Chapter Nine

Erik Underwood had told him to stop drinking entirely, but with the way it was snowing, there was no way that Congress would be called the next day. Raoul sat in front of his seventy-inch flat screen television and let his eyes slowly open and close to the sounds of sharp rising minor keys of The Dark Knight. While the screen was flashing between light and dark, his thoughts were far away, years away even, to a time where things had been so much easier.

The point of taking a job at Cape Cod over the summer was not to make money, it was to fill time and drink with his frat buddies. He didn't necessarily require the extra money as his parents had always covered what he needed, but he was never against more money to spend on beer and beautiful sun tanned beach girls.

While his parents had taken measures to educate him in private music guitar lessons, besides letting a few popular pop tunes and the occasional rap song, his appreciation of music was slim to none. There were three musical acts that rotated throughout the week at the resort on when they would be playing at the poolside. The first time he had ever seen Christine was there. The musicians were on a small stage behind a short fence that kept the water from reaching the instruments and for the afternoon were playing covers of pop songs throughout the years. She was so short and thin at the time that he hadn't even seen her behind the quartet. A few songs in, she was handed a cordless microphone and held it with two hands. At first, he found her uninteresting as she seemed eager but nervous. He wasn't sure how she was hired for this being so young and returned to watching boring people sunbathe.

He was not the first to look over to find her. In fact, he followed the gaze of other people as their heads curiously turned to hear a fine white gold voice float over the pool side. Some people were nudging those they knew to take off their big black ear phones and while at first appearing annoyed, as soon as they turned their tape players off, there faces relaxed. This girl had quieted the pool area, and seemed very unfazed with having all eyes on her as Raoul connected the song to "Somewhere Over The Rainbow".

Her voice wasn't so sculpted to sound like one of good training alone. Inside of her was a natural talent and light that glowed out from her as she stood in a simple pale blue dress and head band in her hair, swaying her shoulders a little with the music. When the song had finished there was a brief moment of wanting more in the air, not from an unfilled helping, but simply because the sounds had tasted so glorious to the ears.

Needless to say, where there had been light polite clapping before, there was enthusiastic applause that reverberated all around. Even Raoul was smiling, laughing, and forgot to shout at some kid running too close to the pool. A man with matching kind blue eyes of the girl, but drastically different black hair from her, kissed the girl on the forehead, and took the microphone from her.

"That was my daughter, Christine. She will be preforming more on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday evenings in the resort's restaurant for those of you who would like to hear her again. Now we are going to take a break for a little bit. Thank you."

A DJ started to fill the empty space that Christine had left, but there still a kind of uneasiness in the air, an emptiness that made the warm sea air stale. As the wind blew in and the time slowly passed, the feeling left and Raoul was just as bored as he had been before. The sun was finally making a shadow on the pool when he found this Christine sitting on the side of the basin below him. She now wore a simple neon green one piece swim suite with pink flowers over the bodice. Her feet were splashing lightly in the pool, making sure not to kick the water up too high.

"You have a nice voice," Raoul offered casually, a hand still supporting his head from the arm of the uncomfortable wooden chair.

"Thank you!" She beamed up at him, "I haven't seen you before. Is this your first summer here?"

"Yeah. Have you been here before?"

"Just last year. We went to Orlando three years ago. I didn't like it."

Raoul smiled, "I love Orlando. It's a lot more fun than here. Too many old people here."

Her nose wrinkled, "I guess."

There was a moment of silence between them before she hopped in the pool and began to tread water about five feet in front of him.

"You're good at that," he offered.

"Thank you. My dad doesn't let me leave the resort by myself so this is the only thing I can do sometimes."

Raoul looked around at the older boring people at the resort. "Do you have any friends or anything? What do you do for fun?"

"Just the band, really. Mainly my dad. It's okay, we practice a lot."

"That's shi-" He took a second, remembering that she was young, "That sucks."

"It's okay. I know that word." She looked back up at him, "Well if you feel bad, you could be my friend, you know." She shifted into doing a backstroke in the water. No one else was in the pool so she didn't have to worry about looking behind her too often.

The thought of actively hanging out with a kid left a bitter taste in his mouth. The chicks would probably dig it, but for making new drinking buddies it would be totally lame. "Sorry, I don't have many friends that are…" He thought of something better to say, "Uh, how old are you?"

