Chapter Three: Hey, Glamour Girl
"One cheeseburger and fries, two Moonbeam specials, side of coleslaw," Mary Jane yelled over the counter, clipping the order ticket to the wheel and spinning it around. The cooks would put it back on the tray when the order was up. MJ moved to start filling drinks for the booth in the corner.
Actresses were supposed to wait tables, it was a tradition, right? Like writers were supposed to starve. It sounded romantic, the down-and-out part at the beginning of a star's success story. But it wasn't romantic while you were doing it. The redhead delivered the drinks to the customers at the booth, who thanked her and went on talking about the Yankees chances in the series. A screaming kid a few booths down was giving her a headache, so she rummaged behind the counter for the crayons and cheap coloring sheets that were kept there. The harassed mother gave her a grateful look when she brought them out and the kid, distracted, stopped yelling. She took an order form a group of construction workers who gave her the once-over and managed to make ordering hamburgers sound rude. One of the cooks yelled 'order up!' and Mary Jane hustled back to the counter between the diner and the kitchen. All for sub-minimum wage and whatever you could get from a cheap public in tips. After working here for four months, she found herself dreaming about taking orders and was sure that the smell of grease was never going to come out of her skin. Man, was she ready for her shift to end.
Enrique, in his dirty white apron, leaned against the coffee bar and watched the NYWL on a color TV perched on a cracked plastic shelf. The volume was up loud enough for him to hear over the buzz from the customers, and the extra layer of noise gave Mary Jane a headache even on good days.
"Get ready for blood-curdling action!" bellowed a greasy-looking man in a loud purple jacket with a gold Cadillac medallion hanging around his neck. He let his voice swell dramatically as he announced, "Bone-Saw McGraw, terror of the ring, takes on all comers. What man can stand against this master of mayhem?" A cluster of curvy girls wearing patches of black and silver smirked and huddled around the huge wrestler, who nodded and glared at the screaming audience.
Mary Jane rang up the bill for a departing couple who argued over the total, claimed they hadn't ordered two iced teas, and complained that the food had been cold. After they left, she took a minute to tuck her hair back behind her ears, looking at her reflection in the silver case of the soda machine, listening absently to the television.
"Why, this colossus of carnage even held out..." the announcer lowered his voice to a harsh whisper, "for three, yes folks, three minutes in the ring, with the Amazing Spider-Man!" Mary Jane glanced, surprised, at the screen as the picture shifted to a clip of a previous bout, showing a small, masked figure in loose red and blue clothes flipping unbelievably high over Bone-Saw's head, cutting immediately to shots of Bone-Saw swinging a chair at Spider-Man's back, and a close-in shot of Spider-Man kicking Bone-Saw across the ring. "Folks, even Spider-Man knew he had to measure up to Bone-Saw's challenge before taking on the mean streets of New York! Who's ready to be next? I know who...the voracious, the vicious, the vindictive...Road Rager!" The camera followed his pointing finger to a bearded man dressed in a bright yellow and red costume covered with pictures of silver wheels, who was shouting "I'm gonna run you down!"
"You done playing with your hair, Ms. Watson?" Enrique asked sarcastically, folding his arms across his chest. "We got people waiting, girl." Mary Jane got back to work, mentally counting the minutes until she could leave.
When she finally went into the backroom and grabbed her coat, Mary Jane was moving fast, hoping to get out of the diner ahead of the construction workers. The beefy one had already asked for her number and was one of those jerks who thought that when a girl told him to get lost it was because she was playing hard to get. She headed out the front door, under the "Moondance" sign with its grimy, dull glitter. She went around the corner with her head bent, pulling her coat around her and hoping she'd get clear without being noticed. She was halfway across the street when she heard a voice shout, "Hey!"
"Buzz off," MJ said, bothered and tired. She heard steps running up behind her, and then, unexpectedly, her name. "MJ, it's me, Peter!"
"Hi!" Mary Jane came to a stop in the middle of the street. "Hey," Peter grinned back.
He looked different to her, although his brown hair was still short and unfashionably brushed and his face was still the friendly, ordinary face of the boy who had lived next door to her forever. But his blue eyes—so much more noticeable since he got contacts—were direct and confident, and there wasn't a trace of the apologetic hunch that had so clearly broadcast his insecurity to the bullies and creeps in high school.
"Wow, what are you doing around here?" MJ held her hair back as the wind blew it around her face, surprised at the warmth she felt seeing him. Peter wasn't someone she'd ever thought she'd miss—she couldn't even remember if he'd signed her yearbook.
"I'm, uh, I'm begging for a job." Peter looked sheepish, waving a newspaper a little in explanation. "How 'bout you?"
"Oh, I'm headed to an audition." Mary Jane lied hesitantly. Not that it mattered what Peter thought about her job, but Harry was his best friend, and she didn't want Peter telling him the truth. Besides, it sounded so much better than, Well, hey, I've got this crappy job as a waitress...
