Starry Night

[b]The story so far[/b]:  As the Legion prepares to enter a new phase of existence, and after Elsie makes demands on Mack to known the entire story of the falling out between Tom and the Legionnaires, Julia arrives at Elsie's doorstep with a display of shock and awe to act as dissuasion from pressing the matter.  Meanwhile, Daria, Jane and Quinn check an item off their Legion 'to do' list by showing up at the Young People's Choice Awards.



In the background, someone screamed.  It was a member of a rock quartet in heavy rotation on Hits One.  His voice was intelligible yet cut through the party atmosphere like a razor blade.

"Why has he been screaming all this time?" Daria said.

"I guess he heard his own song," Jane said, smirking.  "That's the advantage of being a telepath.  You can just express your opinions without noise pollution."

Daria guided Jane away from the crowd.  "Watch out," Daria warned.

"You know," Jane said to Daria, "I'm just glad we were out in the audience and not giving out any awards."

"What?" Daria said. "You wanted to run the gauntlet another time."

Jane and Daria were at the Carlyle Hotel in Los Angeles for the afterparty.  (They didn't know if it was named after the Legionnaire, and they didn't want to do.)  Daria was working on water, and Jane was sipping a soda.  Daria had warned Jane that even though photography was supposedly banned from the afterparty, you couldn't trust anyone.  "Watch those selfies," Daria said.  "TMZ would love to get a photo of you drinking champagne."

"I've had worse than champagne," Jane said.  "But the soda is starting to go riiight through me.  So I'm going to have to abandon you.  Cry out if you're in pain."

"Got it.  Long Live the Legion," Daria said.

Daria could sense a palpable sense of relief after the Young People's Choice Awards was over.,  The tension had snapped.  Aside from the time when that guy jumped on stage to promote some YouTube reality show (and was dragged away by security), it was as [i]vacant[/i] and [i]boring[/i] as she thought it would be. 

Suddenly, she had an unexpected visitor. "Hi there," he said.

Daria knew who he was.  He was that star from that new teen slasher fic.  She had seen it, it was derivative of a much better film made in 1970.  But Daria held her tongue.

"My name's William."  She knew who it was.  William Webb, the newest pin-up.  She was surprised he was so freaking short.  Daria figured he couldn't be more than five-five.  [i]He's undoubtedly glad to meet a girl shorter than he is.[/i]  She found it annoying that he didn't give his last name.

"Daria.  Nice to meet you," she said, smiling and lying.

"I'm surprised you wear your glasses in public," William said.  "But at least they go with your gown."

"Not trying to impress anyone," Daria said, being polite.

"I liked [i]your picture[/i]," he said.  "You were smiling.  I could see your eyes."

[i]The picture[/i].  It was going to hang over her head for the rest of her life.  People saw what they wanted to in that picture and built a brand new Daria out of whole cloth.  She believed that William was having a conversation with the [i]imaginary[/i] Daria. 

"Well, if I had my glasses on, I would have picked more sensible underwear", Daria said.

William laughed.  "Let's get a real drink."

"Can't," Daria said, tilting her head downward at her water glass.  "[i]Youth organization[/i].  Hollywood actors can ride out a bad photo.  We can't."

"Oh, right," William said, not missing a beat. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Okay."

"I get the feeling you've got a hard job," William said.  "I wonder what it takes to please you, Daria. [i]That's the job I want[/i]. Part time, full time, I want to be good at it, bad at it, I want to get promoted, fired, corner office, hostile takeover, workplace accident. I'm on my knees, Daria.  I'm praying, worshipping, begging, whatever you want." 

He gave Daria a heartbeat to take it in.  "What do you think about that?"

Daria squinted at him.  "Those lines were totally ripped off, William.  And so recent."

"I'm not a writer," William said.  "I leave creative decisions to other people.  But wherever you are tonight, Daria?  That's where I want to be.  I want to be in your production, and I want to audition for you.  And I am willing to do [i]whatever it takes to get this part[/i]."

"Sorry, William," Daria said.  "The casting couch is closed."

"No problem," William said, betraying zero disappointment.  "Sorry to interrupt you. I hope you enjoy the rest of the night.  I still like your work!"

"Thanks!"  William walked away.  Daria finally exhaled.  [i]Damn[/i], she thought.  [i]He should have won an award for that.  I suspect he'll be auditioning for [b]someone[/b] tonight.[/i]

Jane said "HI!" behind Daria five seconds later and Daria almost jumped out of her shoes.

"What the hell?" Daria said.

"I saw you there with William Webb," Jane said. "Oh Daria...[i]what's he like[/i]?"

