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MJ counted herself lucky that the day’s filming had just ended when the ringtone started, finding herself standing by the catering table and engaged in casual conversation with one of the producers of her latest film rather than mid-scene.
Everybody wants to be a cat
Because a cat’s the only cat who knows where it’s at
Everybody’s pickin’ up on that feline beat
‘Cause everything else is obsolete
Felicia’s obnoxious ringtone (that she insisted matched her gimmick) was surprising, but not completely unexpected. It wasn’t unusual for Felicia to call during the day for a regular, cape-free chat, but MJ knew better than to ignore an out-of-the-blue call from someone who made a career out of picking fights with supervillains.
“Sorry,” she said with a polite smile, “Better take this.”
She excused herself as quickly as possible before turning and walking briskly to the emptiest corner of the set and answering the call.
“I need you to help me dig up a body,” Felicia blurted over the line, a stark contrast to the jazzy music playing just moments earlier.
MJ gave a smile full of gritted teeth to a passing group of interns before turning and hissing directly into her phone,
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Are you going to help me or not?” Felicia shouted, the distant sound of whipping air and police sirens not escaping MJ’s attention.
“No, Felicia, I’m not going to help you dig up a corpse!” she said incredulously, “Why would I ever want to do that?!”
“There’s no actual body in the grave-”
“Then why did you start with ‘I need you to help me dig up a body’?” she asked accusingly, carefully scanning the room to make sure no one was eavesdropping.
“I wasn’t thinking about it, alright? Sue me!” Felicia snapped, the screeching of tires making MJ’s ears ring.
She pulled the phone away for a moment, taking a deep breath,
“Think nice thoughts, Mary Jane, think nice thoughts.”
Slowly, MJ moved the phone back to her ear, wincing as Felicia shouted orders at her goons.
“Hello? ‘Licia?”
“Oh, good you’re back,” Felicia said in between bouts of aggravated honking, “Are you- Drive faster! I don’t care if we’re on the wrong side of the road, just do it! Are you down or what?”
“Something tells me I should say no.”
“Why are you thinking about it so much?” Felicia scoffed, “Let me do the thinking. I’m the one with the plan.”
“Watch it, Felicia,” MJ scolded, “I’m not one of your henchmen . You still have your location shared with me and we both know I’d turn you into the FBI for half of a meatball sub.”
“You’re breakin’ my heart, Red.”
MJ rolled her eyes, making her way outside and toward her trailer, “You’re seriously lucky I’m such a fantastic friend. That and the fact I keep a pair of sneakers on hand for stuff like this. Send me the address?”
“Already done,” Felicia said, “Meet me there in thirty?”
“Sure. See you in a bit.”
MJ sighed, shaking her head as she began changing into the spare clothes she kept for whenever she found herself entangled in vigilante messes, which she found was surprisingly more often in the years after her and Peter’s breakup than before. Just her luck.
She cursed as her phone began playing once more, this time playing a different (and much less anxiety-inducing) ringtone.
All my riches for her smiles
When I’ve slept so soft against her
It's never over
All my blood for the sweetness of her laughter
It's never over
She is the tear that hangs inside my soul forever
“MJ?” Gwen’s voice called as she answered on speakerphone.
“Hi, Gwendy.”
“What’s with the voice?” Gwen questioned.
“What voice?” MJ frowned, tugging her shirt over her head and smoothening it out as best she could.
“The voice that says, ‘Hi, Gwen, I’m only half-listening because I’m hyper-focusing on something but I don’t want to be rude and tell you to just call back later even though it's really not a big deal.’” Gwen said.
At that, MJ paused, looking herself over in the mirror hanging over the bathroom door,
“I have a voice for that?”
Gwen laughed, voice fond as she continued, “What are you so focused on, pretty lady?”
“Well, Felicia needs a hand with something, but I’m pretty sure that something is grave desecration,” MJ remarked, rifling through her drawers to find the right shoes, “But if I’m lucky maybe I can just hit her over the head with a blunt object and bury her before anyone notices.”
“Mary Jane!”
“Just saying.”
“Both of you are terrible,” Gwen said with no real heat, “You’d smack each other six ways to Sunday and call it bonding.”
“What else are friends for?” MJ asked.
“ Anyways … what time should I expect you back from your grand adventure? Or should I just go ahead and start counting your bail money now?”
“I’d say before dinner,” MJ hummed thoughtfully, “But maybe check my savings, just in case.”
“Sure, Bunny, whatever you say.”
“Love you, Tigress.”
“I love you, too.”
The call ended with a quiet beep and after giving a final, satisfied tug on her laces, MJ snagged her phone from beside her and strides out of the trailer, careful to avoid any crew members that might be lingering around the edges of the set.
“I need to start charging that woman a travel fee,” she muttered to herself as she raised an arm to hail a cab, “Ridiculous.”
The drive was shorter than MJ expected, in all honesty, but knowing Felicia she probably knew MJ would be working so close to the graveyard and had this all planned out from the beginning. She had the taxi drop her off a few blocks away, electing to walk the last few in an attempt to look less suspicious, but considering the fact that Felicia was fully dressed in her shiny, obvious leather suit when she got there, MJ figured she’d probably been worried for nothing.
