Chapter Text
_____________
and my thoughts took shape
on that fire escape
can you remind me of what it was like
at the top of the world
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Thud. Thud. Thud, thud. Thud, thud, thud.
Emma’s heart began to pound the longer she stood rooted in her place on the marley covered floor beneath her bare feet, her toes curled against the freshly laid vinyl in her surmounting discomfort, the unspoken expectations from the abyss she faced pierced her nerves with brutal accuracy.
Perspiration gathered in glittering beads across her forehead and trickled down the sides of her face to the tensely corded muscle of her neck until the droplets saturated the collar of her shirt in a dark ring of embarrassment she prayed couldn’t be seen from offstage.
Whether the sweat was from the immense heat given off by the high powered lights tucked in the wings on either side of her or from her honest to God fear of being the sole focus on the stage she didn’t know. Emma wasn’t sure what was going on and that scared the hell out of her.
“Your monologue Miss Swan,” a faceless voice called from the blackened house beyond her stage light obscured view, annoyed with the silence she offered no doubt.
She gulped. Panicked.
Someone snickered, whispering something she couldn’t quite make out.
Monologue?!
Emma tried to recall the dialogue, anything at all that would give her a clue about what she’d been auditioning for but her mind remained blank, useless under the pressure of the lights and titters and ominous sighs from the progressively restless audience.
“Uuuhh,” she fumbled, biting her lip so hard she was sure she’d draw blood if she added any more pressure to the dry skin pinned between her teeth.
A monologue about what??? Was she supposed to improv something? Or did they have an assigned piece they wanted recited?? What was the audition even for?
Her body tensed, legs aching to run far far away and not turn back until she was back in the grit and grime across the country on the pothole laden streets she knew like the back of her trembling hand. She didn’t want to be an actress anymore, it was clearly affecting her faculties.
If she couldn’t remember where she was or what she was doing that clearly meant she wasn’t ready for this step. She should have stayed where she was. The fast paced college life out West wasn’t working for her.
Trying to calm her thoughts, Emma took a deliberate breath and blew it out in a slow measured stream.
Okay, she reasoned, Whatever this audition is it’s probably school related.
The only other possibility would be the Canyon community theater but she hadn’t been there for anything other than a homework assignment a couple weeks back to give a review on the touring company of the Color Purple (which was awe inspiring). Emma knew she wouldn’t have tried out for any production the theater was putting on. Not with so little time on her hands.
Between a full course load at school, her part time job, and the piss poor attempt at auditioning for low budget commercials thirty minutes away in Los Angeles she didn’t have much time to get involved in anything extra. So no, this had to be for one of her classes.
“Nothing memorized. Her appearance is, well, lacking. She isn’t even wearing any pants for heaven’s sake. And to think we gave this child a scholarship,” said a new nasally voice from the fathomless seats in the sea of darkness.
Emma gasped. Her hands instantly flew to her bare thighs, grasping at the soft pliable flesh beneath her palms until it hurt.
Oh my goooood oh my goooooooooodddddd, she frantically thought, humiliation replacing any vestiges of the calm rationality she’d gained the moment before. Where the hell did her pants go?! Wasn’t she just wearing them??
The first voice sighed heavily. “I suppose we can pull her scholarship and give it to that guy over there. At least he’d take his educational career here seriously and remember his lines. I guess this is what we get for giving an o-r-p-h-a-n,” the word was hissed in a loud stage whisper, as though it was too taboo to be said in the sophisticated setting of the theater. The hostility made Emma cringe into herself more, half naked and now terrified that she’d be losing her place at the school of her dreams, “-a chance. Next time we’ll know better than to throw away chances on the undeserving. Well sir? Are you ready to take her place at CalArts?”
Emma turned to look wide eyed at the guy who suddenly appeared at the other end of the stage. Only he wasn’t really a guy at all. At least not that she could tell what with whoever it was being encased entirely in a huge birthday cake costume. The candles atop its spongy foam head tipped to the side pathetically.
“S’up,” said the cake person with a wave of its exposed arm. Emma nodded back habitually in greeting, mystified. “You might wanna,” he trailed off with what she guessed was a nod, or maybe it was a body bump, it was hard to tell with the bulky costume.
Despite her growing confusion, Emma took his prompt to look down at herself and gasped so hard she nearly choked.
Her shirt, much like her pants, was now missing too. She scrambled to cover her breasts with one arm while deftly covering her netherbits with her other hand, her body contorting to hide her nakedness from the prying eyes she could feel burning into her skin from the audience.
Emma’s heart hammered painfully against her chest. She felt dizzy and overheated and Jesus Christ why was she naked on stage with a slice of birthday cake and what the fu -
“Emma!!!” A shout came from the darkness. “EmMA!!!! EMMA!!!!!!”
Something hard sounded and Emma jolted awake, gasping and drenched in sweat.