Without a beat, she shouted, "Twenty!" and dove under the surface before being able to see the unbelieving look on his face. When she popped up again, his arms were crossed and his eye brow was raised.

"Twenty, huh?"

"Yep. Older than you, huh?"

"About. Where do you go to school?" He tried to catch her, but she answered without a beat.

"I study at the Juilliard School of Music. Where do you go?"

"Georgetown. For political science."

Her eyes crossed to him, "Is that boring?"

"Yeah."

"Then why do you study it?"

"I don't know. My parents said it would be good or something."

"That's too bad. My dad says that politics are stupid."

"He's right," Raoul shrugged and laid back on the chair. The girl quietly swam a few laps around the pool until the next life guard came to take his shift for the evening. He could tell from the light redness around his eyes that the guy had been drinking and was jealous that he hadn't been with him. Climbing down the latter and about to leave he heard, "Hey!" from the girl.

He turned around to find her with her arms folded on the side of the pool, her head resting on top of them.

"What's your name?" she asked with big eyes, the sunset behind her making her face dark and her gold hair shine.

"Raoul Peters."

"I'm Christine Gallagher. I'll see you around."

"Yeah, see you."

And that was how his funny friendship had started with the girl. She would always come to the pool to swim in the late afternoon at the end of his shift. He never saw her anywhere else as he kept clear of the area when he was off the clock in fear a guest would recognize him and ask for him to do wokr, but whenever he was working, even when the schedule changed, Christine would be out there swimming. On occasion, her father would come out and dip his feet in while reading a book. When others weren't around, he would read aloud to her and she would swim quietly to listen. There was such a nice relationship between the two that Raoul couldn't help to notice, and even admire. His parents had always been away and he had well paid nannies and sitters to read to him at night, if at all. While he would never admit this to anyone, he enjoyed listening in on whatever was being read by the kind and tired middle aged man.

This was their entire relationship throughout the summer. Raoul talked to her as if he was talking to family. He was polite and spoke of subjects that seemed to matter to the rest of the world like grades and sports. He used the ambitions of his parents for his own and he and she compared what their summers were like in different resorts and cities all around North America. She talked about what it was like to work at these places while he would talk about how nice it was to relax. This safe, skin-deep level, without the parties, the girls, the beer, this was what he chose to share with her. As far as he was concerned, she didn't need to know anything else of him and he liked the idea of being a role model for a young aspiring girl who was cut away from the world. Sure, she knew people all over the country, could have asked favors of any one of them if she mentioned her fathers name. He had already begun to understand the importance of asking and returning favors and found it interesting that she never seemed to grasp the concept.

It was when Raoul's step- brother came to visit that things began to change. Phillip had no real reasons of coming besides to pester him. Phillip already had a distinguished career in politics and his family, while praising him, also scorned him for his side life with women. Phillip was the type of man that was mysterious to all around him and women found that intriguing enough to share private conversations in closed rooms. Phillip was a man of distinguished power, simply because of the secrets he promised to keep. It was only on a rare occasion that he ever spread anything. Only one person ever needed to see Phillip speaking casually with a woman of stature and once the rumors ran, it didn't matter if there was any juice behind the truth or not, suddenly the woman would find a quiet life of others not talking too openly with her.

The hidden truths behind Phillip's life were never known to anyone besides the man himself. Raoul knew to be careful with his words and admitted to being intimidated to the extreme point of anger towards his half-brother who had no less than fifteen years of age on him. The week that Raoul learned of this visit, he was on edge, drinking more, just in private. Finally, when he came, he insisted on sitting out by the pool to work on his laptop. They hardly spoke a word, but Raoul was ready to scream by the time the pool cleared out and a cheery young blonde came to greet him.

"You look grumpy today." She commented, then she immediately dove into the pool to hide how forward her observation had been. When she resurfaced, she looked back at him and found him looking at his watch. She stared at him for a little while, waiting for him to look at her.

"What?" He snapped.

The looked of terrible hurt spread across her face and she let her head sink below the water, swimming to the opposite side of the pool.

"Are you angry at me?" She said quietly to the water, but the sound bounced up to him.

Raoul sighed and put his face in his hands. When looking up, Phillip still appeared to be intently working under a large umbrella that had been placed out for him through a special request. Raoul knew better. Phillip was listening. He was always, always listening.

