A/N: Hey guys! Guess I've gotten to be a bit of a speed demon with this one - but I was so excited to post this next chapter. I guess this is what happens when you are on bed rest! Hope y'all enjoy and continue to like/favorite/follow! The response has been great for such an out of left-field sort of idea! Thanks!
Arriving at the club in a car was a different experience entirely. She had cleaned up a little bit in the expansive bathroom that she could not wait to explore after she returned from her shift, and reapplied her make-up. It wasn't a long drive from Mr. Gold's building, but long enough that when she was finished with fixing herself, he cautioned her she did not wish to be late, and that he was due back at the office as well.
So, she grabbed her bag and her coat, and walked out with him, trailing with nervous anticipation in her stomach. Hongrois had the Cadillac waiting and Belle smiled as Mr. Gold opened the door for her, lingering for a moment to see if he might smile back, only slinking into the seat when he gave her a faint twitch of the corner of his mouth. It was as much of a smile as she was going to get out of him.
The ride was silent. Hongrois knew where they were going, and Mr. Gold was not one to talk much. She tried to think of anything to say, but nothing seemed appropriate… nothing seemed like it would fit. He got tense when she mentioned the pictures, she didn't know if she should bring up why she was staying at his apartment, and he didn't seem like the type that might want to talk about the Billboard Top 40 hits.
So, until she knew more about him, these rides were going to have to be painfully silent, unless he started the conversation. When the car pulled in front of the club, Belle clutched her purse to her arm and giggled nervously. "Wish me luck?" she said shyly, as she reached for the handle of the door.
"I'm sure you don't need it, Belle," he commented, voice laced with hardness, but practically whispered so Belle had almost not picked up on what he was saying. Belle smiled at him, putting her feet down on the pavement, "Have a good day, Mr. Gold. Will you be at the club later?" He nodded in response. Belle, instead of climbing out of the car, leaned back into the car and reached over to put her hand on top of his, "I'll look forward to seeing you in my section," she smiled, full and genuine, before she did the unthinkable. She leaned just enough to brush her lips against his smooth cheek. Hongrois raised his eyebrows from behind his sunglasses (she could see through the rear view) and Mr. Gold sat ramrod straight. When she withdrew, Belle had a little flush on her cheeks, but he had done so much, he deserved it. "Thank you, Mr. Gold," she added, "and you too, Hongrois."
Belle pushed herself out of the car and shut the door behind her, leaving the silent men in her wake. She wondered why he reacted so… stiffly to being touched. Belle was a tactile person, she liked touching and feeling and moving. She knew some people weren't like that, but she couldn't imagine cringing at the idea of being touched. It made Belle feel a very deep sort of sadness.
In the same way she had resolved to smile and be as pleasant as possible in the club only days earlier (though it felt like weeks or months or lifetimes at this point), she would do the same in their shared space.
She felt lighter as she jaunted toward the entrance of the club – they used the front doors in the morning and glanced over her shoulder as the Cadillac idled on the side of the road. They were probably waiting for her to get inside. Waving to the tinted windows, she figured she would receive no wave in return, but something told her that was okay. So, she pulled open the glass doors and walked inside, a spring in her step.
Regina was in the club already, bustling around setting up a table in front of the stage, and Belle stopped before she passed, "Do you need any help, Regina?" she asked, pleasant and curious.
Regina stood up straighter, her deep purple dress clinging to her body in the most obscene way. Belle could never imagine wearing something like that – not in public. Sure, she wore her Bunny costume but that was different. It was inside these walls and here, she wasn't really herself, she was Bunny Belle, a fantasy – something to be enjoyed and looked at without any hope of touching… Obviously, some people pushed past those boundaries, but that wasn't the point…
When Regina looked up, her slow smile spread. "Bunny Belle, I didn't hear you arrive," she skirted the question and Belle wondered why. "Why so early?" there was suspicion in her voice, deep rooted enough that the air between them vibrated with it.
"I guess I was just anxious," she smiled with a bit of a shrug. It wasn't entirely untrue, she was anxious, but it wasn't exactly the whole truth either. Belle was so acquainted with falsehoods and half truths; it didn't even seem to bother her. "I can help," she smiled again; "it will keep me busy."
Regina sighed and clapped her hands together. "I think we're all set out here, actually, Belle." She tilted her head to the side and beamed, white teeth behind blood red lips. Belle nodded, fumbling with the strap of her purse. "You'll want to go backstage, Bunny," it seemed almost like a warning, "get ready. Mr. Hefner will be here very soon."
