#PS: i already pulled the career reading cards this week and i can say

[sugar-petals]

Hav u done predictive readings for who the boys will end up with & how their career will go etc?

a 2020 career prediction i’ll publish at the end of december! their future partner we’re doing now. i added some angel oracle cards today ♡ those describe the theme of their relationship.

Jungkook: QUEEN OF CUPS

Hallelujah! Oh yeah. That’s an ideal card, picture perfect. The Queen of Cups is quite possibly one of the best partner allegories to have because a) Cups rule smoothness of relationships and emotions and b) she’s a royal card which indicates a highly developed state of mind where things finally come to fruition unlike with the aces and pages. Jungkook will mean so, so much to his partner. That’s a twin flame or soulmate connection we’re talking here. A really beautiful and dignified person, a little touchy feely, but experienced with love. They can really depend on another. Maybe they’re from Busan like him or the shore generally, the sea plays an important role for the Queen of Cups. There are tiny little cherubs on the card, I’m thinking he’ll be treated like an angel. It’s a very healthy relationship that leaves nothing left to be desired. As for looks: It might be a blonde, taller person whose favorite color is blue. There are cliffs on the card that remind me of Cornwall’s coast. The English theme is pretty consistent in his readings lmao we’re dealing with an excellent speaker. And, because it’s a court card with quite abundant imagery, it’ll be a S/O of quite some status. I am sure the person will be known to us already, or at least a big deal within his or her family. It’s queen energy, so the mom friend is right on their way into JK’s heart. Another aspect is that his partner might be rather spiritually inclined — mind you, every person is spiritual, how aware you are makes the difference — or even psychic. Water signs ahead; Pisces, Scorpio, Cancer.

— angel card: “Playfulness — To bring about romantic feelings, allow your youthfulness to shine with delight.”

Taehyung: THE EMPRESS

Yet another powerful female archetype, this reading does not mince words.  And also a very wholesome outlook, it’s very similar to the Queen of Cups vibe, or Queen of Pentacles if we’re looking at other tarot suits. I was really happy when I saw this card come out. The Empress almost always signifies kids, the theme is fertility. Taehyung will live a very lavish life with this partner. The card has so much opulence and positivity on it. Nature, food, pillows, ample garments, jewelry, good weather, and harvest time. And, of course, the Empress is fairly curvy, so expect either Taehyung gaining weight in the future or his partner being chubby. It’ll be the good life, in a good place, with the right person. There’s a settled and satiated feeling there. Stagnation could be possible after a while because this card gets too cozy. However, loyalty and a ripe sexual life are like glue to the union so I don’t see Taehyung stress anytime soon there. The card gives me plenty of clues how his home will look like as well, it’s highly decorated and comfortable. Interestingly enough, we see a huge wheat field surrounding the Empress — hence the card symbolizes fertility — so I wonder whether Taehyung’s dream of getting involved in farming will play out. I mean… coincidence? The countryside will take on an important role in any case, maybe with photography as well. Tae marrying a farmer’s girl, who knows! Beautiful card, definitely. It’s a good prospect for him. The Empress is major arcana so, this state of happiness will last him for a giant while and it’s destined. The boy will shed a tear no more. 

— angel card: “Attraction — you receive love by enjoying the moment.”

Yoongi: KNIGHT OF SWORDS

It’s the fastest card of the tarot! The power of swords paired with a knight on his speedy horse is quite a combination. Yoongi’s future partner is not going to waste time to charge right into sweet honey boy’s life. We’re dealing with a hothead, athlete, extrovert. I don’t think Yoongi has to do as much as crook a single finger to get things going. In fact, he’s the one waiting it out. He’ll just lean back and poof there is his significant other bursting into his life. Though I gotta say, the Knight of Swords has a detriment and that is: He leaves as fast as he arrives, and you have to be sure of your boudaries. Major burnout dangers there. The relationship might be short compared to say Namjoon’s or Tae’s reading. It’s Yoongi’s part to make this last if that’s what he’s going for. It’s a sword card, there have to be efforts and mental clarity involved to solve the problem. Though, someone rushing towards their love interest with so much passion has a good reason why he or she does that. Yoongi could get snatched away by someone else, with so many people interested in him you really have to be determined. With the archetype being a knight I also know it’s going to be someone younger than him, there’s a certain rebellion to the card. It has military energy. Yoongi’s partner will be one outrageous and direct person. They are 100% unafraid to face off with Yoongi, they have better comebacks than the master of sharp remarks himself. When it comes to sex, Yoongi will probably forget his own damn name after that ride. This person is wild as hell. It’s not a fellow sleepyhead as we saw in the ideal type reading, but a S/O bringing him out of his dreamy world. There’s a strong encouragement for Yoongi to achieve a lot more when he enters that relationship, it’s a power up to be expected here.

— angel card: “Worth the Wait — Divine timing predicates your relationship.”

Namjoon: TEN OF PENTACLES

Nice! Wow. The tarot says Namjoon is blessed. This is the card of wealthy, happy old age. He’s headed right for it already. In all tarot suits, the 10 indicates fulfillment. E.g. the Ten of Cups shows relationship completion because cups stand for love, the Ten of Swords shows total defeat because swords symbolize conflict, the Ten of Wands signifies complete effort/exhaustion since wands represent impetus. So the Ten of Pentacles equals coming full circle in terms of material things as pentacles are responsible for all tangible value in life. He’ll be living blissfully with his S/O. Everything is cared for. We’re talking long-term relationship here. The card shows an old man settled in his favorite coat and spot. Namjoon has a kind of master plan to gently arrive in his 80s, 90s. It’s not a surprise, we know he looks ahead, the tarot is aware of it, too. And yes: He will finally be able to answer his question “Who the hell am I?”. Ten of Pentacles means: Identity found. I had to wipe away a tear for that one man. I think it has to do with the location. The setting of the card is like a polished type of town with castles. A bit Italian, Mediterranean. Not as modern as say Seoul, bigger cities. It could be him moving to a warm country where things are slow, antique, and indulgent. I once said Namjoon has a type of European mindset going on, if he moves there it with his loved one or his partner is European it wouldn’t be shocking. There are two dogs on the card so, Joon will have pets involved in the partnership. The 10 of Coins also shows a couple immersed in a chat. His S/O is primarily someone he can talk to about the world, it’s a very conversation-heavy union. Now, the old man on the card could also show that he finds another old soul— we’ve had that topic come up in the other readings as well, the tarot is sure he’ll meet someone on par. Earth sign energy here.

— angel card: “Love Without Fear — Open your heart to give and receive the highest of energies.”

