THIRTY

"And there's nothing like a mad woman...

What a shame she went mad..."

———

June 19th, 2018

"'Friends from school.' That's all she said?"

"Pretty much,"

"There's probably more to it,"

"Really?" Taylor frowned slightly as she looked at Gigi over FaceTime. She was sitting in her makeshift dressing room at Wembly Stadium, waiting for her stylist to arrive. Her girlfriend was off somewhere outside near the stage, helping set up the camera equipment.

"I don't know. Did you ask Thea how she met her?" Gigi said, her voice crackling over their spotty connection.

"No," Taylor admitted, "and I got the sense that she really didn't want to talk about it. But I wanted to ask."

"So ask her,"

"Okay, but how am I supposed to do that?" Taylor pressed. "If I ask Thea now, she's going to assume I've literally been thinking about this Sophie chick since yesterday!"

"Would that assumption be false?"

"Not the point."

"Okay, well, I suppose you don't necessarily have to be direct about bringing up the subject of some random blonde from your girlfriend's past. Although that would be my approach—"

"Gigi—"

"So maybe you start off with something like, 'Hey babe, I'd love to see some of those photos you took when we went to Hyde Park the other day!' And then she goes, "Oh, of course, my love!' And yada-yada, blah-blah-blah...A few pictures later you say, 'Hey, remember how we ran into your friend from college? What was her name again?'"

"Is that really how you think we talk to each other?" Taylor deadpanned.

"I'm trying to help you," Gigi countered, swiping out of the app and causing her face to disappear. "But now I'm curious, too. What's her last name?"

"She's not on social media," Taylor said.

"What!" Gigi's face returned, eyes full of intrigue. "No way. That's so weird."

"So fucking weird," she agreed.

"Well, what was your impression of this Sophie girl? You actually saw her in person, while I'm here relying on your minimal descriptions—"

"I already told you. She didn't seem like a serial killer or anything. She seemed friendly. From the distance, anyway," Taylor said. After a moment, she added, "It was just a little odd."

"That's exactly what a serial killer would want you to think."

"I'm willing to go out on a limb and declare that Sophie is not a serial killer," Taylor determined. "I'd like to believe my girlfriend wouldn't be friends with a murderer."

"But she's definitely odd," Gigi noted.

"Odd, indeed."

Taylor glanced over her shoulder as her stylist entered the room. It was hard to tell, but she also caught what sounded like Dorothea's Southern twang floating from farther down the corridor. "Okay, I've gotta go. Talk soon?" She said, turning back to Gigi.

"Sure. But you and Thea should probably talk first," the blonde suggested.

"Obviously,"

"Mhm," Gigi hummed. "By the way, what does she know about Karlie?"

"Bye Gigi!"

Taylor hung up right as the model started laughing, then smacked her phone face-down on the vanity.

———

"Hey, by the way...You were hot tonight."

"You were hot tonight."

"Me?" Dorothea laughed. "I don't believe you. There's no way you could see that far."

"Didn't I tell you I had lasik a few years ago?" Taylor smiled, reaching for her seatbelt in the backseat of the SUV.

"Doesn't give you superpowers," Dorothea quipped, though she smiled in the darkness, as well.

"Tell that to my x-ray vision,"

Dorothea froze as she was about to buckle herself in, then squinted as she looked at the singer sideways. "Liar."

"It's okay to be jealous." Taylor shrugged.

"What color's my underwear?"

"And if Ted wasn't currently sitting in the driver's seat, I'd entertain that question,"

"You're full of shit."

Taylor shrugged again and looked out the window as they exited the stadium lot. "Maybe so."

Dorothea smirked as she looked at the blonde across the backseat. She observed a few specks of glitter on her face that hadn't been washed off. Her girlfriend was also still wearing the rich, dark shade of lipstick that had characterized her look for every show. Dorothea had come to know the taste of it quite well. If it weren't for Blood-Sucker doing her nightly gymnastics in her uterus, she would have launched across the car and sucked every last bit of flavor off of Taylor's lips right there.

Instead, she leaned back and closed her eyes. It had become routine after each show: they rode back to wherever they were staying in silence while Dorothea caught a quick nap, then after that it was anyone's guess. Sometimes they collapsed on the bed in a mutual heap of exhaustion. Most nights, though, they ended up fooling around. Yes. Lots of fooling around. Just when Dorothea didn't think she had a drop of energy left to spare, Taylor's eyes in the shadows of any bedroom proved her wrong.

Dorothea sighed heavily. She was suddenly desperate to get back to their hotel. She'd get into the shower and turn the water on as hot as she could stand, and perhaps while Taylor is brushing her teeth at the sink, she'd reach out and grab her for the experience. Taylor would scream and yell at her for getting her pajamas soaked and Dorothea would laugh uncontrollably as the steam coated her lungs. She'd put her lips against the singer's skin and trail her limbs, struggling as the water and steam made it harder and yet that much more critical that they pressed their bodies into one.

"...Thea! Your phone?"

