corrine said.

The door opened, and Sharla entered, eating out of a bag of banana chips. She nodded at Jay, who raised his coffee cup at her, as she sat herself on the couch in the back and stretched out, groaning.

"I just came from the gym, sorry I wasn't here sooner," she said.

"It's fine," Jay said, "She just started a few minutes ago, you haven't missed much."

"Where's her kid?" Sharla asked, and Jay turned to look at her.

"She's on her way with her aunt," Jay said, checking his watch, "and honestly they're later than you are, so don't feel bad."

                                                                                                 ***

Sitting in traffic, Noreen tapping her nails against her steering wheel, she couldn't help but think they should've left sooner. Violet, sitting in the passenger seat, wasn't saying anything but was instead chewing on her hair absentmindedly, with Courtney in the backseat, reading a book she'd brought with her to ease the awkward quiet. Finally, Noreen sighed and glanced at her niece.

"Well, I hope your mom doesn't hold it, you know, too harshly against us for being late," she said.

"She won't. She never holds, um, anything against me," Violet said, "She'd have to, like, pay attention to me before she did that."

This admittance surprised Courtney, who glanced up from her book, but didn't say anything.

"Why do you say that? You know she loves you," Noreen said.

"I know, and uh, and I...I love, um, her too, but, like...like she's so focused on fixing everyone elses problems, and never, um, ours, if that makes sense? I feel like, uh, like everyone else's problems are more important, or something, like, I don't know," Violet said, her voice trailing off to a whisper as she finished.

"Well, you should tell her that," Noreen said, "I'm sure she'd listen. She adores you. I know she's busy trying to help literally everyone, and that, ya know, it has to be, uh, frustrating, but still. You're her daughter. You'll always come first. That's what my parents taught me."

This made Courtney smile, but also feel bad. She didn't have a mom to help her feel good. She had her father, and he did his best, and they were best friends, but it wasn't the same. She was, honestly, jealous of the relationship Violet had with her mother.

"I couldn't ever say, like, anything mean to her," Violet said, "That'd make me mean, and I don't wanna, ya know, be, uh, be mean."

Courtney sighed and went back to reading, not having said a thing, but having taken it all in nonetheless.

                                                                                           ***

"You're all here because, like me, you've been forgotten in one manner or another," Nat said, "Whether it's by your family, your friends, or even yourself...you've gotten lost, somehow, in the mix and you don't know how to get back to the trail, but luckily for you, I'm a Forest Ranger, and together we can weather the wildness of the wilderness together to find our way back to camp. Was that a ridiculous thing to say? You betcha!"

Laughter rose from the crowd, making Nat chuckle herself as she adjusted her earpiece and continued.

"But, that being said, I do firmly believe in my ability to not just help you, but help you help yourself, and help myself in the process. That's the thing my husband didn't understand. So many people think you have to do everything by yourself, and, sure, a lot of things you do have to do by yourself. I won't deny that. But one of those things isn't suffering. You do NOT have to suffer alone. That's why I'm here. I am here to tell you that you are not alone in how you feel, and that I completely understand, because I suffer too. We all do. Really, our suffering is the one thing that binds us all completely together."

Nat crossed the stage and nervously fidgeted with the buttons on her shirt before exhaling and facing the crowd once again.

"We're all going to be left. We're all going to be left in one manner or another, whether our romantic partner leaves us or our parents eventually die, one way or another, we're going to be left. And that loss hurts tremendously, but it also brings us all so much closer, because we know we aren't alone in experiencing it."

The doors to the theatre opened, and Natasha saw Violet, Courtney and Noreen enter and silently take seats in the back. Nat smiled and felt her eyes tear up.

"My daughter is the single strongest person I know, and I draw all my strength from her. I never tell her this, much as I might want to, but I can easily tell a crowd full of strangers because I don't have to worry what you'll think about me. I don't know you guys. So let me tell you that our children, these people...these are the ones that help us through the most. I wouldn't be here today if it hadn't been for her. Her birth made me realize that I was capable of loving someone - selflessly and unabashedly - other than myself, more than myself. She's developmentally challenged, and yet she's the smartest person I know, and every day I feel like I don't even remotely match up to how much smarter she actually is than me, than all of us. To have to navigate a world not designed for you...that takes brains. Courage. Strength. And she has far more of all of those things than all of us combined."

Noreen and Courtney glanced at Violet who was trying not to smile, clearly feeling simultaneously embarrassed but also loved at that exact moment.

"I know it's cliche to say your child gives you purpose, but before her I was aimless. I didn't know what I wanted to do for a living," Natasha said, "and now I've spent the past decade trying to help all of you, because of her. You're all here to see me, you're all fans of me, but I'm her biggest fan. Don't take your strength from me, or what I say or think, take it from her. She's a better person than I could ever be, and she makes me strive every single day to be better, so I can help all of you. In hindsight, my husband leaving was the best thing that ever happened to me, because it forced me to realize what I was truly appreciative of....my daughter, and I couldn't have gotten here today without her."

Violet got up and ran out of the theatre, trying to hide her face, and neither Noreen or Courtney followed her. Jay, from up in the booth, saw this and quickly exited to catch her in the main foyer of the building. He found Violet pacing in the main hall, where she was both crying and laughing.

"Vi?" he asked, cautiously approaching her, touching her on the shoulder gently.

"Jay?" she asked, turning to see him.

"You okay? I'm sorry if that was embarrassing, but-"

Without warning, Violet threw herself into Jay, hugging him tight, surprising him completely. Violet rarely even gave hugs to her mother, but she really needed it he figured, so he hugged her back and let her cry against him.

"It's so much responsibility," she whined, "I love her, but, uh....but I feel, like, you know...so....um...responsible for her well being, and that's tiring."

"I'm sure it is, sweetheart," Jay said, stroking her hair, "but-"

"and," she continued, interrupting him, "I wanna make her proud, and I'm glad she finds strength in me, because I sure don't find strength in me."

Jay knew Violet suffered from self esteem issues, but it had never remotely occurred to him just how big those issues might just be until this very moment. It now dawned on him just how little she actually thought of herself. He knew that finding Noreen had made her a lot happier, finding some reasoning for being the way she was and not feeling as alone now, but even still...Jay sighed and walked with Violet to the velvet covered staircase, sitting down together. He pulled his cap off and ran his hands through his hair, exhaling deeply, shaking his head.

"...I love your mother," he said, "more than others do. I know there's, um, kind of an age gap but it isn't huge by any means. Either way, what I'm saying is that I've known you basically your whole life, and...and she isn't wrong. I know you still find it hard to accept being who you are, but you know, you aren't alone. I had a lot of trouble in school myself, and I know how you feel about not feeling as smart as the stock you came from, as smart as the peers around you. It can feel crushing."

"Dad just left," Violet said, no longer stammering, "he just left, and I'm supposed to be there for my mom when I'm barely able to be there for myself? I love her, and I'm glad she pulls strength from me, but I'm a kid! Dad never cared. He claims he did, but he didn't. He didn't care. If he'd cared, he would've stayed for me at least, or he would've seen me sooner, but he didn't."

"Well, I know I'm not your father, but I care," Jay said, making Violet look at him as he added, "and I know it'll never be the same, but-"

"You've been around more than my dad has. That makes you the better man and I'm glad you're in my moms life," Violet said.

Jay smiled, knowing he didn't have to say more. The silence between them said it all. They waited for the show to finish, and waited for Nat to join them, but eventually, as everyone filed out, Violet grew frustrated. She wanted to storm back into the auditorium and see what was taking her so long, but Jay just grabbed her arm and kept her there. Violet got it then. Her mother was once again doing something for someone. Someone other than her. And she would just have to get comfortable with sharing her mother with the world.

                                                                                              ***

Corrine was packing her backpack, wrapping up her headphones and other equipment to take back to her dorm, when the door opened and Natasha entered. Corrine turned and smiled at her, as Nat pulled the earpiece off and handed it to her. The women stood there, looking at one another, until Corrine finally nodded and pulled her backpack on over her shoulders and headed towards the door.

"Thank you," Nat said, "Seriously, I couldn't have done the show or this live event without your expertise. Thank you, Corrine."

"Don't mention it," Corrine said, "I'll see you next week."

"Wait," Nat said, sitting down and pulling out a bundle of paper from a briefcase, "sit down."

Corrine did as she was told, and the two women sat there on the couch together.

"What's going on?" Corrine asked.

"I pooled all the money we made from this event, and a lot of the money we made from subscriptions, merchandise and donations through the site this past year, and...and I put it all in one collected bank account. In your name."

Corrine just stared at her.

"What?" she asked.

"All the money, it's...it's for you. After that discussion we had, you know, about your parents...it didn't feel right to just not do anything about it, so I took all the money I made from my job this year and I put it into this account. Sharla and Jay agreed to give up their shares for this year, since we're all still doing somewhat okay, so we could give all this to you, and keep you afloat financially. I'm taking a break from the show for a bit to spend the summer with my daughter. That being said, I won't have any need for your services until we return, so I got you a plane ticket and a nice hotel room on the islands, so you can go be with her, and you won't have to worry about your folks paying for your dorm because now you have more than enough money to pay for your schooling for a while."

