Chapter Text
“And the award goes to...The Widower, Maxwell Sheffield, producer!”
A wave of utter jubilation came across the Sheffield section of seats as everyone erupted into applause. After a long-awaited time, Maxwell and C.C. were Tony-award winning producers—it didn’t matter that Andrew Lloyd-Webber presented the award; they finally have something to shove into his face. As Maxwell rose from his seat to approach the stage, C.C., Fran, and Niles stood along with him, clapping and cheering along. Fran, with audacity as big as the hair hidden underneath her white wig, manages to steal a kiss from the new bigshot producer, to C.C.’s dismay.
“Excuse me,” she called out, “excuse me! I co-produced, I raised money!”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
C.C. would never have expected what happened next. Fran gives her a kiss. And no, this was not just some random peck, she gave her a kiss, smack-dab on the lips. But before C.C. Babcock would let herself register in her brain how good this felt, how soft Fran’s lips were, and why she was thinking those thoughts, she pushed her away.
“Nanny Fine?! Get off me!” C.C. exclaimed, appalled. She leads her and Fran back to their seats. Fran looked visibly offended that she was pushed away from their short kiss, so she simply retorted with a sarcastic “Well, sorry.” C.C., still refusing to acknowledge her previous train of thought, sat down with an exasperated sigh, eyes almost involuntarily rolling at the obnoxiously white-haired, iridescently-clothed woman beside her. Thank God she was seated at least one chair away, but if you’d ask C.C., she’d rather sit fifty seats away from her. No, scratch that, she’d rather not even have her there. Or maybe she does. Whatever, who cares.
The man in front of them caught a glimpse of Fran and C.C.’s quick kiss at the wide screen monitor onstage after Fran’s inappropriate make-out session with Maxwell. “Did these two women just kiss behind us?” he whispers to his wife, hushed, but not really. His wife brushes him away. “Oh calm down, Jerry, we’re at the Tony’s. It’s teeming with lesbians and homosexuals over here.” Jerry shrugged. “Fair enough, but they could’ve at least kept it to themselves.”
“Excuse me, sir, ma’am—”
The couple turned around, and they were met with C.C. Babcock’s infamous fake smile.
“Hi. We can hear everything you’ve been ‘whispering,’ and for your information, she and I aren’t lesbians.”
“Then why’d she kiss you?” the man retorted. “I don’t know,” C.C. now redirects her fake smile to Fran, eyes glaring, “Why did you?”
Fran, all nonchalant, just shrugged. “What? You said you co-produced, I thought you wanted some too.”
“Nanny Fine.”
“Hey, you asked a question, I just gave an honest answer,” Fran replied, giving an unbothered shrug before relaxing back into her seat.
As the bickering continued on, the couple shook their heads disapprovingly before turning back to Maxwell, who was preparing to give his thank you speech onstage. They did not have time for this useless arguing, ‘lover’s quarrel’ or not.
It was C.C. who couldn’t drop the subject. “But why did you have to do that? What, for a PR stunt? A nab at your 5-seconds of fame?”
“It’s 15 seconds if you include my kiss with Mr. Sheffield.”
“Oh you are insufferable.”
“Well sorry, was this not part of the theater etiquette rulebook you all schlepped in front of me before we got here?”
“We just asked you to do one thing, Nanny Fine. Not cause trouble. So far you’ve already blinded Liza Minelli and now people think I’m a lesbian!”
“Oh will you two just quiet down already, Mr. Sheffield’s giving his speech!” Niles interjected in his loudest whisper, trying to redirect both of their attention to Maxwell onstage: I would like to thank my children, who are here with me tonight, you all have been the light of my life and my greatest inspirations.
“What are you getting mad at me for? She’s the one causing the ruckus,” Fran said, voice getting a little bit louder.
“I’m causing the ruckus?” C.C. retorted, volume beginning to match Fran’s as they both continued to argue.
The man in front just had it. “Oh can someone just get these two ladies to shut up?”
