Buttercup Utonium had always been more of a listener.
This worked in her favor because people loved to talk. And for some weird reason, they liked it even more if the one listening was a stranger behind a counter.
"We are closing in ten, Jim" a man sat a few stools away grunted in response. He tried to take a sip from his empty glass, dropped a few banknotes on the table, and left.
She cleaned up after him, and quickly counted the money, "cheap bastard".
She had been working as a bartender at Mojo's for almost a year. The job was okay. It paid the bills, came with a few Negroni on the house, and it forced her to be kind and smile more, which according to Bubbles, could only do her good. Most importantly, it was temporary.
She couldn't complain. She was one of the lucky ones. One of those people who were fortunate enough to have a dream. The drunkards, the vomiting, the fake smiles to earn an extra dollar, they were all worthy as long as she could continue to sing. And she was almost there. She just needed a little bit more time. Time for a label to notice her. Time to make it big.
She looked at the clock. Five minutes to midnight. The bar was almost empty, with the exception of one last group of customers. Four girls had come in a few hours earlier. She remembered them particularly well because four, well-dressed young women were an unusual occurrence at Mojo's. That, and the fact that they had ordered all cocktails with an ungodly amount of sugar in them.
Mojo's was not exactly a fancy spot in the city, and it certainly wasn't the place where you would plan a girls' night out.
It had probably seen better times, about one or two geological eras before. It was right on the corner where Willow Street met Parade Street. It was lower than road level and you had to go down a few old, narrow steps to enter. Once in, most people had to take a few seconds to adjust their vision. The lights were always dimmed, and very little natural light came in from outside. This gave the place a sort of unintended mysterious atmosphere while hiding the stained pavement and how old the furniture was.
Mojo's smelled like old liquor and wood, and there was a small, archaic television always turned on and set on the sports channel. There were no complicated menus, nor overpriced fancy drinks with real fruit in them.
It had an appeal, at least it did for Buttercup. It was a pub somehow stuck in the previous century, but it was welcoming and warm. A place with no-frills and unnecessary complications, where you could relax and enjoy a nice beer.
She took a long breath before approaching the table. Between an old drunk bastard and a group of tipsy girls, she would have gladly faced the former.
"Did you see his last post on Instagram?" as she got closer, she started to make out pieces of the conversation. Sex-on-the-beach was holding her phone out for all to see while jumping in her seat in excitement.
"He is so hot! I wish he could be my soulmate!" her friend, strawberry daiquiri, looked ready to hook up with the screen.
Buttercup started to mindlessly clean a table nearby, finding that whole interaction strangely captivating. It wasn't often you saw someone so unapologetically enthusiastic about something.
"I would die to be his soulmate. I check my wrist every morning wishing for his name to appear".
"Me too! I keep watching his picture wishing to finally see color".
"Girl, you are missing out. His eyes are the bluest of blue".
She smiled amused, trying to suppress a chuckle. A group of twenty-something years old girls speaking about a hot celebrity and soulmates, that checked out about right. She put the last chair on top of a table and finally approached them.
"Guys, I don't wanna ruin your night, but we are closing," she said trying to sound friendly, as four pairs of eyes turned toward her.
"It is late! We are sorry!" sex on the beach apologized, looking for her jacket lost somewhere behind her.
"No need to be. Take your time" She collected the empty glasses on her tray and was about to leave when one of them called after her.
"Wait! We kind of wanted to ask you a question" Buttercup nodded unenthusiastically, fingers unconsciously tapping the tray.
"Do you know Boomer? Does he come here often?" pina-colada chimed in right after.
"Boomer as in… okay, Boomer? " oh God, she was too old for that TikTok crap.
"No! Boomer Jojo! Here, him!" sex-on-the-beach stretched her arm out to show Buttercup the picture of a blonde guy on her phone. He had one of those boyband haircuts, and he was smiling seductively at the camera, a guitar pick between his lips.
"Who's the hottie?" she asked raising her eyebrows in appreciation. He was cute. A bit too clean to be her type, but cute.
"You don't know who he is?"
"Should I?" she was completely at loss, she was used to absurd drunken conversations, but she hadn't been expecting one from them, they all looked pretty decent.
She received no answer, as they started bickering in between them, her existence completely forgotten.
"I told you this was the wrong place!"
"But it is exactly like in the song…"
"Boomer would never lie!"
Buttercup quickly withdrew behind the counter as the conversation grew more animated.
"Boomer Jojo" she let that name roll on her tongue, "poor bastard".
She didn't envy him one bit.
She was breathless.
The good kind of breathless. The kind that made you believe you can move mountains. Her heart was pounding non-stop in her chest and a thousand lights were flickering in front of her. She felt her fingers tickle with anticipation as they closed tight around the microphone. A black ocean of people was all screaming her name. And she took the deepest breath of her life, taking in the moment.