Corrine couldn't believe her ears.

"What are you saying?" Corrine asked quietly.

"You're going to Hawaii for the summer, to be with your girl," Nat said, "Staying in a luxury suite, and you don't have to worry about affording your schooling when you get back. You said you were a fan of me, well I'm a fan of you, Corrine. What you've been put through, and yet you're still going, and that's so admirable. You wanted a parent, let me be that parent."

She handed Corrine the papers, and watched as Corrine sifted through them bit by bit, her eyes growing ever wider every few seconds. After she finished, she shut the envelope and looked at Natasha, then threw herself into her, hugging you tightly.

"Thank you," she cried, and Nat patted her back.

"It's no big thing," Nat said, laughing.

                                                                                           ***

Natasha got herself, Violet and Courtney fried chicken from a fast food place for dinner, and the three of them sat in the living room watching TV and eating, having a nice girls night in. After a while, the girls excused themselves to Violet's bedroom, leaving Nat all alone to watch TV and eat dessert by her lonesome, not that she minded. She wanted some alone time after that day. When Nat finally went to her bedroom around 11pm, she found Courtney staring in the hall bathroom mirror, trying to fix her hair, and Nat stopped and watched until Courtney noticed her.

"Oh, hi," Courtney said, "Thanks for letting me stay the night."

"It's no problem. Is Violet asleep?" Nat asked, and Courtney nodded.

"Yeah, she fell asleep pretty quickly after we went upstairs," Courtney said, "Your show was really good, Miss Simple."

"Courtney, can I talk to you?" Natasha asked, nodding down the hall, "in my bedroom?"

Courtney followed her, shutting the bathroom light off, and when they arrived in Nat's room, she shut the door and sat down on the bed. Courtney was afraid she'd done something wrong, and felt nervous. Natasha exhaled, and looked at her feet.

"...your father came to me a while ago," Nat said, "said business wasn't as great as it once was, that things were getting tighter money wise, and uh, and of course I know all about your mom. I mean, in the sense that she's not here anymore. Then Violet told me about, you know...you, and what you've been going through, becoming who you are, and I just thought to myself 'wow, women have it hard enough already, but this girl's gotta be having the worst time of any of us' because, it's bad enough to be a woman and get shit solely for that, but to be in your situation, that has to attract a lot of unwanted attention and that...I'm just in awe, honestly, and I'm so glad you're my daughters friend because...because it's good for her to have role models to show that other young women like herself, who fall outside the societal category of 'normal' or whatever, are honestly the strongest women there are."

Courtney wanted to cry. She sat down in a chair and watched as Natasha reached behind her on the bed and pulled a suitcase to her lap, opening it.

"I gave most of the money from this year to my editor, but since your father and I ran into eachother, I've been saving up, and hopefully after this next year, if things continue to go as well for me, between the two of us, we can afford to get you what you want. I think if we pool our funds together, we could afford the surgeries."

Courtney went white as a sheet.

"you...you'd do that for me?" she asked quietly, trying not to cry.

"Yeah, of course. Absolutely. Every women, regardless of their sexuality or their gender or their intellectual capacity, deserves to be happy and respected," Natasha said, "...so yeah, of course I would. I know you lost your mom, and I can't imagine what that's like, but I'm always here, if you need a motherly figure. We'll get you what you want, okay? I promise."

Courtney stood up and hugged Natasha, sobbing against her. Natasha smiled and stroked Courtney's long blonde hair, feeling like maybe now Courtney wouldn't feel so alone, just like Corrine. Courtney eventually pulled herself away and sat down beside Nat, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

"...I miss her so much," Courtney said, "and...thank you. Thank you for being there."

"Of course," Nat said, "I know what it's like to be left."

                                                                                               ***

The bell above the door rang, and Noreen looked around to spot Natasha coming in and seating herself at the small round table in the corner. Noreen had already ordered coffee for them both, and was eating from a box of donuts.

"Thanks for inviting me," Natasha said.

"I figured it was important for us to get to know one another," Noreen said, "So, did you do what you wanted? Did it go over well?"

"It went over great, actually," Nat said, picking a donut out for herself and sipping her coffee, "I figured everyone else in my life deserved to get a gift, since I got one."

Noreen raised an eyebrow.

"You got a gift?"

"I got a sister," Natasha said, making Noreen laugh.

And for the first time in over two years....things really were simple again.
Published on

The alarm went off and Zoe groaned. She rolled over and put her hand on it, turning it off again before rolling back over and sighing. She felt an arm slump around her and pull her close, and she smiled. She could smell Effie's shampoo, and it made her feel safe. It was quiet outside, and Zoe felt like she could stay in this bed the whole day, until she realized this was it, this was the anniversary of The Forgotten Tomb. God, had it really been a whole month already? Where had the time gone?


                                                                         ***


   30 DAYS PRIOR


Allie was sitting at a slot on the main floor of the Card Shark, putting coin after coin into it, when she felt a stool being dragged up beside her. She turned and looked to her side, surprised to see Molly of all people sitting down beside her, eating a churro.


"What are you doing here?" Allie asked.


"Getting my nerves up for the opening," Molly mumbled, "I just...I'm terrified. What if something goes wrong?"


"What could possibly go wrong at this point? It's already built. It isn't like someone's going to die during construction," Allie said.


"Well what if one of the wings hovering over the road collapses because it was rushed and not properly attached and it falls on a busload of special ed children on their way to visit an orphanage?" Molly asked, making Allie look at her with a smirk on her face.


"Wow," Allie said, "you're really good at coming up with absolutely bullshit scenarios."


"It could happen!" Molly said, taking a bite from her churro.


"When has that ever happened, except for that one time at The Prospector?" Allie asked, making Molly look at her in shock; Allie continued, "oh yeah, you never heard about that? That exact thing happened, verbatim, and it was horrible. The parents of all the kids killed themselves, and then the orphanage caught on fire thanks to an arsonist who lost their child in the bus and blamed the orphanage for their loss."


Allie looked back at Molly, who was staring at her in annoyance now, and Allie began to laugh.


"You're meeeean," Molly whined and Allie patted her on the shoulder.


"Come on, you're a professional, you didn't do a slipshod job, alright? It's fine, everything's going to be fine," Allie said, "Now, take this glass of coins and keep piling them into this machine, cause I'm going to order a thing of nachos from the bar."


Allie scooted her stool out and walked to the bar, only to find Zoe already there, drinking a soda. Allie seated herself beside Zoe and sighed.


"Well, we have a few hours before we have to get ready," Allie said, "How you feeling?"


"I'm feeling....nervous, but, ya know, that's probably normal. I just want it to be over," Zoe said, taking a sip, "...is the stuff already there?"


"Yeah. I took it all over there last night and put it in my presentation area. The tomb is sealed tight, remember? Nobody can open that son of a bitch if they tried," Allie said, "so there's no real worry about someone discovering it beforehand. Plus we packed the inside with preservatives so it's not like, you know, any smell is going to be noticeable."


"...I can't believe we're going to get away with this," Zoe whispered, "it feels so wrong."


"I know, I know it does, but hey, like I've said, we didn't have a choice," Allie said, "Sunny was a bad man, perhaps not the worst guy in the world, but he kept me hooked far longer than I should've been just because he made the drugs so easily accessible that it felt like an effort to actually quit."


"You're going to your meetings, right?" Zoe asked.


"Yep," Allie said, "Haven't had a drink or a pill in weeks. It's...been tough, hah, not gonna lie, but I'm doing it."


"I'm proud of you," Zoe said, smiling, surprising Allie.


"Th...thanks, I'm proud of you too," Allie said, "Now if you'll excuse me, I need some lunch. Gonna get me some nachos."


                                                                           ***


Allie and Zoe drove over to the new Card Shark later that afternoon. Allie was planning to meet Nick there, seeing as he'd agreed to bring over the fireworks for the ending of the show. In the car, Zoe was nervous, pulling on her hair a little, while Allie chewed on gum.


"You want some gum?" Allie asked, "it always helps me when I feel antsy. Gives me something to do."


"No thanks," Zoe said, "I don't like gum. Too much effort for something that isn't actually edible."


"Fair enough."


They pulled to a red light, only a few minutes away from the casino. Allie turned the radio down and lit up a cigarette, rolling down her window so she could blow the smoke out and not bother Zoe, not that Zoe had ever made a fuss about it before, but Allie was being polite nonetheless. Sitting there, Zoe felt a knot in her stomach, and she looked at her fingernails, painted salmon.


"I have to tell you something," Zoe said, "if we're going to be partners, and friends, and criminals together-"


This made Allie chuckle.


"-then you should know that I...I started seeing someone," Zoe said, "...romantically."


"Oh yeah?"


"It's Effie," Zoe said.


"Really? Wow. I wouldn't have pegged you for a lesbian," Allie said, "but hey, that's cool, I'm happy for you! So long as she treats you nice and you're enjoying yourself, then more power to you. I'm certainly not one to judge anyone for who they love. In fact, I'm the last person in the world who should be judgemental, really."