The thought made her heart thump in her chest. "Of course, thank you, Regina." She smiled, trying to look as confident as possible, even though she was horrified internally. She might have screamed, if she actually had somewhere to do it. "Will you be helping Mr. Hefner with the interviews?"
Regina laughed, just a little bit, enough to unsettle Belle and smiled, just a little too nicely. "Of course, Bunny Belle. That's why I'm here, to help in any way I can." Her emphasis on 'any' made Belle's stomach jump. There was something sinister about Regina, Belle didn't know what it was – but it wasn't always well meaning. Maybe it was just her constant quest for advancement, or the way that she never seemed to be genuine at all: Belle didn't like it.
But, she was her boss, and Belle just nodded. "Well, thank you, Regina," she smiled and started to walk toward the backstage area. She'd lock up her purse and compose herself, drink a little water, rest her eyes, maybe if she could. She hadn't slept well; she'd been up for hours… Yes, that sounded like a perfect idea.
"You're quite welcome, Bunny Belle," she called after her, and Belle's fingers flexed, trying not to betray the tension in the back of her neck and travelling down her spine. She hoped that when she talked to Mr. Gold or touched him he didn't get that feeling. She couldn't stand to think she made anyone feel like Regina made people feel. Hopefully she didn't make Hugh Hefner feel like that either… He had her future in his hands, after all.
She'd be lucky to even get through the interview with the ten thousand places her mind actually was. Sitting down at her typical station, Belle laid her arms on the counter and then put her head on top of them. Stretching her back, murmuring to herself, Belle sighed.
Squashing down the feeling, she had to remind herself that Mr. Gold had never willingly (to her knowledge) kissed Regina, nor had he taken her (again, to her knowledge) into his home to protect her – and it was well known where Regina's connections were. Belle wrinkled her nose. Was she actually thinking about this stuff?
Belle did her best to not ruin her make-up as she shifted in her seat and groaned. The sound of the door opening was enough for the sleepy bunny to lift her head, and yawn before greeting Sue and Tia, who seemed to arrive at the same time. The spirited girls were dressed to the nines, looking gorgeous and done-up without a flaw in either of them.
"Oh honey," Tia drawled, "You wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?" she asked, lifting Belle's chin and pushing her hair back. "Want me to fix your hair for you?" She was so sweet, and Sue was already taking a seat nearby.
Belle shrugged, "If they don't like me as I am," Belle smiled, "then I don't want to get picked."
She could hear Sue's audible sigh. "Belle, this is about more than integrity," she pointed out, "You get on the cover and you get $2,000. You know what you can do with $2,000?" She sighed wistfully. Belle joined her in sighing now too, thinking of what she could do with that kind of money. Her and her father could move into a house – maybe not a great one, but a real house and they wouldn't owe anyone rent… Oh that would be just the thing.
Tia piped in as she tugged at the pins Belle's hair to redo them, "Seems like a dream, you know? I never really wished for anything, but to be on a magazine? Even Playboy and to get $2,000?" She shook her head, chuckling to herself. Belle winced as she tugged and twisted the front strands of her hair, "It seems unreal."
"A lot seems unreal at this point," Belle pointed out before she even realized she was saying it. Thankfully, instead of asking her about it, Dawn walked in, yawning, but looking lovely, followed shortly by Ashley, who seemed in the best spirits of all of them. It must have been close to noon. "Is Mr. Hefner out there yet?" Belle asked, looking up at the two girls.
"Not yet," Ashley piped in, practically bouncing on her toes, fluffing her blonde curls in the mirror with a busy sort of hum. "Just Regina." Ashley wrinkled her nose and rolled her shoulders, "I don't think she likes me," she commented, doing her mascara with a fish mouth.
All the girls shared a laugh, but Tia was the first to point out, "Honey, I don't think she likes anyone," and she twisted another piece of Belle's hair, tugging it back into a half-up half-down number that actually, when Belle looked into the mirror, was pleasing.
"Tia, you're the best," she went to reach up and touch, but Tia swatted her hand away, admonishing her for even trying with a harsh look, but ultimately sweet smile that made Belle laugh. "Alright, no touching! Maybe I'll even keep it in for tonight?" she shrugged thoughtfully, trying to turn her head enough to see the back of her head in the other mirror.
