Max marched to the door, flipped the "Open" sign to "Closed" with a level of drama usually reserved for soap operas, then turned back to Cire like she was preparing for emergency surgery.

  "We're closed. For therapy."

  Cire hiccuped. "I just wanted a lemon cupcake with some dignity…"

  Max raised a finger. "You're getting vodka instead. Dignity died when he unzipped his pants."

  She reached under the counter, opened a drawer beled "Definitely Not Vodka," and pulled out a dusty bottle of something Russian and judgmental. Three mismatched shot gsses followed.

  Caroline blinked. "I thought that was just for emergencies?"

  Max twisted the cap off. "This is an emotional Chernobyl, Caroline."

  They poured. They drank.

  Shot one went down like battery acid. Cire coughed so hard she nearly unched herself into the pastry case.

  Max grinned. "Good. That means it's working. Now, let it all out."

  Cire wiped her eyes and waved dramatically. "Okay. Okay. So I'll start from the top."

  Caroline sat beside her, pen and notepad in hand, like she was a scandal journalist. "Please do."

  Cire inhaled like a contestant on a reality show confessional.

  "Right. So we were supposed to get married st spring. But he said, 'Let's wait until after tax season. Weddings are expensive and I'm stressed.' Fine. I wait."

  Max nodded slowly. "Okay. That's believable. Men and taxes don't mix well."

  "Then July comes," Cire continued. "He says, 'Let's push it to another couple of months. My grandmother wants to come and she's got gout and a vendetta against airpnes.'"

  Caroline tilted her head. "Wait. Is his grandmother real?"

  "She is, or was," Cire muttered. "I don't think she's even alive anymore. I sent her a Christmas card st year, and it got returned with 'DECEASED' stamped on it. Twice."

  Max gasped. "Twice?"

  "Like the post office was warning me!" Cire threw her arms up. "So fine. We push it again. And now, finally, the wedding is scheduled. Venue booked. Cake ordered. Dress altered. Honeymoon pnned. End of this month. Everything's in motion."

  She took another shot like a Viking.

  "And what does my future husband do st night?" she hissed. "He tells me he's going to a 'sleep health seminar' because he's been 'tossing and turning' and wanted to fix his 'circadian rhythm.'"

  Max narrowed her eyes. "Wow. So he cheated and gave it a TED Talk."

  Cire pointed a finger in the air like she was swearing vengeance in a Disney movie.

  "I get suspicious. So I follow him."

  Caroline leaned in, eyes wide. "What were you wearing?"

  "Leggings, trench coat, and a bicycle helmet. Don't ask. I panicked."

  Max whispered, "That's hot. Like a confused assassin."

  Cire ignored them. "I follow him to a house. A house I don't recognize. And I peek through the window like a creeper."

  "What did you see?" Max asked, already reaching for the bottle.

  Cire smmed the shot gss down.

  "I saw him. Shirtless. With the therapist's daughter. Who was in a SCHOOL UNIFORM. And not the Catholic kind. The anime kind."

  Caroline's mouth dropped open. "No!"

  "Yes!" Cire shrieked. "He was feeding her strawberries! She giggled. GIGGLED. She wore cat ears, Max. CAT. EARS."

  Max filled the gsses again, jaw clenched. "That's it. We're going to burn his socks."

  "And his gaming chair," Caroline added.

  Cire slumped forward. "He told me he loved my cookies. But apparently he likes his baked goods… with anime cospy girl with cat ears."

  Max poured another shot, and she took it down like a pro.

  "Can you believe it? He could have at least said something. We could have pnned for something unique. Hired some strippers and had some fun. But he had to go behind my back and fuck that bitch with cat ears," Cire grumbled again.

  "Wait! Strippers and fun? So... Had he told you the truth, you would have had an orgy with strippers?" Caroline asked. "I mean like we are in a poly retionship, but never thought you'd be so open-minded, girl."

  Cire blinked at Caroline, mid-tears, mid-vodka, brain clearly buffering.

  "I mean," she said slowly, "not like an orgy orgy. I'm not out here handing out glitter-covered condoms at brunch."

  Max, already halfway through pouring round four, paused. "Wait, is that not what brunch is for?"

  Caroline raised a hand. "Hold up. You were ready to marry a man who lied, cheated, and owns anime cat ear kinks, but the idea of a tasteful group experience with consenting, choreographed entertainment is where you draw the line?"

  Cire waved her arms like she was fgging a pne down. "It's not about the strippers! It's about trust! He looked me in the eye two nights ago and said he loved me. Then two days ter, he's feeding strawberries to Meowth the Menace! I was there for like 4 hours. Saw everything."

  Max deadpanned. "With his bare hands. Strawberry by strawberry. That's vilin behavior."