Jane started giggling.  "Very funny, Jane," Daria grumbled.

"[i]The casting couch is closed![/i]  Brutal!"

"Thanks for helping out a fellow Legionnaire.  You could have run interference."

"Man," Jane said.  "You've put yourself through the ringer tonight.  You smiled, you were polite.  You even stood on the red carpet and let that 360 degree camera thingie surround you so that they could see every angle of your hot hot bod."

"That's the Fashion Cam, Jane."

"Sure it is, Daria.  Sure it is."

"You do remember that I sent you a telepathic message when they were getting those snaps?"

"Yup," Jane said.  "But '[i]kill me[/i]' is so open to interpretation. I was trying to figure out if it was literal.  By the way, where did Quinn toddle off to?"

"Who knows?" Daria said.  "This is more her scene than mine."

(* * *)

"And anyway," Quinn said, "didn't that guy who got the award for Best Kiss look just [i]terrified[/i]?"

Quinn had already gathered a small group of hangers-on.  She didn't recognize any [i]important[/i] names, but she was glad to have someone to talk to that wasn't Daria or Jane.

A young man on his fourth drink laughed too loudly. "You know what goes through their heads when they get an award?" he said.

"What?" Quinn asked.

"[i]Oh sweet Jesus, this is the end![/i]" he said, laughing as if he had told the funniest joke in the world.

"That's funny, Brian," Quinn said, not meaning it.

"I mean," Brian said, "when you're an actor...you get one of those statues and you think 'what if this is it?'  This could be the very top of your career.  It could be all downhill from that moment. All winning one of these things does is make you fucking paranoid.  The next day, if you're phone isn't ringing off the hook - !"

He then make a sound like a man having his throat cut and made the throat-cutting motion with his hands, and then laughed uproariously.  Quinn notice that the other entertainers chuckled but were distinctly uneasy.  She wondered if it was because of his behavior or what he said.

Suddenly, her hangers-on parted like the Red Sea.  Someone [i]important[/i] had entered Quinn's personal aura.

Quinn knew it must be someone important for two reasons.  She had her own hangers-on that bumped Quinn's out of the way, even Brian.  And unlike Quinn, the woman's hangers-on didn't speak.

It took her a few seconds to figure out who it was.  It was [i]Ylem[/i].  The big eyelashes were Ylem's trade mark.  She had huge dance hits like "Dishonesty" and "Live in Pain".  She had millions of downloads and Instagram followers and was a titan in her twenties.

"Hello?  Quinn Morgendorffer?" she purred.  "I'm [i]Ylem[/i]."

Quinn didn't know what to say.  She couldn't say "I'm Quinn" because Being Quinn wasn't a trump card.  She couldn't say, "I've heard all your songs" because that was the same boring crap that everyone else told her.

"I'm glad you're here," Quinn said, in sincerity.

It pleased Ylem, apparently.  "You have perfect skin.  Do you do skin detoxification?"

"No," Quinn said.  "I think it comes with being a redhead."

"Can I get a selfie with you, Quinn?"

"Sure!" Quinn knew that it was going to go out on Instagram.  Millions of people would be looking at Quinn and Ylem.

Ylem got close to Quinn.  Very close. She leaned into Quinn, rested both of her hands on QUinn's left shoulders and placed her head in the nape of Quinn's neck.  Ylem's shampoo smelled like blueberries.  Quinn could smell French perfume and hair product.

Ylem then freed one hand and while her assistant took the picture, she placed two fingers of a hand at the small of Quinn's back that caused Quinn to breathe in unexpectedly deeply from the surprise.  [i]"Je vous aime,"[/i] she whispered to Quinn as Quinn gained control of her lower lip.  "Carlos will give you my number.  [i]I expect a call[/i]."

After the 'selfie' was complete, Ylem said to her assistant.  "Make sure it's perfect," Ylem said, referring to the picture. "Quinn, great meeting you.  I admire your work.  [i]We'll chat later.[/i]"  She then disappeared, a frigate or destroyer easily sailing in straight lines through rough oceans.

(* * *)

"Look at that guy," Jane said.

"Six o'clock?" Daria asked.

"Where is your six o'clock?" Jane said.  "Behind you?  At your feet?"

"I meant twelve o'clock."

"Boy, I hope you don't make a mistake in a fight like that," Jane said.  "Yeah.  Pointy-Headed Boss over there."

The man did look like a Dilbert character. He was glaring in their direction.  "What about him?"

"He is throwing some [i]serious[/i] shade.  I'm tempted to have a chat."