Dorothea suddenly blinked her eyes open, deflated and somewhat irritated as she was brought out of her wandering thoughts. She grabbed the buzzing device off the seat, not bothering to look at the Caller ID as she swiped across the screen. "Hello?" She answered.

"Thea!"

"Oh my god—"

"Hello! Hell—O? Thea!"

"Sophie?" Dorothea exclaimed, the name immediately sending Taylor's eyes her way.

"Hello? Did you hang up on me? Thea, you little bitch—"

"No! Sophie, I can hear you! What's—"

"You can hear me!—She can hear me!"

"Sophie. What's going on?" Dorothea was basically shouting, but so was her former roommate. The background noise from the other end of the phone was easily swallowing the silence in the car.

"You were supposed to meet me!" Sophie cried.

"What?"

"At the pub! You said you would come to Paddington! I'm at the pub—"

"I never said that!" Dorothea argued, meeting Taylor's eyes. "Sophie, what are you talking about? We didn't make any plans!"

"I waited and you never came! So I left and now I'm somewhere else—"

"Wait! So where are you? Are you at the pub or not?"

"That's a good question—Hey! Yeah—You! What's this place called?"

"Sophie, who are you with right now?" Dorothea pressed, "Anyone? Are you alone?"

"All alone at Club Marx thanks to you! I can't believe you, Dorothea Madison! After everything we've been through—"

"Yeah, whatever. Stay there. I'm coming,"

Taylor stared at Dorothea after she hung up and threw her phone down on the seat. "What the fuck was that?"

"She's drunk," Dorothea replied, dragging her hands down her face. She then groaned, "We have to get her."

"I'm sorry, what?" Taylor's eyebrows furrowed in confused shock. "Why is that our responsibility?"

"She's alone, T.,"

"And?" The singer prompted.

"And what?" Dorothea asked loudly.

"Why is this our problem?" Taylor exclaimed, incredulous. "Thea, this girl you've never mentioned literally comes out of nowhere, and suddenly you're dropping everything at two in the morning to go play fucking cab driver?"

"What am I supposed to do?" Dorothea argued, "She's my friend!"

Taylor sucked in a breath, and Dorothea could sense that she was holding back whatever threatened to escape her thoughts. Before she could say anything more, the singer muttered, "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Let's go help your friend."

The last word stung Dorothea's brain for the following ten minutes as they rode in silence towards the club. At almost every stoplight she opened her mouth, as though to say, Actually, never mind! You know what, T.? Screw Sophie Carter! Let's go back to the hotel and forget about this while we fuck each other senseless! But she didn't say anything of those things. Instead, at each opportunity to turn the situation around, she sat wordlessly, as though she forgot how to speak.

It was obvious that Taylor wasn't a fan of Sophie. Dorothea wasn't necessarily thrilled, either. But this wasn't Sophie; this was Drunk Sophie.

Drunk Sophie had a way of luring sympathy out of Dorothea. It was a trap. It always had been. Drunk Sophie was just as smart as Sober Sophie in terms of getting a woman exactly where she wanted her.

"Shit! That's her, right there!" Dorothea pointed across Taylor to the figure that was walking down the block. She unclipped her seatbelt and opened the door as Ted just barely rolled to a stop. "Sophie!"

The woman spun—wobbled—around to face them. Dorothea's eyes widened with alarm at the state of the blonde, swaying in her heels as though she was on a ship lost at sea.

"Thea! No shit!" She slurred, her voice bouncing up and down the residential street. Despite her condition, Sophie immediately noticed the singer trailing behind Dorothea. "Whoa. Who is this?"

"My girlfriend," she sighed.

"Bullshit!" Sophie crowed, laughing just as loudly. She then turned to Taylor with a loopy, drunken smile. "She's always makin' shit up. Did she pay you to follow her around or somethin'?"

"At first. She's sort of behind on payments, though." Taylor smirked.

Sophie snorted, then teetered around to Dorothea. "She's funny. I like her!"

"Glad to hear it. Where are you staying?" Dorothea asked.

"Dorothea used to be my girlfriend!" Sophie announced.

"Really?" Taylor asked, turning to Dorothea, whose skin had transformed to the color of ash.

"Don't worry. That was a looong time ago! There's nothing there anymore! Well, I don't think there is..."

"All right." Dorothea took Sophie by the arm. "It's late. Come on, let's go."

"And whose fault is that, Dorothea Madison?" Sophie declared, pulling out of her grip and crossing her arms. "You were supposed to meet me at the pub. I waited for two hours and you stood me up—"

"Oh my god—We never made plans!—"

"—I waited for you!" Sophie rambled. "I got upset thinking about it and I still waited because I was worried about you. And then I called Nick! I was so mad, when he picked up I was like, How much more of a fucking asshole could you be? How could you break up with Dorothea when she's pregnant!—"

The world surrounding Dorothea went utterly still. Her vision tunneled as she stared into the drunken gray eyes staring into her own. Her ears began to ring.

In a flash, she lurched towards Sophie, but quicker still were Taylor's arms as they wrapped around her waist and yanked her back.