As she tried to admire herself, and the other girls talked about how excited they were, all focusing on some aspect of the prize, Belle liked the arrangement Tia did and turned on the stool, ready to chime in about how she'd gladly take the money and leave the picture, but they were interrupted as the door to the floor opened and suddenly, an all encompassing silence settled over them and without breathing, every single one of them looked to Regina as she strolled in. "Now this is the kind of reception I appreciate," Regina smirked. "Mr. Hefner is outside, as are some of the board members of Playboy Magazine." Belle looked around as the eyes of the girls widened considerably, "We will be calling you each in one at a time. Proceed to the stage, we'll be asking you questions. After that, you're free to leave and come back or stay until your shifts. Good luck. Dawn, you're first."
The blonde's expression went through the entire spectrum, all the way from excited to horrified to resolute, and the other girls watched silently as Dawn followed her out. Their voices were silenced and the atmosphere in the room was absolutely stifling. Ashley took the seat next to her and they both reached out, lacing their fingers together.
They exchanged supportive looks, and Belle couldn't help but feel guilty. She was only doing this because she could use the money. She didn't want it – not like these girls wanted it. It was almost enough to make her stomach fall straight to the bottom of her body with guilt. She watched as each girl, one by one, was called out. Belle watched, Dawn came back in hopeful and chirped for Sue, and the minutes dragged on for what seemed like hours, her and Ashley's hands woven together with reassuring squeezes passed between them, more for Ashley's sake than Belle's.
When Sue came in and asked for Ashley, she felt a strange absence when Ashley let go of her and practically squeaked. "Wish me luck," she whispered and Belle smiled. Ashley deserved – so did Sue, or Tia, or Dawn. It could have easily belonged to any of them. There were only two of them left, and by the time Ashley came back, she announced it was Tia's turn and they all gave her a thumb's up. The girl had started out as a seamstress at the club and worked her way up to Bunny. That was the kind of girl who needed this – not Belle, who was just as happy making tips. She'd put her pictures in for Ruby, but now she wasn't sure.
How could one person have so much doubt at the most inappropriate time to have doubts? Taking a deep breath in through her nose, Belle sighed. Ashley resumed her post, staying for support, and Belle smiled at her. She was such a good friend. No one left either, incredibly kind of them. They were supportive, everyone was there as much for themselves as the others, and as it dwindled down, as Belle was the only one left, all eyes turned on her when it was her turn to round out the five finalists.
She rose from her seat, dressed the most modestly out of them all, with the least loud make-up and she just had to trust that maybe it wasn't meant to be and one of these other lucky, lovely ladies would be the one. Smoothing down the front of her dress, Belle took a deep breath and exited – trying not to have the image of Mr. Gold looking so displeased in her head as she walked out.
The row of men sitting with Regina was mostly comprised of people Belle didn't recognize. She did, however, recognized the dark haired man in the middle. His shrewd look and sharp suit were enough, but Hugh Hefner, actually in the flesh, looking at her as she crossed to the stage, she almost faltered in her heels. Reminding herself to smile, Belle climbed the small set of stairs and gave a small wave, "Hello Mr. Hefner, Regina, Gentlemen," she nodded to each and smiled as they murmured their greetings.
The silence in between her greeting and the first question was maddening, and Belle fidgeted on the stage – lost in her thoughts of earlier in the day, thoughts of what she was doing right now, and what would happen in the future. The questions ranged from why she wanted to be a bunny – to help her father, to make something of herself when everything else was going to hell around her, complete with language that made Regina's eye grow to the size of dinner plates, to what she dreamed of – finishing college, making something of herself, helping people – follow ups pressing her for the specifics, to which Belle had nothing to give.
Then there was the final question, the one that tripped off Hefner's lips without any trouble at all: "Why do you want to be on the cover?"
Belle's mouth went dry. It was as though cotton had suddenly replaced each of her teeth, and her mind, for the first time was blank. She had no idea what to say to that. "I…" she glanced at Regina's face, her jaw hardening. Belle couldn't say what she wanted to say – she still needed this job. She lowered her eyes and sighed, nervously playing with the fabric of her skirt, "Honestly, Mr. Hefner? I don't deserve the cover. I – I don't even want it. I'm happy being a bunny," She shook her head, licking her lips, taking the question out of his mouth before had the chance to ask it, "the four other girls sitting back stage want this more than I ever could."