Hobi: THREE OF PENTACLES

Even more pentacles. Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn is possible. His partner is a darn good team player, their friendship bond is strong. First thing that came to my mind, they’ll build a house together or get busy working around their home in some kind of way, that’s interestingly enough the central theme I get from the card. Distribution of chores and general tasks is a big thing, and they’ll be planning a gazillion industrious things from what I got through the imagery. There’s an abbot, architect/craftsman, and monk seen on that card working on a church wall embellishment. One gives directions, the other has drawn a sketch that illustrates what kind of decor the abbot wants to have on the church wall, and the third guy does the crafting, hammer and chisel in hand. It’s not a love-related card per see so it’s important to point that out. It could hint at some pretty huge artistic collaborations coming our way instead. If you combine that, it could happen in a way like… Hoseok gets with someone he collaborated/collaborates with sometime soon, or a little later. Yup. Chicken noodle soup with Becky G on the side! Their chemistry is amazing and she is so cute, it’s very much possible. Or, in a wider sense, it’s someone from an upcoming project. That’s interesting. It seems quite sure that Hoseok won’t retire after BTS even if he’s pretty damn rich already, he’ll stay in the industry and foster (=embellish) his career with a strategy behind it much like the abbot on the card. We’ll get to know his partnership(s) along the way, but the tarot says it’s not top priority. Pentacles are earth sign energy so Mercury, Saturn and Venus are what will dictate that union, it’s the overall pragmatic energy that’s taking center spot. Also, since the church is so prominent on the card, Hoseok is working towards marriage nine times out of ten. 

— angel card: “Fresh Love — A new person has stirred your romantic feelings.”

Jimin: FIVE OF SWORDS

That one is… sigh. The odd one out in this post. How do I put it. It’s a series that just doesn’t break. Jimin constantly gets the messy cards and not so love-friendly swords when I do relationship readings on him. There is something going on and I kind of hate it already. But the tarot is being adamant so we have to decipher what’s going on and see the resolution, there’s more to it than just the cards doing him dirty. The Five of Swords pictures a battle aftermath with a mischievous winner and two defeated parties walking away sore. The winner picks up the weapons left behind to hoard then. So when it comes to his future S/O, we’re talking someone wants to play win-lose with Jimin’s insecurities and will get away with it because they’re strong, sly, and full of themselves. They don’t have his best interests in mind, especially when quarrels go down. Lack of harmony overshadows the relationship. There’s some major bullshit and that’s scary. The partner is like a leech, leaving only Jimin pissed, it’s not a lose-lose situation, things are wholly unequal. Picking on Jimin leaves their ego inflated and intensifies resentment. Working against each other over working with another is going on. Jimin has to walk away from that situation and mend his wounds, and never return. It’ll be a period of growth in his life ahead where he becomes aware just how giving too much and being defeated by that does him no good, as well as learning how to spot douchebags who don’t care about him. The Five of Swords is among the quintessential breakup card, it’ll be what defines his future relationship unless or until he has the grit to stop the fight and search for equity and affection instead of put-downs.

— angel card: “You Deserve Being Loved — You’re worthy of love.”

Jin: SIX OF PENTACLES

Pentacles, pentacles everywhere. I see that the hyungs have some financial themes going on, Jin’s card is emblematic of that. First let’s have a look what’s going on with the imagery. A wealthy man holds a scale on this card. He distributes coins to poor men kneeling before him. It’s an interesting symbol for a relationship, if not for another more important area of Jin’s life which could very well be philanthropy. He is the wealthy man on the card, sharing in just ways as the scale indicates. That could be providing for his partner a lot or simply doing charity together with them. I do have to say, and that is similar to Hoseok’s card, I don’t see too much of a romantic theme here which is surprising, but the tarot knows its ways. Some members might be doing partnerships much later in life or eschew them. With Jin here, I get a sense that business relations and deals will be an overarching theme in the near future. It could be the situation with his dad’s business in Germany the card is hinting at, and if marriage is involved, there’s a major exchange of valuable ideals and things involved between parties. A recurring theme is class difference though, the same popped up in the last reading. Jin’s status will be much, much higher but he can tip things into balance with a fairness mindset, Libra energy. A huge gap will be bridged. Last but not least, mea culpa: I think I’ve been missing the obvious interpretation there. The signs are everywhere in the cards for his readings, and oh my god: Jin is the member who’ll get together with a fan. 

— angel card: “Children — Kids will have an influence on your love life.”

[onelastbreath-writes]

I Spy (2)

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales/Fem!Reader (AFAB, no y/n)

Word Count: 1.9K

Warnings: Swearing

Summary (lite): You literally fall for a guy you meet in a bar, and everything is going great until you learn both of you have been lying about who you are and what you do. Oof. (SpecOps&Spies AU with Young!Frankie)

A/N: Wow part one got a lot of love, thank you so much! And now I also have a taglist going for this fic, so let me know if you want to be tagged the next time I post. This chapter is basically just fluff with a bit of background plot,,, i’ve created both a slow burn, and a 100 metre sprint of a relationship for y’all, so be prepared for that. Depending on what I manage to get into the next chapter, aka if i can finish the story or if i wimp out, there will either be 3 or 4 chapters total, and if i like the universe enough I might have some bonus content in the future. Nothing is set in stone so don’t start counting your chickens yet, but like... maybe. Anyways, I hope you enjoy part 2 of Let Me Have Nice Things I Spy <3

PS it is 3:45am when I’m posting this, please forgive me if its actually just weird thnxxxx

[AO3A][Masterlist]

[Previous Part]

---

“Water with a wedge of lemon, please,” you ordered as you and Frankie claimed a bar stool each at the counter.

“And a coke for me, thank you.”

The drink offer was always a toss up for you; a good way to measure the type of guy interested in your company. Even if you hadn’t decided that you were done with the alcohol tonight, you would still have ordered a water on your date’s dime. It was a simple test of character that more than a few guys had failed in the past. Were they looking to get you drunk, or were they willing to respect your choices? Frankie, so far, had done nothing but respect you.

Your drinks arrive quickly, and the cool glass feels refreshing in your hands. You still feel warm from your brief contact with the handsome man beside you, but after peaking at him from the side of your eyes, you can see that his ears and cheeks also have some red to them as well.

Frankie accepts his glass and angles himself towards you, bumping his knee lightly to yours and offering you another sweet smile. “Would it be presumptuous of me to offer a cheers? To meeting new people? Or I’ve got some great, really catchy and not at all cheesy pick-up lines, if that’s more your style?”

You snorted a laugh at his teasing but held out your drink for him to clink his against, “To meeting new people, then. And please, I have extremely high standards so only your best lines will appease me.”

“Ah, a connoisseur! Well then, please prepare to be amazed,” Frankie swivelled around to fully face you, ran a hand through his hair, fluffing his curls and pushing them away from his face, and cleared his throat for dramatic effect. “You blinded me with your beauty, so I’m going to need your name and number for insurance purposes.”

Your plan was to hold out, not to crack against whatever corny, horribly cliché thing he was going to say to you. You’d been given them all, and had never had much trouble before, even with guys as attractive and cute as Frankie. You had a great poker face, and could keep yourself together like a pro. There was nothing he could say to you that would break your façade. And then he opened his mouth, and you were gone.

