So here's another installment. If anyone is reading this, I would love to hear from you, but either way, this is something I'm enjoying writing for myself. It won't be terribly long, but it has a couple more chapters. Enjoy.

Chapter 2

It was another four months before she saw him again. Still, Maggie didn't expect Frankie and the group to return so quickly, but she knew the theaters of Los Vegas provided one of their greatest money-making opportunities. It made sense, in the same way that it was inevitable that each return engagement was accompanied by more and more press, and more and more chaos.

The group had a new album out, released just in time for the Christmas holiday, and the casino was bustling with vacationers of every age and financial bracket. Maggie was glad for the chaos. She was content to lose herself in the distraction of it all, to keep herself from looking at him. She focused on her work, keeping to herself or flirting with the abundance of men. Part of her hoped he noticed. Part of her hoped he would take one look at her and realize what he'd walked away from. After two days, however, Maggie realized that quite the opposite was taking place.

Tommy didn't give her so much as a passing glance. He went on stage and performed, and then joined the high rollers in a private room off the main floor. She caught the sound of his voice from across the room a few times, hearing his easy laughter or his commanding tone. Once, she stopped and just stared at him. He moved with grace and swagger, but he never looked her way. It was as though she'd stopped existing, as though her usefulness had ended, and therefore she was simply irrelevant to him.

Maggie was hurt, but she didn't realize the extent of that hurt until the next evening. It was the group's last performance, and the house was packed. After a full show and several encores, they finally left the stage. Standing in the back of house, waiting to clean the tables, Maggie watched them go.

A voice in her ear startled her, saying with a giggle, "I heard Maria's going upstairs with one of them tonight…and Barbara, too."

Maggie jerked her head around to see Holly standing next to her. A tiny blonde, Holly was known for keeping her gossip accurate and delivering it quickly. Maggie glanced around and didn't see either Maria or Barb in the room.

She snorted, "Maybe that's just what they want everyone to think."

"No," Holly argued, "I heard him asking them. The cute one…Tommy. He flashed them a wad of money."

Maggie grit her teeth, wishing desperately that she could rid herself of the heavy lump that had dropped into her stomach. To cover her reaction, she stated, "You know that's how it works here. Enough money buys you whatever you want. What they do isn't my concern."

Holly gave her a long look and then said, "I guess we thought you were the only one good enough for him here. Guess he needed to move onto to younger…opportunities."

The implication was not lost on Maggie, and her stomach turned. Setting down her empty tray and wash cloth, she stormed from the room. She kept walking, brushing past anyone in her path, until she was in one of the tiny dressing rooms off the stage. These rooms were not used for the highly-paid, touring acts, but were reserved for the dancers and the local musicians who paid for couple hours to perform on off nights. Collapsing into a chair, Maggie threw a couple of combs and brushes half-heartedly across the room. Then she sat there, contemplating whether or not she could simply stay in this room forever.

After a long time, when she was sure everyone was gone and she was running the risk of being locked in the building, Maggie heard steps. They reached the doorway and stopped, and a silver-haired woman slipped into the room.

Maggie looked up, and then breathed a sigh, saying, "Rosalie."

Rosalie put her hands on her hips, with her crimson nails balled into fists. She looked Maggie over, knowing something was wrong. Then she asked, "Why weren't you out there working the floor, Maggie?"

Maggie didn't answer right away. She knew that Rosalie was not chastising her as strongly as it sounded. Rosalie was in charge of all the girls in the casino. Her job was somewhere between manager and mother and agent. She had been one of 'the girls' herself, some years ago, and Maggie could see that Rosalie had once been beautiful. Her silver hair must've once been black and her eyes were wide and dramatic. Now, though, they were softened by lines and her skin was weathered just enough to make her look more regal than gorgeous. Still, she was loyal to the casino. She did everything from cleaning and prepping, to scheduling and counseling her girls. She even helped maintain the costumes for the ones who performed. She would often tell stories of her days on the stage, speaking of being draped across the piano in a red dress, singing jazz. Maggie found her both intimidating and fascinating, and she knew she couldn't hide from Rosalie.

Finally sitting, Rosalie softened, "What is it child?"

Maggie took a breath and said, "It's silly. Stupid even."

"I'm sure it can't be the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Rosalie quipped.

Maggie tried to smile. She struggled, and then said, "There's nothing you can do about, Rosalie. It's one of them…one of Frankie Valli's boys."

Rosalie furrowed her brow and asked, "Did one of 'em hurt you? You know, we overlook a lot here, but there's certain places where I draw the line…"

Maggie shook her head.

"Then…what?"

Maggie took a breath and admitted, "I've fallen for one of them. Badly."

Rosalie studied her eyes and asked, "Which one?"

"Tommy," Maggie answered very quietly.

Rosalie looked at her from some time, and then carefully stated, "Maggie, there's no hope for that one, I'm afraid. Your heart's got it very wrong this time."

"I know," Maggie whispered, "I never intended to let this happen. I know it makes no sense."

"And you know the kind of people who come here. Especially the performers," Rosalie added, "You have to keep your heart out of it, at least until you're ready to give this up."

Maggie nodded again.

Rosalie looked her over again, and then said, "He's not worth your time, Maggie. You don't need him. You deserve better. You need to tell yourself that, over and over, until it becomes true. Say it out loud, as often as you can, and you will eventually feel it. There's power in words, Maggie."

Meeting Rosalie's eyes, Maggie knew that much was true.

Tommy DeVito doesn't fall in love.

The words had been burned into her mind and had replayed themselves over and over again for four months. It wasn't a question. There was no room for discussion. Whether he'd ever had a heart, had ever let himself feel, Maggie didn't know. But she knew where he stood now.

Rosalie was right. One day at a time, a few words at a time, she would make him not matter. She wouldn't get angry or sad, she would simply wipe him out of her life.

"I don't need him. He doesn't matter. I do not care," she said softly.

"There you go," Rosalie smiled.

I don't need him. He doesn't matter. I do not care.

It would become her mantra. Her resolution. One day, one phrase at a time. I don't need him. He doesn't matter. I do not care.