Moxie kind of hated herself for it. She knew better. Oh boy, did she know better. She was such a fucking hypocrite, especially after that entire conversation with Porter Che about how frustrating and invasive the media was when it came to celebrities' personal lives. But when Cruella had yet to respond to any of her messages asking if she was okay and Moxie felt like yanking her hair out one by one at the root, she didn't feel like she had a choice. And to be fair to herself, it didn't take long to find a headline with Cruella Queen's name in it. The news found her whether she actively sought it out or not. Made it easier that an image of the woman so beautiful it hurt to look at her followed every mention. What in the world was it with Moxie falling for gorgeous women who were clearly not as emotionally available as she wanted them to be? Was it some doomed fate due to a curse inflicted upon her in another life? Was she single-handedly responsible for all those lesbian stereotypes? (No, she told herself. Shut up.)

The blonde starlet's appearance in her dressing room was a complete surprise.

Especially because Blondie was no longer blonde. She was red—from head to toe. That dress could be aptly titled after Cruella's debut album, For The Kill.

"What are you doing here?

"Didn't you miss me?" Cruella twirled a strand of hair around her perfectly manicured finger. A fresh set of the most angelic and glittery baby pink.

Moxie hated how every time Cruella waltzed into her life, whether in her dressing room or outside of a house party, she fell entranced by the woman. Cruella knew how successfully she hypnotized the rest of the world, too. Moxie was dehydrated in the middle of an endless desert, and there stood Cruella, a fountain of the most intoxicating water materializing like a mirage before her. Not even the shock of a new hair color could wake her from whatever spell Cruella cast upon her.

"You're staring," Cruella said.

"You're used to that."

Cruella tilted her head. Lifted the corner of her lips. "I like it when you stare at me."

Moxie wasn't sure what to say so she didn't say anything. Not yet.

"It's a wig, by the way." Cruella slipped further into the room which allowed the door to close quietly behind her, but not before one of the tour crew members slyly peeked over at her. While the crew wasn't necessarily tiptoeing around her, the air of caution felt suffocating enough, yet Moxie felt guilty for feeling that way. She didn't need another reason to feel guilty. "In case you're worried."

"About the hair?"

"A little about the hair. A little about other stuff."

"It's not about the hair. It's nice. Red suits you." That was putting it lightly. Whether blonde or red, Cruella looked like she had invented those hair colors. Everyone else was just trying to copy her.

"Thanks, babe."

"What are you doing here?" Moxie repeated. It sounded more blunt than she meant for it to. "I mean... What are you doing here? Now? You've been avoiding me."

Moxie was grateful that her brother had decided to take one of his everything showers after the show. She didn't need him walking in on them. Not that anything scandalous would happen, not when there was a rotating door of people coming in and out of those dressing rooms. The last thing Moxie wanted was for her brother to catch her stumbling over herself at the sight of Cruella Queen. The teasing would be relentless, and, yet, she knew it wouldn't change anything.

Moxie would continue to be enamored by Cruella Queen.

"Do you not want me to be here?"

"Don't answer my question with another question."

For better or for worse, the world revolved around Cruella. It was the only lifestyle she had ever known. It informed how she interacted with the rest of the world. Even people she liked. The way she danced around Moxie's dressing room as if it was her name on the plaque outside. Or the sleek glide of her movements, hyper-aware of all who followed her. And let it be known that wherever Cruella went, no matter who was in the room with her, she was adored. Anyone who wasn't an adoring fan was probably envious. Those who disliked her did so behind anonymity. Or, more recently, behind a shitty article.

But she didn't come across like someone out to manipulate the world. Something about her eyes. The way she hesitated every time she looked into a mirror. The instinctual slide of her hand across her stomach, fingers curling in as if to grasp something she thought might be ripped away from her.

Cruella was a product of the life she had been thrust into. And she moved through it the only way she knew how.

"I wanted to see you. In person. Not some—" Cruella waved her hand around. "—fuzzy image on a screen."

"You have great cell service."

She raised a thin brow. "And you're trying to push someone's button."

Moxie swiveled around in her to face the dressing room mirror, out of Cruella's inquisitive eyes. Ducked her head in shame—over what, she had no idea—but managed to catch a glimpse of herself. The smudged dark green eyeliner she chose for the show looked less flattering in that lighting. The last thing she wanted to be confronted with was the truth, hence why she didn't speak any of her concerns out loud.

"Yours or mine?"