“GOD DAMN IT EMMA TURN YOUR FUCKING ALARM OFF!!!”
A dream. It was all a dream. A really weird, weird dream- and holy shit! She was going to be late for work if she didn’t get moving.
Emma slammed her palm against her alarm clock and reached for her glasses, the world coming back into focus the minute the thick rimmed spectacles were once again at home against her nose. She glanced down, pleased to note that she hadn’t actually forgotten her pants or a shirt, and sighed with relief. Small positives.
“I’ve gotta stop falling asleep while studying,” she groaned to herself and scrambled around her room in search of a black polo and the iconic green apron that made her cringe a bit every time she dawned the Starbucks uniform she was required to wear.
Starbucks was a far cry from the old diner she worked at back in Hunts Point, grueling over sticky laminate table tops for tips when she was barely old enough for a work permit.
Gone were the sunny side up combos and pastramis on rye with a hefty side of ‘kraut and with them went the usual crowd of rowdy mechanics and construction workers in their grease stained t shirts heading to and from work. Now her clientele consisted of the CalArts elite, catering to the students and faculty who attended the school located conveniently down the road who didn’t seem to be as worried about money the way she always was.
A five dollar cup of coffee? Not a problem. They’d take two. Hold the whip.
The money struggle was constant for Emma but it was also a familiar struggle to the girl who had never had much begin with. She’d fought hard for the things she’d gained so far in life and if the only way to progress toward her goals was to pawn off coffee to some well off folks who didn’t know what real hardship felt like than she sure as hell would and she’d do it with a smile on her face because damnit she wanted to make it work here in sunny CA and she was going to make her dream of becoming an actress happen one way or another.
Emma snagged her backpack from her ‘study corner’ with renewed determination and double checked that she had the change of clothes and folder she’d need for her last class of the day after her afternoon shift.
From the living room, Mulan, a junior studying character animation at the same school Emma attended, sat behind a pile of open textbooks spread across their coffee table-turned-study-area-turned-dining-table with a sketchpad nestled in the dip between her thighs and watched her youngest roommate stumble out of her bedroom and shut her door a little too loudly for Lily, their other roommate, who yell another expletive through her own closed door.
“Do you need a ride to work,” she quietly asked, amusement dancing through her question.
Emma winced and tiptoed the rest of the way to the kitchen pink cheeked and remorseful. Her and Lily were always getting into it over her inability to be quiet during ‘designated nap times'. Aka: whenever the senior resident felt like crashing.
Living as a semi functioning adult was new for Emma. Getting yelled at for stupid things like existing? Not so much. But Lily was cool… most of the time anyway. That is, if she wasn’t napping. Or studying. Or having friends over. Or, well, breathing…
“Nah, I think I’ve got enough gas to make it to work,” Emma answered just as faintly and pushed her glasses up her nose.
Driving was also a new thing for the New York native who’d never really had a reason to own a car. Not that she could have afforded one to begin with when she was still a ward of the empire state. Every dollar she’d earned from her after school job at Granny’s had gone towards college and a bus ticket out of the dead end life she’d have lived if she’d stayed back in the Bronx after graduating high school.
And if she really thought about it there wasn’t anywhere in the concrete jungle she would have wanted to go that wasn’t straight off of the 6 or the E. Driving would have been an inconvenience at best and at worse a luxury Victoria Belfry, her last group home manager, wouldn’t have allowed.
It wasn’t until a week into living in the sprawling SoCal city of Santa Clarita did Emma realize she wouldn’t have anything like the subway to rely on like she was used to. The metrolink was a joke and the SCT’s time schedule was more spotty than her period, which was a mean feat to beat considering she’d never been regular a day in her teenage life.
In the end Emma had had to spend the last of her grant money on a cheap old hunk of metal on wheels, but it was a hunk of metal that she’d really come to love in the two months she’d been living in Awesometown- well Newhall, but no one was being picky with the logistics of which side of the parkway they lived on.
“Getting back home later should be fun,” Emma added with a laugh and grabbed a packet of ramen from the cupboard marked ‘Em’ in their open planned kitchen. “I don’t think I have to worry about the half mile to school but if I can’t make it to the ARCO on the way back here that might be a bit more interesting.”
Mulan rolled her eyes and shook her head, ever the worrier. “I’ll keep my ringer on incase you need picked up. What time does your class get out?”
Shoving her would be snack in the front pocket of her backpack, Emma smiled at her roommate’s kindness, a trait that still managed to make her want to question the raven haired girls intentions every so often. In her line of experience people were never truly nice without there being strings attached, someone always wanted something in return she’d learned early on courtesy of a few choice foster parents and her “siblings”.
It was a hard lesson to shake after having had it drilled into her like a second set of skin. Race? Caucasian, check. Gender? Female, check. Sexuality? Super gay, check. Trust? No one, double check.
