TWO

"To live for the hope of it all..."

———

When Taylor went to the restroom at The Pearl, she was floating on a fizzy, dreamy wave of golden champagne.

The car ride from her Chelsea apartment to Midtown was painfully slow, but she'd loved it. She sat in the back of a black Escalade with her friends Martha, Ashley, and Gigi, laughing and conversing way too loudly while they sipped their bubbly drinks. They were all dressed gorgeously, wearing flawless, shimmery makeup and jewelry that glittered in the passing light beyond the windows. It had been a long time since she was comfortable doing anything like that. The fact that Taylor had left her apartment building through the front entrance to flashes of cameras, and wouldn't hesitate to walk past several more once they arrived at the restaurant was shocking. Honestly, it shocked her the most.

But 2018 had arrived, and she sailed into the new year on a surprising wave of optimism. 2017 Taylor would've been proud. 2016 Taylor would've laughed cynically and thought she was a fool. The 2016 version of herself was bitter, lonely, fearful; jaded by the isolation she had been forced to enter when it seemed like that was the best thing she could do for her career. The bleach-haired girl who had just broken up with a then-thirty-five-year-old never imagined there being a return to the public eye.

Though Taylor had come back to social media, she was scared. For over a year she'd protected herself by hiding. But she'd since reintroduced vulnerability to herself, to the millions of people on the Internet and the paparazzi that were delighted by her return (Well, perhaps delighted was a poor term. Even though her photos were what put dinner on their family's tables, every once in a while she had one who'd hurl a juvenile comment her way).

But despite the fact that she was scared, 2018 Taylor had one particular quality that served as the armor she hadn't had before: She didn't give one single shit about anyone else's opinion of her.

Now, almost two years after she disappeared, she was having a celebration dinner for the kick-off of tour rehearsals for her latest album. Taylor never imagined writing a record like Reputation, let alone that it would top the Billboard 200 in its first week. And she certainly hadn't thought she'd be preparing for a sold-out stadium tour. But that was exactly what 2018 Taylor Swift was doing.

Once they arrived at the restaurant, she felt the two glasses of champagne both in her head and bladder. While her friends joined her family and publicist, Taylor navigated towards the restroom. As soon as she stepped inside the lavish-looking room, the relative quiet made her realize she was perhaps a little bit more buzzed than she thought.

After fixing her gown back over her heels, she was about to exit the stall when she heard what sounded like crying mixed in with the distant jazz music. But it may have just been her slight-intoxication. It was probably just the music.

But when Taylor stepped out of the stall, she was met by a petite brunette standing at one of the sinks doing exactly what she thought she heard. Her outfit indicated that she was probably one of the servers, and the unopened bottle of champagne next to her seemed to support that narrative as well.

"Hey—" Without thinking, Taylor addressed her, startling the girl and causing her to immediately make for the exit. But since Taylor had come out of a stall by the door, the girl stopped suddenly and met her with a pair of glassy hazel eyes.

"Hey," Taylor repeated softly, troubled by the stranger's deeply sad appearance. She wasn't sure what caused her to say something. Maybe it was the alcohol, or perhaps because in recent years, she'd become familiar with sadness, too. "Are you all right?" She asked.

The wavy-haired girl muttered something she couldn't quite hear and nodded quickly. Before Taylor had the chance to say anything more, the brunette slipped past her in a few ghostly steps and disappeared out of the restroom.

Taylor frowned, then slowly walked up to one of the sinks. As she washed her hands, she thought about the girl's eyes swimming with glittery tears. Being a server at restaurant like The Pearl probably wasn't easy. It was most likely very shitty. But her sadness looked deep and much more complicated than the kind that came from a rough day at work.

After leaving the restroom, Taylor felt herself casually scanning the restaurant as she made her way back to the table. It was packed, but there was no sign of the server with the bottle of champagne. Once she'd greeted the other guests in her group and sat down, she tried to put the encounter aside. If there was one thing she'd learned since disappearing, it was that some moments just weren't meant to be dwelled on.

"Oh!" Her mother, Andrea, suddenly exclaimed, looking towards the other end of the table, "That isn't for us, is it?"

