This is a stupid idea.
Why am I doing this to myself?
This is stupid, Roseanne.
I'm going to crash and burn.
Roseanne's closet door swung open as she stared at the beautiful black dress that had sat crumpled in the back of her closet since Christmas day. It had been wrinkled and obviously uncared for, but she knew that all she had to do was hang the silk in the bathroom with her while she showered and that would be remedied. Lisa had taught her that.
And so it was hanging there while Roseanne's mind ridiculed her, insisting that going was a dumb thing to do.
She stared harder, putting all of her hate into it.
"It's a good dress," John said.
She had called him after the phone call with Jacqueline, and John had hightailed it to her apartment the moment he heard she was in tears - again. He was sitting behind her now while she glared.
"It was a good dress," she said as if the dress had died.
"And what did she say again exactly?"
"'We both know it would be to your benefit to attend tonight.' She clearly doesn't give a shit about Lisa, so I think she's threatening to give away my spot in the Lyric audition."
"You think she would?"
Roseanne gave a one-shouldered shrug, her eyes still on the dress. "If I don't do what she wants, yeah. She called herself my benefactor. Lisa called her my benefactor, too, so I think I have a benefactor. Whatever the fuck that means in this situation."
"Well, she did get you the Lyric audition."
Roseanne turned. "Is that what a benefactor does?"
"Dunno, Park. Never had one. I think so. Gets you gigs, gets your name out there, sets up auditions. Kind of like an agent."
"Great." She glared a few more daggers into the dress. "Don't you usually have to agree to those types of relationships?"
He nodded, not so much as a yes, but because he was deep in thought, chewing his lip. "You know Danny?"
"Substitute cellist, right?"
"Said he tried to get a spot in the audition, said they laughed at him."
"Assholes," she muttered, but she understood his point – and resented it. If she wanted the audition, she needed to continue to kiss Jacqueline Manoban's ass until the very last moment because the spot she had was not to be taken lightly. She knew it. She just hated it. "I don't know if I want it anymore."
John let out a scoff at that. "Oh, don't be stupid, Ro. Of course, you do. Everyone wants that job. Or at least everyone wants a job like that. You would be salaried... as in steady paycheck... a steady good paycheck, whether you play or not. And, I don't know if you've realized this, but if you're full-time then you can say you play for Lyric! You want the job, I promise. A breakup doesn't change your dreams, kid."
A breakup.
Those words still sliced at her skin.
"Unless, you're just planning on going to Louisville now, I guess," he added; his voice so low it was a sad whisper.
The thought of Louisville made her shoulders tense and ache. She chewed her lip. "I'm thinking about it," she admitted. "I'm not going to win Lyric. I mean, you just said it, didn't you? Everyone wants this job. There's no way I'm landing it, and I need something stable, Hart." They both fell silent, knowing neither wanted to talk about it, knowing that Roseanne wanted to run and John didn't want her to. "Luke needs something stable. He deserves that."
Tears fell down Roseanne's cheeks, and she brushed them angrily away.
"Look." He stood and began to massage her shoulders. "She'll be there tonight. Go looking all hot and sexy... and emotionally stable. She will want to talk to you. It worked last time, right? If you got it, then you flaunt it and show off what she's stupidly giving up. So."
He turned her toward the door and gave her a smack on the rear, laughing when she hissed and turned to punch him in the arm. "Abuse! Abuse!" John cried, swatting her hands away for a moment. "Just get in the shower, Roseanne. Get in the shower and do your hair and makeup. That's all you're doing right now. Then we will see what happens next."
She gulped and turned back to the dress.
He was right, it had worked last time. She had gone and made herself available... and hot... and Lisa had caved. Maybe she really would talk to her.
It wasn't as though she had any other ideas about getting Lisa to speak to her.
Roseanne took extra care as she showered, washing and shaving everything twice. When she blow-dried her hair she curved the brush, painting it into her best lion's mane. She spent a long time listening to Luke and John play in the living room as she painted her face, coloring her eyes with dark gray shadow, drawing her lids out in thick black cat eyes in honor of the evening's black and white theme. She shadowed her cheeks with a soft black blush and finished the look with perfectly shaped black lipstick. When she was done she took a step back.
It wasn't perfect.
Amy, the makeup artist from Halloween, had previously been booked to do her makeup again tonight, and this had nothing on what she could have done.
But this would have to do. Roseanne was jarring on the eyes, stark and angled.
It was beautiful body armor, and her game face said she was ready.
She wasn't, though. She wasn't ready to play for the Chicago elite. She wasn't ready to deal with Jacqueline and her questions, and she really wasn't ready to see Lisa or to be refused again.
She let her features twist until she found her own regal mask and studied it. She knew she was being dumb. Lisa was done with her, of course she was, but if she was going to go to this stupid event, then she had to try at least once.
She pulled on the sleek black dress and heels then stepped out in front of her men.
"Whoa, mama," John whistled.
"Wow, Mommy. It's not Halloween!"
For the first time in five days, her lip almost twitched into a smile. "No, it's not, kid."
John whistled again. "If she turns that down, Park, then you need to find yourself a better woman."
Roseanne knew that parts of her life had been harder than average. She knew that had shaped her and made it so she could face most things head on. When you had been rejected at every turn, unwanted, unloved, and alone, it made it easy to face. It made your skin thick. Still, there had been little in her life that was as hard as stepping out of the car Jacqueline sent for her.
She could see the line of paparazzi waiting for their victims to walk through their trap, and she wasn't sure she had that in her. She had felt like a stone-cold statue throughout the ride, letting her makeup hide the eyes that had been bleary, the cheeks that had lost their warmth; but now, she wasn't sure she could be who she needed to be in order to pull this off. Did she want to? Maybe she should just go home. For an obscene moment she even wished that she had brought a date, even someone like Ash. She didn't care who, just so long as they would keep her company, keep her from being alone in there.