The rich sound of the bass filled the air. She felt the vibrations of the speakers deep in her guts. She widened her stance and looked right in front of her, lungs full of air and voice ready to explode.
"Fuck" she muttered, eyes stuck to the ceiling and voice pasty with sleep. That was the fourth time that week she had had the same dream. The fact that she could remember them so vividly was even weirder. They were so realistic that she always woke up with her heart still beating strong in her chest. Disappointment seeped in every single time when she realized it had all been in her head.
Her subconscious was an avid world-builder. Every night it was in a different stadium, she could even remember some of the signs her imaginary fans were holding up for her. "I would sell my family for you," one said, "I love you more than hummus". And lightning bolts everywhere she looked, that was a good symbol for a logo, she should have talked to the band about it. God, she must have been a fucking sex symbol according to the amount of bras at her feet. The weirdest part of it all was that, in her dreams, she kept singing horrible pop songs. She needed to stop using Bubbles' Spotify account. Her subconscious had a sick sense of humor.
She crawled out of bed, fighting free from the tangle of blankets around her legs, and ventured into the world. It was early March, but spring was taking its time to bloom. It was still chilly and she shivered as her bare feet touched the kitchen pavement.
"Good morning sunshine, slept good?" sat at the table in the middle of the room, Bubbles, her older sister now roommate, was sipping one of her disgusting green smoothies, while skimming with little attention her textbook's pages. Buttercup shrugged, grabbing a bowl from the cabinet.
"You know milk and cereal cannot be considered a proper meal".
"I didn't know you were the food police" She drank a big gulp of milk directly from the jug and put it back in the fridge. "Don't tell Blossom" she warned with her spoon straight in the air.
Blossom was their oldest sister, which made Buttercup the baby of the family. She had moved out a few months earlier, which had been an enormous relief for every party involved. Buttercup was still suffering from PTSD from that one time she had thrown a carton of juice in the wrong recycling bin.
With a little hop, she sat on the kitchen counter, the bowl of cereal resting on her lap.
"How is your studying going?" Bubbles grunted, her forehead falling to hit the book. "I deduce not that great".
Bubbles was studying to become a psychologist. She had spent her first year diagnosing every person in her life. Those had been tough times, especially because every time Buttercup tried to shut her up, she was cordially invited to join an anger management class. But things had calmed down, and living with Bubbles had turned out to be great. She left cute notes on the fridge, they watched trashy television shows together and she had somehow convinced her to do yoga.
Their conversation was interrupted as the door of the apartment was violently open, and the walls all around them trembled. They barely had the time to look at each other, before a girl with long red hair burst into the room.
"My life is over" Blossom announced theatrically, looking at nothing in particular in front of her. Her face was half covered by a huge pair of sunglasses, but it was pretty evident she was upset. Their sister looked nothing like her usual self. Her ponytail was coming undone, her tights were ripped and she was clenching her purse so hard her knuckles had turned white.
"Blossom, why are you wearing your jacket inside out?"
"Buttercup!" Bubbles threw her an angry look and immediately tried to reach for Blossom, admittedly with some difficulties, as the girl had started to pace around the room, paying them no attention.
"I had a plan" she mumbled, walking from one side of the kitchen to the other. "Work my ass off for a few years. Postponing the wedding until I made partner, which I was going to do before turning thirty, of course. And Adam… God, Adam. He is not my soulmate, but a lot of weddings between non-soulmates work, right?" she abruptly stopped to look at her Buttercup who, stuck with a spoon in her mouth, was too afraid to move. "Right?" she repeated receiving a vigorous nod from both of her sisters.
"But life is funny like that. You know what? We should celebrate!" she headed straight towards the cabinet, roaming around cans of beans and peas, before resurfacing with a bottle of wine.
"Blossom, dude, are you okay?" Buttercup jumped down the counter and took a few steps towards her sister, who was now messily scrambling in every drawer looking for a corkscrew.
"Okay? I am fantastic!" she sang in a high-pitched voice, "I just want to celebrate and…and I-I can't open this! Why is it so hard to open?" her voice turned first into a whine, and then broke in big sobs. Buttercup quickly grabbed the bottle, while Bubbles guided the girl to a chair nearby.
"Talk to her" she mouthed at Buttercup.
"You are the psychologist!" Buttercup mouthed back. They looked at each other for a few long seconds, moving their hands in the air without making any real sense. Finally, Bubbles threw Buttercup a nasty look and sat down next to Blossom.
"Sweetheart, do you want to talk about it?"
Blossom's crying had died down; she was looking lifeless at the hands in her lap, a few sobs still breaking through. Bubbles scooped closer and gently rubbed her sister's leg. Buttercup was soon at the opposite side, nudging Blossom's shoulder with hers.
"Do you want to tell us what happened?" she asked the same question Bubbles' had asked, as if she was talking to a child.