Zoe looked down at her nails again and smiled. She could never tell her parents that she was in a same sex relationship, but she felt glad to be able to tell Allie. She knew Allie would never judge her for something so normal. As they pulled up to the back of the casino, they saw Nick leaning against his car in a leather jacket and jeans, with a button down collared shirt, smoking his own cigarette. Allie parked and climbed out of her car and looked at him.


"Hey look Zoe," she said, "it's The Fonz."


Nick smiled and tossed his cigarette on the ground, stomping it out before approaching her.


"You got our stuff, right?" she asked.


"Yeah, it's in my trunk. Really small but really powerful explosives," Nick said.


"Thank you," Allie said, walking over to the trunk and lifting it open, asking "So, how're things?"


"They're alright. Just trying to get by day by day. You sound good. You don't smell like alcohol, which I have to admit, is oddly confusing to miss," Nick said, making Allie laugh.


"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you get sober I guess. You and Jenny doing okay?"


"Jenny? Why would we-"


"I heard her on the phone with you," Allie said, turning from the trunk to face him.


"Yeah, we were trying to get you a pass to see Domino," Nick said, "Believe me, Jenny isn't interested in me. Nor am I in here. I mean, she's cute, but. She's..."


Allie and Nick looked at one another, until Nick looked at the ground and scratched the back of his head.


"...she's not you," Nick said softly, making Allie's eyes tear up. She approached him and took his hands in hers, kissing them and pushing her face against his chest. He kissed the top of her head and could hear his voice crack when he spoke again, saying, "...it's been so hard without you. It's been calm, but...boring."


"I've missed you so much," Allie whispered, "All I wanted to hear for the last few months was that you still loved me."


"Of course I do," Nick whispered back, "I'm happy to hear you're getting help. If there's anyway I can help in that-"


Allie leaned up and kissed him, to which he didn't resist one bit. Watching as she unloaded the fireworks, Zoe couldn't help but smile. Seems like everything had come full circle. Like everything had worked out in the end after all. They'd hide their crime, Allie and Nick would get back together, and everyone would be successful at what they did career wise. Nothing could stop them now. By the time the show rolled around that night, and the girls were ready to perform, Zoe no longer felt nervous. She felt...excited. Even though she knew, in the back of her mind, that this trick was partially to hide a murder committed seemingly in her name, she was overjoyed to finally be doing a real big show with her hero, her partner, her best friend.


And as she watched the fake tomb be lowered into the base of the building, to be sealed away and never seen again, Zoe couldn't help but smile. All Allie had needed in the end was a friend, someone willing to go that extra mile to help her, and she'd gotten it and Zoe, in return, had gotten someone who finally had her best interests at heart. As the fireworks exploded above the stage, and Allie appeared out of the other tomb - the one the audience thought was the one she'd been lowered in - and cheers erupted, Zoe finally felt like she'd achieved her lifes goal.


All she'd ever wanted was to do magic by the side of Allie Meers.


Turns out it was worth it after all.


                                                                         ***


             30 DAYS LATER


"What, you're not coming tonight?" Allie asked on the phone.


"I can't," Molly said, "I have book club, sorry. Hopefully that doesn't throw your plans off."


"Naw, I'll still have Nick and Zoe and Effie, it's fine. Just wanted to see you," Allie said as she stirred her straw in her drink in the kitchenette of her new suite while Nick finished making a snack platter behind her on the counter; she finished with, "I guess I'll see you sometime this week for bowling."


"Absolutely!" Molly said.


Allie and Molly said their goodbyes and respectively hung up, leaving Allie to turn around and look at Nick, who smiled at her as he cut some cheese and placed them on crackers with slivers of fish.


"Awww, look at my little house husband," she said.


"Shut up," he muttered, chuckling as she walked to him and kissed his cheek; after the kiss broke he asked, "When's Zoe and Effie getting here?"


"Should be here anytime now," Allie said, checking her watch, "Probably making out in the parking lot."


"Nice," Nick said, making Allie laugh.


When Zoe and Effie finally did arrive - and subsequently admit that, yes, they were in fact making out in the parking lot - everyone gathered to give a toast to everyones varied success, and all were drinking non alcoholic drinks to support Allie's sobriety. Nick cooked them dinner, a ham and a duck, along with mashed potatoes and asparagus, and as the girls seated themselves, Allie couldn't help but feel at peace.


"It's been a long weird year," Allie mumbled as Zoe nodded.


"Indeed it has, but it paid off, we're in the new casino, we're a big draw, you're doing better numbers than you've done in ages, partially thanks to my excellence-" Zoe said, making Allie chuckle as she finished with, "-but all in all it was worth it. All that turmoil, tribulation, all that trouble...it was really hard but it was worth it in the end, and I think that's a pretty positive way to look at life right now."


"I'm doing so many shows a week it's unbelievable. I guess Tony really did figure out the best possible spot for a more upperclass casino," Effie said as Nick cut some duck off for her and scooted it onto her plate; she added, "and that girl he got to design the place, wow, she did an excellent job."


"Molly? Yeah, she's awesome," Allie said, "She called and apologized for not being able to be here."


"That's a shame," Nick said, "I wanted to talk to her about renovating my grandparents home."


"I'm sure she'd be interested in doing something less commercial for a change," Allie said.


Nick seated himself after serving everyone else, and together they all got ready to eat, but Zoe interrupted them and stood up, holding up a glass of sparkling apple cider. She looked around and cleared her throat.


"I just wanna say that I am so grateful to be here," she said, "Almost a year ago I was...I was nobody. I was terrified I wouldn't find a place where I would fit in, or make any friends, and then I was assigned to work with Allie, and while it was touch and go at first, uh, it has ultimately proven to be worthwhile. She's the best friend, and mentor, I ever could've asked for, and she allowed me to work at the casino where I was able to meet someone who really showed me I was worth loving."


She glanced down at Effie, who blushed and covered her face, making Allie and Nick laugh. Zoe continued.


"All I ever wanted to do was magic, I was obsessed with magic, and my parents hated me for it. But it's all Allie ever wanted to do too, and I think we understand that about one another, and I think that's why we work so well together is our commitment to such an underrated and often written off field of entertainment and artistry. Magic isn't just a bunch of card tricks or something, it's also a way to create the illusion of something out of nothing, and that's what it's done for my life. I had nothing, and now I have something. So thank you, Allie Meers, for letting me be your friend, and your partner."


Allie nodded, and hugged Zoe.


"Thank you for sticking by me," Allie whispered into her ear, "Nobody ever did."


"Don't you worry, I'm not going anywhere," Zoe whispered back, "Besides, we have it all now. What could possibly change things?"


Little did they know that, while they ate and celebrated, deep down in the base of the casino, under the concrete and the dirt and the metal, where The Forgotten Tomb was lying, a cell phone was beginning to ring. It rang and rang, because nobody could answer it, and when it finally stopped ringing, the man on the other end of the line was frustrated.


He sighed and hung up his office phone, turning around in his chair and looking out the large window as the door opened behind him and a woman entered.


"Mr Sykes?" she asked, "Sir? Were you able to get a hold of him?"


"No. I'm starting to get worried. We've lost contact before, usually when he goes on benders, but never for this long. Elizabeth, I want you to draft up a public response, a uh...a sort of Missing Persons report, if you will, and in a while, if things don't get better, I'll go public with my plea to get help to find him. He's a drug addict, but he's my son, and I love him. I need to know he's okay."


"Yes sir Mr. Sykes," his secretary said, as she started to exit the room, before stopping and adding, "Oh, and there's another phone call on the line for you."


"Thank you Liz," he said, waiting for her to leave the room before picking it up, "Hello? Hi honey. No I just tried again, but still no answer. It's ringing though, so that's hopeful. If it were going straight to voice mail, I'd be more worried. Don't fret, we'll find him, we always do. Besides, I have a lot of power to use if I want to put that much effort behind this. I am a senator for the state, after all."

Published on
How had they gotten here?

Sitting at this table across from her once beloved husband, Natasha couldn't believe she was about to nullify their marriage. Stephen was staring at the table, and wouldn't even look up at her, which made Nat all the more angry. Their lawyers weren't in the room - they said they'd give the couple a bit to say whatever they had to - and would reenter once they were ready to sign the papers. Natasha exhaled and leaned back, crossing her arms and tossing her bangs from her eyes.

"I just need to know why," Nat said, "That's it. I'll sign it, I don't care to salvage something like this, but before I allow us to get on with our lives, I need to know why. And don't tell me there's no reason, there's always a reason."

"I...I mean, yeah, there's a reason," Stephen said, "but you probably don't want to hear it."

"It's that bad?" Nat asked, whispering as she leaned over the table a bit.

"I wouldn't call it bad, but you would," Stephen said, "I don't know, maybe you wouldn't. You only ever see the good in people."

"That's not at all true, trust me," Nat replied, "It can't be worse than anything I've done or felt this past year."

Stephen sighed and stood up, running his hands through his hair as he began pacing in the room. Nat leaned back in her chair, putting her feet up on the table, crossing her arms again as she watched and waited for whatever it was Stephen was trying to find the right words to say.

