"What are you staring at?" Moxie brushed her fingers along the bottom of her lip and checked for any makeup. Maybe she accidentally smudged some lipstick while she was on stage. Her mother's eyes wandered around her face. Being scrutinized by a parent made for a terrible time no matter the circumstances. "Is there something on my face?"

Milena King brushed imaginary dust off her daughter's shoulder. "Just admiring you."

"Seriously, Mom. If I have shit stuck in my teeth or something, I'd rather you tell me than continue walking around looking like an idiot."

Her mother found the comment amusing for some reason. "Are you trying to impress me?"

Duh. When did Moxie not move through the world seeking her parents' approval?

"You're being suspicious. Stop it."

"Oh, wait." Milena tapped her chin. "Maybe you're trying to impress someone else at the show tonight."

Moxie quickly figured out where this was going but refused to play along with her mother's games. Not that it mattered because once her mother's focus was pulled away by something behind her, Moxie knew there was no going back.

Maybe one day, Moxie would be able to survive having her parents at one of their shows without frantically concerning herself with whether they approved or disapproved of their performance, but it wouldn't be that day. The King parents gifted them each a set of bouquets of their favorite flowers, beautifying their rundown dressing rooms in ways that looked unnatural and out of place. But even when they left minutes before the start of Lana's set, Moxie remembered looking over at the bouquet and feeling a sense of warmth overwhelm her.

It only moderately made up for the nerves that took over once she walked onto the stage. It went beyond typical stage nerves. She couldn't see them throughout the show, but she knew they were out there, and her thoughts were filled with endless reminders of it. She didn't typically freak out about tripping over her own feet or messing up lyrics during a normal show. She was human. It happened a lot and made for great stories to laugh about later. But she wanted to be perfect for her parents. Not just because they both spent their entire careers working with some of the most talented artists and entertainers in the world. But because they were her parents, and what they thought of her mattered.

"Imagine how pretty she'd look above the fireplace in Toronto," Milena said as Cruella slowly made her way over to them while everyone rushing around them worked on disassembling the venue. "You better be nice to her."

Moxie wanted to rub her temples. "Mom, stop thinking I'm going to marry every single woman you meet. It's embarrassing and setting me up for failure."

"Well," Milena smiled, "look on the bright side—you could've ended up with a homophobic mother."

"Says the woman who practically introduces herself to everyone as Milena 'The Pansexual' King."

"Tons of queer people with internalized homophobia."

Moxie rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Point taken."

"Shh, she's coming," Milena whispered to her daughter's complete and utter disbelief.

Cruella cleaned up well. They were close enough by that point that Moxie saw right through it—the slightly pronounced eye bags, creased eyeshadow, fourth-day hair, hole in the bottom of her shirt—but she still looked so tragically beautiful that even mothers acted ready to fall to their knees in her presence. Cruella would have loved it and found it amusing. Moxie would have been even more embarrassed. Milena would have struck while the iron was hot and asked Cruella if she ever considered returning to acting.

"You must be the one and only Cruella Queen," Milena said once the blonde starlet walked up to them, sparkly pink drink in hand.

"And I had no idea Moxie had a sister," Cruella teased. "Now I know where she gets her gorgeous genes from."

Milena instantly fell in love. Despite the embarrassment and teasing, Moxie recognized she was incredibly lucky.

"Well, she certainly doesn't get them from me." Mischa King made an appearance after being forced by her brother to rate every new piece of clothing in his closet. Mick credited his coming out of the closet as a gift for two reasons—allowing him to openly be himself and feeling comfortable enough to let his father have free rein inside of his. Mischa King's proximity to the most creative musical minds also granted him access to stylish influences.

Cruella held out her hand while leaning ever so slightly into Moxie's side, allowing their free hands to graze each other. "It's so nice to meet both of you finally."

"Finally?" Milena raised a brow. Smile still on her face. "How long has this been going on?"

Moxie stopped herself from reminding her mother that they were still very much not in a stage where labels existed. To prescribe a start date for whatever they had going on would require a certain understanding of whatever their thing was. No matter how close Moxie was to her parents, they weren't close enough to go that into detail about her relationship with Cruella.

"I think she's referring more to the fact that you're both kind of famous and in the same industry as her," Moxie pointed out.

Her parents looked at each other. Then back at them.

"No." Milena shook her head. "Can't be that."

Mischa nodded. "I agree. It's gotta be something else."

"Oh my god."

"Mom. Dad." Mick skipped into the room and elbowed their father. Would have put him in a headlock if he hadn't pulled away in time. "Shall we reflect on how your daughter looks ready to jump in front of a train?"