Taylor glanced in the direction, and sure enough, the girl from the bathroom was standing next to her brother, Austin, with a bottle of champagne.

______

A bead of sweat rolled between Dorothea's shoulder blades when her eyes landed on the woman from the bathroom, now seated at the High-Profile table. Since their encounter, she'd sucked back any remnants of tears and could now clearly recognize her. At least, she thought she did. The thing about serving celebrities was that no matter how many times she'd seen them on TV or social media or plastered across magazines and billboards, she tended to doubt her recognition. That was Taylor Swift who'd come out of the stall to find her blubbering over the sink. Wasn't it? But maybe she was another tall, fit-looking blonde with celebrity status. She could have been a model. Dorothea had served plenty of models in her past year of working at The Pearl.

Dorothea pasted a cheerful smile across her face. "Hi everyone, my name is Thea, and I'll be taking care of you all this evening," she greeted, lifting the bottle of champagne. "Would I be able to interest anyone in a glass of Dom Pérignon to start off with?"

"Yes, please! I'm all for more champagne!" A woman with darker blonde hair, who appeared close to Dorothea's age and was quite possibly on the cover of Vogue recently, excitedly clapped her hands together. She then leaned across the table, addressing the blonde in the black-and-red gown. "Get ready, T.! The night's only just getting started!"

T.?

Dorothea's hands trembled, but she managed to pop the cork on the bottle and earn a satisfied round of applause from the group. They all seemed to be very happy, which was good for her. She hoped they'd be relatively easy to serve, and then she'd only be that much closer to hopping the R train back to her apartment. Dorothea started at the person to the right of the woman she'd met in the bathroom, not quite ready for a second encounter so soon. Perhaps the blonde didn't even remember her, but the embarassment was still raw beneath her skin. She'd never lost control of her emotions at work until now. It was so out of character that she—Oh god—Was it because of her hormones?

After circling around the table, Dorothea finally arrived at the blonde's seat. When she carefully reached past her for her glass, she accidentally brushed up against the woman's bare shoulder, causing her to stop mid-sentence. "I'm sorry, excuse me—" Dorothea took a deliberate step back as she held the glass and poured the golden liquid.

"No worries! Thank you." The blonde gave a gentle, feathery laugh as she took the glass from her. She smiled at Dorothea, but then suddenly reached to touch her arm as she was about to walk away. "Hey, is there some left in there?" She asked, nodding towards the bottle. "If there is, would you want to join us? For our toast, I mean."

"Oh, sure! Yeah—" Dorothea nodded quickly. It was common that guests dining for a special occasion might ask the servers to join them in celebration. But as she was about to leave to grab a glass from the server station, she stopped. It wasn't supposed to have champagne. Dorothea turned, her mouth opened in an O shape, to see the blonde still looking at her. "Sorry. Actually, I don't think I should—"

"Are you sure?" The blonde frowned. "It's on us—"

"No—yeah. I mean, I'd love to join you! But I'll stick with water, if that's okay—" Dorothea stopped, feeling her cheeks burn but hoping the dim lighting wouldn't make it obvious. Why was she so nervous? As if her bad luck hadn't struck hard enough earlier, she was now being hopelessly awkward with one of the guests at her most important table of the night.

But the woman from the bathroom only gave another easy-going, encouraging smile. "Sure. We'll have it in the next few minutes," she said.

Dorothea smiled and thanked her, then quickly spun on her heels to go to the server station. Her entire body felt much warmer than before, even though the temperature in the room hadn't changed. Hot flashes already? She picked up one of the glasses and poured a serving of ice water nearly to the brim, then downed it in several gulps. The cool liquid immediately calmed her; brought her back to the present. Her thoughts already felt more rational. She'd tell Nick about It tomorrow.

She'd tell Nick about It tomorrow.

Tomorrow? Why tomorrow? No, she shouldn't. What if it was a false-positive? Did she really see those two lines? The moment in the employee bathroom was becoming so scrambled in Dorothea's mind, she wasn't sure what parts of her memory she could rely on.

She'd tell Nick about It...soon.