"I don't...I don't know how to say this without sounding selfish," he finally said, "because, like, I wanted you to be successful, and I supported what you did, and I could see all the good it brought people and brought even to yourself. And yet, I felt like you ignored me. I know that's not the most original reason but, you went out to help everyone else, but you never thought about helping me. We were supposed to be a team, but I didn't fit into your world anymore, and it made me feel lost and confused."

"...that's...fair, yeah," Natasha said, "I mean, you're absolutely right to feel that way. I did get really invested in it, and ignored you, yeah. I won't deny that. But maybe if you had told me that instead of letting it fester inside you-"

"I did tell you that," Stephen said, surprising her.

"What? Wh-when?"

"At Violet's birthday, the year before I left," Stephen said, "I told you while we were in the kitchen, alone, and sure, it probably wasn't the right time, but I couldn't deal with it anymore, and so I told you and you said we would deal with it, and work at it, and then nothing ever came of it. Your sister found me crying in the backyard after that, and we started talking, and I realized she...she was far more open than you ever said you were. I think, after a point, being open to you became more of a character trait then an actual personality trait. You became the Nat you played on television, not the Nat I knew, and the Nat you played on television had no hang ups, had no family, all she had was good intentions, and Violet and myself suddenly were dead weight."

"That isn't true at all! I loved Violet, I love Violet, she's my entire world!" Nat said, standing up now herself and glaring at Stephen as she continued, "and sure, maybe I let what I was doing get in the way of my home life, but...but..."

Stephen stared at her, and realized tears were forming in her eyes.

"...I don't think we were ever supposed to be together," Nat said, surprising him.

"What?" he asked, half laughing in shock.

"I think...I think we married way too young, and...and then with Violet, it was like, well, this is what you do, you make a family, and sure we had things in common, but certainly not our aspirations for what we wanted out of life in the long run. And maybe all of this could've been easier to accept had it not been my own sister you shacked up with."

"Yeah, that...that probably sucked," Stephen said, leaning against the wall, sighing, "I'm really sorry, Nat, about everything happening the way it did. I should've just told you I was tired and wanted out, but even then it would've been painful."

"Not half as painful as what you did, I'll tell you that right now," Nat said, seating herself again, adding, "okay, I'm willing to take a good portion of the blame. Sure. My attention was divided, unfairly so, and I didn't listen enough to the people I should've...my family. But I need you to admit something to me before I sign this."

"What is that?"

"I need you to tell me you love me," Nat said, sniffling, "I know it sounds stupid, and I know we're not getting back together, and I know that it probably doesn't make a whole lot of sense after everything that's happened, but I really need to hear you say it."

Stephen smiled and approached the table, sitting down again and reaching across, taking Nat's hands in his own.

"I'm always going to love you, Natty," Stephen said, "even after everything, I'm never not going to love you, even if we're not together. You're the mother of my child, and even if we hadn't had a baby, I....I don't think I could ever not love you. You're such a good person, and I admire you so deeply for that. So yes, I will always love you, in some way or another."

Nat smiled as Stephen reached up and wiped the tears away from her face. Her fingers fumbled with the pen on the table as she picked it back up and pressed it to the paper.

"I'm sorry," Stephen whispered, "I really am."

"I am too," Nat said, as she signed her name, and then slid the paper to Stephen and handed him the pen, watching as he signed his own name. After they finished they sat there staring at one another, until the door opened and their respective lawyers reentered the room. After everything had been taken care of, Stephen and Natasha walked outside the room and stopped in the hall of the courthouse, staring at one another; Stephen's hands in his coat pockets, Nat's hands under her coat slung on her arms.

"Well," she finally said, "I guess I should get on my way. I'm setting up for my live show. You gonna come?"

"Would you want me to? Wouldn't it be awkward?" Stephen asked.

"Naw, it's fine," Nat said, waving her hand at him, "it'll be fine. Besides, I likely won't even see you in the crowd, so who cares. Besides, Violet's gonna be there, so she'll probably appreciate seeing you."

"She hasn't really seemed to enjoy the time we've spent together, so I don't know how true that would be," Stephen said, "but sure, I'll drop by. We'll drop by."

Nat wrapped her arms around Stephen and held him close, as he did with her. He smelled her hair, and remembered a time when he could get lost in her fragrance, a time that was all but lost to him now. She still smelled nice, but it didn't ignite anything in him now like it once had. After the hug broke, each one departed for their car in the parking lot. After watching Stephen drive away, Natasha turned her car on and sat there for a brief moment, trying not to cry. It was official. She was divorced. After all this time, she was finally separated from that part of her life, and she could begin to make a new part of her life. A better part. A part with less pain. A part with a real future, a real show, a real family. With Violet, with her friends...with Jay.

And suddenly things didn't seem so scary after all.

                                                                                              ***

Corrine was seated at the sound board table in the upper area of the arena, fiddling with settings, when the door opened and Nat entered. Corrine pulled her headphones down around her neck and looked up, surprised to see her. Corrine checked her watch.

"I...I thought you weren't coming until later," she said, sounding flustered.

"Well, it didn't take as long as I had thought it would," Nat said, "What are you doing here? I thought you were still working on-"

"I finished," Corrine said, "After our little spat, I finished quite easily, so I decided to come right over here and start getting things set up for the live show this weekend."

"Oh, well okay, cool, thanks," Natasha said as she took her coat off and collapsed onto the couch. Corrine turned around in her rolling chair, looking at Nat.

"Um, are you okay? I've never been married, so I've never been divorced so I...I don't really have any, uh, you know, experience in dealing with this sort of stuff and besides I've only really had one relationship and it wasn't even really a real relationship so I don't know that that counts but-"

"Corrine," Nat asked, looking up at her.

"Yeah?"

"...thanks for believing in me," Natasha said, "...thanks for being one of those people who just blindly believed in what I wanted to do and was willing to help me do it. I don't think I could've pulled this whole thing off without your input. Your expertise as an editor. And, uh, I'm sorry about that fight. I shouldn't have questioned you. You were right. I hired you to do the best job, and I shouldn't have gotten in the way."

This surprised Corrine, as she hadn't expected someone so attached to their project to admit they were wrong.

"It...it's okay, it's okay, really, um, I understand," Corrine said.

"I guess, when you annul your marriage, you sort of realize you can't be right all the time, even if you've made a career out of giving people what you assume to be solid advice," Natasha said, finally sitting upright on the sofa, pulling her legs to her chest and resting her chin on them, saying, "...you've never had a relationship?"

"Well, I mean, kind of, it's complicated," Corrine said, blushing, "I...I don't really wanna, ya know, bore you with it or anything."

"You won't."

"...it was someone I grew up knowing, and...and we don't know eachother anymore. They moved away. I...I was gonna...they asked me to move with them, but my parents said I wouldn't be able to finish school if I did."

"Why? Couldn't you just transfer your courses?"

"Uh, yeah, but they wouldn't pay for it if I went with this person," Corrine said, looking embarrassed.

"...oh, I'm...I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"No, it's...it's fine. We all lose the people we think we're supposed to be with, but I guess we wind up with other people we're supposed to be with, right? You lost your husband, I lost my....person....but here we are, making something together."

Natasha stood up and walked over to the chair, kneeling in front of it and looking at her.

"...why would they not want you to-"

"I don't...really wanna talk about it, okay?"

"Okay, I'm...I'm sorry. I just...as a parent, I can't imagine telling my child they couldn't be with someone they love, I mean, unless they were a predator or something," Nat said, "but it's okay, we don't have to talk about it. I'm going to run down to the snack machine and get some bags of chips and cookies and whatnot, maybe some sodas, you want anything?"

Corrine shook her head. Natasha stood up, wiped her pants off and headed to the door, opening it before hearing Corrine's chair squeaking as it turned to face the door. Nat stopped and looked back.

"You're a good mom," Corrine said, "...Violet is lucky, because...we don't all get good moms. I didn't...their name was Katherine. She gave me that glass turtle, remember? The one you saw in my dorm? We...we were friends growing up, and..."

"Oh," Nat said, everything suddenly clicking in her head, "oh god, I'm so sorry. Your parents shouldn't-"

"It doesn't matter," Corrine said, rubbing her nose on her sweater sleeve, "they already did, and it's over. It's easier to just stay hidden than lose everything."

"No, no Corrine, that's...you want a mom who will accept you? I can be that mom," Nat said, "I mean, that motherly figure, and you don't have to live under their thumb anymore. Don't do what I did. Don't make the mistake of doing something just because it's what others expect you to do. Don't get me wrong, I loved Stephen, but we probably wouldn't have stayed together if we hadn't...anyway, you don't have to stay hidden."

"I need to get back to work," Corrine said, spinning her chair back around, facing the monitors and sound board once again, as Nat stood up and exited the room. As she wandered into the hallway, she stumbled into Jay, coming in with a cardboard thing full of coffee cups.

"Hey!" he said, leaning in and kissing her cheek, "I'm surprised you're here! I ran out to get us all coffee, but I wasn't sure when you'd be back, so."