“Oh my god! That’s so bad!” You were shaking, gasping while trying to contain and smother your laughter. You hadn’t thought to put your drink down before he started, and you could feel the liquid sloshing around the glass in your hand. Frankie, thankfully, noticed your problem, and gently wrapped his fingers around your wrist to steady your grasp. He helped you set the drink down safely, before pulling your still jittering limb away from further potential accidents. And then, he just didn’t release you.

He had slipped his hand into yours and was running his thumb over your knuckles.

As if your cheeks weren’t warm enough already.

What is it with this guy? You just couldn’t catch a break.

“Okay?” Can I keep holding your hand?

“Yes,” Please don’t let me go.

---

“And so, we’re just, like, full-tilt sprinting to catch this last train. And of course, its raining cats and dogs, so the sidewalk is slippery as hell, and Santi’s down a shoe so he’s splashing around in his sock, and then we hit the stairs up to the platform, and the train is pulling out…” You couldn’t remember the last time you smiled so much but listening to Frankie’s stories about his friends and their misadventures was making your cheeks ache.

You had been trading stories for ages, back and forth and jumping all over your lives to tell each other your greatest hits. Something between you two had just clicked, and it felt like you’d known him forever.

Early in the conversation you’d discovered he was his buddies’ designated driver, and would be on non-alcoholic beverages all night, but offered you anything you would like if you wanted more than water. You’d of course thanked him, but refused, stating your own reasons for sobriety. And that’s the point you got into talking about your careers.

“The guys wanted to get wasted during shore leave, and I’m not big on drinking so I offered to be their ride this time.” He was rather adorably touchy-feely with you, currently playing with your fingers and drawing on your palm absentmindedly.

“Shore leave? So, you’re military then?” That would explain the callouses and healed scars on his hands that you’d also been acquainting yourself with.

“Army, yeah,” Frankie had pointed out his group of hooligans across the room, playing what he’d told you was ‘Extreme Darts’. “Me and Santi were best friends in high school and enlisted together, and then we met Will and Benny in basic training. We worked together well enough to get us assigned to Tom’s squad and the rest’s history.”

“Then you’re still on active duty, right?” You couldn’t say you knew much about how a military contract worked, beyond what you’d seen in movies and on TV, but you knew soldiers were required to do a certain amount of service before they could retire; baring career-ending events that would get them discharged, of course. “When does shore leave end?”

“Ah, that’s a little complicated to explain, actually. We’re technically active soldiers still, but after our last deployment ended, we signed back on as like, uh, contractors. Sort of like on-base reservists? We help out where we can but don’t really see much in-field work, you know?” He was definitely struggling to describe his job to you, and you could imagine there was a lot of red tape and confidentiality around anything military he was doing, so you just nodded along and let him drop it. “But we still have a couple weeks stateside before we ship back out.”

You hummed at that, thinking over your own known schedule. “I can’t say I’ll have much time off before you need to leave, but I would like to see more of you, if you’re agreeable?” There was something special about this guy, and whether you were just friends or something more eventually, you didn’t want to waste your opportunity to have him in your life. Long distance anything was a lot of work, but you wanted him to know you were willing to try if he was.

“Do you like raisins? How would you feel about a date?”

---

That was how your unconventional romance with Frankie Morales started. You’d talked all night, and when the bartender kicked you and your groups out at closing time, he and his friends helped get your girls into their cabs. And once they were all taken care of, he had offered you his arm and walked you to your car like a proper, posh gentleman.

“Goodnight, paloma, thank you for such a wonderful evening.”

You had given him your business card, personal phone number and a flirty call me xx written on the back, and he in turn lifted your hand to brush a delicate kiss to your knuckles with a teasing wink. You went home that night mildly concerned you’d spontaneously combust from the heat blazing through your body. That man was a menace, and he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

He had called the next evening, and from there you spent as much time as you could together. Coffee dates, dinner and movie nights, even a walk in the park like some fairy-tale couple; he always greeted you with a bad pick-up line to make you smile, and a left you with a kiss on the hand at the end of your outings.

It was three wonderful but short weeks later that he got his ship-out date.

You were back at the dive bar where it all started, your friend (and some of her friends) and his all together again, to celebrate their last night of leave. The bar had unofficially become your ‘spot’, and you’d visited a few more times over the weeks, both as private dates and as group activities to get to know the rest of his squad.

It was bittersweet, saying goodbye to your new friends and your, well, Frankie. You had both agreed not to put labels or promises into your relationship until you were sure, and you were fine with that in the beginning when you were still strangers just interested in spending time together. But now you knew him, now you had feelings to back up your attraction to him, and now, he was leaving for who knows how long and you didn’t know if he felt the same way about you.

He must have noticed something was upsetting you, because he excused himself from his buddies’ conversation and held out a hand to help you up out of your chair.

“Join me for some fresh air, hermosa?” He was as courteous as ever as he led you outside into the chilled night, offering you his jacket and his side to cuddle into when you shivered. He was good at reading you by now and could tell when you wanted to work up to saying something without prompting, so he stayed silent and let you organize your thoughts.

You were struggling with your plan, with what you wanted to say to him, ask of him. He was rubbing your shoulder and you reached up to lace your fingers together, remembering the first time you held hands here at the bar…

Please don’t let me go.

That was your answer then, and it was still your answer now. You wanted him to keep holding your hand, now and for however much longer he could. You just needed to tell him that. Easy peasy. And because he’d made a sentimental dork out of you with his unending lines, you couldn’t think of a better way to confess to him. You looked up and met his eyes, allowing yourself to get lost in them.

“I must be a snowflake, because I’ve fallen for you.”

He untangled your fingers from his, pulling his arm away from where it was draped warmly over your shoulders, and took a step back to face you head on.

Oh gods, you wanted to rewind time and stop yourself from opening your big mouth, I’ve ruined it all.

Frankie snagged both of your wrists in his hands, startling you out of your downwards spiral as he tugged you close to his chest. He was staring down at you, brows furrowed and lips pursed seriously. Your hands were pressed between you, resting against his sternum over his steadily beating heart.

“Feel my shirt. It’s made of boyfriend material.”

And then you were both gone, laughing so hard you had tears in your eyes and grins splitting your faces as you held each other close.

You hadn’t ruined anything after all; you could cry you were so relieved.

Once you’d both managed to settle down, he leaned in and rested his forehead against yours, his own shiny eyes meeting yours earnestly. “I’m a terribly selfish man to ask this of you, but would you wait for me? Will you give us a chance? Exclusively?”

“Yes.”

Your first kiss together was there, on that cold night outside the bar where everything changed. It was soft and sweet, and you couldn’t wait for more.