  Caroline leaned across the counter. "Girl, I saw that on a doc. That's step one of grooming a backup wife. Step two is making a pylist called 'For Special Nights'."

  Cire's eyes widened. "He has one of those!"

  Max and Caroline both gasped.

  Max smmed her hands on the counter. "Does it start with a Coldpy song?"

  "Yes!" Cire wailed. "Fix You!"

  Max raised her arms like she had just summoned a lightning strike. "It's always Fix You!"

  Caroline looked deadly serious. "This man's pylist is a war crime."

  Cire took another shot. Then sighed, defted. "I just… thought he was the one. You know?"

  Max leaned in, voice softening. "Cire, if he was the one, he wouldn't be rolepying bedroom Pokémon with Sailor Meow Moon."

  Caroline patted Cire's hand. "You deserve better. Like a sexy botanist. Or a pastry chef who only talks in sonnets."

  "Or, someone handsome and sexy and young like Alex Wilson," Cire said with a little smile.

  "Wow! Wow! Wow! Stop right there," Max said, raising her hand. "Alex Wilson?"

  "Yeah. Did you see his smile? Wait a minute. I just realized, I don't like that bastard anymore. It's only useless to cry over spilled milk. I should aim for the big guy. Yeah," Cire said as she stood up, looking at the ceiling, deep in her own little world. "Hollywood, fame, and Alex Wilson. Yeah, let's do it. I heard the Wilson Studios is looking for some models for their upcoming perfume brand. If I can get in somehow and become famous..."

  She looked at her body for a moment and squeezed her boobs, muttering, "Still got it."

  Then she continued...

  "... Then I could get more gigs. More gigs mean more fame. More fame means more attention. From whom? Hollywood's golden boy. Then we'll talk, have lunch, dinner, and te-night talk about gigs, and maybe he'll cast me for movies. Then slowly we'll get very close and then... He'll make me mine."

  She paused, with a happy, drunken smile on her face.

  Max and Caroline have already taken two more shots while listening to her ranting...

  "God, is it possible?" Cire resumed her rant again. "Show me a sign. Anything..."

  Just then, as if the universe was listening to her with great interest and decided to bestow her with her wish... The door opened with a little chime.

  Cire turned, wild-eyed and swaying slightly like a sexy lighthouse in a vodka storm.

  Her eyes nded on the doorway.

  Alex Wilson stepped inside, casually holding the door open with one hand like the world was his and he was generously letting it borrow him for a bit. Behind him, Scarlett followed, lips glossed, hair perfect, wearing one of Alex's jackets and an expression like she'd just had a full-body massage followed by dessert.

  Cire stared.

  Her vodka-soaked brain hit the emergency brakes.

  "Okay," she whispered, eyes wide. "That's the sign. That's the sign."

  Max looked up from her shot gss, blinked, then shouted with the glee of a gremlin spotting chaos.

  "OH MY GOD."

  Caroline didn't move. She just sipped her water with the energy of someone waiting for fireworks.

  Cire stumbled forward, arm extended like she was trying to grab Excalibur.

  "Are you… are you real?" she asked Alex, her voice a whisper of drunken awe.

  'Wait! Is that Lindsay Lohan? The prime Lindsay?! No. Wait a minute. What was her name again... Cir? Cire? Yeah, Cire. The jumpy girl who changes her mind every second. Lindsay pyed her character in the past world. But... Here, just like Max and Caroline, she also must be a character because there is no Lindsay Lohan in the industry.' Alex thought very quickly.

  Alex paused mid-step. "Excuse me?"

  Cire squinted at him. "Are you real or… are you the fever dream of a broken heart and four shots of rage vodka? Was that four or more?"

  Scarlett blinked at the scene, clocked the vodka, the eyeliner trails, the open bottle, and slowly turned to Max and Caroline.

  "You did this."

  Max raised her hand like a fourth grader. "She came in crying about cat ears. What were we supposed to do? Offer her chamomile tea?"

  Caroline gestured at Cire. "We offered therapy. She asked for sugar. She got vodka."

  Alex set his keys on the counter, watching Cire teeter between epiphany and bckout. "Do I want to know what's happening?"

  Cire clutched her heart dramatically. "You. You're what's happening. You're here. Right now. In my moment of rebirth. You are my phoenix, Alex Wilson."

  Scarlett leaned toward Max and whispered, "What did she drink?"

  Max whispered back, "Russian vodka that I bought from a shady Russian guy under a certain bridge."

  Cire stepped closer, her finger wagging like she was giving a TED Talk nobody asked for.