"An audition? So you're acting now?" Peter said, excited. "Yeah, I...I work steady. In fact, I just got off a job." MJ held her coat together to hide her uniform and wished she could end the conversation. The memory of the night she'd stormed out of her house in tears, only to find him taking out the trash and listening to her family fight, came back to her. They'd spent a few moments talking in the dark, a conversation that had somehow turned intense, personal. She'd confided in him her dreams of becoming an actress.
Apparently Peter was thinking about that night, too. "That's great MJ, you're doing it, you're living your dream!"
Distantly, someone shouted, "Hey, Glamour Girl!"
"Yeah," MJ said softly. She hadn't expected him to be so happy for her and she felt even worse. Then she realized that the guy shouting behind her was Enrique, something about her drawer being short. She saw Peter glance over her shoulder at her overweight, greasy boss who was still yelling. Desperately, she ignored it. Maybe if I just act like I don't hear him he'll go away, I can pretend I don't know who he's talking to...
"'Scuse me, Ms. WAT-son, I'm talking to you! Hey!" Oh, God. She faced her boss and yelled, "Yes, Enrique, OK, I get you."
"Well it better not happen no more, you hear me?" Enrique pointed threateningly at her. "Don't roll your eyes at me." He headed back into the diner. MJ slowly turned back toward Peter, her cheeks burning, staring at the pavement. She didn't want to see his expression. Mary Jane didn't think she had ever been so embarrassed in her life. After a moment of humiliated silence, unable to look him in the eye, she pulled her coat open so he could see her tacky uniform in all its glory. Taking a deep breath, she finally looked up. "Some dream, huh?"
Peter gave her a sympathetic smile. "That's nothing to be embarrassed about," he said quietly.
"Don't tell Harry," MJ blurted.
"Don't tell Harry," Peter repeated blankly.
"Aren't you guys living together? We're going out, didn't he tell you?"
"Oh, yeah, right," Peter said, still looking confused, and MJ groaned to herself. Pete didn't understand why she wanted to keep her job a secret. He was the kind of sweet, naive idiot who would always get lost because he didn't know how to play the game or understand how sometimes you had to...bend the truth, slightly, to make a relationship work. She could see him getting used by whoever he ended up with, because he'd always be honest with a girl and never suspect that she wasn't honest right back. And the last thing MJ wanted to do was explain it to him. It made her sound so, well, manipulative...but she had to get him to understand, not to run home and mention casually, Guess what, Harry, I saw MJ working at a diner today... so she explained. "I think he'd hate the idea of me working tables. He'd think it was low, or something."
"That's not low. You have a job," Peter said seriously. He added, "You know, Harry...he doesn't live on a little place I like to call Earth."
Mary Jane chuckled. "No, I...I guess not." It was like Peter had released a line inside her that had stretched taut, waiting for the inevitable criticism, waiting for the put-down. Relief made her smile, and she saw Peter smile back, happy for no other reason than that he'd made her grin. They smiled together until the pause in the conversation got doofy, while she thought over what he'd said.
He could've lectured her about honesty. Or he could have told her that Harry cared about her whether or not she was a waitress. She wouldn't have believed that. Instead, in a few short words, he'd helped her see herself from a new perspective. She wondered if she could learn to take pride in having a job, supporting herself, regardless of what Harry thought. That maybe the expectations of a guy with no idea what it was like to have to pay the bills were unrealistic, even if she had to deal with them—but she could laugh about them, too. It was an idea to consider.
"Thanks, Pete," she said sincerely, and went on brightly, "We should catch up sometime." She moved away from him with a new lift in her step. Lisa was coming over so they could go club hopping together and she should get home in time to shower and change.
Peter called out as she reached the curb, "Let's get some lunch some evening!" Mary Jane looked back at him quizzically. OK, so Peter hadn't lost all his awkwardness from high school. He fumbled for a second or two and added, "Well, I...I'll come by and have some of your Moondance coffee, sometime. And I won't tell Harry."
"No, don't tell Harry." Who wasn't invited along on this girls' night out. It was going to be MJ and her friends, no pressure, nothing but fun.
"I won't!"
Mary Jane walked on down the street, smiling to herself.
Norman Osborn was sitting in his luxurious study, smiling to himself, surrounded by his expensive collection of tribal masks. The federal agents had just left. It was sweet, how hard they had tried not to say anything that could offend him, to show how much they regretted taking up his valuable time, how they had sympathized over the death of Dr. Strom and the loss of the glider and flight suit. One of them, a short redhead, had warned him in a serious voice that further attacks on OsCorp were possible. It was a measure of success, that's what it was. When government agents treated you like the important person you were. Of course, he couldn't help them any. He had no idea what kind of maniac could be behind the attacks on innocent research companies. It was just terrible.
Terrible. Of course, for OsCorp, it wasn't working out badly. Quest was recovering from the bombing, SicCo was going under now that it had lost most of its better personnel, and OsCorp had been there to pick up the pieces. Norman thought further attacks were unlikely, after all, everything was fine. Every cloud had a silver lining, it seemed. Even if none of the work being done now had the brilliant potential of the glider, or the performance enhancers.