---

Taglist:

@playbucky​

[artificialqueens]

Sweet like Sugar (Branjie) - Delia

AN: Hey lovelies! This is my first time writing fic, so please be gentle but also let me know what you think…a little Branjie sugar mommy for your nerves x ps: if you have any questions, comments or concerns feel free to hit me up on @thvnderfuckz pps: tw for some, very minor, implied daddy kink

BLH

25/F/New York City

I’m a 25 year old dancer from Toronto, working to start my career. I like fashion, nights out, and travelling. Seeking a partner who is fun, adventurous, and willing to support me in pursuit of my dream.

Brooke Lynn read over her bio for what must have been the seventh time in as many minutes and let out a sigh. Each draft that she’d written had sounded more robotic than the last. It’d been a long time since she had to write anything like this, having deleted Tinder, Bumble, and HER off her phone not long after she left Toronto. Since moving to New York, she’d discovered that she much preferred going out and finding women to hook up with in person. With her long blonde hair, dancer’s physique, and innate flirtiness, it was easy enough to find someone willing to take her home for the night. Easier, at least, than talking to a girl on an app for weeks, only to find out that she was interested in a long term commitment, and having to deal with their messy emotions after Brooke told them that she wasn’t interested. If there was one thing that she did not do, it was relationships.

And now, she was trying to get paid to be in one.

She’d be lying if she said that she never thought she’d be in a position like this. From the time Brooke had told her friends and family that she’d wanted to pursue dance as a full time career, she’d been given the “wouldn’t you rather something more secure” speech more times, and by more people than she could be bothered to count. Even her older sister Katya, who’d chosen to make abstract semi-sacrilegious art her vocation in life, had tried to suggest to her that she do something with a future that was less uncertain. But Brooke knew that she was born to dance, no matter what anyone tried to tell her to the contrary. If anything, their doubt fuelled her drive, and made it all the sweeter when she’d been offered a role in ensemble of the Broadway production of Moulin Rouge! upon her graduation from Ryerson. The moment that she’d stepped off the plane at JFK and stepped into the apartment that she would be sharing with another ensemble member from the show, Scarlet, she felt as though she was living her wildest dreams come true.

In all of her excitement at the time, Brooke forgot that the most wonderful dreams often lead to the harshest wake ups.

Four months into her run, the cast began to notice a dwindling number of fans at the stage door after each performance. Five months into her run, cast and crew alike began whispering about finding new jobs soon. Six months into her run, on a particularly humid Sunday in July, the cast and crew were gathered by the production team before everyone left the theatre and were told that the show would be closing at the beginning of September, after the Labour Day weekend. Brooke immediately started panicking at the prospect of being out of a job in one of the most expensive cities in the world. There was nothing she wanted less than to have to move back home to Toronto with her tail between her legs.

It had been two years since Moulin Rouge! closed, and although Brooke had managed to avoid making the move back home, she hadn’t been able to get a job performing since. She was always too tall, or too technical, or didn’t have enough personality. She’d been able to find a job in the meantime, teaching classes at a dance studio in Tribeca, but the money she made from that was barely enough to cover her necessities. It certainly didn’t cover luxuries such as brunch with your ex-roommate, as Brooke found out after her credit card was declined at her and Scarlet’s bi-weekly date. She barely had time to try and form an apology before she witnessed Scarlet reaching into her purse and placing a crisp one hundred dollar bill on the table, telling the waitress to keep the sixty dollars in change. Her embarrassed expression transformed into one of jaw-dropped shock as the redhead pulled her from the restaurant.

On the walk back to the subway, Scarlet revealed to Brooke that she’d been various “mutually beneficial relationships” with different men since she’d first moved to the city when she was 19, and that it had been her main source of income even while she was performing.

“It’s easy money, plus it’s kind of empowering,” explained Scarlet in her low voice, which still held a hint of the drawl indicative of her Southern upbringing. “It’s like, they have the money but I have all the emotional power. Without me generously donating my time to them, all these men have are their frigid marriages, or soul sucking jobs. A lot of the time the only thing standing between these powerful, rich men and a complete nervous break is me. And if that’s not power, I don’t know what is. So if I have to laugh at a few bad jokes and kiss a couple of CEOs to be able to live the kind of life I want, all while knowing that I could end any of these men at any given moment, then so be it.”

Oddly inspired by her friend’s speech, Brooke downloaded the sugar dating app onto her phone later that day.

And now here she was, sitting in front of her laptop at 11:00 pm on a Saturday night, drinking a bottle of wine and stress reading her three sentence bio for at least the tenth time. Fuck it, she thought, this is as good as it’s gonna get.

After clicking the “submit” button, Brooke was redirected to a page showing all of the potential sugar daddies in her area. As she scrolled through pages upon pages of photos of headless torsos, she became increasingly regretful of her decision to not filter out men immediately.

CEToEs

Disgusting.

KinkyExec

Nope.

DominantDaddy

Absolutely not.

Brooke was a lesbian, and had known that since she was 14. However, Scarlet told her that there were far more sugar daddies than sugar mommies in the New York area, and that a lot of the time the men didn’t necessarily even want sex. But as she clocked the usernames of several of the daddies on the app, it was clear that the redhead had either lied to her or was somehow the most blissfully oblivious girl in the city.

The blonde promptly returned to her settings page and deselected men as an interest. When she returned to the home page, she was delighted to see the profiles of fifty-or-so women pop up. She began scrolling again, hoping that someone would catch her eye.

WorldsMostPunkRockMoms

Meh. The two blonde women in the thumbnail picture were definitely beautiful, but Brooke didn’t know how she felt about getting involved with a couple who had a child.

Detoxicant

The woman in this picture looked like she’d had a lot of plastic surgery. Still, she was hot. Brooke tapped the little heart icon next to the photo and continued scrolling.

Toward the bottom of the page there was one profile that had a little green dot next to the thumbnail. Brooke took a little comfort in the fact that she wasn’t the only one on this app at this time on a weekend night. She clicked on the profile and two pictures filled her screen. The first was a headless torso shot of a woman wearing an oversized Versace t-shirt as a dress. Although her face was out of frame, Brooke could tell that the woman’s hair was a caramel brown, at least at the tips, and went to just below her collarbone. The second image was another faceless picture, but in this one the woman was wearing a spaghetti strapped red dress, showing off her deeply tanned skin and an, in Brooke’s opinion, weirdly specific chest tattoo of a hairless cat atop a red rose. The bio beneath the pictures read:

V 23/F/New York City

no face pics because i gotta stay lowkey. promise i’m not gonna kill you or anything like that, just lookin for a cute girl i can take out and trEat right.

Brooke rolled her eyes at the innuendo and let out a small huff of a laugh. The girl obviously had some sort of sense of humour, which she supposed was important. And it was pretty impressive that someone so young was in a position where they could support someone else financially.

The green dot was still displayed next to V’s username. She was still online. Brooke took a deep breath and clicked the chat icon at the bottom of the screen, typing out a quick, hopefully flirty-but-without-coming-on-too-strong, message.

