InsaneJournal

“Okay so there’s a rumour that Jaboukie Young-White may be making a surprise appearance, but Roscoe probably told me that just to get me to show.” Mia raised a cheerful middle finger to a guy behind the bar, who shrugged in a distinctly non apologetic way, smiling. “Want to take a bet now on how many period jokes we’ll hear?”

“Should I even bother to bet on a sure thing?” Charley teased, running a hand through her blonde hair as she glanced around the venue to try and scout out who would be the most likely to buy the pair drinks. “I’ll go for two, including one about buying tampons.”

“Unless it’s a criticism of the pink tax. I’ll give them a pass if they do one of those.” For her part Mia wasn’t looking for drinks but if people were offering, well…

“Speaking of, have you ever acted before? Apart from the thing where we had to pretend we absolutely adored the products we were stuck trying to hawk at the start of our careers,” she added sotto voce.

Charley gave Mia a flat look and waved a hand in her general direction. “Me, act,” she drawled. “Honey, what do you think?” Normally she would have shot off a scathing remark at the question, but Mia was a friend so she just got a sarcastic reply. Much to Ash and Z’s chagrin when they tried to get Charley to appear contrite for PR reasons, Charley wasn’t a born actress and defaulted to either “Pissed off Thermia” or “Thermia’s Been Forced to Say This” in front of the camera. Mia grinned. She knew those Thermias well.

“Maybe it’s because it’s something you don’t really enjoy?” she suggested. “If it was something fun, it may be different. I was asking because Saturday Night Live has me as Miss Pretty and George tears it up as his Underdog trope but I know that they’re looking at maybe inviting someone from WonderCorp and PI at some point.”

Charley tapped a finger against the table with a shake of her head. “WonderCorp PR would probably have a collective heart attack if I go on there. Lord knows I cause enough headache for them without setting the set on fire when I don’t like the script,” she replied, glancing at the stage to see if there was any sign of life.

“That’s fair. It’s not for everyone. And I can ask around, see who else may be interested. I’m sure I’ll get at least a few bites.” It was far more fun than the standard PR fare—and a good chance for someone to show that they had other strings to their bow. Mia adjusted in her seat, quietening as the spotlight finally lit up onstage. A woman who just somehow looked English to Mia got up, adjusting the mike and locking eyes with a crowd for a moment before she commenced.

“Good evening, how are you all tonight? Nah fuck that, I don’t really want to know.” A beat. A few laughs. The line itself wasn’t especially funny but the delivery had been on point. “I just blew in from Wolverhampton where I get to swim in about ten layers of jumpers year round and the only jogging I do is when I’m late for the bus, so I think that I’m going to be right at home here in LA…”

* * *

Charley knocked back the last few inches of her drink as the comedian walked off stage to a smattering of applause. “Yeah, you need to talk to lover boy at the bar about what talent they’re bringing in off the Wolverwhatever bus, or I’m going to need something stronger to make me laugh,” she groaned, setting her drink down and fixing Mia with a scowl that would have been considered deadly by anyone other than her friends. “So far he’s batting negative a thousand on hits.”

“Oh, I didn’t think she was that bad.” Mia laughed. “She seemed natural on the stage, which counts for a lot. Or do you think I should get up there with my Miss Pretty act or something?” Her eyebrows rose mischievously.

Charley scanned the crowd, blue eyes taking in the cellphones casually tossed on the bar and shoved into pockets, before matching Mia’s raised brow with one of her own. “You're a big girl,” she taunted, “so I wouldn’t stop you if you did.”

“Nah.” Mia grinned. “I don’t have prepared material or anything. Best not to damage the Saturday Night Live brand, you know?” Maybe one day she would make a surprise appearance as Miss Pretty. The idea of doing stand up, without being part of a team, a pool of people to draw energy from, both terrified and thrilled her.

“Whatever you say, darling,” the older woman hummed, glad she didn’t have to worry about being anyone other than herself. That, and Thermia, but that was pretty much just herself in a mask and killer lipstick when you boiled it down. It still amused her that people couldn’t put two and two together, but she wasn’t going to feed people an answer they couldn’t figure out on their own.

“Alright, give me the ten second schpeel of what’s new with you before the next act.”

“Ten seconds?” Mia raised a manicured hand to her chest, feigning hurt. “Well, Saturday Night Live wants me to appear briefly in a dress based off my Golden Globes one that looks like a banana, I have an invite to the Oscars, aaaaand Theo and I are back together!” She grinned like she had her Christmas cake and eaten it too.

Charley waited a beat, blinking at Mia as if she wasn’t sure another shoe would drop in the remaining allotted two seconds. “I’m sorry,” she said, tilting her head to the side and pointing a finger at the younger woman. “I could have sworn you just said you were back with Theo.”

“Ja. We’ve talked that shit out.”

Charley whistled, brows shooting up in surprise. “Well, I’ll be,” she said, eyeing the wide smile on the younger woman’s face. “He better treat you like a fucking princess.”

“Oh, he is,” said Mia with an impish and well-satisfied grin that Charley possibly didn’t want her to extrapolate on. Fortunately the next act walked on, sparing the blonde many face journeys.

* * *

Charley shook her hair back as they stepped outside, enjoying the way the cool air felt on her face after hours spent inside the packed club. She ignored the looks the duo got, happy to play second fiddle as they recognized Mia’s famous face. While Charley enjoyed being fawned over by her people and reluctantly donned her mask for PR events as Thermia, she didn’t want cameras tracking her every mood and judging her for putting Lays potato chips in her grocery cart instead of kale chips.

“Jaboukie wasn’t there, so I demand a refund,” she teased, elbowing her friend in the side.

“I know! I’m going to look up Daily Show clips when I get home.” Mia mimed tears.

“You owe me,” Charley said, shooting a dark look at a group of guys who looked like they were thinking about approaching. She wasn’t terribly mad, and she knew Mia would see through her bluster, but the show had been mediocre at best.

“I know.” Mia’s pouting face came back out. “Name a restaurant of your choice and I’ll make it up to you?” The same group of guys were on her periphery but she was determined to ignore them.

“Any restaurant?” The blond asked, a brow rising as she turned her back on the others and fixing Mia with a skeptical look. She knew money wasn’t a concern for either of them thanks to lucrative sponsorships, but she knew there was a line somewhere. Even she thought $40 for a sushi roll and a glass of water was ridiculous.

“Anything that won’t make me sell a kidney,” Mia confirmed. “Or charges $300 for like two mouthfuls worth of food because it’s plated well.”

Charley chuckled, eyes rolling. “I’d only expect that from your brother, so we’re good,” she clarified with a glance down the street. “How about we go find some pizza?”

“Yes, let’s do.” Mia hooked an arm through Charley’s. “Anywhere in particular you want to go?”

Charley tilted her head before a small grin appeared on her face. “There’s this hole in the wall place North Figueroa that sells pizza by the ounce of you want something special…”

“Challenge accepted.” Mia made the meme face then—by the powers invested in her—the two women disappeared from sight.