“I should be done by like 9:30 but I’m pretty sure I can make it to the gas station. Fingers crossed I get some decent tips today so I can finally fill the tank up.”
Crossing her fingers, Mulan held them up and smiled back. “Let me know if you need me.”
“I will,” Emma called over her shoulder as she headed for the front door.
A loud ‘shuuuuut theeeee fuuuuuuck uuuuuuuup’ sounded from the back hall and both girls rolled their eyes.
It was going to be one of those Lily days, at least she wouldn’t be there to deal with it. Maybe she’d bring Mulan back a cake pop for her troubles.
For as different as Starbucks was from Granny’s diner Emma did appreciate the fact that at both establishments she’d be guaranteed a meal, and for someone who was use to the bare minimum of care that was a definite perk of working in the restaurant industry and made the less appealing aspects of her job totally worth it.
Nestled into one of the hard wicker chairs at a table out front of her store, Emma sat inhaling a sandwich on her break. The breeze was warm and the sun was hitting that perfect golden hue that made everything look magical. California was definitely a different beast than New York and it was one that she could easily see growing on her.
The crisp air that somehow still managed to harbor hints of saltiness even though she lived an hour away from a beach was refreshing compared to the thick industrial haze that hung over all of the big apple more often than not. It was a freeing feeling. To breath without restraint. This was the longest stint she’d ever gone without a puff on her inhaler in she didn’t know how long- possibly ever!
Emma smiled to herself and took a sip of her tea to cover her broadening grin as she caught sight of the cute brunette, a regular to her store, climbing out of her truck. If she had to make a guess, she figured the girl attended CalArts too, if she pegged her age range right and the fact that she was always popping in to get a caffeine fix.
She watched the petite woman walk by, offering her a nod of greeting as she passed by, a flush of warmth spreading through her chest at the polite twitch of a smile she got in return. Was everyone in California attractive or was it just being so close to LA that made everyone seem so much… More? Less working Jo and more d-a-m-n.
It always seemed to work out that whenever mystery girl came in Emma was on break or cleaning up tables or stocking the backroom, only coming out to see her retreating form through the front wall of windows. It was seriously depressing. Emma wondered what her name was. Would it be something unique like it seemed all names on the West Coast were or would it be something classic, dignified, much like the way she carried herself?
Whoever she was she was consistent in her need for caffeine. Emma didn’t feel like it was a successful shift if she didn’t catch sight of those mesmerizing brown eyes or that killer smile she unleashed every so often at least once during her allotted time at the coffee shop.
Yeah. California was pretty great indeed. Beautiful girls, warm weather, fresh air.
The only thing that could possibly make her new life in the Golden State better would be if she could maybe snag herself a girlfriend. You know, one that lasted longer than the usual two week turn around she was use to. But that particular dream was a bit tougher to achieve with her limited free time and the fact that speaking in coherent sentences in front of cute girls was still something her teenage brain lacked the ability to do. Ah well, she could hope right?
Glancing down at her watch she sighed. Her fifteen minutes were up. She gathered up her trash and tossed it in the nearby bin, already lost in thought about the last two hours of her shift. When she turned to open the door, her mind clicked off in the wake of that killer smile she’d thought errantly about being directed right at her less than a foot away though the see-through door. Emma stood wide eyed and mute as she held said door open for her favorite nameless customer.
“Thank you dear,” the mystery woman’s smooth voice washed over her and Emma could’ve sworn that every hair on her body stood on end while her brain short circuited.
“Heh,” she breathed and tried to smile, whether she was successful or not she couldn’t be sure, not when she felt so blindsided by that smile. Was it legal to own such a lethal weapon!? “Yeah, it’s warm outside.”
Emma watched those rich mahogany eyes twinkle with amusement. Was that a scar on her lip?? Man, she smelled good.
Wait- what had she just said?
The woman chuckled like she got that kind of reaction from people often. It wouldn’t surprise Emma. That level of beauty and that velvety rasp of voice would definitely earn some embarrassing moments of stupidity from common folk like her.
“That it is,” the woman answered kindly. With a parting twitch of her lips she continued out of the store, only glancing back at Emma once she was at her truck where she paused to wiggle her fingers goodbye, a barely concealed smirk tugging at the edges of those ruby red lips before she ducked into her vehicle and drove away.
Damn. California girls. Snoop Dogg and Katy Perry were right. Nothing came close to the golden coast. And these girls were definitely unforgettable.
But by the end of her shift the entire encounter with mystery girl was in fact forgettable in light of the continuous soft hum of elevator Jazz playing through the speakers of the small coffee shop. Emma could feel the slow steady pull of life being syphoned from her soul where she stood with each crooned note of the sax. Her tired eyes burned between each and every slow blink she forced her lids to make.
It was barely seven and she was dead on her feet.
Plant some flowers.
This was her final stop on the road of life.