"No, I'm not angry at you." Raoul responded after taking a painful breath.

"Oh, okay. Well, we don't have to talk if you don't want to. That's fine."

Raoul thought about the sage advice from his frat brothers: When a woman said she was fine, she was never fine. Was Christine old enough to be a woman? Couldn't be. She was way too little.

"Will your dad be coming out today?" He asked, hoping for the distraction.

"No, he has rehearsal again. He'll be playing for the Baltimore Philharmonic Orchestra in the fall. I've never been there, have you?"

"Once, but I was really young. I don't remember much."

Christine waited a moment, but soon realized the conversation was over and let out a sigh. She swam around the pool a few times and got out sooner than usual.

"I hope your day gets better, Raoul." Was all she said before throwing a towel around her body and scampering off inside the rec. room.

When his shift ended, Phillip had already packed up and was following him. This is what he did. He hardly ever spoke in public and stalked people back to private rooms for intimidating chats. Raoul knew better than to try to start any kind of conversation before this as he knew no real answer would come from Phillip if there were ever anyone nearby to hear.

"Dinner, brother?" was all he said.

"Sure," Raoul offered in an attempt to please the older man.

"My driver is waiting for us out front. I'll meet you there. Don't keep me waiting."

"Right." He said under his breath. Phillip would always be treating him as a child, there was no getting away from that. Raoul changed into a button-up shirt and tan pants for dinner. Once inside the car, he sadly looked out of the window of his jail cell. Raoul knew that a car was one of the only places where Phillip felt safe with another person, as his driver was one of the very few - if not the only person -that was within his inner circle of trust. Then again, Phillips trust was many times bought at varying prices. It didn't take him long to start controlling the conversation.

"Who was that girl? The young one who came out to swim in the later afternoon." Phillip asked once the car had started.

Raoul sighed. Of all things his brother wanted to nag him about this was it? "She works for the resort with her dad and she sings with the band at the pool sometimes."

"She looks like she loves you." Raoul looked at Phillip with big eyes, but Phillip continued with his stone face remaining without much emotion besides a raised eyebrow, "That never crossed your mind?"

"No." Raoul retorted sourly, "She's like, twelve or something."

"You're blind little brother." He commented before going into a tangent of what Raoul needed to be doing with his life instead of working at a resort. It was a long night of half-way listening and eating expensive grilled fish and wishing he could drink the same brandy that his brother was drinking at the table. Of course, the alcohol was brought up. Phillip knew too much about him and everyone else and now apparently even Christine. What was worse was that he was most likely right, even as Raoul would have wished to deny this.

Raoul thought about his life, thought about their conversations together and realized that he wasn't ready to have such wholesome conversations, wasn't ready to stop drinking and partying and finding new girls. The long days at the pool had been tiring him out. He was losing focus on why he was there that summer and why he wasn't going to do some stupid internship in D.C. like Phillip kept telling him to do. He decided right at the dinner table that he was going to find some fun as soon as Phillip dropped him off. He no longer cared what his brother did or thought. This was his summer and he was going to have fun with it.

A few weeks later he had found himself a temporary girlfriend. The way he saw it, it was inevitable that they were going to break up when the summer ended and there was only a month left to the season, even if she had other plans and he made sure to break them before things went too far. About two weeks before the end of the summer Christine stopped coming to the pool to swim as she always had. He wasn't sure why and he admitted that he missed the company at the slowest part of the day. She would still sing on some afternoons, but she avoided his eye contact, always shying away if he were to look over. It was for the better, he thought.

He wouldn't see her again for a very long time and when he did, he hardly recognized her because she had bags under her eyes, was so skinny that her cheek bones were very obvious, and there were faint lines on her forehead when she thought too hard. That was in his office before she worked her way up the system so well. By the time she was at the head of the office, she was beautiful and even confident on occasion. Still, the girl he met that summer was gone and he never asked about her to avoid seeing the emptiness of a woman appear to him as he had first seen her when she started working for him.

IX

The government had taken a day off just as Underwood had expected it to. Raoul had texted Christine that morning to see if she wanted to come to his place and watch movies. She knew what that would entail and while she didn't mind, she didn't want to trust a cab to get her all the way across town safely either. Stupid Georgetown and them not wanting open up a metro stop there! She took to baking instead. That was a lot easier and a lot less effort overall. Cookies seemed like a good idea. Sugar cookies with pink assorted sprinkles she had left over from last year's Valentine's Day.