"Probably both."

The time it took for Cruella to get over her hesitation at closing the distance between them took too long, but she eventually got over it. The bubble in Moxie's chest burst, settling some of her nerves in a way she didn't quite understand yet. Just being near her felt nice. Very nice. Too nice for how little they knew about each other. Then again, Moxie wasn't known for taking the scenic route when it came to her crushes.

She opted for the safer seat—far enough that Moxie could still breathe, yet close enough that it would take much effort to close that final distance and feel her smooth skin. Moxie would be lying if she said that night hadn't been on her mind, even at the absolute worst moments. Like when she was standing on stage, singing a song she wrote about two characters in a movie in her Top 4 on Letterboxd but all she could think about was Cruella.

"I wasn't ignoring you," Cruella stated.

"Sure felt like it." Moxie inwardly winced. "It's okay if you were. It's understandable."

"Maybe I was avoiding you." Cruella shook her head. "Or not you, specifically. But... people. I was avoiding people."

"Not Ritchie."

The words flew out of Moxie's mouth before she could stop them, and she regretted them even before she finished speaking. A tragic slip of the tongue laced with desperation. What an appropriately color-coded makeup look for a jealous girl.

Social media loved a trainwreck, which meant they loved watching on-and-off relationships like Cruella and Ritchie. (Moxie was confident Cruella wouldn't be offended by that categorization of that relationship.) Whenever they were in the same city, fan pages blew up with announcements. If they happened to attend the same fashion shows or award shows, they were the talk of the town. When the two of them walked along a dark New York City street together, it was massive, and in no way was it possible for that to have gone under Moxie's radar, despite how much she preached about the dangers of social media.

Such a fucking hypocrite.

"Forget I said that."

"It's fine."

"It's not." They weren't in a relationship. They had no obligation to discuss past relationships (or relationships in limbo). Bringing him up at that moment wasn't fair in the slightest. "I don't know him. He's not my business to bring up."

Cruella didn't wait for Moxie to stop wallowing in misery.

"I reached out to him so we could talk about... well, the article. He was mentioned in it because of our past. It wasn't my fault or Eddie's fault or anyone else's fault besides Giovanni's but that doesn't placate any of the guilt I feel over it." The distinction of our past did not go unnoticed. "I felt bad. Especially because Ritchie's been exploring his sexuality over the past few years. Trying to figure out who he is. I was afraid the article might have harmed that journey somehow. He still isn't sure about... everything. You know?"

Moxie nodded silently.

"We also needed to come to terms with our relationship. Specifically that we need to move on, once and for all. I'll always love him. He'll always be a friend. And I'll always be there to support him. But things aren't how they used to be, and they haven't been for a long time now. We've grown apart too much. And I wanted to see him face-to-face so we could be on the same page about that."

"Does he know about—"

Cruella shook her head. "Not that I'm hiding anything. Or anyone. But I didn't want him to think this was about someone else. Our relationship ended because of us. That's it." She tried to catch Moxie's eye. "I hope you know that too. You're not some kind of rebound. I really like you. I'm sorry that I let my... life get in the way of making that very clear."

How tragic to watch someone apologize for how outside forces derailed her chance at having a normal life.

"If it makes you feel any better, I genuinely haven't talked to anyone who wasn't mentioned in that article. Not even Bronx."

It did, in a not-so-good way. A harsh reminder that many of Moxie's friends were hurting, and she had no way to stitch up the exit wounds left behind by Giovanni's shitty article. "Sounds like the worst club to be a part of."

Cruella slid down, back hunched like what Moxie looked like on a Thursday evening with a tub of Chunky Monkey in her hand and sitcom reruns on the TV. She looked far more attractive than what Moxie imagined herself to look like.

"Could be worse," Cruella replied with a laugh.

"What do you mean?"

"That there are worse unofficial groups to be part of." Cruella let her head roll back so she could stare at the ceiling. She didn't allow Moxie to question the thought process behind letting a comment like that slip without providing the necessary context. "The show was incredible. As always."

"Thanks." Moxie's lip nearly bled from how hard she bit it. She used whatever energy remained after said show to finally turn back around. But before she opened her mouth—

"Stevie invited us to Chicago this week." Everything about Cruella's visit was certifiably unexpected, but Moxie was beginning to realize that was the new normal with her.

"What, are they working on another soundtrack? Isn't Scream 7 coming out soon?" Unless that was the soundtrack. Moxie couldn't imagine a more fitting franchise for them to write a song. Unless they were ever in the running for a Bond song.

