A/N "Takes Work" first appears in Jem S2E12, "Danse Time" (Original air date: October 19, 1987). Lyrics by Barry Harman, performed by Britta Phillips as Jem.
Chapter 27
Phyllis took a deep breath. "You sure about this, kid?"
"Pretty sure," Deirdre said. "I get it if that means you want me out of the band, but—"
Phyllis cut her off. "Nobody wants you out of the band including me, got it? Sorry," she added, forcing the word out. Even after all this time, apologies didn't flow naturally to her lips. "You just threw me off for a sec."
"You mean... you're okay with this?"
Phyllis hesitated. "If I said I wasn't, would you drop the idea?"
"No."
"If she comes to me for help, I'll connect her with a good lawyer," Phyllis informed her. "Long as you're good with that, give her hell."
"Really?" Deirdre sounded shocked.
Phyllis took another breath. "I won't deny we're old friends, any more than I'll pretend I wouldn't have pulled a stunt like that back in the day. But that was back in the day." And even if more than half the time, it was Eric and his goons doing the real dirty work, I still cheered them on, she thought with a pang. Then she remembered what her therapist had said about not beating herself up for past mistakes and continued. "If she'd done it to me, because of our shared history, I'd probably deal with her myself and keep the cops out of it. Thing is, she did it to you. And…" Damn. She hated thinking this way, especially about someone who mattered to her. But she'd spent long enough in her profession that she was thinking this way. "If she did it to you, she might have done it to someone else who didn't report her. Or she might do it again. You do what you gotta do, kid. See you at rehearsal tomorrow."
She hung up the phone knowing she'd said all the right things. But she still felt like crap.
Emma wondered how she could have been so stupid as to think running away to California would solve all her problems.
"You know, with your looks, you could be a model. Or a movie star!"
She'd started to shake her head and demur, but her new friend kept nodding.
"Seriously, Emma. Do you know how many women in Hollywood dye their hair blonde? And you've got it naturally!"
"I can't act," she'd protested. Sahara hadn't been put out.
"So, you can model. Look, when you're old enough, you should go to LA. I bet you get discovered as soon as you arrive and one day, I'll see your face in a magazine or on a poster and think, 'I knew Emma Swan before she got famous!"
She'd been discovered as soon as she'd arrived, all right—by a cop hanging out at the bus terminal. So much for the 'open call' ad she'd ripped out of some magazine in the library. By the time she'd been brought to Haven House, it was too late. Still, Giselle had been nice. Emma wouldn't have minded staying there, but Starlight House had been pretty good, too. She'd been doing well in school. She had friends. Everyone had seemed so nice!
So, of course, she'd gone and screwed herself over. At least, she told herself, she was used to getting in trouble when she messed up and ignored when she didn't. Maybe it would be easier, now that she knew that Starlight House was pretty much like most of her other placements, after all. She knew how to get by for the most part: keep her head down, stick to the rules, and when she just couldn't stand it anymore, hop on a bus—Greyhound or city, depending on how much money she could accumulate—and enjoy a little freedom until she got picked up again.
Maybe if she saw another notice about auditions, she'd take a shot at it. Hadn't Giselle said something about needing to prove you had a job to be an emancipated minor? Well, once she got a part in a movie, she'd probably be making enough to support herself and more!
Until then, well, she'd just have to toe the line and not give Jerrica another reason to ground her.
"Well?" Kimber said, when Stormer was silent for too long. "Say something!"
Stormer hesitated. "Uh…"
"Uh-oh," Kimber said. "I know that look."
"What look?"
"The one where you're trying to tell me in a nice way that I'm wrong and you can't figure out how, so you try to think about a subtle way to change the subject?"
Stormer winced. "Am I that obvious?"
"Yeah, kinda," Kimber said. She sighed. "You think I overreacted?"
"I wasn't there," Stormer reminded her. "It just… doesn't sound to me like Jerrica said anything that terrible."
Kimber flopped dejectedly down on Stormer's bed. "I was afraid of that."
"Maybe there was something in her tone?" Stormer ventured.
"No," Kimber sighed again. "There wasn't. I just… I don't think I expected her to take it so well and I couldn't believe it when she did and…" She groaned. "I messed up. Again."
Stormer sat down beside her and gently squeezed her shoulder. "She'll understand."
"I'll have to apologize," Kimber muttered. "I hate that."
"She'll accept it."
"I know. She's the mature one."
"You're mature too. Sometimes."
Kimber snorted. "Not often enough."
"Apologizing when you're wrong is also a sign of maturity, yannow."
