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Poppy didn’t really hate Mabel Mora.
She wanted to, she knew she was supposed to, because Cinda did, and Poppy wanted to be just like Cinda.
But she just couldn’t.
* * *
Poppy hadn’t thought much of Mabel at first, when she and the other two had come into Cinda’s office to ask for advice. They were just three rookie podcasters in over their heads. Poppy ignored them during the meeting, for the most part, although she couldn’t help flushing a little when they had complimented her on her improv, a skill she’d been trying to build for years.
It wasn’t quiet as she showed them out, but it was almost calming; the old men were busy with their own discussion, something about whether some actor had peaked yet, and Mabel had seemed lost in thought. This was fine with Poppy; she knew she didn’t really have any people skills. But then Mabel had quietly cleared her throat and looked at her.
“Back there, with the Sting line? That was really good,” Mabel told her. “How are you able to think up lines that quickly?”
Poppy laughed awkwardly, fidgeting with the binder in her hand. “Oh, I’m- I’m not the one you should be asking; compared to Cinda, I don’t know anything about podcasting.”
Mabel shrugged. “But I am asking you. You seemed to be pretty, I don’t know, in the zone ,” she said, waving her arms around a little at the phrase, “a few minutes ago.”
Poppy could feel herself blushing, and tried her best to sound unaffected as she replied, “Oh. Thanks.” Realizing that she had never answered Mabel’s question, she went on. “It- It’s taken me a lot of practice to get where I am now, and experience, and of course, Cinda’s been an inspiration for all of it. I guess, what’s worked for me, I mean, has been doing a lot of reading, and what would be improv exercises, I guess? I took some classes for it, too; I could give you some of their names.”
Mabel smiled at her, and Poppy felt her ears burn. She hoped she couldn’t notice. “Yeah, that would be great! Can I give you my number?”
Poppy nodded.
They’d talked… actually a surprising amount since then, even though Poppy knew Cinda would take it badly, maybe even see it as some kind of betrayal. But it felt worth it sometimes. It wasn’t that they texted a lot, they certainly weren’t best friends or anything, and they never hung out together, but it was… nice, to sometimes wake up with a text from Mabel asking for tips on wordplay, lighthearted complaints about the old men, or even just podcast memes. And on the night of Bunny’s murder, Poppy had been quick to message Mabel that she knew she hadn’t done it. Besides that, though, Poppy settled for just listening to her podcast.
She listened to it a lot.
She knew it was stupid of her, but she really liked Mabel’s voice. The older men were alright, a bit dorky, but something about Mabel’s tone when she talked about the case was so raw. Soon it became the thing Poppy listened to the most. She had no real investment in the mystery itself; despite her profession, true crime had never been her thing. She just wanted to be around Mabel a bit more. But that was the most she let herself indulge.
Until Jimmy Russo.
She disliked Jimmy immediately. Poppy wasn’t quite sure what it was, but something about him oozed sleaziness in a way that made her distrust him. Maybe it was the up and down he gave her when they first met. Maybe it was that he asked her if she’d ever been with a nine-fingered man. Maybe it was simply because he had something to say against Mabel.
And yes, she knew she was being hypocritical. She was supporting— helping make— a podcast that was actively trying to defame Mabel, while listening to the girl’s own to help herself fall asleep. She knew it wasn’t fair of her.
Well. As long as Cinda was satisfied with her findings.
* * *
When Poppy saw Mabel again she had to take a moment to remember how to breathe properly.
Her hair was different. That was the first thing Poppy noticed. She hadn’t seen her since the night of her arrest, which, maybe not the best of situations. But, to be fair, they never were.
The detective, Kreps, started yelling at all of them the moment the other three had gotten there. Poppy barely noticed. She was too busy trying to covertly stare at Mabel, but apparently wasn’t being subtle enough, because at one point one of the old men— Oliver?— caught her eye to give her what she thought was a knowing look. Poppy tried to keep her gaze trained to the detective after that.
But something in her short-circuited in the presence of the other girl, because, as if the staring wasn’t enough, she kept trying to impress Mabel. She didn’t realize she was doing it at first, trying to seem intelligent in front of her, until Cinda called her out on her interruptions. And then everything devolved into an argument between Mabel and Cinda that left Poppy conflicted on who to side with, so she just kept quiet.
When Cinda stormed out, Poppy figured that would be the end of it. She’d clearly disappointed Mabel, probably ruined any chances with her— assuming she had any and, heck, assuming Mabel wasn’t straight to begin with— and that was that.
But, of course, Mabel went after her.
* * *
From the sound of it, Mabel was probably sprinting to keep up with her. “Hey, are you okay?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Poppy, trying not to let surprise melt into her tone. “Wh- what do you mean?”
Mabel responded quickly, as if it were obvious. “Just the way Cinda treats you. It was really rude, especially since you’re the one who knows the stuff.”
