"The absolute last person whose opinion I want to hear is someone who not only refuses to acknowledge the homoerotic undertone of Top Gun but also says that The Clockwork Orange is in his top four. Please, get fucking lost."

Moxie searched the bar for one of the two companions with whom she had arrived. Eddie probably would have gotten a kick out of watching her spend the last twenty minutes arguing with some random guy at the bar about films if she hadn't called it early for the night. It was always the same song and dance when it came to men like the one who just stalked away with an angry grip on his shitty choice of beer. Someone recognized her in public, usually some guy, and then he remembered who she was related to, which meant she was forced to endure them trying to one-up her for some fucking reason. It didn't matter if she initiated it or not. They always had something to say. And men were raised to believe that everyone always wanted to hear their opinions on any subject matter. They had never been told otherwise.

"There you are."

Stevie scooted up on the seat next to her. She had wiped away the remaining green face paint from around her ears between the last time they toasted each other and now. While the singing ultimately alerted the general public to her presence, the now clear view of her face didn't help either. Moxie was hyper-aware of just how many people in the bar were staring at the two of them.

"I thought you were using the bathroom," Stevie continued.

"That was..." Moxie looked at her watch. "About forty minutes ago. Where have you been?"

Stevie rested her arm against the bar top. Brushed some of the unruly waves away from her face. "Got distracted. You tell one person you'll take a picture, sign an autograph, and then there's an entire line down the block and back."

Moxie laughed and leaned back. "I've actually never experienced that. Might just be a you thing."

"Shut up." Stevie laughed and shoved her shoulder. "Where's Cruella?"

"She's... around here somewhere." The blonde had disappeared after claiming a distressed call from her sister Ursula. Moxie didn't want to fight her on it, even though she looked more distracted than concerned when she excused herself to the bathroom. It had been a lot longer than she realized, now that she thought about it, so Moxie punched out a quick text just to be safe. "Had to take a call."

Stevie nodded and took a sip of her drink. Another Midori sour, of course.

"Don't say it," Moxie warned.

The grin on Stevie's perfect face soared to new heights. "Say what? I didn't say anything."

"I know that look. You want to say something."

"Wanting to say something isn't the same as saying something."

"It's... a work in progress."

"Atta girl." Stevie laughed.

"How relieved are you that the tour is finally over?" Moxie asked. Now that they had time to themselves and Stevie wasn't on a layover between tours, Moxie figured now was the best time to ask. Most of their recent get-togethers involved other people who made for rowdy social companions, so moments where they could have a simple chat to reflect on what was going on in their lives were few and far between. Moxie knew how important those moments were to someone like Stevie. A small-town girl thrust into the spotlight with each new, big city she explored. "When Marty announced the first round of extensions, I thought it would never end."

The Escape Velocity tour broke so many records and placed MARS on a map all of their own. Moxie found it exceptional that Stevie could spend an entire night out in public anymore, but it probably helped that everyone around them was drunk out of their minds. She mentioned once before that they started hiring security more often, even when doing otherwise mundane things in certain cities.

"More relieved than not," Stevie answered. "But I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss it sometimes."

Moxie laughed. "Already?"

When Stevie was deep in thought, she had a faraway look in her eyes. As if she had been transported into another universe, one far away from where things were complicated and didn't quite make sense no matter what kind of microscope the world used.

"Not all the long hours and being exhausted all the time and always having to be in on mode," Stevie said. "But... I don't know. When you embark on the biggest tour of your life and break down barriers you didn't even realize were in front of you—not because you don't understand how the world works but because you just never thought you'd be in the position to see them—it makes you wonder if this is where it all ends."

"What do you mean?"

"Like, is this all we've got?" Stevie played with her hair. Twisted the ends together. "We just did the impossible. Feels like the only way we can go from here is down."

"Stevie, hon, that's not—"

"Did you see her? I fucking love a little blonde thing like that. God, now that's a girl who's asking for it."

Moxie stopped and spun around, searching for whoever made the comment. But the bar was too crowded, and whoever said it had done so in passing. Stevie looked around confused by the shift in Moxie's behavior, as the comment wasn't made loudly enough for her to have heard it. Something in Moxie's stomach twisted and turned. Something instinctive, something sick in her gut.

"Everything okay?" Stevie asked, dipping her head to catch Moxie's eye.

The corner of the bar erupted into loud cheers. Stevie winced at the deafening noise. There in the center of the crowd stood a head of blonde hair, sticking out above the rest of them. She looked stunning, even amidst the chaos of that bar, but the woman standing on top of that table wasn't the same woman who met Moxie in her dressing room, nor the woman smiling at her outside of the house party that first night. Whoever that person was more closely resembled a character Cruella hoped the world believed in enough that nobody questioned her about it.

"Is that—"

Moxie swallowed. "Yeah."

Stevie took one look at her before biting her lips. "I don't think that was her sister on the phone earlier."

"I don't think so either."