Dorothea poured another half-glass of water and turned to go back to the High-Profile table. When she arrived, the young blonde smiled at her again, which she returned but then quickly averted her eyes to the tall-looking, silver-haired man with glasses who'd started clinking his glass with a fork.

"Guys—hey—thank you all so much for joining us here tonight," he began (Dorothea sensed by his smooth delivery that this was definitely not his first toast). "Really, you know how grateful I am that you are here for my daughter—" Dorothea's eyes snapped in the direction of where he gestured, landing on the woman from the bathroom, "—and everything she's done for her career. All of you sitting here have shown nothing but unwavering support for Taylor. And from the bottom of my heart, I mean it when I say that has meant the world to me."

Dorothea stole a glance at the blonde again. Taylor. Taylor Swift. It had to be. Taylor's smile was now shy, but she could also tell the woman was very happy.

"I am so proud to consider you all a part of our family," an older blonde woman added, a note of teariness in her voice. "We don't know what we would've done without your love for our daughter. Taylor, would you like to say anything?"

"Ah—sure," the blonde fumbled, causing a few laughs and Dorothea to smile, as well. "Um, let's see. Well, I'll keep it short," she continued, "but like my parents said, all of you are seriously rockstars. I love you all so much—as if I don't drown you enough with my affection on a daily basis— but, yeah. I'm so fucking excited for this tour. Cheers to this next incredible chapter!"

Dorothea raised her glass with the others and dutifully sipped her water. Oh, how she wished it was the rest of the Dom. The chance to sip $150 champagne at work wasn't frequent. Had she not been paranoid and peed on that stupid stick, she'd be feeling those delightful bubbles swim into her veins right now.

She'd only learned about It two hours ago, and it was already taking control of the After.

Yet despite all of her bad luck that day, the High-Profile table ended up being a success. In fact, several of Dorothea's tables had given rather generous tips. But when Taylor had turned and given her the leather bill folio, and Dorothea gave a routine glance to check for cash or card, her mouth dropped at the seven hundred-dollar bills next to the black AMEX card.

"Oh, gosh. I—" Dorothea shook her head nervously, meeting Taylor's deep blue eyes. "Thank you, but you shouldn't have—"

"No, please. You've been wonderful," Taylor assured, nodding sincerely. She smiled, then slowly turned back to the conversation at the table.

Dorothea froze for a moment, but quickly forced herself towards the computer at the server's station. Seven hundred dollars from Taylor Swift? At least, she assumed it was her money. But why? Was it that fleeting encounter in the bathroom, that led her to give an almost two-hundred-and-fifty percent tip? Had she really looked that pathetic, sobbing over the sink?

No, of course not. The blonde was just being generous, probably. Dorothea had to remind herself that kind gestures weren't always out of pity. It just seemed that she often ended up only receiving them that way.

After printing the receipt, Dorothea bit her lip as she looked at the blank space at the bottom. Something told her the other guests hadn't been aware of the extravagant cash tip. But she wanted to thank Taylor.

At least for the good luck she never seemed to receive.

———

Taylor was finishing the last sip of her drink when she saw their young server coming back towards the table with the receipt. She waited until the brunette was a little closer, then turned and thanked her as she accepted the leather folio.

"Of course, thank you so much," the girl said. Her pink lips twisted into a quick, but grateful smile before she turned and left in the same way that she exited the restroom: like a ghost.

Taylor watched the girl —whose voice, she realized, had a twang that reminded her of sweet tea on a humid summer day in Tennessee— walk over to another table, then turned her attention to the folio. She knew money didn't truly solve problems, but she'd hoped it might give the girl a reason to smile, despite whatever was troubling her.

Taylor took the credit card out of the case and slid it across the table to her dad, and that was when her eyes landed on the bottom of the receipt. The purple-inked letters swooped in surprising flare, despite the girl's quiet, reserved behavior.

Thank you so much for your generosity.

It means more than you'll ever know.

Cheers,

Dorothea <3

———

(A/N: I'm going to try to have regular updates on Fri-Sat. Bonus parts on Tues, if I make good progress. Thank you so much for reading, I hope you're enjoying so far <3)