"...I need your help," Nat said.

"With what?"

Natasha just smiled.
Published on

"All we have to do," Allie said as she lined up her shot, her hands gripping the cool metal of the golf club, "is make sure we get it into the right hole, and all our problems will disappear."


She putted gently, sending the ball rolling uphill til it tilted, hugged the rail and then bounced off a piece of plastic lightly, sending it towards the hole, until it dropped inside. Allie stood back, one hand on her hip, admiring her accomplishment.


"Yeah, but..." Zoe said, almost whispering, "...she doesn't even know what kind of game she's playing."


"Good," Allie said, walking to the hole and picking up her ball, adding, "then there's no way she can lose."


                                                                           ***


Construction had begun, and it had been a few weeks, but the time for the new Card Shark opening was fast approaching. Sitting in bed and watching TV while eating ice cream, Allie couldn't help but feel like she was about to attempt to pull off the greatest magic trick of all time. Her mind was racing at all hours now, both terrified and ecstatic at the idea of somehow managing to get away with their plan. Her phone on the bedside table rang, and she answered.


"Hello?" she asked.


"It's me," Zoe said, "...what are you doing?"


"Eating ice cream and watching TV," Allie said, taking another bite.


"What're you watching?"


"A show about weight loss success stories," Allie said, "I figured this way the two activities cancel eachother out and I don't waste my day."


Zoe laughed and then got quiet, saying, "I...I think we have a problem. Molly's car is in the parking lot. I know because I just pulled in, and parked right next to her. She's probably in the casino somewhere, and last time we talked-"


"You two talk?"


"She calls me on occasion, not sure why, but last time we spoke she said that she's nervous about her abilities to pull off what Tony wants her to pull off. I'm thinking she might be here to pull out of the project," Zoe said, "If that's the case, you need to find her before she reaches him and resigns, or we're in a lot of trouble."


"I'm on it," Allie said, hanging up, putting her now empty bowl on the bedside table and throwing a t-shirt and some jeans on before heading out of the suite. She bit her lip and decided to head in the direction of Tony's office, knowing there was only one way to get there and that was her best shot at intercepting Molly if she was going to have any chance to do so.


Thankfully, by the time she reached the hallway his office was located on, just as she was passing by the elevator, the doors slid open and Molly stepped out, the two of them nearly bumping into one another and laughing a little.


"Hey!" Allie said, acting surprised to see her, "What're you doing here?"


"I'm...I'm here on business," Molly said, as she continued to walk, Allie by her side, as she went on saying, "I just don't think I'm right for the job. I've looked over my plans, and I just don't think he'll be satisfied and I don't think I trust myself to make something structurally sound in the area he wants me to and especially not for the cost, and I just-"


"Well, Tony isn't in right now," Allie said, lying out of her ass.


"He said he'd be in last night," Molly whispered.


"Yeah, well, he got called away suddenly," Allie said, "but, uh, he'll be back this evening and we can always talk to him then, right? Hey, how about until then, we go somewhere, get something to eat and, I don't know, play miniature golf to take our minds off things? Have a nice leisurely day out for a change? There's an awesome miniature golf course nearby you should really see."


"...I...I guess it couldn't hurt," Molly stuttered.


"Great, head back to the elevator and wait for me, I'm going to get my jacket," Allie said.


As Molly did what she was instructed, Allie headed swiftly back to the suite, grabbed a coat and called Zoe back.


"Everything okay?" Zoe asked.


"Yeah...I've got her, we need to convince her to stay on the project, so meet me at The Wagon Wheel," Allie said.


"That western themed miniature golf course?" Zoe asked.


"Yeah. We're gonna play some minigolf," Allie replied.


                                                                           ***


The Wagon Wheel was a local minigolf, located only 15 minutes away from Card Shark. It was a place Allie and Nick had gone to on numerous occasions, often while somewhat drunk, and one of the best family themed areas around, which was exactly the sort of atmosphere the girls needed today. It was moderately crowded, but it wasn't overwhelming, and the girls decided to have some lunch there first before heading out to the games. Sitting inside, eating pizza and cheese sticks, Zoe couldn't stop looking around.


"You know," she said, biting into a cheese stick and pushing the cheese hanging out her lips into her mouth, "I've never been here. I've driven by it a whole bunch, but I've never actually been here. I did go minigolfing a lot as a kid, but...never came here."


"I used to go minigolfing now and then too," Molly said, "...my first boyfriend and I went often, because it was one of the few places my parents would allow me to go without adult supervision, and it was public so nothing unexpected could happen. That being said, just because a place is public doesn't mean you can't find privacy within it. We made out inside a windmill a lot."


Zoe and Allie laughed loudly, making Molly feel more accepted.


"I don't think I realized, at the time," Molly continued, "that those would be the days I'd really remember. You always think you're going to remember the big days - graduation, weddings, birthdays, funerals - but no, the days you actually recall most vividly are the ones that seemed the most generic and mundane. Going to a movie with some friends, or renting movies with your dad for the weekend, or making out in a minigolf windmill. Those are the days you'll wish you had realized were so important later on in life."


A hush came over the table and Allie sighed.


"I know what you mean," she said softly, sipping her soda from her plastic cup, "I didn't go minigolfing a whole lot as a kid or whatever, but you're absolutely right. I have this very clear memory of doing things with my folks when I was a kid, especially my dad. We used to build things together in the garage, especially once I got into magic, and he helped me build props. I guess you just have to find the right people and the right moments will follow."


Zoe glanced at Allie when Molly started looking around at the kids playing arcade games indoor. Zoe knew exactly what Allie was doing. She was emotionally manipulating Molly into feeling accepted, as if they were the right people and this was the right moment. She knew it was necessary, but fuck if it didn't make her feel sleazy. She also knew Allie wasn't wholeheartedly manipulative, and she likely did in fact believe the things she was saying, but she was beginning to have trouble telling when she was being sincere and when she was being a fraud.


Zoe had never really thought about it before but, to be a good magician, one has to be a good liar, and that was what Allie had learned to do well. She'd learned to hide her drinking, her drug habits, her problems from the world, and still come across as somewhat professional. She was a liar, and an expert one at that. Suddenly Thea's warnings were starting to seem a little more reasonable...


"Well," Allie said, "How about we get to it?"


The girls got their balls, clubs and headed outside. The first hole was of a miniature saloon. You had to get the ball through the doors, and it would wind up in a lower area where you could shoot for a hole in one. Sometimes, if you hit it just right, it'd roll right into the hole in the lower area. Molly offered to go first, and as she set her ball down on the faux grass, she couldn't help but remember the last time she'd been on a minigolf course.


                                                                           ***


"I don't think I'm good enough," she whispered.


"Of course you are," James said, holding her hands, "you're absolutely good enough. What makes you think you aren't?"


"Because if I were, things wouldn't have turned out this way," Molly whispered, "...things would be different."


"You need to go to college, you need to build places, that's what you're good at, hell, it's what you're great at," James said, "besides, it'll give you a chance to get away from this place and the awful people who inhabit it."


Molly smiled a little as she wiped her eyes on her long sleeves of her sweater. She'd always appreciated James, and she was happy to be spending her last free days in her home state here with him, inside this windmill. James scooted beside her and put his arm around her, pulling her in to hold her.


"This was the same windmill," she whispered, "....this is where he did it."


"I know."


"I never wanna see this windmill again," she continued softly, "I hate it now. I hate windmills."


"Then go build something that's the opposite of clean and energy efficient, like a casino or something," James said, making her laugh.


Sure, her first boyfriend had abused her here, but her best friend had made her feel better, and that was something she was always grateful for. She swore then and there that she'd build something better, something that wouldn't be used to house such evil, and then she met Allie Meers.


                                                                           ***


"God damn crap sucking bucket of shit faces!" Zoe shouted, slamming her club onto the green as a family walked by, the parents holding their hands over their childrens ears and glaring at her. She waved politely, and mumbled, "...sorry."


Allie cracked up, "Jesus, I don't think I've ever heard you swear like that," she said.


"Well, when I know I can do something but I don't do it right, I get very annoyed," Zoe said, "I'm all about perfection, it's part of what drove me into magic, because magic is all about do it right or you everyone will know you did it wrong."


"Well put, and not incorrect," Allie said, setting her ball up for a shot.


It was the 5th hole now, and unsurprisingly, given her statements about playing often as a teenager, Molly was in the lead. Zoe sat down on the bench beside the hole, looking at Molly tallying up the score and chewing nervously on her lip.


"Everything okay?" Zoe asked.


"Yeah, I just...maybe I should quit my job and play professional minigolf," Molly said, "is that even a thing? Can you do that? Is that even a career option?"


"Why would you quit?" Zoe asked.


"I just don't feel like I can do what Tony wants properly, within the time limit and safely under regulation standards. I feel like I'd have to cut a lot of corners, and it might come back to haunt me if I do. I don't know. I want to do the job, but I'm so nervous about being the wrong person for it. Then again, I always get this way before a big job, so maybe it's just my general building nerves coming out to play."


Molly and Zoe looked up to see Allie cursing under her breath, taking another shot and missing again.