Turning Orange Is The New Black on her computer and setting up her station to mix, roll, and cut out cookies on her small kitchen counter, she was all but ready to start pouring flower when her phone buzzed. It was Raoul.

I wish you could come with me to Christmas.

They both knew why she couldn't and when she thought of the wealthy entitled family that were The Peters, she felt something drop from her stomach. It would be like all the summers she ever spent as a kid, but this time, instead of singing songs and retreating, she would have to make pointless conversation and try to keep up with whatever rich people talked about. She always hated that, hated when people at the resorts would talk down to her and her father as if they were so much better. What was worse was that while her father had been patient and kind to the upper crust, Christine didn't know if she had it in her to keep smiling and nodding. What was the point?

Raoul was leaving that night for a week so long as the weather permitted it. It wasn't that she felt any better about him having to face his family. In ways, she pitied Raoul. He was raised in a house of nannies for mothers and scandals for fathers. No wonder he felt trapped all the time. Still, she wasn't ready to ease his burden and go with him even if it would be alright with his family.

She replied, I couldn't say no to Meg's family anyway.

That was true…even though she already had. She had told Raoul that she was spending Christmas with Meg and had told Meg she was spending it with a foster-mother from when she was seventeen. Neither were true. Christmas was not a holiday to be celebrated anymore. There was no point in that. Out of all the days in the year that her father could have chosen to die, he chose that one.

Something sour formed in the back of her mouth and she swallowed it down. Why think about such things? There wasn't a point anymore. She had the entire day to make cookies and binge on Netflix. Maybe even start Alpha House since Meg recommended it to her. For maybe a day she could have some unoccupied time to herself and just enjoy it. This didn't include the evening's coming lesson, of course, but she would take what she could get.

As if on cue, her phone buzzed for an email. She put down the flour and saw that it was an address she didn't recognize as it was a strange combination of letters and numbers that didn't seem to add up to anything. The message read,

Ms. Gallagher,

I expect you do take this day, as well as the rest of the government holidays, as a time to become suited in your new training regiment. The following is a list of foods you should not eat within a six hour period before each lesson:

-Any diary products
-Sodas
-Coffee
-Dark Teas
-Any serving of processed or cane sugar larger than 10 grams

In addition to this list, you are expected to drink no less than a half gallon of filtered water throughout the day. If you do not already have a filter for your faucet, you need to buy one.

Once you have learned breathing and core-strength exercises you will be expected to do them at least an hour each day before lessons. Cardiovascular exercise will also be necessary to keeping your core health up. A gym membership may be a future requirement. This should take up an hour of your day before lessons. It is better to do this when first waking up so that you will not be exhausted for lessons. You are also required to sleep 8 to 10 hours each night in order to properly rest your voice and your body.

Depending on how your voice grows within the week will decide what needs to change in this regiment. I expect you to start this immediately so that we will not be held back this evening.

Till 8:30, Ms. Gallagher,

-E. Underwood

Christine put the flour she had been cradling in the crook of her arm down with a huff. She was never going to get a day off now. She felt as if he had ownership over her now and she couldn't even remember making an official bargain with him! She checked the time. It was only ten-thirty. She could eat as many cookies as she wanted before two-thirty. That was when she would start caring. Till then, cookies and Orange Is The New Black was all she cared about.

IX

Heyy chica! Want to get snowed in with me before my mom tries to pick me up in her Hummer tank?

Meg was all but begging her friend to save her from writing another boring report on what Republicans were talking about outside of what they were doing on their votes. The older ones weren't willing to open up, but she was still optimist that she could get more answers out the freshman senators, one flirtatious man in Florida appeared to have a loose tongue so long as she was willing to show a little skin. Or maybe a lot of skin.

Her hand flew to her forehead and she could hear the jingle of Cloe's collar tags startle on the slap that ensured. Why did she have to become a whore to get anything good? For a second she considered going back to dancing in hopes the old donors might invite her out after. No…no that wouldn't do either.

Hey Meg! I'm taking a day in to bake! I'd love to come over, but I don't trust the cabs. Would you?

Good point…what are you making?

Cookies…I think. Do you know anything about baking vegan?

Hah, no. You going vegan?

No. Just wanted to cut out some dairy here and there. You know it's just fat anyway.