  "Listen to me, Alex 'Freakin' Wilson," she said. "I just got cheated on by a man with a back pillow and hentai tabs. I have been through emotional war. But you. You are my emotional ceasefire. You are peace, and I… I am ready to y down arms."

  Alex blinked. "Okay."

  "I am ready," Cire continued, swaying slightly. "To ascend. Into Wilson's World. Where I wear designer perfume, say things like 'cinematic lighting,' and use a ring light unironically."

  Scarlett sat down on the nearest barstool, watching the performance like it was off-Broadway and somehow on fire.

  Max turned to Alex, trying to salvage what dignity remained in the air. "So. Um. Welcome to our post-shift meltdown."

  Caroline gestured to Cire with a fork. "She's fine. She's just grieving the loss of her dignity, sanity, and possibly her ex's Netflix password."

  Alex looked mildly armed. "Should I… leave?"

  Scarlett smiled. "No. But we might need popcorn."

  Cire suddenly stood up tall, as if her bones remembered structure. She pointed a finger at Alex like he was destiny in loafers.

  "I'm ready to audition."

  "Excuse me?" he said.

  "I want to be a Titan Perfume girl," she decred. "I have scent. I have presence. I have trauma. And I'm flexible."

  Scarlett blinked. "Why was that the third one?"

  Max was leaning on the counter now, wheezing silently.

  Cire turned to Scarlett. "Please. Tell him I'm not crazy."

  Scarlett tilted her head. "You're passionate. With a dash of vodka."

  "I'll take it," Cire said. "Wait a minute! Scarlett freakin' J?"

  Scarlett slowly lifted one eyebrow with the grace of a queen watching a peasant cartwheel into her court.

  "I haven't been called 'Scarlett freakin' J', but sure. Let's roll with that."

  Cire gasped, one hand over her heart like someone had just complimented her eyebrows.

  "You're real too. This is insane. Am I having a stroke? If I taste toast, someone sp me."

  Max casually reached over and flicked Cire's ear.

  "Ow!"

  "Still alive. Continue."

  Cire pointed to Scarlett again. "You're like a walking model show and a lingerie catalog had a baby. Sexy, hot, beautiful, and if I say, busty. How are you even here?"

  Scarlett leaned into the bar, resting her chin on her palm. "I'll take that compliment."

  Alex raised a hand. "Well, she got some clear vision for someone who can't hold her drinks."

  Cire turned to him, suddenly serious. As serious as a woman with vodka shots with god knows what's mixed in it, half a breakup, and 112% desperation can be.

  "Mr. Wilson. I am ready to become a star. I may not have experience. Or stability. Or sobriety. But I have something better."

  Caroline sipped her water and muttered, "Regret?"

  Cire raised both arms like she was introducing herself on The Bachelor.

  "Raw, uncut, chaotic feminine energy."

  Scarlett snorted into her sleeve.

  Alex blinked. "Is that… a resume category now?"

  Max leaned in and stage-whispered, "It is in new gen casting."

  Cire took a deep breath, held it dramatically, then unched into what might have been a monologue or a seizure.

  "Picture this. Titan Perfume. Bck-and-white commercial. I'm walking barefoot through a foggy field. There's a wolf. Possibly two. I'm wearing silk and pain. Music swells. A whisper: Vengeance... by Titan. Then I turn to the camera and say..." she dropped her voice low... "It's not a scent. It's a threat."

  Scarlett was crying. Actually crying.

  Max fell off her stool.

  Caroline slow-cpped. "I would buy that."

  Alex looked at Cire for a long second. "...You made that on the spot while drunk?"

  Cire stood up straighter. "I am a broken, vengeful phoenix of spicy citrus and undertones of betrayal. Hire me."

  Alex rubbed his temple. "Do you even act?"

  Cire nodded solemnly. "I once pretended to be fine for eight months straight. It was an Oscar-worthy performance."

  Scarlett choked on her own ughter.

  Max resurfaced from behind the counter, breathless. "Okay, okay. If you don't give her at least a trial shoot, I'm going to have her audition in the street. With a fog machine. And glitter. And Chestnut."

  Alex looked to Scarlett like she might offer a rational out.

  Scarlett just shrugged. "Honestly? I want to see how far this goes. And I'm free on Wednesday."

  Alex sighed. Deeply.

  Then nodded once.

  "Fine. Cire… show up at Wilson Studios on Wednesday. Ask for Rachel. Tell her I said you're getting a ten-minute trial shoot."

  Cire let out a sound that might have been a cheer or the spirit of vodka leaving her body.

  Max smmed her palm on the counter. "YES. We're creating stars in this bakery."

  Cire then slumped on the chair, her face hit the table, and she began to snore...

  ---

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  [6 advance chs] [All chs avaible for all tiers]