"I think you should stick with it. Prove yourself wrong," Zoe said, "because if you give in, all you'll really be doing is allowing someone else who likely doesn't care as much as you to do something you probably could've done excellently yourself, and then you might scare yourself off doing other projects as well."


Molly smiled and nodded.


"...yeah, yeah I guess you're right," she said, "thanks."


Zoe had also manipulated Molly, making her no better than Allie, but she'd done it by building Molly up instead of outright scaring her emotionally, and she felt that that at least made somewhat of a difference between herself and Allie. As they watched Allie continually fuck up her last shot, Zoe couldn't help but feel like what they were doing was immoral, but then again, they'd already committed murder.


How much more trouble could lying actually get them into?


                                                                              ***


By the 12th, and final, hole, Molly was winning with no doubt about that. Zoe was in second place, and Allie was far behind in what would generally be considered third, if she were actually still viable to be placed. But she didn't care. All that really mattered to her was proving to Molly that she had friends, and that they cared about her well being, and getting her to not back out of the job she'd accepted. As she watched Molly finish the hole and excuse herself to use the restroom, Allie stepped up to take her shot at it.


"All we have to do," Allie said as she lined up her shot, her hands gripping the cool metal of the golf club, "is make sure we get it into the right hole, and all our problems will disappear."


She putted gently, sending the ball rolling uphill til it tilted, hugged the rail and then bounced off a piece of plastic lightly, sending it towards the hole, until it dropped inside. Allie stood back, one hand on her hip, admiring her accomplishment.


"Yeah, but..." Zoe said, almost whispering, "...she doesn't even know what kind of game she's playing."


"Good," Allie said, walking to the hole and picking up her ball, adding, "then there's no way she can lose."


"This just feels so slimy and underhanded," Zoe muttered, making Allie turn around and look at her.


"I know," Allie said, "I don't...I don't like it either. Molly's actually really cool and seems like a genuinely good person, but if she backs out, we won't have the insider information into the building that we require, and we need that kind of access. I've told you before, and I'll say it again right now, I won't let her be held accountable for anything."


"I know you say that but you can't possible keep that promise," Zoe whispered, "what if something comes up that makes you have to break it?"


"What could possibly do that?" Allie asked, "Zoe, just trust me, okay? I'll keep everyone shielded from blame, and I'll take the fall myself if I have to."


Zoe wanted to believe her, and on some level she did, but she couldn't shake this feeling that things would somehow not go right. Guess only time would tell. After the girls finished, they piled back into Allie's car and headed back to the casino. While driving, Molly - sitting in the backseat - was thinking back to her time in the windmill, and realized that she wanted to create places that brought joy instead of pain. She wanted to make places that would be used to bring fun instead of sadness. Zoe was right, she realized, she had to take this job head on and make the best of it. Especially if, as Zoe had put it, she allowed it to fall into the hands of someone who didn't care as much, and something terrible happened, she'd never forgive herself.


Lying in bed that night, her sleep mask on and the white noise machine making the sounds of a calm forest beside her, Molly couldn't help but feel grateful that she had friends like Allie and Zoe, who were looking out for her best interests, completely unaware they were looking out more for their own interests than hers. Molly had rarely had female friends, and she was very happy to say she now did, even if she wasn't knowledgeable about their reasons.


Molly rolled onto her side and thought about her time golfing that night, and smiled. She'd had the best score, and that bolstered her confidence. Yeah, Zoe was right, she thought, she really could make this new casino work. After all, she thought, why would her friends lie to her?


                                                                               ***


Allie was bringing Zoe a bowl of ice cream in the living room, before climbing over the couch and seating herself. Zoe thanked her for the ice cream and started to dig in while Allie stuck her own spoon in her mouth and shuffled her jacket off her back before leaning back, sighing and starting in on her own bowl.


"I feel bad," Zoe mumbled, looking at her bowl, "I feel like such an awful person. We just lied, right to her face, and have gotten her involved in something super awful and immoral."


"Zoe, look, I don't feel great about it either, but we didn't have any other options," Allie said, "...but I promise, as I've always said, nothing will happen to either you or her. Besides, who's going to even care if someone does find him? Sunny was a drug dealer, it's not like anyone but his own clients are going to come looking for him, and why would they risk their own lives by going to the cops?"


"You say that as if he didn't have family. Drug addicts, drug dealers, they're still people, Allie, and they have people who care about them somewhere," Zoe said.


"I mean, sure, okay that's fair, maybe I'm being a little mean about it, but still," Allie said, turning her attention to the TV, adding, "I was a drug addict, and I'm trying to get my shit together, and have people who care about me, so I suppose it's unfair to say that sort of thing about others who are like me."


"...so when do we start practicing?," Zoe said.

Published on

"Who knew hiding a body would be so difficult?" Zoe asked, lying upside down on Allie's couch in the penthouse. Allie was pacing, chewing on her hair, nodding at anything Zoe said.


"The thing is," Allie said, turning on her heel and pointing at Zoe, "it's not that it's hard, it's about doing it so it's undetectable. We have to get him into the other sarcophagus but somehow convince nobody else to look inside it once we do. We have to get someone to move it for us, someone we trust, someone we know won't open it even by accident."


"What about Molly?" Zoe asked.


"I don't want to drag her into this any further, she's a good person," Allie said.


"I'm a good person, and you dragged me into this," Zoe said, turning right side up on the couch, looking at Allie.


"He dragged you into this, not me, okay? I need that distinction to be very recognized," Allie said, "I could ask Nick. I trust Nick, and he wouldn't question me if I gave him explicit directions."


Zoe sighed and checked her watch, running her free hand through her frizzy hair. Allie stopped in her place and lowered her brow.


"I'm sorry, am I taking up your time?" Allie asked.


"No, no, I'm just curious what time it is. I'm getting kind of hungry, maybe we could get some lunch up here," Zoe said.


"That," Allie said, pointing at her, "is not a bad idea, actually. I could certainly order us up some room service. I know I always think more clearly after I eat."


"I actually have problems with my blood sugar, and if I don't eat regularly I could have a seizure," Zoe said.


"I didn't know that," Allie said, landline in one hand, her other hand firmly on her hip.


"Not a lot of people do, it's not exactly something I prefer to parade around," Zoe remarked, lying back down on the couch, "...how about we just...seal it? We just straight up seal the thing? I mean, it's a prop, right? People expect it to be empty or hollow or whatever, so why not just seal the damn thing up? They do that to actual sarcophaguses."


"Sarcophagi," Allie said.


"What?"


"The word is sarcophagi," Allie said, "The plural, that's what you meant."


"Thanks teach," Zoe said, making Allie smirk.


"Yeah, hello?" Allie asked into the phone, "This is Allie Meers. Can I get some room service up here? Just send up the entire lunch menu. Thank you very much."


Allie hung up and sighed, leaning against the wall and running her hands down her face, groaning loudly. Zoe shut her eyes and put her notebook over her face, letting her arms hang down behind her head, off the couch. The girls were tired. They'd been doing this for 3 weeks in a row, and they desperately needed a break. The new casino wouldn't be opening for a while still, so they had plenty of time to figure it out, but until then, they couldn't let themselves get stressed out over it all.


"How about after we eat, we just...go downstairs and gamble?" Allie asked.


"Now that's a plan I like," Zoe said.


                                                                              ***


Sitting together at adjoining slots downstairs after eating, each one pumping quarters into their machines, the girls felt a bit of relief and tension lift from them. Zoe put her soda to her lips and sipped, then wiped her arm on her sleeve and popped another quarter into the slot.


"You know," Zoe said, "if you'd asked me when I was hired to work with you what I'd be doing in a few months, it certainly wouldn't be any of this, I'll tell you that much right now."


"I'm just happy you stayed," Allie said, "...a lot of people don't. I was beginning to think I was the problem. I mean, I know I'm part of the problem, but I don't think I'm the whole problem."


"I don't like being left either, or leaving. It's bad enough not being able to really talk to my parents anymore, so it's nice to know I have my sister, and you," Zoe said, as Allie eyed her; she'd mentioned her parents briefly in passing before, and this made Allie all the more curious.


"So, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly happened between you and your folks?" Allie asked.


"God, where do I even start?" Zoe asked, "I guess I should say that after seeing you perform that night, I became even more invested in doing magic than I had been prior, and so I started performing at my family events. One time, when I was 14, I did my cousin's birthday, and..."


A pause. Zoe sighed deeply, shut her eyes and continued, a bit more sullenly now than before.


"...and I needed a volunteer so I asked a younger cousin who was really into what I was doing to help, and I...I thought I'd learned the trick right. I thought that I'd, like, prepared enough and stuff, but I had never tried it with another person, and that was my mistake. It was just supposed to be a little fireball."


"oh fuck," Allie whispered, putting her hand over her mouth, knowing what was coming.


"And before I knew it," Zoe continued, "it was out of control, and their clothes and hair were on fire and...they were pretty okay in the end, thankfully, with only minor burns, but...my parents never wanted me to do magic again. For a short time even I didn't want to. But then I remembered what'd happened to you, and that only made me feel like I could understand you even more because we'd both now been involved in something awful during a show."