"Maturity sucks sometimes, yannow?"
Stormer smiled. "Yeah, sometimes. Wanna head out to Long Beach tomorrow and catch a marionette show? They still give out ice cream after the production."
"I'm not too mature for that," Kimber said slowly.
"Puppet shows or ice cream?"
"Both!"
There was no answer when Jerrica called Stormer's home number. She looked at the clock on the opposite wall. Kimber had bolted out half an hour ago. At this time of day, though, she—and Stormer—might well be stuck in traffic. Or they might have gone to a restaurant or movie to unwind. Or…
Jerrica told herself firmly that there was no reason to worry. Kimber would be back once she'd calmed down and they could talk things out then…
She was so going get everyone on the Starlight label a cell phone going forward. Yeah, they weren't always reliable right now, something to do too few towers and too many skyscrapers as she understood it, but the technology was improving and meanwhile, she'd still have a better chance at getting through!
And angry as Kimber had been, her sister would probably just hang up on her.
Jerrica looked at the time again and a new realization struck.
It was a quarter past two and she'd told Emma to…
She didn't swear, but that didn't mean she never wanted to. Pushing back her chair, she jumped up and headed out of her office at a run, whispering, "Showtime, Synergy," just before she opened the door.
Emma looked up at the knock on her door and braced for the worst. "Yes?" she called.
After a moment, the door opened and Emma's eyes widened. "No way," she whispered, as a pink-haired woman with heavy eye makeup in a darker shade of the same color stepped inside.
"Emma?" the woman asked, smiling. "Hi. I'm Jem."
Deirdre swallowed hard. She felt as though she'd been talking for over two hours straight, though the station clock on the wall showed that it had been scarcely forty-five minutes since she'd sat down, and the officer had been asking her questions throughout.
"According to the medical report, you suffered numerous cuts and abrasions, and required a tetanus shot and four stitches."
"That's right."
"Nothing more serious?"
"No."
The officer pushed the pages toward her. "Thank you, Ms. Baxter. Now, I need you to read over carefully the statement you've just given me and note any errors or corrections. If you're satisfied, sign here," she inscribed a large 'x' at the beginning of a line and circled it, "initial here," she repeated the operation, "and again, here… and here." As Deirdre picked up the papers, the officer continued. "We'll take it from there."
"What's going to happen to Roxy?" Deirdre asked. "I-I mean, is this going to ruin her life?"
"If she did what you claim," the officer said slowly, "then she may have ruined her life. In any event, that's for the legal system to decide. You've done the right thing coming forward, Ms. Baxter." As Deirdre reached for the crutch she'd been leaning on when she came in, she continued, "I hope you have a full and fast recovery."
"It just seemed like everything was going so well," Emma finished. "And then I blew it, and I've got nobody to blame but myself! Wendy seemed so lonely, and I know I should've asked if I could go out and meet up with her, only…"
Jem was still smiling. "Only?" she prompted gently.
Emma rubbed the toe of her shoe into the carpet. "I already got permission to miss supper and hang out with her last week. I didn't think Mrs. Bailey would let me again and I thought it would be worse if I did it after she said 'no'."
Jem sighed. "It sounds like you've had to deal with a lot of rules and restrictions," she said.
Emma shrugged. "I'm used to it."
"And nobody told you that things are a little more laid-back here?" Jem asked.
Emma blinked. "What do you mean?"
"Well, Jerrica and Mrs. Bailey like to keep this place running like a well-oiled machine, but that doesn't mean it's necessarily a tight ship. There are rules," she said seriously. "They need to know where you are, and you're not allowed to hurt yourself or anyone else. Everyone's got chores—what're yours, by the way?"
"I helped Mrs. Bailey after breakfast," Emma said, "but that was just because I didn't get to go on the trip. I'm supposed to dust in the common room this week."
Jem nodded. "Do you feel you're worked harder than the other girls?" she asked. "Or that it's not fair that you're all expected to help out?"
Emma shook her head. "No, of course not. I mean, it doesn't mean I love tidying up, but I get that it has to be done!"
Jem nodded. "That's right." She sighed. "If you want my two cents, I think Jerrica should have heard you out last night, but it was late, you were both ti—probably tired, and she probably wanted to deal with the issue after you were both rested."
"But by then, everyone else was off on the trip," Emma said, not bitterly, but despondently.
"There'll be other trips," Jem pointed out.
"Yeah, but will I even be here? How many times do I get to screw up before Jerrica sends me back? Or my paperwork comes through and I go back to Boston?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Or my real parents show up with some good reason why they chucked me on the freeway eleven years ago."