C.C.’s venomous tone was now redirected (with fervor) to him. “Oh you shut up, I’ll silence y—”
“And to my dearest Sara, this one’s for you. I of course could not have done this without my co-producer,” Maxwell, giving his speech onstage, pointed to the audience, “C.C. Babcock, who—”
The monitor screen cuts from Maxwell onstage to a shot of Fran kissing C.C. in the audience. Some gasps were heard, and an awkward silence fell across the theater. Fran broke away.
“There, I guess that’ll pacify your mouth.”
C.C. sat shell-shocked; that kiss went a little deeper than supposed to…and she gave in. Fran Fine’s surprisingly a great kisser, and now C.C.’s wondering why she wanted to kiss her again. And again. And again.
After a while, the silence finally caught up to them and both ladies felt a thousand eyes on them. Niles, through a painfully awkward smile, singsongingly whispered: “Smile, you’re on camera.”
Fran and C.C. look at the screen, and that was enough to get C.C. Babcock to snap out of her trance.
“Oh, shit.”
• § •
“Of all the reckless, dim-witted, idiotic—”
C.C.’s going on and on with her tirade of insults. Her, Fran, and Maxwell were stationed by the empty portion of the theater lobby while the program went on commercial break.
“You think she’s alright?” Fran said towards Maxwell by the sixth insult contained in the script of C.C.’s breakdown. Maxwell only gives her an annoyed stare. Fran, getting the hint, pressed her lips together, knowing it was time to zip up her big mouth.
Maxwell sighed. “What on Earth got into your head that made you do that?”
“I told you, we were bickering, some man told us to be quiet, so I did that to shut her up!”
“With a kiss?!”
“It seemed like a logical idea!”
C.C. stopped in her tracks. “In what world was that a logical move? I—” she sighed exasperatedly, because really, what was the point, “You know what, why am I not surprised that her version of logic doesn’t make sense.”
“I mean, it’s not like it’s that big of a deal? I kissed Mr. Sheffield, that didn’t cause much of a ruckus,” Fran replied.
Now that seemed to set C.C. off. “Are you kidding me—Time and place, Nanny Fine. You kissed him at a triumphant moment. You’re some random woman, he’s a rich, bigshot producer man, and a kiss between you two will only cause a momentary stir. But for you and me, we’re two women who kissed in the middle of an acceptance speech, on camera for the world to see. You know how people think about these kinds of things, you’ve heard it from that homophobic man chatting away in front of us. So imagine, Maxwell and I’s first-ever Tony is going to be riddled with not just a momentary stir, but a full-blown controversy! So, in case that still hasn’t gone into your head, of course it’s a big deal!”
Fran didn’t know what to say after that. C.C. began to spiral once again. “Oh I can’t even imagine what the press will be saying about us after tonight, how will I explain this to our investors, what will happen to our audience, our sales—”
“Breathe, C.C.”
C.C. glared at Maxwell, but she took a deep inhale anyway in an effort to calm her nerves. Massaging her head, she gathered herself together. “Okay, okay, it doesn’t matter that the Tony’s are filmed live, right? Maybe they cut it? Maybe it wasn’t aired on TV!”
Maxwell chimed in. “I think I’ll find that hard to believe, C.C., it happened while I was giving my speech. Do you know how awkward it was to segue back into the speech like nothing happened? The stage manager was frantically signaling me to continue talking, I barely got time to wrap it up because they immediately played the music over me and I had to rush back into my seat.”
C.C. rolled her eyes. “You’re comforting, aren’t you?” she retorted, and Maxwell just offered a weak smile.
“God, speaking of that, did you really have to stop mid-sentence and direct more attention towards us?”
“How was this my fault? I wasn’t the one kissing Ms. Fine!”
“For the record, I kissed her,” Fran commented at the side. C.C. scoffed. “Like that makes anything better.”
Maxwell had enough. “You know what? Why don’t we just calm down for a moment and think rationally. We’re only thinking in anticipation of what’s going to happen, but we don’t even know what’s going to happen yet. Right now, let’s just be on our best behavior, no more shenanigans, Ms. Fine, and let’s just power through this night smoothly.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Sheffield? Ms. Babcock? Oh and…Miss...Ma’am?”