"Forget it, Jane," Daria said.  "He's a producer.  I know him."

"How?"

"It's a thing I do."

"Care to read his mind?"

"I don't care to open that casket.  The guys at this party?  I'd have to take epicac afterwards if I knew what they were thinking.  It's always about sex, always."

"You save your libidinous urges for Michael," Jane snarked.  "I don't get what you see in him."

"Why do you seem to dislike him so much?" Daria said.

"Too plain.  Even Tom provided some thrills," Jane said. "Until he went Full Douchebag on us."

"Congratulations, Jane.  You just answered your own question."

"You didn't answer [i]all[/i] my questions," Jane said.

"Like what?"

"Daria?  Are...[i]are you a woman now[/i]?"

Daria snarled.  "[i]I hate you[/i]."

"Bullseye," Jane grinned, starting another soda.

(* * *)

Quinn checked her makeup in the bathroom.  [i]Congratulations[/i], she thought as she put together her makeup.  [i]I'm the most powerful person in this hotel and I'm shaking like a leaf.  Girl, I do not look forward to Carlos getting in touch with me.  Or talking to Danielle!  Or Ylem!  Or all three![/i]

Quinn took a compact out of her purse to serve as a side mirror.  "Whew," Quinn said.

Two other young women - teen starlets - entered the bathroom, laughing.  "Come in here with me," one said to the other.

"No," the other one said, coyly.

"I said," the other one said, "[i]come here[/i]."

The other gave a squEEEEEEAAL that was ear-splitting as the one dragged the other into the bathroom stall. 

Then it got quiet.  Quinn saw, aghast, through the bottom of the stall divider, four feet, expensive shoes, on tippy-toes, moving closer, more intimate, giggles, joyful noises from behind the door - !

Quinn practically ran out of the room.  She wanted to be anywhere but there.

(* * *)

The lock on the door opened, and Daria and Jane stepped out onto the roof of the Carlyle Hotel.

They were immediately greeted by a security guard, who nearly drew his weapon. "Excuse me?" he said.

"Sorry about that," Daria said.  She used her power.

>> - IT'S OKAY.  THERE IS NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT.  WE ARE HARMLESS. - <<

The man calmed down.  "You shouldn't be up here," he said. 

"Hotel security?" Jane asked.

"Yep."

"Sorry officer," Daria said.  "We just wanted to look around.  We promise not to take long."

"Okay," he said.  "You shouldn't stay longer than five minutes though."

"More than enough time," Daria said.

Daria and Jane walked over to the side of the hotel.  Hollywood was ablaze with light all around them.  The spotlights were still over the site of the award show.

"Jane," Daria said, "I have to admit I had an ulterior motive in bringing you here."

"I'm not surprised," Jane said. "I mean, this really isn't your kind of gig.  I like watching the human disasters all around us.  I'm just happy that no one had us speak and all we had to do was show up and be seen."

"Yeah," Daria said.  "Do you remember back then?  Before the skunk?"

Jane said.  "Yep.  A lot has happened since then."

"Too much," Daria said.  "I remember when no one gave a rat's ass what we did.  We were on the bottom of the totem pole.  My main goal in life was to embarrass my sister.  And now...here we are."

Jane looked out at the skyline.  "We moved on up, I guess."

"Not as great as it looks, is it?" Daria said.  "But even knowing the imperfections, I'm astonished at how far this has come."

"Yeah, well getting spritzed by a lightning skunk will do that do you."

"I don't think we can attribute all of [i]this[/i]," Daria said, indicating the glamour of Hollywood, "to superpowers.  I mean, we actually tried to make this work.  This Legion thing.  Did you know that there are 700 Legion chapters in the United States?"

"Are you trying to [i]embarrass me[/i]?" Jane said. "I still can't believe it.  I have seen a lot of weird shit with these superpowers.  But I think that fame is the weirdest shit of all.  When I go to Munich?  [i]I'm not going to miss that.[/i]"

"I didn't think you would," Daria said.  "We did good.  And if you hadn't dragged me into this Legion thing by saying 'yes' to Russell Stark - [i]I would have missed it[/i]. So this is my way of saying 'thanks'."

"You have a weird way of showing affection, Daria," Jane said, smiling.

"Sorry. But my weirdness is a package deal.  Take it or leave it."

"Didn't Upchuck say that a long time ago?" Jane said.

"I steal from the best," Daria said.  "And I'm going to miss stealing from you."

"Hey," Jane said, all seriously. "It's not like I'm dead or anything.  If you need me, [i]amiga[/i]?  I'll be there."

"But it will be hard letting go," Daria answered.