BLH: I hate to break it to you, but saying ‘I’m not gonna kill you’ sounds exactly like what someone who would kill me would say ;)

Brooke quickly exited out of the app and opened up Instagram to check and see if Katya or her wife had added any new photos of their cats or dog. Before she could even begin typing her sister’s name into the search bar, her phone dinged, letting her know that V had responded.

V: hate to break it to you babe but saying youre looking for a partner sounds like youre tryna open up a lawyers office

Brooke swore under her breathe. She knew she sounded too robotic.

BLH: Oh god, I’m sorry. I’ve never done anything

V: lol relax mami, youre cute with all your worrying

She bit down on her lower lip, half in frustration and half trying to suppress a smile. V was already teasing her about her worrying, and they hadn’t even met yet.

BLH: Aren’t you more of the mommy in this situation though ;)

V: i mean i usually prefer daddy ;)

Brooke felt a quick rush of heat to her center at the word “daddy”. She closed her eyes trying to stave away memories of various nights in the alleyways behind various bars with various women.

BLH: I think I can make that work ;)

V: listen, not to be too upfront but youre gorgeous and id love to take you out sometime if youd want?

V: we could meet and figure out an allowance or something if thats what you want! ive done this once before and it was a really good experience for both of us…i gave her around $8000 a month for rent and stuff but we could figure out something specially for you if you need somethin different

Brooke could’ve sworn she felt her heart stop when she read the word “month”. She’d never been with one single person for more than three nights, much less on a month to month basis. But V seemed nice at least. And if not nice, she was at least experienced at this kind of arrangement, and was apparently quite generous to boot. Eight thousand dollars a month would cover her rent and utilities almost four times over. Eight thousand dollars a month would mean that she wouldn’t have to worry about getting her card declined at brunch. Eight thousand dollars a month meant that she wouldn’t have to pick up every possible shift at the studio, and could spend more time going to auditions.

Eight thousand dollars a month meant that she was definitely not turning V down right off the bat.

BLH: I’d love that. Name the time and place, I’m free when you are.

BLH: Daddy ;)

Brooke Lynn Hayhoe doesn’t do relationships — but for eight thousand dollars a month, she was willing to fake it.

[beatricethecat2]

if/then (2.0) - 19

So this was meant to end in a full arc, thereby getting Myka and Helena’s separation out of the way, but there was too much information to stuff into one chapter (I should know better by now). I’ll finish it up in the next one which will not go up as quickly as this one (give me a few weeks, folks). But the momentum is there and I’m hopeful I can keep going! Typos are all mine and links to previous chapters are in the replies. Also lemme know if there's too many things in italic. PS: Thanks to all of you who are still reading this and have left likes, I really appreciate the support after dropping the ball for so long!

////////////////////

“What about this one?” Abigail holds up a garment covered in clear plastic.

“That’s…” Myka’s stomach knots, she hasn’t pulled it out in ages. “You know what that is?”

"Should I?” Abigail looks it over again. “Oh! Maybe toss it entirely—”

“No!” Myka lunges forward but stops short of grabbing the dress, her hand balling into a fist then falling to her side. “Just pack it away, ok?”

“You sure?”

“It’s all I have left.”

“Of her?”

“Of my apartment. Of my old life. If it reminds me of her, that’s…that’s too bad.” Myka fishes a navy blue sock from the pile to avoid engaging with her grief. Better to gloss over it than risk another lecture from Abigail.

“Bad mojo anyway,” Abigail says, shoehorning the dress into a garment box.

“It’s me who’s cursed,” Myka clarifies, comparing the sock to several others laying over her thigh. “If getting rid of it would solve that, believe me, I would.” Finding no match, she lays it next to a brown one. “How many stray socks can a girl have?”

“You were never in one place long enough to keep track.” Abigail holds up another dress but lays it on the “to go” pile before Myka even responds. “Speaking of places, have you heard from Claudia lately?”

“No. She’s at some conference in San Francisco. We still haven’t managed to meet up.” But at least she’s back in the country, so she’s hopeful they will soon. Claudia did call her the first minute she could, but Myka was already on her residency.

“You’ll be gone again before she gets back?”

“Yeah.”

“Any word about...”

“No. And it’s driving Claudia nuts.” The ‘official’ word on Helena and Christina’s disappearance is that Helena finagled, in an intricate move the police had never seen before, out of her ankle tag and off into the night. Claudia was out buying groceries when it happened, but that alibi didn’t sit well with the cops. She was detained and questioned for weeks, even after a cashier and security footage corroborated her story.

“The nerve of her, cheating on you then taking off her kid. After all you’ve done for her.”

“I should have seen it coming. She talked about taking off all the time.” Myka looks at her lap and counts the socks on her thigh, needing something to help her stay calm. Claudia’s description of the police interrogation was more harrowing than the one she went through. “I’m still worried about them, though.” She’s sick of pretending to be hurt and angry all the time. Maybe she’s at that step in grief where she gets to back off a little.

“You’re too nice,” Abigail answers, pushing the sock pile to the side and sitting next to Myka on the bed.

“If she hears of anything, she’ll call me, but…I-I think they’re really gone.” Though she’s certain Claudia knows where they are, but can’t say and it’s killing her. It’s like living in an arctic winter, one where the sun never fully rises, waiting for the enormity of earth to tilt on its axis so daylight will finally break.

“Do you think they’re with—”

“Don’t.”

“You need to talk about it.”

“I have. I’m moving on. New job, new city, new life.”

“You have a life. Running away from it isn’t the answer.”

“What life? All I have here are shadows.”

“But LA? All muscles and makeup.”

“Why not? My job there won’t remind me of everything I’ve lost.” Myka slips her thumb under the socks on her thigh and slides them towards her knee. “This is stupid. I’ll do it later.” She tosses the bundle on the pile.

“Let’s keep going. I’ll empty your dresser.”

“Just dump it on the bed.”

“Uh-uh. You yelled at me when I dumped the socks.”

“To quote you, ‘I can’t control everything.’“

“I said stop trying to control everything. There’s a difference.” Abigail stands and walks over to the dresser. She slides a drawer out but balances it halfway as postcard flutters the floor. She bends down and picks it up, smiling as she reads the contents.

“I recognize a name here.”

“It’s for a show she’s in.”

“A show in LA. Are you meeting up with her there?”

“No. She’s back in São Paolo already.”

“But you’ve talked to her.”

“Emailed. Why?”

“You like her.”

“I like her work.”

“Her 'work,’ huh?” Abigail tosses the card at Myka.

Myka catches it like it’s a dainty football. She glances at the names then sets it on the bed. “The residency was really intense. It was nice to have a connection, professionally. We talked about our careers, where we wanted them to go. Besides, can’t I have other friends?”

“No.” Abigail teases, raising a brow.

“She’s nice and all but I’m not into her like that.”