The three turned around to see a crew member with a clipboard peeking through the door.
“The show will continue momentarily, we will need everyone to be back in their seats soon.”
“How long do we have?” Maxwell asked.
“Around five minutes.”
“Alright, thank you.”
Maxwell could only shrug back at the two women. “Looks like we have to head back.”
C.C. sighed. “Is the concession stand still open? I need a fucking drink.”
• § •
The next day, Maxwell Sheffield’s office is buzzing with hot new gossip as, surprise surprise, they were the subject of the new headlines written in the tabloids.
“They’re quick, aren’t they,” C.C. said, dripping with sarcasm as she crumpled the paper in her hand and chucked it into the trash can. Maxwell just shrugged and took a sip of his coffee before reading out the headline as if it were the morning paper.
“A shocking smooch interrupts the Tony Awards.”
Fran, wanting to join in, also read the headline on her paper: “Broadway thespian is actually a lesbian.”
And Niles…well. “Broadway’s…” Niles lets out a wheezing laugh, “Oh you have to hear this: Broadway’s—” another laugh, “Broad—” and yet, more hysterical laughter—
“Oh, give me that,” C.C. snatched the paper off his hands while he continued his squealing laughter on the couch, “Broadway’s C.C. Boobcock prefers boob over co— Jesus who the fuck writes these headlines?!”
“Someone give them a raise,” Niles continued laughing, wiping tears off his eyes.
“Not funny, Niles. And what are you even doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be fixing that clog in the bathroom?”
Niles’ laughter died down. He mockingly imitated her words with a whiny face and rolled his eyes before picking up his supplies and lugged toward the dreaded bathroom. Fran attempted to follow Niles out the door.
“Don’t you think about going out that door, Nanny Fine, we’re not done with you.”
Fran returned to sit back down on the green sofa. As the door shut, C.C. went to pull the plug from the intercom on Maxwell’s desk. She stared at the headlines on the news table.
“That’s it. My career is ruined.”
“Oh, Ms. Babcock, don’t say that. This is just some random tabloid nonsense. You know what they’re saying isn’t true! Why do we even care about what they think?” Fran said, trying to add some positivity to the situation (and hoping it would get her ass even just a little bit out of trouble).
“Because what they think directly affects Maxwell and I’s income, Nanny Fine. And when it affects our income, it affects yours,” C.C. replied.
Fran took a moment. “Oh. Carry on.”
“Look, I honestly don’t know what to do, we have a press conference in three hours and they’ll for sure be asking for a statement on the event after we did our best to ignore all that last night, Natalie sent me an e-mail and informed me people are asking for refunds, and to top it off, Jameson got on the phone threatening me to fix this issue with his oh-so vague ‘or else’s,” C.C. began rambling.
“What? People are refunding? We just won a Tony! And oh God, not Jameson. It took me two months to get him to invest into this show.”
“Maxwell, what do you think they care more about now, the Tony or that darned kiss in live technicolor now dragging us down to the dirt?” C.C. couldn’t help but give Fran a glare.
Maxwell sighed. “I was hoping for the former.”
C.C. was so close to pulling her hair out. “Ugh, that’s why we need something. A freaking cover-up story or whatever the heck.”
A lightbulb suddenly came across Fran’s face. “I…might have an idea?”
C.C. scoffed. “You think, after your brilliant idea last night, I would trust you with damage control right now?”
“Look, I put us in an awkward situation, and I’m sorry. But maybe this suggestion can help us get out of it.”
C.C. and Maxwell look at each other. They know most Fran Fine plans don’t always go well, but for some magical reason it also seemed to be able to sort itself out. It’s a fifty-fifty chance…
“Fine, what is it?” C.C. gave in. Fuck it, we’ll take the odds.
“What if...Ms. Babcock and I continue with the act?”
Dear God I immediately regret this.