Without confirming any plan since they had no time to craft one, Moxie and Stevie ran across the room, elbows shoving random bar goers out of the way. By the time they reached the table Cruella was dancing on top of, various hands reached out to her, ready to yank her down and into their grasps. Moxie shoved all of them out of the way as quickly as she could, and the blonde starlet smiled down at her like she was something out of a dream.

"There you are, baby," Cruella cooed.

Moxie tugged on her dress, trying to get her down. "What are you doing up there—"

"Just having fun." The crowd yelled. "All I'm good for anyway, right?"

"What are you talking about—"

She and Stevie managed to wrestle Cruella down from the table, ignoring how everyone around them booed. While her identity had somehow gone unnoticed while she was actively dancing on top of said table, her exit from the spotlight garnered her much more attention, and soon the name Cruella Queen was being tossed around like a toy on the playground. Not that she would have noticed. Cruella looked like she could barely register her own name, let alone interpret whatever noise bounced about around her.

"That's all I'm good for," Cruella repeated in a drunk haze. The booze laced in her voice washed over Moxie as she swung one of her arms over her shoulder while Stevie helped on the other side. "That's all I'll ever be good for. Eye candy for trashy men. A shell of the future I'm told to beg for. Boys become promising young men. I'm a trainwreck waiting to happen. The world just wants to see me make everything fun for them, even if it means I turn into some shriveled up wrapper that gets stuck under their heels when they're done with me."

"Seriously, what are you—"

"Hey, babe." Stevie accepted most of her weight as Cruella slumped to one side. She brushed a few locks of blonde hair out of Cruella's face. "I'm gonna need you to help us out here, okay? We'll take you back to the hotel but can you let me know if you have your phone and wallet on you first?"

Cruella took her arm from around Moxie's shoulders to pat both back pockets. Smiled to herself before utilizing the helper again. "Yup! Both of 'em are there. Do I get a prize?"

"Sure!" Stevie said. "How's some ice cream sound?"

"With jimmies?"

"With jimmies." Stevie nodded.

Cruella laughed as they exited the bar. The bouncer looked at them questioningly before pointing at a sign on the wall for a rideshare service. Moxie shook her head as she had already managed to order one before they walked outside, only using one hand because she couldn't risk letting Cruella fall on her face. Chicago was colder than anticipated, though that was mostly a lack of awareness on their end. Moxie wasn't bothered since she was used to the cold, but Stevie shivered and Cruella, dressed in a more revealing outfit, appeared to do so as well. Moxie removed her leather jacket and hung it around her shoulders.

The car ride back to their hotel was the longest car ride of her life. Moxie tightened her grip around Cruella's hand, while the blonde woman snored quietly into the crook of her neck. Stevie navigated directions with the driver and only occasionally sent a concerned look at the other two passengers in the backseat, which Moxie tried her best to ignore. She had no idea what had happened and how the night could have turned so quickly. They were enjoying themselves singing Wicked songs, followed by an agreement to stay out for the night since they didn't travel to Chicago nearly as much as they should have, only to wind up losing each other and only coming back together in the spectacularly wild fashion they had.

By the time they arrived, Cruella was fast asleep. They struggled to maneuver her out of the car because, let's face it, Moxie and Stevie weren't the pinnacle of upper body strength and Cruella was more muscle than she let on. Stevie threw a few hundred dollar bills at the enthused driver before the car peeled away from the curb. Moxie rejected the offer of help from the doorman simply because she couldn't stomach seeing a man touch Cruella's unconscious body, even if he had good intentions. The three of them managed to get inside the hotel room where Stevie helped Cruella onto the bed. Slid off her heels, wiped away any remnants of make up, and covered her with the thick duvet.

Moxie held up the phone for Stevie as she slumped next to her on the sofa in the separate living room area.

"What's this—" Stevie squinted. "Oh. Yikes."

"At least Giovanni Perez didn't slutshame her to the ends of the earth.'

Cruella Queen was no stranger to her name being slammed across every grimey gossip blogger's website. The same sleazy publication that first broke the news of her departure from rehab took it upon themselves to slander her this time, going into great detail from anonymous sources about her mental health, sexual life, and other sordid details that belonged to no one else besides Cruella herself. Not a single glowing word about her talents, her accolades, or the way she has inspired so many women to be themselves, free from the confines of a patriarchal system. Because the only thing that mattered at the end of the day was selling subscriptions, and sex and scandal earned anyone without a soul a pretty penny.

Cruella Queen may somewhat know how to carry a tune, but she's much better at letting men feast on their favorite delectable eye candy.

"That's foul," Stevie gagged. "What actual pieces of shit. I'm gonna call Marty."

"What's Marty supposed to do?"

"I don't know, call someone." Stevie furiously punched away at her phone. "Hire a lawyer who can burn that fucking place to the ground."

"Stevie—" Moxie quietly murmured. But her thoughts were far away in the other room, gently snoring.