"That happens oft—ow." Mischa rubbed his ribs, courtesy of the elbow Mick jabbed into them.

"We haven't even said anything bad," Milena argued.

Playing the role of her savior, Mick dragged his parents away while shooting his sister an eye roll. Nothing had been going according to plan in the last couple of weeks, including their parents showing up for the show that night. If she had known they were making the last-minute trip out to see them, Moxie might have recommended Cruella spend the night elsewhere. Or she could have at least warned her. The King parents were rarely on their best behavior around potential partners.

"Sorry about them."

Cruella tilted her head. "What's there to apologize for? They didn't say anything bad."

Moxie scoffed. "Not yet, anyway. Give them a few more minutes and they'll whip out the baby photos."

"Oh, now you're tempting me."

They laughed. The world began to settle down around them now that the show had ended. Lana stopped by briefly to say goodnight. But they were otherwise left alone. The evening news provided their only form of company and there wasn't much to pay attention to.

"How'd you like the show?" Moxie asked. "Have a good time?"

She chose her words carefully—the intonation and the facial expression and body language that accompanied them. The last thing she wanted to do was set Cruella off on another rant about the people around her not giving her the benefit of the doubt and believing all of the headlines. Especially since that was the first thing she discussed with Roxanne that morning.

"You know I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't address it at all," Roxanne said before lowering the newspaper below her eyes so Moxie could see just how much concern they held. "Those two articles were only a jumping-off point. I can't count how many hit pieces have come out since then."

"Hit pieces being the operative word here," Moxie pointed out.

Hiring friends posed the inherent risk that mixing business with pleasure didn't always work out the way people hoped it would. While they all benefitted from Roxanne's ability to locate their blind spots and problem-solve them away, it also meant discussions like this felt more personal than it would have had their assistant been someone with whom they didn't have a prior relationship.

"It's not just what's being written about her. It's what she's doing." Roxanne spared her the photographic details of Cruella's adventures as of late. Not that Moxie hadn't already seen them. Her algorithm picked up on how she was tuned in to all things Cruella Queen and ensured her timeline reflected anything new regarding the star. "When she's not flying out to see you, she's out partying. Drinking. Girl loves the spotlight."

"She's a grown adult who can make her own decisions. It's not my place to tell her she can't have fun."

"I think it's a little more than just having fun given her history."

"Give me a break." Moxie stood up and crossed her arms. "You don't even know her. You don't know her history."

Never one to back down, Roxanne met her on equal grounds. "And I would argue there's a good chance that neither do you."

Rationally, she knew there was nothing wrong with Roxanne's warnings. They didn't come from a place of self-preservation. (Not entirely, at least.) After Moxie returned from changing her clothes in an attempt to ignore her assistant—somewhat hoping she would have returned to see her gone, if she was being honest with herself—Roxanne made it clear that her conversation came from a place of concern. She knew Cruella went to rehab, but she didn't know why. Her comments came as a precaution. If Cruella needed to spend time away from those parties she was caught at almost every other night, then Moxie could try to be a good influence.

Realistically, Moxie didn't know whether that was possible. Not without pushing her luck and the trust they were in the middle of building between each other.

Cruella slunk down into the chair. At this point, she looked more at home backstage than Moxie did. The crew knew her, and not just because she was Cruella fucking Queen. She knew their names too. They all said hi whenever she stopped by a show. Asked each other about baseball. (Cruella appeared to be a Red Sox fan.) Cruella checked in on crew members' kids. Even brought a bunch of books before the show that evening for one of them who previously expressed interest in starting a free little library in her neighborhood.

"Never gets old. You've still got the magic touch."

"Mom wanted to introduce herself to you during the show but I explicitly forbade her from it."

Cruella laughed. "I don't think you have to be worried about your parents embarrassing you. They're cute. They seem nice. You're lucky to have them."

Moxie told the part of her brain that didn't know how to shut up that she didn't need to dissect the underlying meaning of her comment. Not that it worked, but she tried.

"I know. I'm just being a brat."

"You're not." Cruella waltzed over to her, sliding onto her lap. Moxie's arm instinctively stretched around her hips. "You're being human."

"Same thing."

"So, how much will you lose your mind if I invite your parents out for a drink? Somewhere classy and sophisticated, I promise."

"Have you looked at anything around here?"

Cruella tapped her chin.

It was the last thing she wanted to do. But she didn't want to say no to Cruella or to spending more quality time with her parents. She could survive one night of her parents being, well, parents in front of her... something.

"Fine. But as soon as the baby pictures come out, I am out of there."

Cruella leaned forward and kissed her. Didn't bother hiding her smile.