“...What are you saying?” C.C. asked, mortified.
“I’m saying,” Fran started, “what if we give the press what they want to hear so they'll leave us alone? We won’t have to come up with some wacky reason as to why and how that kiss happened, just tell ‘em we’re together, I was proud of you, I kissed you, and that’s that. That way, since they don’t have anything more to get out from us, they’ll get bored and move on to the next piece of gossip they can find.”
“Are you insinuating that we fake a relationship? Me and you? Are you insane?”
“I mean, think about it, Ms. Babcock, we’re just going to give them blah and let it blow over. That piece of news will shrink down to obscurity, it’ll be forgotten before we know it and we can move on with our lives.”
Maxwell, confused as to what was happening, chimed in. “So you’re really going to tell the press that you’re ‘together’?”
“Isn’t that basically what they want to hear? They’re just making speculations, once we say that what they’re making it out to be is actually true, then they have no reason to speculate about it anymore,” Fran explained.
“But we’re not together. And I’m certainly not confirming what they’re saying I am,” C.C. responded.
“Look, we can go along with it and just have a public break-up, then bam, we’re both lonely single women again, back to obscurity,” Fran said.
C.C. seemed to be struck by that final statement. She mulled it over.
“You know as much as I’m pensive about this, I think you actually may be onto something, Nanny Fine. I didn’t think you could come up with something like this.”
“You’re talking to one of the biggest yentas in Flushing. I know a thing or two about gossip.”
C.C. gave an impressed hum. Fran returned a satisfied smile.
Maxwell, still confused as to what was going on, couldn’t help but ask: “Okay, help me out here, I don’t think I understand. How will further lying to the public help our situation?”
C.C. sighed. Do I really have to spell it out for him every single time? “Think of it this way, Maxwell, we’re taking advantage of the situation. What Nanny Fine just said gave us an angle wherein we could take control of the narrative being said about us. Me, in particular.”
Maxwell stared. “I still don’t get it.”
“Look, there’s more energy being put into denying something rather than just going with the flow. If we don’t give them the drama they wanted, Nanny Fine’s right, they’ll basically just drop us and go on to leech off of another source of drama. This could work, Maxwell. “
“Are you really okay with using your image like that?”
“Look, I just want this to be over and done with. If it means I’m viewed as a lesbian then fine, I don’t give a damn. I’ve had worse allegations towards me. I just want to squash this and move the fuck on.”
Maxwell took a moment. “How about you, Ms. Fine?”
Fran only gave a confident shrug. “Well I suggested it, didn’t I?”
“Oh, yeah, right. Just...uh...” Maxwell wasn’t just thinking now, but he was ruminating. He began darting his eyes between the two women, and C.C. immediately senses what’s on his mind.
C.C. chuckled. “Oh, I know what this is about. Just what? Afraid I’ll steal your Nanny Fine away?”
Maxwell was now reduced into surprised gibberish. “I, well, um—”
Fran now laughed along with C.C., standing up from the couch and made her way beside her. “‘Your,’ implying I was his,” Fran commented. But if his fine British tuchus just made a move, I would’ve been.
C.C. offered a comforting hand (yeah no that’s a lie) on Maxwell’s shoulder. “Look Maxwell, what Nanny Fine and I are going to do is pure business. Nothing more, nothing less, just a PR stunt.”
“Unless…” Fran jokingly interjected.
C.C. glared. “Just a PR stunt.”
Fran shrugged. “Alright, Suit yourself.” C.C. rolled her eyes. “Anyway, Maxwell? What do you say?”
Maxwell took a while to think. “If this will get these headlines off the papers and our Tony win back into the spotlight, then alright.”
C.C. clapped her hands together. “Well, that’s settled.” She took a moment, and her eyes met Fran’s. She didn’t know what was going to happen from here, but despite everything in her shouting NOOO!, for some reason she felt…excited. Like deep down, this was the best choice she ever made.
Fran crossed her arms and smirked. “I guess that makes us girlfriends?”
C.C. shook the thought away. “Unfortunately.”