It was a quiet night at the headquarters of Your Thing magazine. A light rain fell over Stilesville, casting the city in a shimmering glow without turning the streets into a mess. The weather was calm, but this wasn't just any ordinary evening.
Burdine Maxwell—45 years old, head writer of her own magazine, self-proclaimed style icon, and reigning queen of fashion—was reflecting on her tumultuous track record with men. The last few years had been… eventful, to say the least. From a teenage boy lying about his age to a billionaire ghosting her at a luxury hotel, to even getting abducted by aliens (seriously, aliens!), her love life was the definition of chaotic.
But tonight felt different.
"Stilesville's very first speed-dating event…" she mumbled, inspecting a half-torn pamphlet.
"Look, Burdine," came a familiar voice. Jade, one of the Bratz magazine girls, stepped into the room. "I know we've had our differences, but things have changed. You've changed. The Tweevils are gone, your magazine's no longer in competition with us, and honestly? We've gotta give you credit for that."
It was true—Your Thing magazine had undergone a surprising transformation. It was no longer focused on teen drama and rivalry but had pivoted to cater to a more mature audience: women aged 35 and up. Quite the rebrand, wasn't it?
Burdine raised an eyebrow, still holding the cheaply printed flyer. "Jade, please. I could find myself a fine specimen of a man with my eyes closed. Well, maybe just one eye—I'll admit, the Botox hasn't been kind lately," she joked, smirking at her own self-deprecation.
Jade chuckled, joined by her fellow Bratz members—Cloe, Sasha, and Yasmin—who had come along for moral support. Despite their history, the rivalry felt like a distant memory. It had been over 15 years since Burdine had fired Jade over something as trivial as getting the wrong food order. Back then, Jade had been a health-obsessed teen, terrified of carbs, battling her parents' harsh expectations about her appearance. She had gone through years of recovery to overcome an eating disorder and rebuild her confidence. Now, she was stronger, more at ease, and even willing to engage with her old boss.
"Fine," Burdine sighed after a moment, folding the flyer. "I'll give it a try. But honestly, men these days are so brutal, I'm starting to consider… other options."
"Ha! That's more Roxxi's thing," Cloe quipped, earning a burst of laughter from the group and a look of confusion from Burdine.
The girls stayed for a bit more lighthearted chatter before heading out. For Burdine, it was refreshing—almost strange—to share a friendly moment with people who weren't out to destroy her at every opportunity. Things had changed drastically since the day Royale, her beloved dog, passed away in the hallway. It marked a turning point for her—personally and professionally.
Gone was her obsession with pink and her ever-present tiara. She had traded in her bleach-blonde locks for her natural auburn, now streaked with gray. Without her old trademarks, Burdine was almost unrecognizable. And maybe that was the point—she was done being the cartoonish villain.
Still, one thing hadn't changed: Burdine Maxwell didn't do anything halfway.
As she glanced again at the flyer, she made a decision. Next Friday, October 7th, at 6 p.m., she would attend that speed-dating event. She wasn't looking for love—just a hunky, sexy piece of meat to have fun with. No strings attached.
Right?