Goodbye cruel world. Goodbye, goodbye. Good. Bye.
“Hey! Stop drooling on the pastry case. That’s a health code violation Swan,” Katie Bell- or rather Tink, as she preferred to be called thanks to her part time job as Tinkerbell down south in Anaheim, called from the entrance to the back room.
“M’sorry,” Emma mumbled and rubbed her aching eyes from behind her glasses. “This music is killing me. Can’t we put something else on? Maybe something with actual words in it? Anything but like Enya. Please.” She groaned and pushed away from the display case she’d been leaning against, forcing her eyes to open wide in a ploy to make herself feel more alert.
Only it didn’t work. At all.
She was to the bone tired. Between taking all of the suggested courses she needed this semester, her job, and all the homework she was required to do plus the occasional audition or two- it all left her with very little time to add sleep to the mix unless it was Sunday, her one free day from both work and school.
Her life revolved around Sunday. She lived for it. It was her day to sleep away and she did so with wild abandon. It was glorious… and today was only Monday.
Mer.
“Don’t you have class soon,” the pixie woman asked, coming to join Emma on the floor.
Emma looked at the time on the till and cursed under her breath. “Shit. Yeah, I’ve gotta go change. You okay here?”
“Yeah, I think I can handle the shop alone for five minutes, thanks Em,” Tink sassed, it wasn’t like she was the manager for nothing. “Gus should be here any minute and really I’d rather you go get ready than continue to leak all over my display cases.”
Five minutes later Emma emerged from the small bathroom in the back clad in a pair of leggings and an old faded t-shirt, her backpack slung over her shoulder, ready to be pushed out of her comfort zone in her movements class. God she hated that class with her all too hyperactive professor - just call me Genie - but there was no getting around the stupid course. She had three semesters worth of mandatory credits she’d need to complete in order to graduate with a BFA in acting so dealing with Dr. Gene Zahri and his insane out of the box teaching practices was unfortunately a necessary evil.
Dropping her backpack to the floor in front of the register she shrugged into a well worn hoodie and sighed dejectedly.
“Here, you look like you could use a pick me up,” Tink said, drawing viridian eyes to her sympathetic smile. She remembered those early college days and how one shitty class could leave you miserable and hating almost everything within a few short weeks. “It’s got like six shots of espresso in it and so much caramel sauce you might become a diabetic after drinking it but it should do the trick to wake you up. Just uh, don’t come crying to me when you wickedly crash later or can't stop shaking.”
Emma dipped her head and chuckled, accepting the sure to be disgusting drink with gratitude. “Thanks Tink.”
Tink grinned and grabbed a small stack of money from the cashwrap and handed that over as well. “And here’s your tip out. Now clock out and get the hell out of my store smart girl. Go shake those long boney legs,” she snickered and wiggled her body dramatically, looking like she was stuck between a terrible rendition of the chicken dance and having a seizure.
Groaning, Emma rolled her eyes and typed her number into the computer system that monitored when they started and ended their shifts. “Uuuugh. I’m really hoping that we’re done with that warm up! God, it’s so embarrassing! I didn’t know that wanting to be an actress would mean I’d have to be okay with making a total jackass out of myself in front of a group of strangers every week. How these stupid conscious mind conscious body exercises are suppose to help prepare me to act in front of a camera I don’t even know. Unless they’re trying to prepare me for my epic failure by mortifying me before I totally crash and burn in all of my audition tapes.”
“Ooooh that’s a good possibility,” Tink cooed and pushed a towel over the already clean counter. “Make you so desensitized to humiliation that when you finally face it in the big leagues you’re already good with it.”
“Exactly!”
“That’s kind of evil genius level smart if that’s what they’re doing. I’m impressed CalArts. I’m impressed.”
Emma nodded and grabbed her backpack, another sigh leaving her lips as she pushed her glasses up once more and headed for the front doors of the shop. “You working tomorrow?”
“Yup bright and early. I’ll see you tomorrow cupcake,” Tink grinned, waving her off with her towel. “Have a good night. Try not to die of humiliation. I don’t want to have to find someone to cover your shifts.”
“Ha. Ha. I’ll try not to but I make no promises,” Emma countered pessimistically. She smiled and waved, offering a parting nod to Gus in the drive through window and headed out to her bug, ready to pray the entire half a mile to campus that she wasn’t riding on fumes just yet.
A few rooms down from where Emma sluggishly trudged through the door of her Movements classroom an hour ago, Regina Mills, daughter of the infamous Cora Mills, kneeled against the cold tiled floor of the drama room being used for acting studio l. Her body rocked compulsively. Her fingers clawed at her sides begging for purchase against the smooth fabric of her blouse.
Tears glistened on her lightly flushed skin, sparkling in the overhead lights as she howled mournfully for ‘Blanche!!’. Each hoarse cry she uttered dripped with crippling desperation and loss for the girl who’d moved away from their little quartet in the front of the class.