“Nice of you to join me, Miss Ringwald,” Felicia grinned, leaning against what MJ was certain was a getaway car.
“Creative,” MJ said dryly, pulling Felicia into a tight hug, “You come up with that one yourself?”
“Would you believe me if I said no?” Felicia asked with a snort, “Peter keeps a spreadsheet full of his best quips, nicknames included. It's my marital right to take them.”
“A spreadsheet? He really is aging, isn’t he?”
“Don’t tell him that, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
MJ laughed, “So, are we digging up some dead guy or…?”
“False grave,” Felicia corrected, popping the trunk of the car and tossing a shovel toward her, “There’s a solid silver box where the casket should be. Eighteenth century, very expensive, I want it, et cetera, et cetera. I’ll spare you the details.”
“How kind,” MJ drawled, catching the shovel and turning it over in her hands, “This is gonna suck, isn’t it?”
“Big time,” Felicia admitted, “Why do you think I called you to help, Red?”
“Well, I was hoping it's because you enjoy my company and were using this as an excuse to hang out, but now I’m starting to wonder if you’re using me for free labor.”
“You just figured it out?”
“Bite me.”
“Maybe after we finish the job,” Felicia retorted, angling the shovel downward and digging with a sharp grunt. Mj just sighed, following her lead and working at the opposite end of the headstone that she assumed was fake, not that she could read it in the dark either way.
They worked like that for a while, MJ wasn’t sure how long exactly, bantering back and forth and trying to pause as little as possible, lest they lose their rhythm as they dug and scooped dirt out of the widening hole. Eventually, their conversation came to a halt, the only sounds being the clanging of rocks and the shifting of loose sediment until MJ broke the silence, voice straining with effort,
“You know if you wanted to hang out we could’ve just gotten lunch or something.”
“I’m beginning to think you don’t want to spend time with me, Red. What’s wrong with this?”
“I’m not opposed to spending time with you, ‘Licia,” MJ grunted, digging her shovel into the ground, “I just don’t think grave robbery counts as a fun girls' night.”
“Puh-lease,” Felicia scoffed, “You wouldn’t know fun if it smacked you in the face and handed you a business card.”
“What, like you would? You’re digging a big hole , Felicia. In a graveyard. Because you’re here to steal some stupid box . That’s not fun.”
“Maybe I’m having fun digging this hole,” Felicia glared, “Maybe I’m enjoying watching you be miserable about it.”
“You would, wouldn’t you? Sadist.”
“Crybaby.”
“Shut up and dig the stupid hole,” MJ said, rolling her eyes, “I told Gwen I’d be home for dinner. We’re getting Korean tonight and I’m not missing that to play Dig Dug with you.”
“Hey, that reminds me,” Felicia started, “You and Gwen should come by ours for dinner soon. We bought a new mixer. I’ll cook.”
“I’ve seen you and Peter in the kitchen,” MJ replied, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I’ve been taking classes!” Felicia said defensively, “And at least my food is edible. Can Peter make edible food?”
“Please don’t make me think about Peter’s cooking, it’s giving me psychosomatic food poisoning,” MJ groaned, “How much longer are we going to dig?”
“Until we hit the—“
Clang!
“… Box,” she finished anticlimactically, “Well, look at that.”
Felicia tossed her shovel to the side, leaning down to grab the little silver box with a sharp tug. She inspected it for a moment before giving a small, satisfied nod.
“Alright.”
“Alright?”
“This is it,” Felicia said with a shrug, “Now we fill the hole again.”
“Hold on,” MJ said with a disbelieving look at the box, “We dug this entire casket-shaped hole six feet deep for a foot-by-foot box?”
“I wasn’t sure exactly where it would be,” Felicia explained as if it was completely obvious, “Now cut the chit-chat and start shoveling. Groundskeeper makes his rounds in an hour so the clock’s ticking.”
MJ groaned again, straightening up and preparing herself for more digging.
Hooray.
They worked in relative silence, both thankful that filling the hole seemed to be a much faster task than clearing it had been and found themselves finished with fifteen minutes to spare before they’d ultimately be discovered.
Felicia patted the freshly filled grave with the back of her shovel, a triumphant smile on her face, “That wasn’t so bad, was it? Box located, hole filled, and everybody is none the wiser.”
MJ nodded, leaning on her own shovel as she caught her breath before Felicia finally spoke again, her voice sincere,
“MJ?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for coming, really. You’re a good friend.”
“Of course, Felicia.
…
But maybe the next time you want to hang out we can just grab drinks or something instead.”
“ Oh, my God, ” Felicia groaned.
“Because I don’t think I’m gonna be able to stop picking the dirt from under my nails for weeks,” MJ continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “Seriously, this is disgusting.”
“You’re ruining my moment of emotional vulnerability,” Felicia informed her.
“Is that what that was?”
“Oh, drop dead .”