Jem winced. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"Why would you?" Emma asked. "I didn't say until now."
But I bet it was in your file, and that's still sitting on my desk. I've been so busy, I didn't get the chance to really read through it, and then you seemed to be settling in so well, I didn't think I had to. But I should have.
"You know," Jem said, "I bet if you tell Jerrica what you told me, she'll understand. It's hard settling into a new place. It's hard believing that it's long-term when your other placements haven't been." Emma frowned. She could swear that she was hearing a jam session down the hall, but nobody else was supposed to be here. Where was the music coming from? She pulled her attention back to what Jem was saying.
"And sometimes it just…"
Emma's eyes widened. The music was louder and the tempo had picked up. A microphone materialized in Jem's hand, seemingly out of nowhere. And now, over the music, the pop star sang.
Takes work to move a mountain
Takes work to cross a stream
But when you're aiming at high stakes
It's worth the work it takes to build a dream
Takes work to go the distance
Takes work to see it through
So when you feel you're on the spot
Give it all you've got to make your dreams come trueGood things don't come easy
Knocking at your door
But if it's worth the havin'
It's worth the workin' forTakes work to find a rainbow
Takes work to travel far
But though your dreams seem far away
They'll come true someday
Jem put an arm around Emma's shoulders and the girl smiled cautiously.
You'll reach that shining star!
You'll reach that shining star!
After leaving a much more cheerful Emma, Jem made her way back to her office. "Show's over, Synergy," she whispered. A moment later, Jerrica sank down in her chair.
Kimber still wasn't picking up. Neither was Aja. Jerrica hesitated only a moment before calling Shana. "I've had better days," she said with a sigh, when her friend answered.
"Haven't we all," Shana replied cheerfully.
"It just… feels like I keep messing up. I thought I was supporting Kimber, and that went sideways. I disciplined a new girl for staying out past curfew and after Jem had a chat with her, I found out that maybe I should have tried to do that last night, no matter how late it was and… maybe let her go on that darned trip—"
"Hey, who is this tense and negative person pretending to be Jerrica?" Shana deadpanned.
Despite herself, Jerrica chuckled. "You've been waiting all this time to throw that line back at me?" she asked.
"It was a great line," Shana said. "And really? Kimber will calm down. Aja and Stormer will see to that much, if she doesn't do it on her own. As far as the other business, curfew's a serious thing. How old's the girl?"
"Eleven."
"No way should an eleven-year-old be out past curfew. You remember how your mom came down on us when we tried it?"
"Yeah, but we knew better and we were just… rebelling," Jerrica said. "I'm not so sure that Emma's the same." She hesitated. "And maybe I'm letting Jem take over again and neglecting Starlight House, like I used to."
"Delegating things to Mrs. Bailey isn't neglect. If it were, no single parent could have a full-time job. And Jerrica, kids need boundaries. And consequences. I don't think missing a trip to a crowded theme park, when you can't trust a girl to follow rules and stay with the group is all that harsh."
Jerrica found herself nodding. "And even if it was, she just got a visit from Jem, complete with an impromptu musical number."
"Softy," Shana teased. "Which song?"
"Takes Work."
"Mega-softy."
Jerrica chuckled. "Thanks."
"Don't get all mushy," Roxy warned, as Stormer sat down opposite her. "This ain't the kind of place you and your girlfriend were at the other night."
Stormer shrugged and tried to pretend the jab didn't sting a little. "Being attracted to women doesn't mean being attracted to all women, Roxy," she said, not quite able to avoid sounding defensive. "But since you asked me out," she added slowly, "if you're… curious, I can see if one of my other friends might be interest—"
"Stuff it," Roxy cut her off. "The only thing I'm curious about is whether you got that Baxter kid to keep her trap shut or—"
"Roxanne Pellegrini?" a voice said from behind her.
"Who wants ta know?" Roxy demanded, whirling around. Her features relaxed when she saw the boyish face of the officer standing to her left. "Sorry," she said, with a grin. "Yes, that's me. You a Misfits fan?" She pulled out a pen and poised it over her napkin.
The officer shrugged. "I was once," he said. "Unfortunately, I'm here on official business."
Roxy sighed. "Is this about those parking fines in Vegas? Because I can explain."
"That's one for the LVPD," the officer said. "Ms Pellegrini, I'm afraid I'll have to place you under arrest on suspicion of kidnapping."
"What?" Roxy's eyes grew wide and she opened her mouth to protest, but a second officer that she hadn't noticed standing several feet away cut in smoothly.