Blossom took a deep breath, straightened her back, and finally lowered her sunglasses.
"Blos-som" Bubbles' voice cracked, "Your eyes are…"
"Green" Buttercup finished for her.
They were at their third glass of wine. A second bottle had appeared to keep company to the first one, and they had moved their little pity party to the living room. The tone of the room wasn't as tragic as it had been a few minutes earlier.
Buttercup was lying on the carpet, her legs up in the air resting on the wall. Blossom was cuddled up on the couch, and Bubbles was right at her feet, looking up at her.
"No fair… I thought I was going to be the first one to meet their soulmate" the blonde complained.
"Bubbles, you are younger than Blossom!"
"But I am the cutest!" Buttercup threw her a pillow and Bubbles dodged it giggling. Buttercup took another sip of wine, the bitterness of the liquid filling her palate. "Fuck, Bloss. How the hell did it happen?" she asked for what was probably the third time.
It was surreal. In a world obsessed with romance and the idea of a single person being your other half, Buttercup had weirdly always given very little thought to love. Maybe the very idea that there was one match, and one only, for each person out there was the reason behind that. All her relationships had always been fun, but temporary because everybody involved knew it wasn't love . They weren't soulmates, so they weren't destined to last. And now, one of her sisters had found her other half.
"I told you. I entered the room, he was there and as soon as I saw him, his eyes turned pink, and mine-"
"He has beautiful green eyes, Blossy. You are lucky" Bubbles mumbled in awe with red cheeks and a sleepy gaze.
"Yes, they are beautiful. The fact that he is a penniless criminal, whom I was supposed to assist in my pro-bono hours means nothing in front of these beautiful green eyes. At least I have that going on for me" Blossom let out a bitter chuckle, finishing in one sip the remaining of her wine and pouring herself a new full glass.
"Is he hot?" Bubbles was definitely tipsy at this point. Buttercup laughed and turned on her belly to look at her older sister. She couldn't miss this. As predicted, Blossom turned red and hid her face behind the glass.
"Come on, sis. He is your soulmate. The question is: is he fuckable?" she added with a wink, taking immense satisfaction in seeing her sister struggle.
"He is…very handsome" Blossom whispered unsurely.
"Is he sexy?" she added.
Her sister drank another big gulp of wine, before relaxing completely on the couch, grunting in frustration.
"Augh, illegally sexy, you have no idea" A series of indiscernible sounds of encouragement filled the room, as both Buttercup and Bubbles burst out laughing. "Girls, you can't understand, he has this deep, sultry voice that just melts me" Bubbles giggled again and Buttercup whistled in approval.
Blossom didn't usually open up, and if she did, it certainly wasn't about guys. She talked about his smell, his hair, his stupid, sexy laugh – her words – and even about his perfect butt.
Buttercup listened in silence, wondering if that girl in front of her was really her sister. Her older, responsible, completely logical sister.
"Did you know?" she asked, her head pleasantly empty and heavy at the same time for the wine.
"Yes," Blossom simply said, eyes looking down. "It's hard to explain, but you just feel it. When I saw him, I knew. I didn't want to accept it, but that's another story. I felt complete, I felt safe, I felt… a deep sense of love".
The room fell quiet, the only sounds coming from outside. Buttercup almost didn't dare to breathe, Blossom's words heavy in the air.
"Oh my god, Blossy! He is really your soulmate. You have never spoken about Adam like that" Bubbles' chirping voice broke the silence and Blossom jumped straight on the couch.
"Fuck" Both sisters looked at her with their mouths wide open, Blossom never swore. "I forgot about Adam".
Buttercup grimaced knowing exactly where all of that was going to lead. She didn't envy Blossom one bit.
"Can I sleep here tonight?"
"Of course, honey, anything you need"
Her big sis had found her soulmates.
Blossom had collapsed on the couch, and Buttercup found herself watching her sister in silence. Her head was spinning, only in part from the wine. Now that they had gone through Blossom's various states of grief, she could allow herself to focus on how she was feeling, and maybe freak out a little too. It wasn't every day you met your soulmates.
"With her eyes closed, one could think nothing happened" Bubbles too was staring at Blossom, probably as equally in disbelief as herself.
"Well, apart from that giant stain of wine on her shirt and the nachos in her hair, yes, one could".
Blossom's face was the definition of blissful at that moment, Buttercup observed her a second longer before standing up. "I need to take a shower before my turn". Bubbles stood up after her and started to pick up the various glasses forgotten around the room.
"What you are feeling is called fear, Buttercup. Change isn't easy, but don't worry, we'll face it together" Bubbles had that annoying habit of labeling Buttercup's emotions, since, according to her, she was unable to.
"And this is annoyance, because you are annoying" She grabbed a bag of chips lying around and went to the kitchen followed by a completely unfazed Bubbles.