“Maybe you should be.”

“Too soon.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Whatever.” Myka grimaces.

“You’ll change your mind once you’re in LA.”

“Now you want me to move?”

“If it improves your love life, I’m all for it.”

“Then you better dump that drawer or I’ll never finish packing.”

Abigail dumps a drawer of t-shirts next to the socks. “Don’t let your new job get in the way of romance.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Myka says adding a small salute. But that’s exactly what she plans to do, and Abigail knows it.

---------------

The instant her boxes arrive in LA, she’s sent back to the East coast to attend several high stakes auctions. She makes a quick stop in New York, though it’s a tight fit between Boston and DC, as she and Claudia’s stars have finally aligned. The few times they’ve talked, Claudia deviated little beyond the standard script. But she constantly reminds herself, were the truth were ever overheard, the whole operation would be in jeopardy.

Coffee shop next to work. You know the one. 8pm, Claudia had texted. It’s now 8:15 and Myka’s waiting, sipping overpriced water, sitting on a stool by a window. She watches people dip in and out of the subway entrance, focused only on their next engagement, envying their seemingly simple lives and ease movement. She’s ignoring the kid with a skateboard, the one texting from a bench outside. He’s probably her tail, or Claudia’s, as she’s learned to sense them these days. Better to be over-cautious than not cautious at all.

The coffee shop staff starts their cleaning duties. She checks the time, 8:23. Where is she?

Claudia bursts in just then. “Sorry, meeting. Stupid dude wouldn’t shut his pie hole. Gimme a hug! I can’t believe you’re here!” She opens her arms and Myka stands abruptly, knocking over her stool as Claudia sweeps her into a bear hug. It takes a moment for her to hug back properly, thankful there’s no pretense where Claudia’s involved.

“They’re gonna close soon. You want something?” Claudia eases up her embrace.

“I’m ok,” Myka says, holding up her water, but not taking her eyes off Claudia. Four months, she thinks. Nearly four months since she’s seen her. Seen them. And three since she talked to Helena.

“What?” Claudia says.

Myka can feel the wide grin tugging at her lips, relieved the see Claudia is safe and sound. She tries to tone it down for appearances but gives up after minimal effort. “It’s really nice to see you. And your hair...it’s, shorter. Redder.” She slips her fingers through Claudia’s brilliant blue streak.

“Needed a change, you know?” Claudia says with a shrug, then nods to the counter. “I’m gonna...”

“Yeah.” Myka watches her go, hyper-aware their every move is being watched and reported back to someone, somewhere. Morgana stressed this, before she left for LA, during a brief but unsettling chat on a packed subway platform. She turns back to the street, the skateboarder’s still there, now joined by friends conveniently skating closer to the window.

“Follow me,” Claudia says, returning with a cup in hand.

Myka grabs her bag and turns left out the door then left again after a few paces. They enter a set of double doors into a lobby, occupied by a giant red sculpture of a balloon rabbit. Corporate culture’s design choices have always confounded her, then again her new job taps into that aesthetic, so she should take note.

“Visitor,” Claudia says as they approach the front desk.

“ID?” the desk guy asks.

Myka fumbles through her bag then hands over her license. The man takes her photo then hands her a pass. She follows Claudia through a set of turnstiles, looking over her shoulder as she goes. The skateboarders have mysteriously disappeared.

“Sooo, how’ve you been?” Claudia asks, tapping her card on the elevator keypad.

“Busy moving. New job and all,” Myka replies.

“Must feel like Siberia here compared to LA.”

“It’s pretty cold. I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Can you believe it snowed last week? And they say climate change isn’t a thing.”

“It snowed in June in Colorado Springs once.”

“Yeah, but spring’s sprung here, man. I shouldn’t be digging out my parka.” The elevator doors open and they step out into a sparse lobby area. “This way,” Claudia says. Myka follows her down a white and clinical corridor, filled with doors like a dystopian office suite. Claudia waves her keycard over a panel and when the light blinks green, she pushes the door open, motioning for Myka to enter.

“All clear,” she says as the door clicks shut.

“Where are they?” Myka asks, dropping her bag on the floor and leaning, palms down, over the conference table.

“I don’t know,” Claudia answers, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You said all clear. I need to know.”

“I thought you knew!” Claudia counters.

“What? No.”

“Seriously? What the fuck H.G.?” Claudia looks towards the ceiling and throws her hands in the air.

“Claudia, I—“

Claudia holds up a hand. “First thing’s first. She didn’t sleep with her. She wouldn’t shut up about you needing to know.”

“I know,” Myka says, but her knees buckle slightly, a true confirmation hitting her harder than she thought.

“Second thing. This fucked up spy thriller shit is all to save your ass. I’m pissed at you for not reading me in when I thought we were working together.”

“We were but—”

Claudia holds up her hand again. “Then I get sucked into HG’s crazy-town vortex and spit out when she and the kid vanish.”

“You didn’t know?” How could that be? Claudia was listening in when Helena called, wasn’t she?

“I did, but not presto, chango, poof! Did you?”

“No! She said was they were being sent somewhere safe, that’s all.”

“Any ideas where they’d go?”

“Somewhere in the UK? It’d have to be, right?”

“They’ll have new identities.”

“Helena must have left some clues.”

“If she knew where they were taking her.” Claudia's eyes light up and she digs out her laptop. She sits at the table taps on keys.

Myka sits next to her. “You think she planned this beforehand?”

“With Christina involved? Hell, yeah.”

“What are you looking up?”

“I put feelers out but maybe we can narrow the search.”

“How?”

“Was there anywhere she blabbed about going? Somewhere she felt safe?”

“Her grandparent’s house.”

“Where were they from again?”

“One of those places with double consonants.”

“Myka, that’s most of Wales.”

“Bring up a map. I can find it. It wasn’t that far from Cardiff.” Claudia does as instructed, Myka angles the laptop, eyes following major roads north. “There.”

“You sure? Because look.” Claudia points to other similarly lettered towns: Cilfyndd, Senghenydd, Trecenydd.

“No, it’s Pontypridd,” Myka says, conjuring hazy recollections of Helena’s stories. “She said something about a bridge and ‘pont’ means ‘bridge’ in French.”

“Welsh ain’t French.” Claudia types in the town and clicks search. “Huh. 'Bridge by the earthen house.’ Bingo. But too obvious a hiding place, no?

“Christina said Helena was teaching her Welsh.”

“No, ‘Merry Christmas’ in Celtic languages.”

“So Scottish and Gaelic.”

“And Cornish. Oh and Guernésiais.”

“What’s that?”

“This weird French they speak on Guernsey."

“Soooo, then we’re back to anywhere in the UK.” Myka slumps down in her chair.

“There’s got to be somewhere else. Think!”

“Anywhere her parents went to a festival? Or along a river or canal. “

“That narrows it down.”