There was a pregnant pause – stillness set in each of them and Belle stood for a moment before she started to move back toward the stairs at the side. "I'm sorry, but – it just… it isn't my dream." She stopped at the top step and looked back at them with a small smile, "Give it to Tia," she smiled, "or Ashley. They need it far more than I do."
And with that, Belle held her head up and walked down the stairs, feeling proud of herself for telling the truth, so proud she actually smiled. She was good at the smiling, the sweet talking on the floor, but when she wasn't all in something; it was so hard to sound real. The last portion of that interview had been the most honest she could have been in the entire twenty minutes.
As of right now, her ultimate goal was not being on the cover of a national magazine – not as the model anyway. She wanted to survive whatever firestorm would come of what she had heard the other night, make sure her father stayed out of harm's way, and didn't get thrown out onto the street for some kind of infraction in Mr. Gold's eyes. She wanted to make enough money to move and then go back to college. As much as $2,000 would help – this wasn't how she could do it. She'd get another job if she had to – but not this…
She heard chairs moving behind her, but she did not dare turn her head. The only way she knew Regina was following was by the sound of clicking heels quickly approaching after her, and Belle darted into the back room, shaking with residual anxiety she couldn't let out on the stage.
The room remained silent though, and Regina looked over each and every one of them, lingering and searching their faces with her scrutinizing, dark eyes. "Mr. Hefner was impressed with all of you," she finally stated, so matter of fact it almost seemed like it didn't matter, "and he – with the help of the board – will have a winner picked by the end of your shifts tonight. Like last night, do not leave straight away."
Belle gulped. Regina was trained on her last, her eyes bearing holes into her. "Bunny Belle," she practically hissed, "My office. Now." She turned on her heel without another word and stalked down the hall. Belle sat in stunned silence for a few moments, each of the girls looking at her like she had grown a third eye or a second head.
Ashley squeezed her hand again, and Belle gulped, knowing just how much she would actually need the support. Regina was bristling, and if she lost this job… it was hard to justify keeping what little integrity she had left as a consolation for losing her job. They'd never get back on their feet.
Belle had to reassure herself that this was the best choice that she could make for herself. Whatever happened, she didn't want to take the cover from someone else. If that meant getting herself fired, she'd get herself fired. She'd bounced back before. So, she stood from her seat and walked the long hallway to Regina's office – the very last. Frosted glass stared at her and Belle felt her stomach lurch with every step she took.
Before, her fate rested in the hands of Hugh Hefner. To some degree, it still did. He could have demanded she be fired, but now it was also in Regina's hands. Regina, the woman who said she was there to help with everything, and yet, smiled with needles for teeth and poison in her saliva. Bravery was what she needed, Belle reminded herself, and pushed the door open just enough to hear Regina all too calmly bid her to enter, and then take a seat with an elegant wave of her hand. Belle took the seat and remained silent. "Bunny Belle," Regina hissed, "I am extremely disappointed in your performance. What were you thinking?"
Belle had two options: she could tell the truth with or without a honey coat. Maybe she could navigate a middle road. "I can't do it," she nodded, accepting the truth of it finally. She couldn't do it. "It just… it isn't what I want for myself, Regina. I don't want my father to see something like that," she didn't want her current benefactor to kick her out for it, "I'd rather just work hard on the floor, be a bunny, and stay out of the limelight. I don't want it like the others do."
"Then why, pray tell," her voice was a harsh cut right through Belle's chest, "did you submit your pictures?" To emphasize the point, she tossed the three pictures, paper clipped together on the desk in front of Belle.
Belle looked at them, so unfamiliar with the girl in those pictures. She was beautiful, surely, but she wasn't the same one who sat in front of Regina in the modest baby blue dress, she wasn't who Belle saw herself as. "Ruby and Ashley made me," she answered honestly, "They were so excited – I couldn't say no." Her cheeks burned.
"Couldn't say no?" Regina parroted, her voice ringing hollow across the expanse of the desk. She felt a thousand miles away, and Belle felt incredibly small. "Wouldn't it have been better to say no earlier?" Her voice was crisp and agitated, eyebrows drawn in with every attempt to remain composed.
Belle swallowed and nodded, conceding the point. "That's true," she fiddled with the pictures in her hands, "very true." She looked up at Regina after shoving them in her purse, "I didn't want to disappoint them."