“I’m fine,” Poppy snapped, and then took a deep breath. “It’s- it’s fine, Mabel. Thank you, though.” She paused, considering her next words. “And, I mean. Can Cinda be difficult? Does she have a temper? Toss the odd stapler from time to time? Of course.” She sighed, scoffing a little to herself as she continued. “Pick the stapler up off the ground and toss it again until it hits you in the face?” Poppy winced at that, memories of the wounds that lasted for days flooding into her mind, and hoped Mabel wouldn’t notice. She cleared her throat. “But show me a genius who doesn’t toss the odd stapler and then pick it up again and then toss it again.”
Mabel looked a little bit… Frightened? Concerned? by this news, and, feeling defensive, Poppy tried to justify herself. “But it’s called paying your dues. I’m waiting for my break. Surely you can understand that.”
Mabel shook her head, scoffing in what sounded like disbelief. “Poppy, you’re not gonna get that break unless you speak up. Make it happen. Act like a producer, not an assistant.” She stepped forward, and Poppy sucked in a breath at their proximity. “And you should start with Jimmy Russo. He’s full of shit. And you would be helping Cinda out by keeping that interview off the air. And you might earn her respect in the process, too.”
Poppy stepped back at this. “Cinda does respect me. I-” And then, in the distance, she heard Cinda whistling for her, accompanied by a ‘Here, girl!’ Poppy laughed awkwardly at it, wanting nothing more in that moment than for the ground to swallow her up. “It’s an inside joke.” And she hurried away, not thinking herself able to see Mabel’s reaction.
* * *
Poppy was sitting in the studio when Mabel called, adding her performance review to Cinda’s schedule because Mabel was right, of course she was right, she had to take initiative.
“Poppy?” Mabel, breathing heavily, asked, the moment she picked up. “Can you- I just need somewhere to go right now, and I can’t- I don’t want to go home right now. I know that we barely know each other, and it’s not fair of me to—”
“Mabel,” Poppy interrupted, surprised at her own boldness. “You can come to my apartment, if you want. I’m not there right now, but I can be in ten minutes.” She realized what a bad idea this was the moment the words left her mouth. Leaving work early? Letting Mabel into her apartment? But she sat with bated breath waiting for Mabel to respond anyway.
“Yes. Yes,” she affirmed, voice trembling at the end, and if Poppy didn’t know better, on the verge of tears. “Where- where do you live?”
So Poppy messaged Mabel her address and started to pack up. On her way out, she asked Luis to tell Cinda that she was sick, and although he gave her a strange look at this— she never left early— he didn’t say anything.
* * *
Poppy only had a few minutes to clean up before Mabel was there. She was crying when Poppy opened the door to let her in, and Poppy just stood there for a moment, not entirely comprehending what she was seeing. Just hours ago, the woman had seemed fierce, determined, and now she looked as though she were about to crumble under her own weight.
Suddenly aware of the fact that she should be doing something, Poppy hurriedly said, “Oh, come in, come in!” Mabel nodded as she walked in, trying to wipe the still rapidly flowing tears from her eyes. “What’s- what’s wrong?” she asked, guiding the other girl to her couch.
“I just—Everything is going so badly,” Mabel responded, sinking into the soft cushions. “I never meant for all of this to happen. I just- Tim was my friend,” she said, looking up at Poppy with glistening eyes. “All I wanted was some justice for him. And then, then Bunny—” She choked on her words, shaking her head. “I still see her at night. When I’m trying to fall asleep. Sometimes, I wish I’d never done any of this. I wish I hadn’t trusted—” She winced, taking a deep breath, and continued bitterly, “I wish I wasn’t fucking Bloody Mabel.”
Poppy grimaced at the nickname, remembering the first time she’d seen it. The color draining out of her face as she heard all of these people accusing Mabel of murder. All of the people sexualizing her for it.
“I get it,” she reassured her, even though she wasn’t quite sure she knew the half of it. “Being in the public eye is— it’s scary, especially during your first backlash. Cinda told me once, when she was starting to make a name for herself, she accused this guy of some horrible stuff, and she’d turned out to be wrong. He sued, because, you know, slander, the press was turning on her, it was awful. But she shook it off, paid him what she owed, and just… kept going. Didn’t let it get to her. She couldn’t do it by herself, of course; she had her husband, fiancé at the time, her sister, her friends.”
Poppy flushed when she realized she’d been going on a tangent, looking at Mabel for the inevitable expression that told her she’d only made everything worse. But the other girl was listening raptly, head lying against the side of the couch. Poppy’s face heated up even more at the intensity of her gaze, and cleared her throat before continuing. “I’m not sure if this helps, I know it’s hardly fair of me, as your ‘competitor’ or whatever,” she said this last part in air quotes, smiling slightly at Mabel’s smirk, “but I could be here when you need someone. As, you know, a friend.”
Mabel smiled gratefully, and Poppy felt her heart begin to race. Why was it so loud? She was sure the other girl could hear it. “Thanks, Poppy.” She hesitated, before continuing. “I’m sorry for barging in like this. Everything’s just been so crazy, it’s just… we almost had him, and then I try to go to my apartment and my… my ex now, I guess, she had this sick… I don’t even know.” Mabel shook her head. “This fucking art piece, she called it, about my ‘trauma’.” Mabel rolled her eyes, but the crease in her forehead combined with the tight way she held herself told Poppy that it was more important than she was letting on. For a moment, only a moment though, Poppy’s mind lingered on something. She. Mabel’s ex was a woman.