"Zoe, I am so sorry, that is just-"


"They won't really talk to me now, and my sister took me in because they won't let me come home," Zoe said, a few tears rolling down her cheeks, "but, I mean, that's okay I guess. I like my sister anyway. But, I know what it's like, to be a criminal in one way or another in someone else's eyes. I feel like I'm just bad luck, and bad things keep happening to the people around me because of me."


"You are NOT bad luck, Zoe," Allie said, "What happened then wasn't your fault and what happened with him wasn't either."


"You said it yourself. You did it FOR me," Zoe said.


"I mean, sure, yes, but he was a problem in my life long before you showed up," Allie said, "You just happened to be worth doing something about him. I...I never managed to protect myself from the shit he got me hooked on, the shit he supplied me with regularly, and I never cared enough about myself to try anyway. But I wasn't about to let him take away from my best friend."


Zoe smiled and looked at Allie, her hand on Zoe's shoulder lovingly.


"Thanks Allie," she whispered.


"We're partners, okay? We have to look out for one another, no matter the cost," Allie said.


No matter the cost. Even if the cost was too high to justify, as they'd find out. The girls finished their drinks, picked up their jars of coins and headed back to the bar, seating themselves on stools while they waited for a plate of nachos to split and more sodas. Allie was making small talk with the woman beside her, when she noticed Zoe was staring at the TV bolted in the upper corner of the bar. Allie looked at her, then at the TV, then back at Zoe.


"Hey, what is it?" she asked.


"Look at this," Zoe said.


Allie asked for the remote, and when she was handed it, she turned the volume up so they could hear. There was a woman in a suit standing outside an apartment building somewhere, with police cars and an ambulance parked behind her, just barely in frame. They came in mid sentence.


"...they're saying now that there's 23 bodies hidden somewhere in the vicinity of this apartment complex," the reporter said, addressing the camera directly as she pointed to the building behind her, "The owner of the building, one Miss Claire Driscoll, is the culprit behind the slayings, who is now in police custody. She is one of the most successful female serial killers we've seen to date. From early reports, it seems that Driscroll managed to hide the bodies inside of walls, after sealing them in plastic collapsible coffins she got from a friend with a plastic extruding factory. More details will be released as they come to light. I'm Kim Dwyers, for-"


Allie pushed the mute button as she and Zoe slowly looked at one another, and smirked.


                                                                             ***


Molly was sitting in her kitchen eating a sandwich and doing some preliminary sketches of the new casino when she heard her doorbell ring. She sighed, stood up, wiped her hands on her outfit and headed to the door to answer it. Standing there were Allie and Zoe.


"Oh," Molly said, smiling a little, "hi guys. What're you doing here?"


"So, we need some supplies for our upcoming performance at the new place," Allie said, "Can we come in?"


"Yeah, of course, I'm having lunch so just follow me into the kitchen," Molly said, shutting the door behind them and beginning to return to the kitchen as she asked, "what kind of supplies?"


"Well, we figure you're an architect, so you must know how things are built," Allie said, "We wanna fill one of our props up with trinkets from the casino and our lives, kind of like a time capsule, and then seal it and lower it into the base of the casino so it won't be dug back up, you know?"


"That's a neat idea," Molly said, sitting back down, picking up her sandwich and taking a bite.


"Yeah," Allie said, seating herself across from Molly now, continuing, "so we figured you'd know how to do that sort of thing. You have all kinds of sealants, right? You know, you put bricks together, lay a foundation, shit like that, so what do you propose we use?" Allie asked.


The way she'd explained it to Zoe was simple: if they get Molly to help them without her realizing she's helping them, she cannot be held accountable. After seeing the news report, Zoe's plan of somehow sealing the coffin up made perfect sense, and now all they needed was a professional to, with no awareness of the fact that a crime was being covered up, help them in their hour of need. Molly was that person.


But Zoe didn't feel exactly great about it. Molly was a perfectly nice, normal lady who just wanted to build places for a living. She felt guilty for dragging her into their mess, and especially so against her judgement and knowledge. She felt like, if she was going to be involved, she should have the right to know, but she also knew Allie was right in the sense that if she knew, she'd either - best case scenario - decline to help or - worst case scenario - potentially report them for what they'd done.


Now, standing in the kitchen, Zoe once again felt like she did when she'd accidentally set her cousin ablaze. Here she was, right back where she started, using someone without them knowing the consequences of their actions, or really, the consequences of working with her.


"Well," Molly said, "what you're really going to want is..."


And just like that, Molly was in, even if she didn't know it.


After leaving Molly's, the women drove for a bit, went through a drive-thru and then parked somewhere high up on a scenic spot that overlooked the entire Vegas strip. Sitting in the car, Zoe couldn't help but feel simultaneously sick and enraptured. What had her life become? Just a few short months ago she was nothing more than a helper, an assistant, and now she was a full fledged partner involved in covering up a murder, a murder that was done in her name nonetheless. Life sure was weird. Sitting there, drinking their slushies together, Zoe felt like she was lucky at least to have a friend who really had her back.


"You promise this is going to go fine and nobody will ever find out?" Zoe asked.


"I can promise anything you want," Allie replied, making Zoe smirk, as she continued, "but yes, I think it's safe to say that, at the moment, we're out of the woods. Once the sarcophagus is fully buried, the woods will also be razed behind us and something else, likely a new high rise high rent low quality build apartment complex, will be built in its stead."


"...and what if we're found out? What do we do then?" Zoe asked.


"Listen, you have no claim to what happened. You weren't even in the room when it went down, okay? You can call yourself fully innocent, and I would take all the blame. Besides, I'm the one with a reputation, and a questionable one at that these days, so it'd be totally believable that I'd committed this crime. It's not like my drug problem was exactly a well kept secret. Nobody would be particularly shocked, I think," Allie said, "Zoe, no matter what happens, you will not go down for this. I promise you that much above all else."


This made Zoe feel a bit better. She was almost as innocent as Molly, in a sense, and Allie was helping her swallow that horse sized lie, even if she nearly choked on it.


"You know," Zoe said, sipping her slushy, "Vegas is really beautiful from far away."


"Yeah, it is," Allie said, leaning her chair back and looking through the sunroof, as Zoe followed her lead; she went on, "when I first started out, I used to come up here a lot, and then after the accident I used to come up here with Nick all the time, and now, here we are. It's not like it's a very secret spot, but...I feel like I can appreciate it more than others. People like to say these big cities are the blame for the horrible shit that happens within them. New York, LA, Vegas, all cities are excess and greed, but...the city is just that, a city. It isn't sentient. The problem is the people. We often forget that."


"Yeah," Zoe said, "...yeah, I guess you're right."


Allie clinked her plastic slushy cup against Zoe's and smiled.


"Here's to pulling off a disappearing act," Allie said.


All Zoe had ever wanted to do was magic. All she'd ever wanted to do was magic with her hero, Allie Meers.


"Look where dreaming gets you", she thought.

Published on
"It's 4am, can we go home now?"Jay asked, leaning back in his chair, groaning.

Nat stood up and started pacing, then grabbed a nearby pillow off a chair, shoved her face into it and screamed at the top of her lungs. They'd been here, in this editing bay at the college, for 12 hours now. This normally wouldn't have taken so long, except that Corrine was adamant that something worked better than the way Nat and Jay thought it worked, and she wasn't budging until they at least agreed to try and see it from her perspective.

"You hired me to do this job, so I am doing this job, and my expertise within this field is telling me that this is the better way to edit this," Corrine said.

"I have a live show in 24 hours!" Nat said, "WE have a live show in 24 hours, and you're keeping me cooped up in here because you think a different angle and lighting works better than the one I've chosen? Why'd you even ask us to be here if you were just going to fight us on every goddamned turn!?"

"Because it's your show!" Corrine yelled, standing up herself now, "Because you have the right to an opinion, but I also am the professional editor here, so I have a right to mine and I'm telling you that the way you want this done is wrong!"

"Ladies!" Jay shouted, sitting upright, "Ladies, fuckin chill, okay? Holy shit. We've been stuck in here for hours with virtually no progress. This is the last scene of the last show of this run, and after this live show in 24 hours we can go our separate ways and not deal with eachothers bullshit again for a few months, but until that point, we need to come a common consensus, okay? Can we please just make this work?"

Nat folded her arms and looked at Corrine, who sat back down in her editing chair.

"Nobody ever believes in me," Corrine said quietly, "All my life, all the time I've been working on stuff, everyone's fought me every step of the way, even when they hire me to do the very thing they then fight with me about. It's outright exhausting trying to prove yourself over and over and over again. I get that I'm weird, but I'm also good at what I do."

"Nobody said you weren't, Corrine, but is it really worth keeping us in perpetual limbo over?" Nat asked.

"Yes! Because you want the very best, don't you? Well I'M the very best. This shot is the very best. I'm just doing what I think is the best for YOU," Corrine said.

Nat walked back to the wall and put her head against it, shutting her eyes and whining softly. Jay glanced up over at her.