“Somewhere only we would know, somewhere no one else is looking.” Myka chews on a nail as she thinks.

“Where would MacPherson, Mrs. Fredric, Interpol, and The Feds not be looking.”

“The Feds?”

“They tried to hack me once. Must of got wind of what happened across the pond. Such amateurs. I totally screwed with them until they backed off.”

“Huh. Could they be hacking me to?

“Probably.”

“And isn’t Interpol on our side?”

“They want me to chill, so I don’t accidentally give away clues. Czar Kurlansky smacked me on the knuckles.”

“You’ve met her?”

“Kinda jumps on you in the weirdest places. Freak.”

“Yeah, she does that.” So Claudia’s being blocked and she’s being hacked. This is getting even more impossible. “What if we keep looking anyway, but throw out false information. And on the down low keep chasing them for real.”

“If we had something to chase? Sure.”

“Between the two of us, we’ll find something. We have to.”

-----------------

While Myka’s proud of the multilayered tale she and Claudia have been building, a few months later, they’re still no closer to finding Helena. There was some excitement over a legit search of Myka’s name, one originating in the UK, but when Claudia stripped it down, she hit a dead-end server in Estonia. Claudia even went to London to track down clues, talking with work mates and the police. But the longer they spin their wheels, the more their resolve wanes.

Myka throws herself into work to keep her mind off time passing, traveling most weeks across the country and beyond. She keeps to herself whenever possible, concentrating, with difficulty, on her paintings, attending art events only to make contacts for future shows.

She met with Amanda a few times when she was floating through town, her self-absorbed banter providing a slight reprieve from obsessing over Helena. Abigail, on the other hand, is entirely another matter. With her, she has no choice but to soldier through the lies. Details matter, so her front has to be ironclad. It’s exhausting but a good exercise if she’s ever questioned again.

Abigail begs Myka to take time off for her thirtieth birthday, so they can “celebrate being middle-aged together.” Myka tries to brush her off, saying she won’t even be in town, but Abigail forces her hand, threatening to show up on her doorstep anyway.

But when Abigail arrives, Myka is actually excited to see her. A friendly face is few and far between, and no matter the lies. Plus it’s comforting to be in the presence of a friend who knows her so well.

“That red-eye’s a bear,” Abigail says, scanning the room and shoving her bag between a pile of boxes. “Where’s your stuff?”

“I haven’t unpacked.”

“It’s been months! This place looks worse than Helena’s.”

“It’s habitable.”

“My Myka would have decorated place to the hilt by now, but this one…” Abigail waves a hand at her. “I don’t know who she is.”

Myka looks around the room to avoid Abigail’s accusatory glare. She’s right, the place barely has furniture or decorations, a far cry from anywhere else she’s lived.

“Now, come here and give me a hug. I haven’t seen you in ages!”

Myka strides forward into sinks Abigail’s extended arms. The familiar embrace warms her to the core.

“I’ve got a great night planned! But maybe a nap first. You do have a bed, don’t you?”

“Very funny. In there.” Myka points toward a door behind the kitchen.

After a late lunch and some quick shopping, they head out to a not-to-be-missed restaurant. They indulge in an opulent meal with copious wine, all the while catching up. Abigail relays the finer points of her research, while Myka rattles off work-trip anecdotes, and for a moment, it feels like old times.

As the meal winds down, Abigail calls a car but won’t tell Myka were they’re going. Twenty minutes later they’re entering a building with art deco sconces and terra-cotta griffins on the tableau. They take the elevator all the way to the top and step out into an open-air bar.

“Not bad, huh? Great view,” Abigail says, settling onto a stool overlooking downtown LA.

“Yeah. But it’s not New York, is it?” Myka replies.

“Oh, now you miss it?”

“To be fair, I haven’t gone out here much, so there’s no real comparison.” Myka takes a sip of her wine and looks around the room; she’s been avoiding places like this, ones filled with couples laughing, touching, kissing, reminding her of what she once had and maybe will never have again.

“Notice something else?” Abigail swirls the olive in her martini and but points her eyes towards the bar.

“No. What?”

“About the clientele.”

Myka looks again. It takes a moment, but she gets it. “It’s mostly women.”

“Exactly!”

“I’m not looking to meet someone.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Dressed like that, your chances are good.” Myka tips her glass at Abigail’s acquired-for-this-trip little black dress.

“Thank you.” Abigail grins as she looks down at her attire.

“So we’re here because you’re looking?” Myka asks.

“I’ll take my chances.”

“Or…” Myka narrows her eyes and sets her jaw. “You’re going to trick me into telling you who I like so you can try to hook us up. Like up used to do in grad school.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Abigail spears the olive in her glass with a toothpick and pops it into her mouth.

“I didn’t know you were into women.”

“I’m taking a page out of your book. Why limit myself?”

“True.”

“But if you don’t want to play the game, that means….” Abigail narrows her eyes.

Myka holds Abigail’s gaze and takes a sip of her wine, watching the wheels turning in Abigail’s head.

“That Luiza chick, the one from your residency you talk about all the time. What’s going on with her?”

“I don’t…we’re just friends.” It’s true, she has mentioned her a lot, but only to steer clear from talking about Helena.

“But you want to be more than friends, don’t you?” Abigail raises a brow accusingly.

“Why would you think that? You’ve never even met her.”

“There’s this thing called the internet. I looked her up. You have a type, you know: pale, dark, brooding.”

Myka shakes her head. “She’s not brooding. And her hair’s brown.”

“But it’s dark. And long.”

“She has bangs.”

“So?”

“Her eyes are blue.”

Abigail snorts a short laugh. “See, you’re into her!”

“Why?”

“What color are my eyes?”

“They’re, um…” Myka leans forward and Abigail opens her eyes wide. “Brown.”

“You just made my point.”

“It’s the first thing you notice about her! They’re really light.”

“That may be, but the way you’ve talked about her? You’re totally into her.”

“As a friend.’

“Oh, come on!”

“She’s out of my league.”

“A-ha!” Abigail hops a little off of her seat. “You’ve got to go for it. It’s way past time you move on.”

“She has a girlfriend, ok? Can we drop it?” Myka’s lips pinch together, disgusted with the topic and her impromptu fib, but she’ll say what she needs to to get Abigail off her back.

Abigail’s expression says she’s not buying it, that Myka’s knee-jerk reaction was over the top. She stares at Myka, weighing a response. Myka holds steadfastly onto her tongue.

“You could have told me that earlier.”

“I didn’t think I had to,” Myka gripes. These conversations, increasingly the norm, are driving her batty. All the half-truths and outright lies make her queasy to her stomach, like being on a boat that’s perpetually bobbing. If only she could tell Abigail the truth, that Helena’s out there, somewhere, waiting...

Abigail sighs. “How about that icy-hot blonde? The one checking you out when we ordered drinks.”

“No one was checking me out.” Here we go again. This is exactly why she didn’t want to go out.