Buzzfeed might have some things. Save me some cookies?

They have glutan :(

Oh, don't worry. I figured out that was a hack diet while in Canada. Load me up!

Will do :)

Well, if you change your mind I would LOVE to not write this story on old senior republican senator views. Want to change places?

You have no idea.

Hahaha what's that mean?

Nothing. Neither of us really get days off do we?

Nope. We didn't when performing either.

Wow, that seems like an eternity ago.

Not for you ;)

Don't remind me… You know I threw up all that good food when I got off stage? I feel really bad for the janitor. I made it to a trashcan, but not a toilet :(

I figured :/ No worries. People will forget eventually.

Sure.

Meg felt her friend was being pessimistic again and rolled her eyes.

Love you hon ;)

And that was the end of it. She sighed heavily and stared painfully at her pink Dell. This night was going to be way too long and she would have to make more coffee. She was running low on Zeke's and no one from the Harold had gotten her any for Christmas. How disappointing. She sat back from the computer on her lap and let her head fall to the back of the couch. Cloe nudged her head to her hand and she petted the dog's head.

"You have it way too good, pup. How about you start earning your keep around here and write this article for me?"

Cloe nudged her head into Meg's hand again and the dog's soft fur felt nice under her tired finger tips. It was funny to think of how her and Christine's friendship had come about. It a way, it may have never happened if it weren't for Cloe. Meg had been attending dance classes at her mom's school in Annapolis. On long days Meg would sneak a much smaller Cloe in her purse and let her sit in the dressing room during classes. Somehow, she managed to escape and Meg found herself running out into the streets to find the dog. Her mother was furious, but that was nothing unusual.

It took almost two hours and the sun was gone when she found Cloe on the lap of a girl sitting on a bench outside of Annapolis Mall which was coincidentally not far from Anne Arundel Medical Center. Meg simply figured that Christine was there with the same intentions that she wished to have time for: shopping. It wouldn't be discovered that Christine had been going on a walk to escape the tension of the waiting room as her dad was undergoing testing. Meg was the first to reach out to the sad peer of hers with a friendly, "Are you okay? I just bought a bag of Skittles. Would you like some? Just don't tell my mom. She wants me on some psycho diet all the time."

The girls talked for a little and it made Meg happy that she could make Christine laugh after only a few Skittles. She didn't like the purple ones anyway and was happy to give them away to cheer someone else up. They exchanged numbers and became fast friends. Since Meg was homeschooled with the other elite dancers so that they could make competitions, it was easy for the two to meet up at strange times of the day. It was especially nice for Meg to have a friend who wasn't a dancer as she had been surrounded by them her entire life. Working from such a young age had her grow up much faster. Most of what she knew was steeped in dance and even though Christine was lost on most of what her daily life was like, Meg felt a similar connection with Christine that spoke of a protected upbringing that was both as revealing as it was innocent. They often spoke of their dreams outside of the worlds they had always known.

"I don't know if I want to be a dancer forever like my mom." She told Christine over frozen sorbet on a spring afternoon a few months later.

"What do you want to do?" Christine wasn't making eye contact that day, but she had been getting down on herself for a while by that point. Meg never asked much as it made her feel a little awkward, but she still liked Christine's company and was usually able to bring her to happier subjects.

"I don't know. Maybe I'll be a journalist. I want to travel and I like to write and find out things about people. And I like to eat. Dancers don't get to eat."

"That must be hard." Christine's voice was getting hallow and her eyes were getting farther away.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" Meg tried to raise her friend's spirits, "A singer?"

"I…I thought I did, but…" Christine gripped her spoon and shut her eyes tight.

Meg quieted and reached for the girl's hand, "What's wrong, Christine?"

Something cracked.

"I don't want to sing without my dad! I don't know how!" She blurted out and took in a big voiced breath.

"Whoa whoa whoa, hey girl, who said-"

"The tests came back today and there's nothing they can do! He's going to die and there's nothing I can do!" The young girl burst into tears on the table and Meg saw the sorbet lady behind the counter look awkwardly away at the sink.

"Hey," Meg reached out consolingly, but Christine didn't respond, "Hon, c'mon maybe we should go on a walk."

"I have no where to go! I have nothing without my dad! Nothing!"

"We're going to figure something out, babe. Come on," She put her arm under Christine's and led her to her feet.