Performance enhancers...he'd had to shut that project down, right? Damn, this headache made it hard to think. Right. They needed to replace Dr. Strom, find some really top-notch people who could take advantage of the kind of support OsCorp had to offer. Norman made a note to look around, make some offers. Naturally, anyone would jump at the chance to work for him. It was only a question of who he wanted.
Too bad Parker was too young still. Norman foresaw a day when Peter Parker would go to work for him, help him move OsCorp into the future. It was becoming more and more important to him, to have Peter's future to rely on. He and Harry, they were like brothers, weren't they? Peter would look after Harry. He'd be part of the family.
Norman smiled dreamily to himself, staring at his green walls as he planned out just what would happen. He knew it would work out. Luck had really been on his side, lately.
Sitting at a bar stool at the Coco Bongo later that night, MJ watched people dance. The music was so loud hearing what anyone said was impossible, but a few were holding shouted conversations anyway, too high on drink or good times to care. MJ was elevated herself, although not from anything she was drinking—she'd been feeling good all evening and it was great to be out, with friends, having fun and relaxing. Mary Jane had invited Janeen along at the last moment. They'd made up their fight, Janeen agreeing to get a second phone line installed and MJ agreeing to take over the bills for the first line since she couldn't afford the installation fee for the second one. Janeen was dancing with a thin guy who had no rhythm, managing to look graceful anyway, her long straight hair swaying as she moved. Lisa, in an electric blue outfit that contrasted with her dark skin, was taking a break with MJ, the pounding vibration from the music washing over them while they cooled off. Mary Jane was eighteen, looked hot, had an apartment in the Village, a cool boyfriend, and tons of friends. Life rocked.
"Girlfriend!" a deep voice shouted in her ear. MJ turned and squealed as she saw Marco standing by her. He was decked out to party—Mary Jane loved the look. She saw Lisa look him up and down and grinned. After a lot of screaming and hand signals, Marco and a short, white-haired girl who was with him joined MJ, Janeen and Lisa outside the club and headed to an all-night café. Marco introduced his exotic friend as Shawnee, and the five of them sat crammed into a booth talking and laughing until after midnight.
In the girl's room fixing hair and make-up, MJ mentioned to Lisa that she'd seen Peter Parker that afternoon. Lisa immediately screamed with laughter. "Oh man, he was such a dork. Do you remember, he used to miss the bus, like, every morning? Running along trying to get the driver to stop?"
"Hey come on, he's a nice guy," MJ said defensively. She was already wishing she hadn't brought him up. Janeen fluffed her out hair and said, "Isn't he the one rooming with your boyfriend? You've mentioned him before." Shawnee, running a line of black around the edge of her lips, added, "Hell, I was a dork in high school too. I was so trying to prove myself, being the good little girl for all the teachers." Looking at her now, in black leather that barely covered everything legally necessary, black make-up and shock-white hair, MJ had a hard time picturing her in high school.
"Yeah well, this guy was just a nerd," Lisa laughed. "He really needed to grab a clue."
MJ was glad when they went back to the table and the conversation changed. Marco and Janeen had really hit it off—Marco was deep into Buddhist philosophy and they were discussing meditation and non-violence. They were disagreeing enthusiastically about whether or not a vigilante like Spider-Man was helping by holding down local crime or keeping the cycle going by using violence as a means to an end. Lisa was sitting at the edge of the booth, looking bored.
Marco thought MJ should audition for a part in a play Shawnee was doing. Shawnee was a set designer who had been getting attention from several of the bigger managements. She was putting together the sets for this play, some kind of surreal experimental theater centered around a drug-addicted girl with long incomprehensible lines. MJ had read the part and really didn't know what to think about it, but listened absently as Shawnee talked about communicating social inequity through color. It gave her time to think.
She'd known Peter since she was six—he'd been her friend longer than anyone. Well, maybe not her friend, exactly. They'd never spent time together. And MJ knew that was her fault. Peter liked her. He'd never pretended not to, never acted like she didn't matter to him. She'd accepted that without thinking about it, and without valuing it. If you encouraged someone like Peter, there was always the chance that he'd start hanging around you and become embarrassing. It occurred to Mary Jane now that she'd spent all her time with people like Lisa, who probably liked her. Probably. But Lisa would never stand up for her or accept her the way Peter did.
And that afternoon, like the night they'd talked in the backyard, Mary Jane had let the walls down and connected with Peter from a place inside her that she rarely showed to anyone. He seemed to have a gift for reaching in there, making a short conversation with him feel more real than her relationships with Harry, the time that she spent with friends, her life with her parents—god, her parents. Lisa's dismissal of Peter had hurt, and MJ had appreciated the way the older girls, Janeen and Shawnee, had shown a broader outlook. Lisa was still living at home, spending time with more of the old high school crowd than MJ did, and the redhead guessed that old judgments about who was cool and who was not still mattered to Lisa. Maybe they still did to MJ. After all, she could hardly see Peter hanging out at the Club Bongo.
And that was where Mary Jane was happiest, in the middle of an in-crowd. That was where she could shine. So, enough introspection already. MJ tossed her hair back and got back into the conversation. Time to have fun, glamour girl.