“Now love, now love,” her partner crooned, his body leaning over her with far less ease and confidence than Regina exuded.
For a long agonizing moment the entire room of twenty five students remained stone silent in the wake of the powerful presentation they’d been witness to. Slowly one person began a tentative clap followed by another then another until the room was roaring with applause.
Regina couldn't hear it through the ringing in her ears. She felt sick. Sick to her very core. Lost and overwhelmed in a sea of sadness and regret that showed no signs of relenting any time soon.
This was the part of acting that she hated the most. The part where the person she stepped into lingered long after the final call of ‘cut’. She hated having to open herself up to the ceaseless void of emotions that suffocated her well after she’d said enough to playing pretend.
Sniffling harshly, Regina reluctantly accepted the outstretched hand of the boy who had been her Stanley and allowed him to help ease her up from the floor, praying that the tremble of her body wasn’t noticeable to her peers.
Yes, Regina was able reach those depths that many of the aspiring thespians in this program sought to learn but unlike them, with all their wide eyed wonder and lust for fame, she hated it.
She hated the painful ache that radiated through her chest after a particularly arduous scene. She hated the exhaustion that came with being so emotionally spent. And more than anything she hated feeling so vulnerable, exposed and defenseless, a waif of the young woman she actually was.
“Well. Done.” Her teacher called from his seat at the back of the room, pride dripping sickly sweet from his praise though the man had little to do with the emoting he, and the rest of his pupils, had witnessed first hand from the veteran actress who’d been in theater and the film industry since she’d been old enough to coherently string together the thought that she wanted to be just like her Mother- a star on the Hollywood walk of fame.
“Next class we will further explore emoting and how to achieve those raw depths like what we were gifted with seeing today. I want you to go back over chapter seven and try to apply a few of those techniques to the scenes you were given today. Remember to put yourself fully into the character you are trying to bring to life. Walk in their shoes. Think their thoughts. Find their rhythm. Alright, we’ll revisit this all again on Friday. Remember to read that chapter again!! Take notes! Class dismissed!”
Furious with her teacher, Regina huffed and stomped her way through the throng of students before he could make a move in her direction.
She didn’t need his accolades. She didn’t want to hear the not so whispered taunts about what a teachers pet she was. Regina wasn’t in this for the pats on the back. She wanted learn more about her craft, from the faculty and from her peers, and to come out at the end of this with a degree that said she put time and effort into being the best actress that she could be. She wanted to earn her stripes like anyone else would in this profession, with hard work and discipline, not just be handed the keys to the kingdom based on legacy alone.
Fueled by her ire, Regina stormed down the mostly deserted hall, her messenger bag she’d snagged on her way out the door banged painfully against her hip and thigh out of time with her forceful steps.
At the end of the corridor she slipped into the women’s room, seeking refuge in the quiet stillness of the overly bright room.
Regina sent a silent thought of gratitude up to god that she was alone in the restroom. She just needed a moment to get control of herself and then she could leave, maybe call Mother and see what the older woman could have dredged up on her teacher in order to get him to lay off of her in class.
Her hands shook as she pressed her palms against the cold edge of the sink, shoulders curling in on themselves. Regina closed her eyes in a vain attempt to quell the roiling emotions that thrashed unchecked within her and slowly began to breathe in small controlled measures.
In, two three. Out, two three.
Why had he picked that scene? That play?? Weren’t there endless selections to make when handing out play segments to his groups? As a drama teacher he should have known better then to throw them into the deep end like he had!
In, two three. Out, two three, she commanded herself again when her breathing slipped from its controlled pace.
They could have done Othello. A Raisin in the Sun, Arcadia! Go Dog Go! Anything. Why did he have to pick that awful Tennessee Williams play? He could have assigned her something that didn’t leave her feeling so desolate and tormented and-
Her phone blared from deep inside her bag and she jumped, her nerves still wound too tight despite her breathing exercises.
Grateful for the reprieve from her thoughts, Regina dug for her cell, ignoring the fact that she was in a restroom because every rule had an exception, right? It wasn’t like she was using the bathroom… She’d purell it when she was through.
Satisfied with her reasoning, she pulled the phone all the way out and grinned at the sight of her cousin Marian’s face pressed firmly against her own lighting up the call screen. It was a good picture of the two of them, their dark eyes lit with mischief and love and happiness- all the things that made being best friend’s with your cousin perfect and right.
The picture made her feel a little less tense. A little more grounded in the real world and not so much lagging in the emotional gauntlet she’d just endured for the pleasure of a fifty something year old man who happened to hold her grade in the palm of his hand.
“Bueno?”
Marian’s panic filled voice sounded through the earpiece before she could even finish her one word greeting. “No seas gilipollas, pero creo meti la pata!”