"Would you please stand, place your hands on the table and spread your feet apart?"
"I don't spread my legs for just any guy," Roxy blustered, but she still rose to comply. Her gaze locked on Stormer.
"You," she hissed. "Did you have something to do with this? You were supposed to talk to her and get her to drop this! You mess up just like always?"
"Ms Pellegrini," the first cop said before Stormer could respond, "you have the right to remain silent. If you give up the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law…"
Kimber looked up when Stormer returned. "How'd it go?" she asked, one white-knuckled hand braced on the counter. "Is she planning to—"
Stormer didn't answer. Instead, she crossed purposefully to the shelf in the living room that held what could generously be called a liquor cabinet—a couple of bottles of red wine, a six-pack of beer, and a fifth of rum, its seal still unbroken. She reached for the rum. Two inches away from the jar, her hand froze. Then she shook her head, sighed, headed back to the kitchen, and angrily poured herself a cup of coffee from the carafe.
She was ladling a third heaping spoonful of sugar in, when Kimber asked, "That bad?"
Stormer plunked the sugar in, spoon and all, and carried the mug to the table without stirring. She set it down heavily on the table. "She just got arrested in front of me," Stormer said. "I-I knew if Deirdre made the report, that was what was probably going to happen…"
At once, Kimber was standing behind her, one hand on each of her lover's shoulders. "Can you handle it?" she asked.
Stormer sighed. "I'll have to. It's not even that I don't think she deserved it, but… she used to be one of my best friends. And, I guess, in some ways, I still think she is. And I watched them cuff her," she said, a note of horror creeping into her voice.
"Yeah."
Stormer shook her head. "That could have been me, or Pizzazz, or Jetta back then, if you guys had… I mean, we did stuff like that all the time, and I knew it wasn't right, but I never stopped to think that it wasn't legal. I don't think any of us thought about consequences. We were kids!"
"We all were," Kimber said. "But most of us grew up."
"Did we really?" Stormer asked. "Because it all feels like yesterday."
Kimber's eyes grew very wide. "I think we did." She exhaled noisily. "And I guess I'd better prove it. To me, if not to you, anyway."
"Huh?" Stormer glanced over her shoulder at Kimber nervously. "What do you mean?"
Kimber shook her head, but there was a ghost of a smile on her face. "I mean, I'm pretty sure you're right and I overreacted to Jerrica earlier. I better call her." She winced. "Maybe your first idea about cracking open the rum was a good one."
"You think so?"
Kimber shook her head again. "Not really. But you might want to put on a fresh pot of coffee."
Emma looked at her lyrics again and frowned. She kept going back and forth. Sometimes, she thought that they were the best thing she'd ever written. Other times, she thought that they were utter garbage.
Maybe I'm right both times, she thought glumly. It's the best thing I've ever written, and it's utter garbage.
Her eyebrows lifted. Actually…
She knew what the problem was and she thought she knew how to fix it. The problem was, she didn't know if she could.
A clatter of running feet and a cloud of excited chatter and laughter told her that the rest of the girls were back. Emma eyed the doorway of the common room and considered whether she could get back to her room before anyone noticed, but it was too late.
"Emma!" Stephanie exclaimed. "I'm so sorry you couldn't make it! Were you sick? Are you better?"
Emma shook her head. "No, I'm fine," she said. "I… I've been working on the song lyrics."
"You have?" Suddenly Julie was leaning on the arm of her chair, an excited gleam in her eyes. "Did you finish?"
Emma swallowed hard. "I think it still needs a little work. Only…" Her mouth was suddenly dry.
She'd said one word too many. Already, Marla was at Julie's elbow, the same expectant expression on her face. "Only?" she repeated.
Emma took a steadying breath. "I… I think we need to change the name of the band."
"So… uh…" Kimber kept her eyes on the ground. "I might have overreacted before."
"I see," Jerrica said carefully.
"I guess I'm tired of always messing up and then running to you to fix things."
Jerrica abandoned the pretense of going through the paperwork on her desk and met Kimber's gaze fully. "Roxy taking advantage of a situation doesn't mean you did anything wrong," she said.
"If we hadn't gone to that bar—"
"Then she would have found some other leverage." She shook her head. "Look, I admit I don't fully understand what you're dealing with. I know a thing or two about living a double life, but… I also know that's not exactly the same thing."
Kimber shook her head. "It's not. But I guess you can relate a little."
"Maybe," Jerrica said. "My point is, she locked Deirdre in a warehouse. She tried blackmailing you and Stormer. She wants what she wants and she doesn't seem to care who she hurts in the process."