"Mean girl, saaaad boy" Buttercup stopped whatever she was doing, cupboard open and chips still in her hand. It took her a few seconds to realize she knew that song, and a couple more to recognize it as hers. "I'll meet you at Mojo's, your heart is my toyyy" Bubbles continued absentmindedly while starting to wash the wine glass.
"Where have you- Do you- Do you like the song?" she asked, her sister must have heard her singing it in the shower, that was the only explanation plausible since the song wasn't out yet. She didn't like to share any of her creations before they were perfect or, in other words, before she had obsessed over them for enough time that words had no meanings. There were still some minor adjustments she had to make, and she wasn't sure about a few of the lyrics, and-
"I love it! It has been on the radio all day!".
"Very funny, Bubs" sShethrew a rag at her sister and rolled her eyes. "Well, I am happy you like it".
Bubbles gave her a confused look, she expected some type of dissertation on her emotions and on her being a perfectionist, but she didn't have time for that, not that evening.
"It's late, I gotta get ready" she half screamed from the kitchen door, ready to escape.
"Love you, don't be lateee! Mean girl, saaad boyyyy" Buttercup shook her head, at least the song had been well received.
Something was wrong. She had never seen that many people on the block. At first, she had thought a parade must have been happening in the city, maybe a march, but the closer she got to Mojo's the clearer it became that the situation was much more disturbing. People were queuing to enter her shitty, godforsaken pub.
"What the fuck?" she passed people in line, trying to get to the door, and gained a few bad looks.
"What the fuck, Jimmy?" she said to a tall, skinny guy that seemed to be managing who could enter the doors.
"I don't know what to tell you BC, it has been crazy" he opened the door for her, and gave her a little nod "I am warning you, Mojo is extra Jojo tonight".
The pub inside was filled to the brim. She had never seen it so busy, not even on Saint Patrick's Day. Every single table, every single stool was taken. And it wasn't just full of people, she noticed, it was full of girls. She walked among selfie-takers and colorful drinks with her mouth wide open in disbelief. Even that old television hanging from the wall was set on some pop music channel.
"Buttercup!" she was called by a short, sturdy man that barely reached her shoulders. Mojo Jojo, her boss, made its way to her, not without some difficulties given the state of the place.
"Do you see? Years and years of hard work, and hard work is what brings results, results that are brought by my hard work, because I worked hard-"
"Yes Mojo, the place is exploding. What happened?" she cut him off, aware he could go on for another five minutes like that.
"A big popstar recognized the worth of Mojo's, which is worth more than any other pub because its worth comes from my hard work-"
"What? A popstar recognized what?" her boss never got the chance to answer, the song on the tv suddenly changed and the whole pub erupted into cheers.
"Mean girl, sad boy" a unanimous voice rose from the people around her and she froze, her heart pumping faster than it had ever had. The blond dude those girls had shown her the night before appeared on the screen.
That was her song.
That little fucker had stolen her song.
Boomer Bolt. That was the name that would put her in jail.
She had almost left right that instant, ready to find that asshole wherever he was and break his face. However, her presence at work had never been more required than that evening. And she needed the job, after all.
She had worked in silence the whole night, thinking about one hundred and one ways to make that little thief suffer. The song kept playing on the music channel and the bar cheered every time it came on. Not only had he stolen her song, but he had completely butchered it. It was supposed to be an acoustic grungy ballad, but his version was a pop monster with all those bass buildups and drops, reverbs, and the disproportionate use of the word baby . For that, he deserved extra suffering.
The fact that he alone had turned her uncool, under-the-radar pub into a hot spot for young girls was another strike. She had never made so many cosmopolitans in one night. She didn't even know what a cosmopolitan was before that shift.
She didn't understand how he had managed to get his hands on her music, but she wasn't crazy. That was her song, it even mentioned Mojo's. She didn't care that it sounded impossible, she knew he had stolen it, she just needed to discover how.
She fumbled with her keys, opened the door, and stormed to her room, barely registering her sisters passed out on the couch. She opened her computer and soon was on Boomer Bolt's discography page.
"Meet Me at Mojo's", his last single, had been released two days earlier, together with his new album. When Buttercup clicked to see the rest of the songs, her agitation grew. Those were extremely familiar titles. She pressed play and her suspicions were confirmed. She kept skipping songs and the more she did, the angrier she got.
She slapped the PC shut. She was so mad, she wanted to scream. Her eyes teared up in frustration. Years of work had been stolen under her nose, and nobody was going to believe her. He was a multiplatinum pop idol, a teen girls' obsession, and a marketing phenomenon, she knew what were her odds of being listened to.
But that wasn't just her music, it was her life, and those songs belonged to her. There was no chance she was going down without a fight.
Boomer Bolt could be the biggest celebrity in the world, she didn't care. She was going to face him and make him admit what he had done.