Regina frowed and instantly straightened her curled shoulders. “What did you do,” she demanded seriously, no frills. Anyone that started a conversation with ‘don’t be a dick’ and followed it up with ‘I think I screwed up’ didn’t warrant preamble. And this was Marian. The scrappy seventeen year old was always in trouble for one thing or another.
“I’m preeeetty sure my mom just caught the boy I snuck into my room climbing down the tree by my window. I can hear her screaming from the front yard. Dios mio, I’m genuinely scared to unlock my door! Regina you gotta come pick me up!!”
A hard bark of a laugh left Regina before she could stop it. She clasped her hand over her mouth but it did little to stifle her laughter much to Marian’s upset. “Ooooooh-ho-ho, tía’s going to murder you! Me encantó conocerte!”
“This isn’t funny Regina ! Seriously. You have to come pick me up! Oh my god she’s coming up stairs! You can't leave me here to die!!!!”
Loud banging and very angry mom shouts could be heard muffled through the phone. Regina tried to regain some of her composure but it was difficult. This had definitely turned her sour mood around for sure. “I’m thirty minutes away idiota. She’s going to break down your door long before I can get there. You'd better start praying that she can't find her slippers or worse one of tío's belts.”
Outraged, Marian’s voice hit a whole new octave on the panicked scale. “ARE YOU SERIOUSLY NOT GOING TO COME SAVE ME?!?!!!! I helped you come out to your Mother!!”
Regina rolled her eyes and with one last glance in the mirror to check her makeup and tear blotched eyes she headed out of the bathroom, getting lost in the sea of Movements students that had just been let out of class. “Excuse me I didn’t ask you to tell my Mother, and I quote, ‘your daughter likes the taste of pink tacos best, pass the carnitas por favor’ in front of everyone last Easter. Besides I’m almost positive she already knew that I was gay well before that. So no. I’m not going to drive all the way to LA just to have tía tell me you’re on lock down. Nope. Not happening.”
“Worst. Best friend. Ever!!!”
“Hardly,” Regina scoffed.
Making her way out of the building she bumped into a tall blonde who’d stopped just outside the building to adjust her glasses and ponytail. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she breathed, not really looking at the girl as she held up a hand in apology and continued toward the parking lot. “Look Marian I have no problem coming to get you I just don’t want to have to drive an hour for nothing. You have school tomorrow. I highly doubt she’ll let me take you but slip the phone under the door and let me talk to her. I'll try and calm her down but then you owe me. Big time. Understood?!”
“TE QUIERO MUCHO REINITA!!!! Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!!! I’ll do anything!! Just don’t let her say no!!! Okay!? Please! I’m too young to die!!!”
“You are so melodramatic! Perhaps you should have been the one to pursue acting instead,” she teased, shifting the phone to her other ear.
Regina could hear muffled mamás and pleaded requests to listen as she got into her Papi’s old pickup truck. It was the one thing she’d absolutely refused to give up after he died, no matter how much the sight of the old eye sore made her Mother groan.
“You’re a celebrity Regina. You need to act accordingly,” Cora would say in displeasure whenever she saw it but Regina was resolute.
This old truck with its faded red paint and dented bumper held too many memories to let it go. At least not yet. She wasn’t ready to lose what little comfort it provided on nights when she desperately needed her papi to hug away her problems.
She drew in a deep breath, the faint scent of Chaps and cinnamon that remained embedded in the worn leather seats filled her with equal parts comfort and dysphoria even after the three year absence of their former owner. How long would those smells last she wondered for not the first time.
But now wasn’t the time to dwell on sad subjects like scents and trucks and why congestive heart failure sucked so damn bad.
Eventually the angry accented lilt of her tía Elena filled her ear and she smiled and put on the best sympathetic inflection she could muster, turning her velvety rasp into warm honey smooth. “Hola tía, que paso?”
Try as Regina might it turned out that even favorite nieces could only get so far with their very angry aunts when the situation pertained to a teenage boy decked out in pants past his butt crack and a Yankee’s button up jersey ( viva los Dodgers ) climbing down a tree beside what could only be assumed was a very compromised seventeen year old daughter’s bedroom window.
Needless to say Regina was not allowed to go whisk Marian away that Monday night but she had at least been able to calm her tía down enough that she was sure her cousin would make it through the night and through the remaining week until Marian would be allowed to come stay with Regina for the weekend under the guise of her talking some sense into the younger girl before she ruined herself with things like sex, drugs, and gringo musics.
The long awaited Friday morning finally dawned and Regina was mostly ready to face her endless day of learning. Today was the day she had three classes jam packed into time periods that varied from an hour and a half to two and a half hours long. It was the kind of day that dragged but with enough caffeine and a charged phone she could push through the blinding boredom like she’d been doing for the last two months of her freshman year. Next semester she would talk to her advisor about spreading her classes out better. If he’d even listen to her...