"Winning is everything?" Kimber quipped. Then her smile fell away. "Crud, it's like déjà vu all over again."
"So, we're good?" Jerrica asked, holding out her hand.
After a moment, Kimber took it. "Yeah, we're good."
Jerrica smiled. "Great. And you'll stay for supper? Actually, I think Emma might be feeling a little low. I tried cheering her up before, but it's going to be hard for her hearing everyone else talking about the trip she didn't go on."
Kimber's eyes widened. "Oh my gosh! She needed help with her song and I was so angry I barely noticed she was in the doorway when I yanked Stormer out of here. Where is she? I got to make this up to her!"
Jerrica came around from behind her desk. "The common room is probably the right place to start. If she's not there, maybe someone's seen her."
"It's perfect," Julie said.
Emma exhaled. "You're sure? I-I mean I didn't want to come in and start telling you what to—"
"No," Marla grinned. "It does sound better. There are a lot of groups now that don't have a 'the' in front of their name. This works."
"But the music…"
Kyla picked up her guitar. "The melody's fine. It needs a couple of tweaks, but nothing serious. Now, if we add chords," she continued, "and if we change the key from C to F major…" She gave Emma an apologetic smile. "Sorry, but it's better for my voice.
"I was writing in C?" Emma asked. "I didn't know. I can't read music."
"You were singing in C," Marla explained. "It doesn't matter. I mean, it does for certain instruments but… nobody here plays brass or woodwinds."
"Okay," Emma said, not really any the wiser. "I mean, if you think it works in F, go for it, I guess. But I don't have the music written, just the lyrics."
"It's okay," Kyla said. "I have an ear for this."
So saying, she began to play softly, slowly at first, nodding to herself as she found the notes.
"That's… it sounds…" Emma stammered wonderingly.
Kyla grinned. And then, she began to sing.
Come with me
We're chasin' dreams, makin' history
We'll find a way and a place to be
Far away, findin' new memories
Time and space
Like stardust they will blow away
Run on faith and we'll be okay
Watch the ground as it's fading away
Up in the atmosphere
We can disappear, disappear
Hearts will collide
Up in the sky, lookin' down the night
We are Starlight, Starlight
Between the moon and the city lights
We are Starlight, Starlight
Ooh, ooh
Starlight
"What do you mean I don't get a phone call?" Roxy shrilled. "I know my constitutional rights!"
The desk sergeant rolled his eyes. "You know what you've watched on prime time TV," he drawled. "Out here in the real world? You can call a lawyer, a bail bondsperson, or someone else who can help get you released from custody. If you have minor children, you can call to make childcare arrangements for them. Otherwise, as you've already been told, you have the right to remain silent."
Roxy flinched. Then she took a breath. "Someone who can help get me released from custody, huh?" She smiled. "Yeah, I wanna call Rory Llewellyn at Stingerz Sound."
"Is that your attorney?"
"No, but he's gonna get me out of here."
The officer shrugged. "No problem. But just so you know, we're only barred from listening to phone calls between an attorney and their client."
Roxy shrugged. "I don't have a lawyer, but if anyone can hook me up with one, he will."
"No problem." The desk sergeant beckoned to a nearby officer. "Show Ms. Pellegrini to one of our courtesy phones, O'Connor," he ordered. "Then take her to holding."
"Don't suppose I can get a little something to soothe my nerves?"
The desk sergeant shrugged and glanced at O'Connor. "Get her what she wants from the vending machines, up to five bucks." He turned back to Roxy. "If you're still here in the morning, think about what you'd like off the breakfast menu at Jack in the Box."
"What?"
"Take it or leave it. Now, do you want to make that call, or not?"
Roxy sighed, defeated. "Yeah."
The sound of applause greeted the end of the song, and the girls turned to see Jerrica and Kimber standing in the doorway.
"Emma, you wrote that?" Kimber exclaimed. "Those lyrics are truly outrageous!"
"That's good, right?" Emma asked uncertainly.
"That's great!"
Jerrica nodded. "It's got a good sound, and Kyla, it's perfect for your range."
Marla squealed. "We're gonna knock 'em dead at the benefit!"
The smile froze on Jerrica's face. "Benefit?" she repeated.
"Yeah, for Parkinson's. Just because Ashley can't go on doesn't mean we can't!" She grinned. "We can't let you down."
Jerrica swallowed hard. "Girls… the benefit is for professional bands only. You've done a great job with this song, but… you won't be performing at the show. I'm sorry."