"I thought you didn't like karaoke."

"I've turned a new leaf."

Not that Moxie should have been surprised in the slightest. After all, she had witnessed the great turning of the tides during MARS' celebratory Grammys party last year when both Stevie and Maverick welded themselves to the karaoke machine. Even when she had suggested they let someone else go, like any one of the other people present, all of whom were great singers, Moxie swore that at least one of them—maybe even both—had growled at her.

Safe to say she retreated after such atrocities.

Mick was particular about where he sang karaoke. Open mics were not allowed due to the unfortunate attention they attracted, and with all of the guests present that night, going somewhere public and out in the open was completely out of the question. The room he rented for the night was private and complete with a spread of food and drinks. Moxie certainly wasn't going to complain about the latter, even if she wanted nothing more than to take a nice hot bath.

While it probably wasn't considered the best, bougie karaoke had a certain charm.

It should be said that a person's environment often contributes to their general mood, and now that Moxie had transferred from work mode to play mode, she was notably more in relaxation mode. While karaoke required putting on a show to a certain degree, it wasn't for the sake of someone else's fulfillment. They were all there to just have a good time, and there was no shortage of good energy to go around.

Moxie didn't even think that hard about how glossy Cruella's red lipstick was.

(Get it the fuck together, King.)

"You can always tell how high class a place is if they—yup, they have the Shrek soundtrack, besties!" Stevie whirled around with infectious excitement. The rest of the room couldn't help but smile up at her. Stevie Kealoha certainly had her own charm as well.

"Incredible." Jun tore the mic out of her hand before Stevie could protest, and it was handed off smoothly to Mick who selected the first song that appeared as a choice.

Mick pointed at Jun and winked. Moxie wanted to slap him and remind her brother that Jun was taken and in love. (Barf.) "This one goes out to our friends at Capri Sun."

"That's..." The MARS guitarist deflated. "That's my job."

All Star was a fitting choice for Mick, and he sang his heart out as if his life depended on it, even after performing for nearly two hours. When he was done, complete with a standing ovation from the audience, he passed the torch along. Stevie nearly tore his arm off as she took back what was rightfully hers. Nobody dared to argue with her when she took center stage.

"I don't know how she does it."

Moxie turned around. Cruella sat there on the bench behind her, sipping on some kind of pink bubbly from a stemless wine glass. Her partner-in-crime, Bronx, had detached himself to pick at the food on the other side of their reserved karaoke room.

The room was relatively dark, aside from the glaring light of the TV and flashing bursts of color that danced around them. Now that she was standing there and admiring it all, Moxie realized how similar it felt to being on stage, except for the lack of exposure and added intimacy. Thankfully, she wasn't the sole focus under these spotlights.

"Who?"

Cruella pointed. "Stevie. She's so... effortless at everything she does. If she were anyone else it would be a little nauseating."

Although Moxie wasn't a shy person, the many shots she had taken so far that night didn't hurt. She joined Cruella on the padded bench that rested up against the back wall, sitting a little closer than she maybe would or should have. Making sure she could hear her over the sound of the singing, as beautiful as it was since it was Stevie singing after all, was a good excuse she took advantage of.

"I think the best thing about Stevie is that all of this doesn't come naturally to her. She tries really hard, works really hard, but because she's so good at rising above it all, it just looks like she's not even trying. You know?"

Cruella laughed and tapped her long fingernails against her glass. A small red crescent moon shape adorned the rim. "Well, she's certainly better than me. I've never been good at not letting everything just... consume me."

"How so?"

She shrugged. "How long do we have?"

"All night." Well. That sounded flirtier than Moxie meant for it to. "Up to you. We can just listen to the theater kids over there if you prefer."

"Too bad Maverick isn't here to join Stevie." The lore of Mavie, the nickname they coined for themselves on social media which was welcomed with open arms by their fans, had indeed spread far enough for Cruella to know about their shared love for the theatre.

"Jun likes to pretend he isn't a theater kid at heart, but that Capri Sun-loving fool was right by Stevie's side at every show. She told me. Don't let him tell you otherwise. And believe it or not, Mick was a theater kid."

Cruella's eyebrows shot up. Moxie wasn't sure why. Her gay younger brother who had an impeachable habit of putting on a one-man performance of Hairspray in the shower was peak theater kid material.

"He gives me Hadestown vibes."

"You're surprisingly not the first person to say that."

"Stevie is obviously Wicked-coded."

"Obviously."

"And Maverick is tick, tick...BOOM! to a T."

"Goes without saying.."

"And Jun is..." Cruella paused. "Would Legally Blonde be an appropriate suggestion?"

Moxie glanced over at the man in question. His hip was jutted out a little too far to say no.

"I think he'd be A-okay with that."

"He just seems like he'd do a good bend and snap, you know?"

"I know and fully concur." Moxie turned back to the real blonde in the room. The one who wasn't shimmying her hips between Stevie and Jun. "Offer still stands."

Cruella's laugh came so easily, like the two of them had shared hundreds of them over the years. "I don't know. I guess I just have one of those obsessive brains where I sink into anything that helps distract me, even if it's not the best for me. Music can be like that sometimes. Block me out from the rest of the world."

"Sometimes?"

"When I can't sleep. When I'm stuck by myself in a hotel room in some random city during those sad, lonely hours of the night. That sort of thing."