"Well, you've disappointed me," she cut Belle off, an almost growl in the back of her throat, "and worse than that, you embarrassed me – and in front of Hugh Hefner." Belle felt like a child being admonished by a teacher, the principal for getting into a fight that she had just been so proud of fighting. "I suggest, Bunny Belle, that you get your things and go."
Belle's eyes widened, frozen to the seat. "Go?" she echoed, choking back bile from the bottom of her throat – threatening to come up in a swift and violent heave. "I'm – are you – am I – am I being fired?" she felt her eyes start to sting. Every terrible scenario played in her head from unemployment to homelessness to getting tracked down by the mob… Belle wanted to run her hands through her hair, but she had to keep her composure. She had to look like she was calm, even if her insides were constricting and twisting.
"Oh no," Regina said- though strangely, it gave her no relief at all. "You're on probation, Bunny Belle. You will be expected to follow every rule, abide by every policy, and keep yourself in check at all times. If you take even one step," she lowered her eyes at her one, "out line, Bunny, and the doors will be shut." Belle had a deep suspicion that she did not just mean the doors to the club. "I'm giving you this evening to get your head together," she hissed, "I expect you back tomorrow with an attitude I can work with."
Belle didn't necessarily think she had a bad attitude, but she had to play the game. She nodded, understanding that this job was giving her the best shot at the most tips and a life that could eventually put itself back together when they caught up. "Yes, Regina," she nodded slowly, licking her bottom lip, "Of course. I'm sorry," her eyes flicked up, "for being an embarrassment to you."
Regina looked somewhat pleased, at least, that Belle apologized – but Belle used her words carefully. She wasn't sorry for what she did – what she said, but she was sorry that it got her in trouble with Regina, and made her feel like she was going to get fired. "You should be," she pushed herself up from the chair and Belle followed suit.
"Can I make a call first?" Belle bit her lip, usually she wouldn't ask, but being dismissed so readily really meant she had to go.
Regina frowned delicately and sighed, "Use the phone backstage," she waved, "then go home." Belle nodded and rose from the seat, apologizing once more before she quitted the office – probably the happiest she had ever been to leave a place in as long as she could remember. She wasn't fired; she had been sufficiently mortifying as a prospect for the magazine, and offered up two very legitimate options instead of her.
She clicked the door behind her, shut it on Regina and hurried down the hall, somewhere between elation and sobbing. She trembled as he entered the room, the other girls looking at her with concern etched all over their faces. "It's fine," she squeaked out, approaching the phone, "I just… I'm going home for the night. Tell everyone I said hello and that I'll be back tomorrow," she smiled as warmly as she could manage before disappearing into the other hallway to get to the phone.
The number Mr. Gold had given her was in her purse. She picked up the receiver with shaking hands and the little paper wavered in her hand as she dragged the old turn table dial. Each ring vibrated a little more forcefully than the last, and Belle twisted the cord around her fingers, breathing a deep sigh of relief when a thick, accented voice like Mr. Gold's answered on the other end, "Hongrois."
"Hongrois?" she echoed, her diminutive voice not what he expected – evidenced by the sound of gruff surprise on the other end. She looked over her shoulder, making sure no one was with her, but kept her voice low, just in case. "I was told I could call this number?"
"Do you need a ride, Miss?"
Belle strained to make out the voice through the accent, and once she did understand, she nodded feverishly. "Yes, yes please."
There was a long pause on the line, "Are you alright, Miss?" He asked concern clearly evident in his tone. Belle forced herself to laugh as she cradled the receiver next to her ear.
"I'm fine," she lied, but found it necessary. The man needed to just come get her and the fewer questions asked, the better, particularly if people were listening and she glanced around, again, just to make sure. "I got the night off – so I'd like to go," she paused, "home," rolling off her tongue in the most unfamiliar way. Another pause, "please?"
"Of course, Miss," and the phone clicked, without any further warning. Belle put the receiver back on and licked her lips. She walked toward the entry into the club – a door that the others wouldn't see her going out, and walked through the empty space.
It was strange to see it with the lights on and without anyone walking around. The smell of cigarettes and cigars still lingered, attached to the cloth and the decadence of everything only slightly taken away by the bright lights. Much like her mythical kitchen roaches, once the lights went on, the place cleared out, and only when the lights dimmed again did the mystery return and everything it promised.
Belle was almost glad she wasn't going to be