"What're you doing?" he asked.

"Trying to remember a time when I wasn't in this room," Nat said, making Jay smirk; Nat exhaled and looked back at Corrine, adding, "Look, I have to do something before my live show, and I need you at that live show, so just...do whatever you want."

"No," Corrine said.

"Excuse me?" Nat asked, surprised at the abrasiveness of her tone now.

"I don't wanna win because you're too tired of arguing with me. I wanna win on the merit of my assumption being right. I want you to acknowledge that I'm correct," Corrine said, "That's what this is about. It's about...being heard."

Nat wanted to scream, but she didn't want to be that mean to Corrine. She could see a lot of her daughter in Corrine, and that made her a bit more sympathetic towards her than she would've otherwise been at this point. Nat had always prided herself on being nice, on being understanding, but Corrine was really testing her limits tonight, and she hated herself for getting so angry. Nat picked up Jay's wallet and pulled out a few bills, opening Corrine's front door.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," she said, "I'm going to the vending machine."

As Nat exited, Corrine looked at Jay and then looked away. Jay sighed and stood up, stretching; cracking his back and yawning, Jay was clearly worn out and didn't know how much longer he could spend in this place. Suddenly he heard Corrine sniffling, and he approached her, putting his hand on her shoulder, but she jerked away from it.

"It's nothing to cry about," Jay said softly, "We're all just really stressed and tired and it's been a hell of a few months. Getting this show together, getting the site up and running, and then finding out about her other sister...we've all been through the shit. You're fine."

"Nobody ever listens to me," Corrine said, "She's supposed to listen to people, that's what she does. It's her whole thing, right? To listen and understand and accept. So why am I the exception? I'm just trying to make her show the best it can be, and this is what's needed to do that."

Jay felt crushed. Corrine was losing her trust, her belief, in a woman who had seemingly dedicated her life to being there for others. This could not stand another minute.

"You know," Jay said, "I have a cousin like you. She's very introverted but she's so incredibly smart and talented at what she does. I think that's why I liked you right from the get go, because I could see her in you. Some would call you two stubborn, but I don't think that's the right word. I'm not sure exactly what the right word is, but it isn't stubborn."

"My parents, when they talk to me, hate me for choosing this career, this field of interest. They wanted me to be a doctor. I was supposed to be a doctor. I know all about medicine, I know all about anatomy. I grew up with my nose stuffed in medical textbooks, and instead I chose this line of work where people constantly undermine my professional opinion. Whether I'm a doctor or not, I'm still a professional."

"Absolutely," Jay said, "I'll be right back."

He turned and exited the room, finding Nat leaning against the wall a bit down the hall, sipping from a can of ginger ale and eating a payday candy bar. She offered him a bite, but he politely declined and folded his arms, staring at her.

"What?" Nat asked.

"You need to be nicer to her," Jay said, "You need to, like, listen to her, okay? She's...she's right. Not just about what angle is correct for the shot, but also about everything else. You wouldn't want someone telling you how to word something you say on screen, right? Well she doesn't want anyone telling her how to edit. She's smart, Natasha, she's probably too damn smart for her own good, and she deserves to be recognized intellectually. You need to go in and apologize."

"Excuse me?" Nat asked, burping and sticking the remainder of the candy bar in her back pants pocket, adding, "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

"She's becoming disenchanted with you. You're supposed to be the one person in this world that still gives a shit, and hears people when they speak, and yet here you are, arguing with her. This is what she does for a living, and she's doing it for you, not for her. Sure, she wants to be heard, but she's also trying to give you the best product."

Nat looked at the floor and kicked it gently, nodding.

"Alright, that's...that's fair, yeah," Nat said, "It's been such a hard year."

"I know it has, but you have people who believe in you, and what's more important? Being right or being lonely?" Jay asked, and Nat nodded again.

"Point taken."

They headed back to the editing bay, and tried to open the door, only to find it locked. Jay knocked on the glass window and Natasha peered inside, spotting Corrine, huddled on the floor in a corner. Nat suddenly felt an awful sting in the pit of her stomach as she turned to Jay and sighed, running her hands through her long hair.

"Fuck," she whispered.

"Fuck indeed."

"Move," she said, pushing him away from the door and putting herself up to it, "Corrine? Sweetheart, it's Nat. Can we come back in? Jay talked to me, and you're right, okay? I'm sorry. We'll do things your way, alright?"

"I don't want your apology if it comes because Jay told you to," Corrine said, standing up and heading to the other side of the window, looking out, "I want you to apologize and recognize I'm correct because you actually think I am, not because you've been shamed into it."

"Jesus christ!" Nat screamed, "You have to be KIDDING ME! What does she want?!"

"She wants to be heard, genuinely heard. Her own parents don't even recognize what she's chosen to do with her life, and now her own co-worker, the person she should look up to, is doing the same thing? Do you really wanna be on the same level as the very people she's trying to escape?"

Natasha sighed and put her back against the door, sliding down it to the floor. Jay sat down beside her, and they heard the sound of Corrine doing the same on the other side of the door.

"It's not a personal thing," Nat said, "Corrine? You know that, right? This show is my everything. It's right up there just below my daughter in terms of importance to me. That's why I'm so overly protective...but maybe being protective is what's kept me from really connecting to others in the same field as me. I guess I should recognize that if I'm good at what I do, others are equally as good at what they do as well."

Corrine didn't respond, but they could hear her sniffling through the door, and Nat felt terrible. She'd been acting like an ass all night, and she wanted to make up for that.

"Corrine?" she asked, turning, putting one of her hands on the door, "can I make you a full partner? Would that make up for it? Give you actual stake in the company?"

"What?" Jay asked, surprised.

"I want to prove to you that I have faith and confidence in you and what you do, and what better way to do that than outright putting the company on the line?" Nat asked, "Corrine, what do you say? You were right, and you get a personal ownership stake in the company, yeah?"

A moment passed. Then another. Then the door unlocked and Corrine pulled it open and stood there, wiping her eyes on her sweatshirt sleeve. Nat put her arms around Corrine and pulled her in for a hug, rubbing her back and stroking her hair. Jay stood back and smiled, watching, appreciating this Natasha, the one he really knew. After this, they got the show finished and all decided to go out to a nearby diner for a really early breakfast. Sitting there across from Jay and Nat, Corrine felt like she had a new set of parents, ones that actually believed in her. Scooping pancakes into her mouth, she couldn't have been happier.

"What you got on the agenda now?" Jay asked, sipping his coffee.

"Take a nap," Nat said, leaning into him and resting, "and then I have to go to the courthouse to do something before the live show."

"What do you have to do?" Corrine asked, mouth full of syrup, making them laugh.

"...finalize my divorce," Nat whispered.

She would have to do this. It couldn't be avoided. But for the time being, she was going to simply appreciate the warmth of the moment, and milk this for as long as she could before life intruded on her once again.

After breakfast, Jay back to his apartment, having driven them to the diner and back to the college, leaving Nat and Corrine alone again in her dorm room. Nat was zipping up her coat and making sure she had everything when she felt something in the back of her pocket and pulled out a candy bar.

"Want the rest of this payday?" Nat asked Corrine, who laughed and took it happily; Nat pulled her beanie on and sighed, looking at Corrine and adding, "I'm really sorry. I behaved poorly, and I shouldn't be like that. I don't want you to not believe in me, but more importantly, I never want you to stop believing in yourself. And I'm sorry your folks don't appreciate you."

"It isn't just the career," Corrine said, "It's a lot of things."

"For what it's worth, my folks weren't super great to me or my sister either. We both grew up in a somewhat absent household, but I like to think that I'm making up for their shortcomings by being there for my own daughter, and apparently now other peoples as well. But, I guess if that's what I'm good for, then I'm glad to be good at something so worth being good at."

Nat walked to the door and, keys in hand, waved to Corrine as she opened it, but Corrine ran to her and threw her arms around her again, squeezing her tightly.

"I'm sorry too," she whispered.

"You don't have to be sorry," Nat said, "I'm the one who acted like an idiot. You're fine. Just keep doing what you do, and I'll see you at the live show."

Natasha left, leaving Corrine alone in her dorm. Corrine sat down and looked at Nat on the screen, and smiled to herself. As she bit into the remainder of the payday, she couldn't help but feel like perhaps she'd finally found the people she'd always wished she could have around her. Certainly, her own folks hadn't been the greatest, and she tried to go for as long as possible these days without even talking to them, but maybe now she could finally move on for good. Corrine scrolled the video back and played the beginning, watching through the video one more time before exporting, and then went to lay down on the couch.

It'd been such a long day.

When Nat arrived home, Violet wasn't there, and she realized it was already about 8 in the morning. She exhaled and headed upstairs, seated herself on the bed and looked at the phone near the bed. She picked it up and dialed a number. A few rings went by, and finally someone picked up, and Nat smiled.

"Hi mom," she said.
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About

So Happy Together is a dramedy about couple Aubrey & Brent. After Aubrey plays an April Fools joke on Brent that she's pregnant, Brent confesses out of panic that he actually has a secret daughter with an ex wife, and everything changes overnight.

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