"I c-can't, I can't do this. I'll die without him. I know I'll die!"

"I won't let you die, honey. I'm here for you, okay? Let's just go out and talk. Mom says the best thing to do when upset is to get some air."

Meg put an arm under Christine's arms and pulled up with to lead her away from the door. Those last four months had been especially hard for the girls. When the day of Mr. Gallagher's passing finally came, she stayed home from a dance competition to be with Christine. That decision would cause a divide between her and her mother for a long time, but even after such a short time, Christine really meant something to her because she felt she never had anyone care about what she wanted to do with her life instead of what her mother wanted to do with her life. She felt like she had importance in something beyond dancing and that was worth more than she knew how to express.

It only took a few weeks for them to be parted by a foster agency. Meg's number never changed, but Christine's number changed so much that she couldn't keep up. Eventually, she stopped calling to figure out what the number had changed to and they remained apart for years. It was after she had graduated college that she received a call from a number she didn't recognize. Part of her didn't want to pick it up as it had been a long week and train ride back from Boston had been constantly interrupted by a crying infant. She was in a rush to get out of people's way with her carry on bag just to unlock her phone to pick up the call in time.

"Hello?" she asked into the receiver as she shifted a folder full of papers to her other arm.

"Meg?"

She stopped walking down the train platform of Union Station, praying that her ears weren't playing tricks on her, "Who…who is this?"

"It's Christine." Said the broken voice, "Meg, I…I'm so sorry I haven't-"

She dropped her bags all around her and nearly screamed, "Christine! Oh my god, how did you get my cell number?! I'm so happy to hear your voice!"

"I asked your mom."

People were beginning to trip over her belongings and she started to pull them together towards her body to get them out of the walkway, "Oh duh! Oh my god, Christine! How the hell are you? I've missed you!"

"Meg I… I'm sorry to ask you but…" The broken voice of the girl she remembered in the sorbet parlor caught her off guard.

She looked up slowly, "Ask me what?"

"I…can I stay with you? Just for a little while?"

When Christine moved into her humble apartment she was very quiet for a long time. Once again, Meg didn't want to pressure her too much and it helped that she was busy working as the equivalent to a paper pusher for the Harold. Christine hardly had anything on her but a big old suite case filled with old tattered clothing. She was all too happy and appreciative to sleep on the couch. Meg enjoyed the company and was even able to save some money on pet-sitters and dog-walkers while she was out of town. Within a few weeks, they rekindled their relationship very well and Meg did what she could to help her friend find a job in Washington.

"I mean," Meg said between eating handfuls of popcorn, "Do you want to stay in DC? I mean, I like it, but I really hope to get my next position early so I can travel more. This city can wear on you if you don't get out enough. It sneaks up on you."

"Well, it's not like I'm set on any place in particular. I don't think it's so bad. I like that the metro is clean."

"And expensive."

"That too." Christine peered into Meg's computer until her eyes grew wide.

"What is it? A lead?"

"I…" She looked up to Meg, "Do you know anything about Raoul Peters? He's a senator from Pennsylvania."

"Um…" Meg looked into the popcorn as if it had any answers, "I don't think so. Democrat, right?"

"Yeah, but not that. I," a smile spread across her face, "I used to have the biggest crush on him a long time ago when I was a kid. Apparently, his office is hiring entry level positions."

Meg sat up, "Really? Surprised they wouldn't hire an intern. Do you think he'd remember you well enough to give you the in?"

"I don't know. I don't even know if he'll remember me, you know?"

"It's worth a shot. Shoot in an email, just don't sound creepy."

"Yeah," Christine chuckled a little, "I don't know if I'm exactly right for this, though. It looks like a lot of paper work."

"Doesn't matter. In this city, the only way to get in is to know people. It's not always about skill. Why do you think I bought my editor a bottle of wine for Christmas?"

"But you're a great writer." Christine said honestly, "You shouldn't need that."

"Doesn't matter and that's the point. He likes oaky Merlots. That's what matters. Just find out what speaks to this Peters and you'll have an in."

Christine mumbled something and Meg raised an eyebrow.

"Repeat that?" Meg asked.

"I said 'women.' I think Raoul likes women."

Meg's well shaped eye brow rose higher, "Get the interview. I'll do your makeup and dress you up. We'll get you a job, don't worry."

Backstory land. Thoughts?