"Oh, even better." Cruella's hair fell to the side in a long, sleek line. "Apparently, Stevie and Maverick are hosting a drag show."

"A what?" Not that a drag show wasn't exactly right up their alley or anything because it was, make no mistake. But considering the radio silence coming from the loud bisexual theater kids who always had something to say—and anytime one of them was nervous to speak about something, the other was right beside them, egging them on—caused some confusion about the timing of this hosting gig.

"And in case you're wondering, they both agreed to it before Giovanni's article. Otherwise, I don't think they would have."

"A shame. Nothing to cheer you up like a drag show."

Cruella smiled. "My thoughts exactly." A pause. "So, are we going?"

It wasn't the point of their mini-girl talk session, and there were probably still a lot of things they needed to talk about, but Moxie enjoyed the sound of that. Are we going? Like the two of them were an item. A package deal. Two-for-one special. If Mick were there to see the pathetic, lovesick look on her face, he would have lost it, and that would have been the end of Moxie's pride as she knew it.

"Hard to say no to you."

"And Stevie."

"And Stevie."

"And... Maverick?"

Moxie shrugged. Still a man, unfortunately. "On a good day."

"Do you think Mick wants to come?"

Sure, they had time between shows to take a little break, but that required early morning flights and rushing back and forth between cities. Not only did Mick not do well without his requisite number of hours of sleep to function like a normal human being, but he also had other concerns as of late. "Unfortunately, he read an article the other day about celebrities and their carbon footprint so... maybe not."

"You're telling me Mick doesn't want to make the top ten planet killers? And I thought I knew him so well."

Moxie laughed.

Instant relief rushed out of Cruella's body with a simple exhale. Despite the nonchalant way she carried herself, her body appeared weighed down by the stress of whatever she was feeling and not allowing herself to express freely. Moxie's urge to dig a little deeper, find the pressure point causing her all that pain, and help release some of it was strong, but sometimes they had to just let it ride out and enjoy the little moments of progress. Most of the other women Moxie had been with in her life wouldn't have come clean in any way like Cruella just had. They would have buried the truth somewhere for Moxie to dig out herself, usually too late for the relationship to survive into something more serious. A drag show wouldn't fix any of Cruella's problems, but if it allowed her one night of fun and relaxation, Moxie wasn't going to be the one to deny her that.

"I really hope..." Moxie couldn't find the right words. She wasn't sure if the right words even existed. "I promise we don't have to talk about it anymore after this, but I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about what he said about all of you. That was so unfair and rude and awful and none of you deserved any of that."

In another life, everyone lived the life that they wanted. They didn't have to worry about the way others perceived them. They didn't have to worry about strangers writing articles that made them feel less than themselves. But the world spun the way it did. Many people lived their lives with endless things that were out of their control, and they somehow made the best of it. Moxie guessed that was all she could hope for at the end of the day. That, and to have a few more moments getting to know the woman in front of her.

She wasn't sure when Cruella closed the distance between them, but suddenly, Moxie found herself closing her eyes as Cruella's soft hand caressed the side of her face. Her pink-painted nails wiped away at the edge of Moxie's smudged green eyeliner.

"I don't ever want to hear you apologize for a man's wrongs again."

Thank fucking god that Mick was taking a long shower, and that her dressing room had a lock. (It wasn't turned at first, but Cruella broke away from their heated kiss to ensure nobody would interrupt them.) Girl talk, as short and sweet as it was, was over. Truthfully, whether Moxie was a rebound or not wasn't something she could decide either way, despite what Cruella had said. She certainly wanted to believe it, but she didn't always get what she wanted. Sometimes, she had to settle for the moment and save the rest for her future self to figure out, as evidenced by the entire conversation.

And besides, Moxie wasn't quite in the predicament to care about anything else right now. Future Moxie had a lot on her plate, like booking plane tickets to Chicago.

Gasping for air as she curled her fingers into those glossy red strands of hair, Moxie hung her head back against the dressing room mirror. As if she needed another reason for Cruella Queen to occupy all of her thoughts at every waking moment. She couldn't take every sensation erupting inside her body, but Cruella was a hell of a giver and let it all roll through.

"Hardwood floors treating you well?" Moxie managed with a breathy laugh.

She felt Cruella smile against the inside of her thigh. "Not as well as they're treating you."