Okay, calm down, Poppy, this is very clearly not the time.
“I’m really sorry about that,” Poppy said, returning her attention to Mabel. “That’s a horrible thing to do. I’m… I don’t even know what to say about it. You deserve more than that.”
Mabel was looking at her a bit curiously now, and Poppy looked for some indication of what she was thinking, but there were no signals. “Thank you, Poppy,” she responded after a moment. “And, again, thank you for letting me be here.” She wiped at her eyes. “You’re a good person, Poppy.”
She snorted, then felt her neck flare up as she realized how unprofessional that was of her. “I wouldn’t say that. It’s the least I could do, after what you said back at Bunny’s.” There was a pause. “You don’t need to flatter me, by the way, I- I find it dishonest,” she continued instinctively, although the words felt like sand in her mouth, and she wasn’t even quite sure why she was saying them.
Mabel smiled bemusedly, and Poppy’s heart lurched again at how pretty it was. “Then maybe I’ll just have to keep complimenting you until you believe it.”
Poppy was sure Mabel could hear her heartbeat now, as it was beginning to overpower all of the other sounds around them. “I’m- I don’t know what to…” Poppy trailed off, looking everywhere but at the girl in front of her. “I… Thank you?”
Mabel was smiling in earnest now, albeit with a bit of mischief behind it, and through her gay panic, Poppy felt a twitch of annoyance because there was no way she didn’t know what she was doing and really, it was kind of unfair.
Poppy didn’t know what to do, so she kept talking. “I can get you some- I have some, um, tea? Or coffee, if you don’t drink tea? Or, um-” Why. Why was she allowed to open her mouth?
The smile didn’t drop from Mabel’s face as she responded, “Tea would be great.”
* * *
The two of them talked for another hour or so, mostly Mabel telling her about the case, which they both knew was a bad idea, but they also knew that Poppy wouldn’t tell. Mabel also complained about her friends, Charles and Oliver, and told her how she was lowkey convinced that they had dated in the 70s, which made Poppy laugh. In turn, Poppy talked about Cinda, some of the embarrassing stuff she’d done over the years, squashing down the voice in the back of her mind that hissed what a horrible idea all of this was. Just being around Mabel, listening to her voice, was enough to quiet those thoughts.
By the time Mabel had to be heading back home, her posture was more relaxed and her smiles reached her eyes.
“Thank you again,” Mabel said, as Poppy walked her to the door. “This was… really nice. Can we maybe do it again sometime?”
And, like some lovesick teenager, Poppy blushed and enthusiastically replied, “Yes, of course! I would—” She cleared her throat, doing her best to maintain some semblance of calm, even though they were well past that. “I’d like that a lot.”
They were at the door. This should be the end of their encounter. But this was Mabel Mora. So of course it wasn’t.
“Really, Poppy, I mean it,” Mabel insisted again, looking her in the eyes. “You helped out a lot. You should give yourself some more credit. And,” she continued, “before you say anything, you deserve every bit of it.”
“I—”
“I’ll see you soon, Poppy,” Mabel said. She turned to leave, and Poppy was about to close the door when Mabel stopped. She stopped, and she turned around again. Mabel strided back towards Poppy and suddenly they were only a few inches apart.
Poppy only had a moment to be confused, because what was happening, before Mabel surged forward, kissing her. There was a moment of awkwardness where they knocked noses, and Poppy couldn’t help taking a moment to giggle as she pulled Mabel closer.
Poppy kissed her gently, hesitantly, letting herself enjoy the sensation of the softness of the other girl’s lips on hers, the warm breath ghosting along her face.
After a moment, she had to pull back, because for some reason she needed air or something, but she was smiling wider than she had in months. To her delight, Mabel was grinning just as much.
“I, um- That was really—” Poppy stammered breathlessly.
“Yeah,” Mabel agreed, laughing. “I—”
And then her phone rang.
“Fuck,” she muttered to herself, hurriedly searching for it in her jacket and quickly picking up. “Charles, what— Oh. Oh. Yeah, of course, I can be there in— Yeah, I will.” She hung up.
Poppy raised her eyebrows, trying not to seem too intrusive.
“That was Charles, one of the old guys,” Mabel explained. “Our friend has been waiting on some news, and it finally came in.” Then almost to herself, “But he didn’t say whether…”
Seemingly remembering where she was, Mabel shook her head. “I have to go. But… can we do this again?”
Poppy felt her cheeks heating up, but this time didn’t feel embarrassed by her enthusiasm when she replied, “Yes!”
Mabel beamed at her, and Poppy once again cursed the effect that Mabel Mora had on her heart. “Great! I’ll see you soon.”
Only once she had gone did everything really sink in for Poppy, did she think about how badly Cinda would take this.
But, she realized, she didn’t care. She had just kissed Mabel Mora. She grinned to herself as she closed her door.