Everything about Cruella Queen was a juxtaposition. Her outward appearance and general demeanor were electric, like she could light up the entire sky with just her smile, but in the few conversations Moxie had held with her, it was clear something was bubbling under the surface. It was like watching someone smile without it meeting their eyes, and Moxie was doing her best to fight against her instinct of digging to the bottom of why.

In Moxie's opinion, those who could spin their sadness to sound like a beautiful, intricate web of poetry were the most difficult conundrums of life. She would know. Moxie wrote enough songs to demonstrate it herself.

"I guess music has always been sort of... the opposite for me," Moxie confessed. "A way to tap into something that feels real."

So much of the world she had been born into felt completely manufactured. Every facet was a product produced by a large, complex machine. For a long time, her insight into a lot of what made the industry move—the good, the bad, the painted-over ugly, and the professionally sculpted beauty—helped her realize that the people inside the industry were just as much a product themselves.

Even before she joined the ranks, Moxie had begun to feel like a something the world could pay for.

What price could the world put on someone like her?

What of that for someone who had far less protection than she had?

"I use it to make sense of everything," Moxie continued. "If not, I just shrink into myself."

"Can I ask you a question that I really don't want to come across in a bad way? Feel free to ignore me if it does."

Moxie almost laughed. "Sure."

"Do you have a habit of doing things because you think it's what others expect of you?" Cruella didn't pull her punches. "Call it a hunch."

Like all good moments of surprise clarity with someone whom she barely knew, Moxie was bemused by this conversation having Celine Dion as a backing track. It didn't get past her that Cruella might have been pivoting the conversation back around to her because, despite how open she was to a complete stranger the other night, she wasn't exactly ready to completely unravel the facade that was Cruella Queen, a Grammy-winning singer.

"Am I that obvious?" Moxie asked.

Cruella briefly turned away to clap as whoever was singing finished their song. Moxie wasn't sure who it was at this point. Her attention was signed, sealed, and delivered to Cruella's possession.

"I guess I just figured that's how anyone would be if they grew up with superstars like your parents."

"To be honest, I thought that was how everybody was," Moxie said. "I've always been aware of who they were, their influence and all that, but to me, they've always just been... Mom and Dad. Everyone likes to do whatever they can to make their parents proud, right?"

Cruella smiled. It didn't quite meet her eyes. "Yeah. Definitely."

"Ella, you want in?" Ursula called out to her sister.

Cruella let her eyes linger a little longer on Moxie before shifting her attention back out toward the rest of the group. Moxie found her gaze dropping down instead, and she observed as Cruella ran her fingers over the knuckles of her right hand. The skin looked tough and cracked as if she hadn't used lotion on them once in her life. And they were the slightest tinge of red.

It took her only another second to respond. "Sure. Moxie and I are next."

"What—"

Cruella nudged her and flashed a crooked smile. "You didn't think you'd come here and get away with not singing, did you?"

"Mind you, I just spent the last two hours performing."

She leaned in closer. "Sorry to say but you're surrounded by a bunch of performers. You gotta come up with a better excuse than that."

"That is so—" Moxie stopped. Settled the topsy-turvy feeling in her stomach. Leaned in closer too. "Fine. Mic me up."

She would be lying if she said she didn't like the way Cruella looked at her, and that a big part of her hated the idea of watching that light fade away from her eyes.

"Atta girl."

They pulled themselves up on their feet and made their way over to the front of the room. After the last note ended, Stevie walked over to hand Moxie her mic while Ursula gave the other to her sister. Stevie winked and sneakily held her thumbs up before joining Jun on one of the sofas.

"Do you mind if I pick?" Cruella asked.

"Go right ahead."

It took a few seconds of scrolling through the song choices before she settled on one. Moxie wasn't paying that much attention to the screen since there were much more interesting, prettier sights to see, but it became obvious after the first few notes.

"This feels like deja vu."

"A karaoke night isn't complete without Shania Twain," Stevie shouted back.

Cruella swung back toward the group, whipping her blonde hair over her shoulder in the process, and looking up grinning like the devil.

"Let's go, girls."

Nobody liked to admit this, and many would try to write her off if she said any of it out loud, but there was a lot to hate about being women, through no fault of their own. The world was cruel to many people; women were all too aware of the struggles they faced and continued to face day in and day out. Moxie understood her privilege but also acknowledged the many instances of prejudice she faced as a girl growing up. Being a lesbian was another added checked box on the reasons why men, and even sometimes other women, thought she deserved it. It sucked a lot. Oh, did it suck.

But then sometimes, like on a night of surprise karaoke with friends and family, she found herself under the spotlight with someone who sparkled so much underneath it that she made it impossible to want to look away, and Moxie realized she would never trade being a woman for anything in the world.

Being a woman was great—going out, feeling alright, making some noise for the hell of it. Up in front of that screen, she forgot about how tired she was. While neither Cruella nor Moxie operated within the country sphere, their voices blended together perfectly. Their inhibitions were lowered, and their cares had evaporated into thin air.

Cruella took the first verse, Moxie owned the second, and by the time the bridge came around, they were dancing in each other's arms. Their energy was infectious, and their audience joined in on the fun. When all of the girls ended up at the front of the room for the final chorus, Moxie knew she couldn't have asked for a better end to the first night of their tour.

Man, it felt great to be a woman.