“Oh, yes they were,” Abigail stresses. She points with her eyes across the room. “The Amanda-esque one, with cheekbones for days. Your other type."

Myka looks towards the bar where Abigail's pointing. The woman in question smiles as she catches her eye. Myka grits her teeth but swigs her wine to hide her disdain. Keep it together, Bering. Don’t let Abigail know you know her. “She wasn’t checking me out.”

“Oh, yes she was.” Abigail waggles her eyebrows and elbows Myka in the ribs.

“I’m not here to hook up.”

“Who cares! You need the practice. Go talk to her, get us more drinks. Oooh, ask her if she’s an actor.”

“Everyone here's an actor.”

“You’re not.”

Myka rolls her eyes. Actually, I kinda am. “If you like her so much, go talk to her yourself.”

“I will!” Abigail rises but Myka grabs her arm.

“Whoa, whoa, hang on. I’ll go.”

“I knew you'd be into her."

Into punching her in the face. Myka closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath, releasing it slowly through her nostrils. This pageantry grinds on her nerves but she has little choice. She reaches for her bag but Abigail blocks her.

“I started a tab, remember?”

“Right.” Myka swallows the lump in her throat as she stands and smooths her dress. She could have good news, give her a chance. She’s just keeping you safe like Helena asked her to.

“Need some flirting tips?” Abigail offers.

Myka turns back. Abigail’s grinning ear to ear.

“Like you have any.”

“Go get her, tiger.” Abigail winks and Myka rolls her eyes again.

She makes her way toward the bar by weaving through a few tables. As she approaches, Morgana scoots to the side, making room for her to stand.

“Can I see the wine list?” Myka asks the bartender, who magically appears to help.

She hands her the list. “Looking for something in particular?”

“Something light and not too sweet.”

“Try the Muscadet. It’s crisp,” Morgana suggests. “Or the Vinho Verde if like a bit of fizz.”

“Do you own this bar, too?” Myka snips.

“Would that surprise you?’

“I guess not.” While it’s absurd to be taking wine recommendations from this woman, she doesn’t have the energy to debate. “A Muscadet and another martini, please,” she says to the bartender.

“Coming right up.” The bartender nods and leaves to fulfill her order.

“Who’s your friend? She’s awfully pretty,” Morgana says eyeing Abigail across the room.

“Stop it. You already know who she is,” Myka grumbles. “Please tell me you’re the bearer of good news for a change?”

“I come with a warning. You and Claudia need to rein it in.”

“Rein what in?”

“Your chatter. You shouldn’t be looking for her so publicly.”

“Are we getting close?” They can’t be, they’ve literally been making things up as they go along.

“Claudia can push, but you can’t. There are rumors you’re not as innocent as you’re supposed to be.”

“So?”

“That puts the operation at risk. Puts Helena at risk. And Christina. You really don’t want that. “

“Did something happen?” Her eyes dart around the room, the queasy sensation returning from earlier. Did she do something to put them in jeopardy? Were they being watched all evening?

“They’re ok, but they won’t be if you don’t rein it in.” Morgana raises a brow so sharply it feels like a slap. “Settle down. Remember where we are.”

“A bar?”

“A public place. A social situation. Read my cues and act accordingly.”

“Flirt with you?”

“Act like we’re having a pleasant conversation or I’ll have to drag you into another room. And how exactly will you explain that to your friend?”

“Fine.” Myka smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

The bartender sets down her drinks.

“My friend Abigail started a tab,” Myka says and looks over at Abigail. Abigail gives a thumbs up and smiles enthusiastically. Myka smiles back, trying harder to play the part she’s been told she has to. She’d forgotten during dinner just how fucked up her life was.

“Got it,” the bartender says and moves on to the next customer.

Morgana lays a hand on Myka’s shoulder. “I know this is hard, but you need to step back. You’re taking too many liberties out in the open.” She squeezes her shoulder and lets go.

“Can’t I be over being mad at her? Can’t I care about her?”

“Publicly, no. Privately, yes. Remember, she cheated on you, disappeared without a trace, kidnapped Christina, ruined your life. You moved three-thousand miles away to forget about her and move on. If that happened for real, would you be looking for her?”

“Maybe?”

There’s a resolve in Morgana’s eyes that snaps Myka into line. This is serious. She’s right. I’m being selfish. We’re being selfish, Claudia and I. She wets her lips and nods in tiny, hesitant strokes. “Tell me what I need to do.”

“Take an interest in someone. Anyone. Maybe your friend, over there.” Morgana nods towards Abigail.

“Abigail? No way. She’s my best friend.”

“What better cover?”

“I need a best friend if I can’t talk to Claudia as much. And I wouldn’t, couldn’t, date anyone else. Lying about you is one thing, but dating…that’s too much.”

“Just take an interest in someone. Take it as far as your comfortable.”

“I hate this,” Myka grumbles.

“It gets easier with time.”

“That’s just a thing people say.”

“Just try.” Morgana twirls her tumbler between a thumb and forefinger, then tosses the remainder of her drink down her throat. She lifts her glass, motioning to the bartender for another. “You need to initiate this interest. Anyone pursuing you might be a plant. One slip up and….” She lays a hand on Myka’s arm again, but this time leans towards her, speaking in a near whisper in her ear. “They’ll use you to force the agency’s hand. And then no one’s safe.”

Myka shivers as Morgana’s hand skims down her arm and takes hold of her hand.

“Be strong for them. You can do this,” Morgana says, squeezing Myka’s hand then letting go. “I’ll give you the number of someone I can read in.”

The bartender delivers Morgana’s drink. Morgana leans over the bar and plucks a pen for the bartender’s apron. She writes a number on a napkin and hands it to Myka.

“Um, thanks, but…” Myka takes the napkin but can’t make a decision like that right now. Lying about dating someone she’s not actually dating might just break her spirit entirely. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Keep it, just in case,” Morgana says and waves the bartender away. “And be more mindful in general. Meticulously so. What will you tell your friend about our meeting just now?”

“That you gave me your number.”

“Good.”

Myka grabs her drinks but lingers. Morgana’s not very forthcoming, but she’s the only link she has to Helena. There must be something else she can pull from her, something to ease her mind, but what exactly that might be eludes her.

“I know this is foreign to you, but this op is a long game. I’m doing everything I can to make sure you both get out intact.”

“Thank you,” Myka says. Her smile is genuine this time.

“Need some flirting tips?”

“No. Why is everyone asking me that today?”

“Don’t overthink it,” Morgana answers. She leans forward and kisses Myka chastely on the cheek. “There. You’ve done your duty for tonight.”

Cool liquid trailing down Myka's skin alerts her that her hands are shaking. She sips Abigail’s drink to not spill more, thinking should have ordered something stronger than wine for herself.

“Happy Birthday, Myka. Now, go join your friend and enjoy the rest of your evening.”

-TBC-