Yay college.
“And you’re sure my mom is still okay with letting me stay the weekend with you,” Marian skeptically questioned, her words muffled by whatever breakfast she was inhaling on her way to school Regina assumed. “She’s been nuclear pissed. Did I tell you she made me go and talk with Father Frollo last night?”
“He’s such an ass,” they both muttered in unison.
Scoffing, Marian continued, “Yeah. So that was great. We had a nice long talk about the importance of abstinence. Again. Even though I haven’t actually had sex but none of them will listen so, that’s awesome. I haven’t been to daily mass to pray since, well, your Papi was sick and we were lighting every candle at Sacred Hearts. I’m running out of fake shit to ask penance for! But I seriously think I broke her dude. My mom legit doesn’t know what to do with me and I’m kinda scared. I heard her on the phone with Abuelo before I left this morning and I swear if she pulls me out my senior year to send me to Mexico I am going to lose my mind! She wouldn’t do that right?? That's just something she likes to use as a threat right??”
“I think it’s wise to be scared, she was still really mad when I spoke to her yesterday,” Regina admitted around a laughed and pushed her way through the doors of her usual Starbucks. “I want to say she wouldn’t pull you out of school but I also didn’t think you’d be dumb enough to try and hide a boy in your closet so…”
“Not helping Reinita!”
Behind the cash wrap Emma glanced up with a barely concealed glare when the bell above the door jingled and sighed.
There was nothing she hated more than when customers came in on their phones, cute mystery girl included. It was beyond awkward trying to ring someone up who was knee deep in a conversation they refused to end for the two minutes it would take for her to get their order, swipe their card, and send them on their way.
Regina laughed, light and amused, lingering where a person would if they were next in line for the register. “Hey, I’ve helped you a lot! You very well could have died Monday night if it weren’t for me so be a little more grateful or your weekend invite might be retracted.”
“Disculpame! God, you’re touchy this morning! What crawled up your ass?”
“I haven’t had my coffee yet.” Regina’s dark eyes moved to find the blonde she usually saw around the shop rather than behind the counter, a small apologetic smile curled at her lips for still being on the phone. “Look, I’ll be at your house by seven, I have to go seem my Mother before I can come to you. Could you please refrain from doing anything stupid in the next twelve hours or so? For my sake?”
The foul mood Emma was already in blossomed with the twitch of those lips. This girl knew she shouldn't be on her phone and was doing it anyway. Emma was irritated enough as it was, growing less and less patient with everyone around her in the wake of the imminent arrival of her most hated day of the year and this wasn't helping. See, tomorrow was Saturday, which would have been great had it not fallen on the 23rd of October.
Her birthday.
It was stupid and frustrating and despite Emma trying to force herself to be okay decades old frustrations seeped to the surface, simmering poignantly until the aches of her past slipped through the crevices of her normally sturdy walls and out into her every day functions much to her annoyance.
She was turning nineteen and no one would even know. Would even care. It was stupid to be mad about it after so many years of having the day go by unannounced but even with as self aware as she was the upcoming day still managed to dredge up those ancient queries about why she wasn’t good enough to be kept, wanted, and so on until she was blinded by frustration and hurt so deep and so forceful it made her sick to her stomach.
Add to it absolutely tanking the audition she went to last night because she'd been too pissy with the coordinator and a blow out fight with Lily before leaving for work this moring- all of that resentment and upset left Emma with little room for understanding when it came to dealing with a phone wielding customer, even the elusive, finger waving, mystery girl.
Logically Emma knew that was why she snapped a little harder than she normally would when someone came in on their phone. Or maybe it was because she had her second Movements class of the week later and she was just not in the mood to deal with dickbag Gene today and his ‘sheeeee caaaaan be taaaaaught’ bullshit. Maybe it was because she’d been alone on the floor for the last ten minutes while Fawn, the spritely assistant manager, was taking a delivery in the back.
Whatever the reason, it didn’t change the fact that when the petite young woman with the gorgeous mahogany eyes smiled at her for a second time, still gabbing away on her phone, Emma grouchily bit, “Are you going to order or just stand there in way of other customers while you finish your conversation ma’am?”
Thrown by the belligerent question, Regina instantly looked behind her expecting to see a line forming or, at the very least, someone standing behind her but there wasn’t anyone. No one besides a handful of students perched behind laptops and textbooks sat around the coffee shop. Not one of them coming up for a refill.
What the hell was this woman’s problem?!
“Marian, I have to go. Yeah. Llamame luego. Te quiero. Bye.” Without bothering to check that her best friend had hung up the call or not, Regina stuffed her phone into the back pocket of her painted on jeans and glared at the spectacled girl behind the counter. “Some morning rush you're having,” she fired back sarcastically, lips pursed into a thin line that made her look older than her eighteen years.
“Whatever. Are you going to place an order or not,” Emma demanded, the five ways of being booklet that was stashed in the pocket of her apron completely forgotten. “I have other things I need to be doing rather than waiting for you to decide to stop talking to your boyfriend so you can place an order,” she continued and pushed her glasses up her nose indignantly, not at all intimidated by the dark eyed stare that burned into her from the other side of the counter.
Regina’s jaw clenched. A primal need to lash out against the woman with the chip on her shoulder began to grow in the pit of her stomach. Regina had a temper, one that she diligently worked at keeping in check for fear of tabloid fodder but this chick was asking for it with each snotty word that left her snotty little mouth.
“Yes, I am.” If this Emma, she read from the nametag pinned to blonde’s apron, wanted to play like that fine. Regina could be just as big a jackass. “I want a venti iced half caff ristretto with only four pumps, sugar free, cinnamon dolce skinny soy latte.”
It was the drink her Mother usually ordered. Something so over the top that required so many steps that Regina often winced regretfully whenever she had to recite the order for a barista. Her go to drink was simple but the more surly Emma became for no reason the less kind Regina wanted to be. She’d done nothing to earn the acrimony of a minimum wage coffee slinger.
And she sure as hell wouldn’t be leaving a large tip like she usually did after this particular drink order.
If Emma was annoyed at the start of this then she was otherworldly pissed by the end of the order from hell. She didn’t even know where half of those buttons were on the order screen. What the hell was a ristretto!? She didn’t remember that being on the damned dice game she’d had to play during training. Of course this bitch would want something as stupid as her designer clothes. Of course she would.
“Do you have a problem with that dear?”
I need this job. I need this job. I need this job, Emma forcefully chanted to herself. “No. Name?”
That surprised Regina and for a moment it reflected in the frown that pinched a little tighter at her brows. Was she being funny? The exasperated look Emma shot her way told her she wasn’t. She really didn’t know who she was. Regina couldn’t remember ever having someone not know who she was in the states, let alone here in California.
Then what the hell was with her stumbling over herself earlier that week if it wasn’t a case of being starstruck?
“Regina.”
I knew it would be something that screamed money, Emma grumbled to herself as she scrawled the name in nearly illegible chicken scratch across the clear venti cup in her hand. “It’ll be a few minutes.”
Regina scoffed. “I don’t have all day. I have a class I need to get to.”
A card swipe, quite a few muttered curses, several minutes and one painfully scalded spot on her hand later Emma handed over her best estimate of what the drink was supposed to be while shooting furtive glares in the direction of the back room where Fawn had still not returned from. Were they getting an entire coffee plantation delivered?!
“Here,” Emma griped, rubbing the area around the angry pink line above the knuckle of her thumb. “Sorry for the wait.”
Neither believed the apology. In the scheme of ‘sorry not sorry’s that would have ranked in the top twenty for sure.
“Thanks,” Regina tossed back just as coarsely and turned on her heel the moment the cold drink touched her palm. She didn’t leave a tip and she didn’t look over her shoulder at the moody blonde like she usually did on her way out though she could feel Emma’s eyes on her retreating form as she left the store.
Emma watched mystery gi- Regina - go with a defeated sigh.
No tip. Figured.
She wasn’t surprised, not really. Emma had expected it after the not so passive aggressive back and forth they’d exchanged. No, what Emma hadn’t been expecting was the remorse that slammed into her the moment Regina walked out of the door. Maybe she’d been a little… irrational… about the whole… thing… and maybe she’d been projecting her own inner turmoil on anyone within a five foot radius of her. That had been her specialty growing up, being a bitch to anyone because she felt bad...
This Regina girl included apparently.
Fuck.
“Holy shit! Was that Regina Mills??” Fawn asked from behind her, making Emma whip around in order to pin the slightly older woman with a totally warranted glare but the wide eyed daze the assistant manager wore gave Emma pause and she too looked back at the large windowed storefront where Regina was still visible getting into her truck.
“Who?”
“You know, Regina Mills! She was that kid in that movie that saw dead people!! I think she got an oscar for it or something, I dunno. But she’s been in all kinds of things! Like that one super depressing Sandra Bullock flick. You know, that one where she doesn’t realize her bff and hubs are bangin’ behind her back?” At Emma’s blank look Fawn frowned. “You really didn’t know that’s who that was??? Her mom is Cora Mills.”
Emma’s eyes rounded. That name she knew.
Hell, that name she looked up to. Wanted to be. There wasn’t a kid in her high school drama classes that didn’t at one point or another belt out the legendary lyrics that Cora Mills breathed life into as Maria in the West Side Story.
Double fuck.
“Yeah. THAT Cora Mills. I’d heard buzz that Regina was going to school across the street but I didn’t believe it. W-o-w. You just served coffee to a movie star!! Real Hollywood royalty! That’s so cool! What a way to start Friday Emma!”
Fuuuuuuck.