A/N: In 2013, California passed a law that made it a misdemeanor to photograph the children of celebrities. However, this fic is set in 1994.

Chapter 30

"Get out of my face!" Roxy snarled. "All of you!" She wanted nothing more than to grab one of the cameras or mics and feed it to its owner, but the picture of the cell she'd just left was still fresh in her mind and she didn't think that attacking a reporter in full view of the county lockup was the smartest thing she could do.

And then, someone flung a jacket over her, pulling it up to partly cover her face, and a familiar voice said, "Keep your head down and move!"

Time was when she would have followed that voice without question and, while that was no longer true most of the time, it was today. She hurried to the waiting car and all but collapsed into the front passenger seat.

"You okay?" her rescuer asked.

Roxy nodded. A small smile, one that was—for once—missing its all-too-habitual sneer, flitted across her face. "Yeah," she said softly. "Thanks, Pizzazz."

Stormer turned off the TV with a sigh of irritation.

"I outgrew Hector Ramirez ages ago," Kimber remarked.

"Yeah, well, you've got good taste," Stormer said. "On the one hand, Roxy was ready to do this to us, so maybe I shouldn't feel bad for her. On the other hand…"

"She used to be one of your best friends and you're a good person, so you do feel bad for her."

Stormer shook her head. "She was ready to drag us through the mud if Deirdre didn't drop the charges."

"And if Deirdre had, then Roxy would've still been using the photos as leverage. Bet her next move would be to get us to push Pizzazz to let her back with the Misfits."

Stormer thrust her hand angrily into the bowl of potato chips on the coffee table. "She might have been one of my best friends, but you know her pretty well, too," she sighed. "How did we all… get like this?" She smiled, as Kimber rested a hand on her shoulder.

"We grew up and stopped fooling around as much. She grew up and… started upping the ante."

"I guess that's one way to put it." She gestured at the TV. "As much as I want to think that's going to blow over…"

"It will," Kimber assured her.

"Yeah, but the stuff they were saying: about the shows she's cancelled, the drinking… disturbing the peace… I forget, were you watching when they showed the pictures of those hotel rooms she trashed?"

Kimber nodded. "Maybe it wasn't her," she said unconvincingly.

"What?" Stormer snorted. "She went out shopping and while she was away, some deranged creep broke in and deliberately destroyed her room so she'd look bad?"

"You guys did it to us," Kimber said. "Or Eric's goons did anyway."

"No," Stormer sighed. "A time or two, it was us. Only I don't think Roxy has any enemies now who would stoop to that level." She winced. "I think if she was just getting trashed in the tabloids, it would blow over. Nobody pretends that Ramirez is a serious journalist. But wild parties, cancelled engagements, getting blacklisted from two major hotel chains… I don't know if Roxy can come back from this."

"I'm sorry," Kimber said.

"Me too." She put her hand over Kimber's and gave it a squeeze.

"You want to see her?" Phyllis asked abruptly. "Hana Mae?"

Roxy snorted. "Probably give the kid nightmares if she sees me looking like this." She glanced nervously at her rescuer. "She know anything about what's going on?"

"No, and I'd like to keep it that way," Phyllis shot back. She sighed. "I've called Marisol and told her to stay inside with her. Much as I want to think the press would go easy on a kid, I can't count on it."

"Marisol?"

"Nanny. I work full-time, remember?"

"The pantsuit and scarf gave it away." She frowned. "How'd the press find out about me?"

Phyllis shook her head. "I didn't tell them, if that's what you're wondering. But Hector Ramirez broke the story. And you want to know who one of his up-and-coming employees is?"

Roxy hesitated. "Do I?" she asked.

"Clash."

Roxy growled something Phyllis was glad Hana Mae wasn't in the car to overhear. Then, in a louder mutter, "I'll kill her."

"That's it," Julie said, as the last chords of Kyla's guitar faded away. "We either quit now, or we take a couple of weeks off so I can get my voice back. I don't think I can sing another note tonight."

"Well, it sounds great," Emma said. "Seriously. You guys all sound great."

Kyla turned to her with a thoughtful expression. "Emma, you know, you could sing, too."

Emma took a step backwards. "Me?" she said, feeling her hands go clammy. "No. No way."

"I don't mean lead," Kyla said. "Julie's got that nailed, or she will have so long as she was exaggerating about losing her voice…?" She ended on a question and shot a glance in the other girl's direction.

Julie nodded. "I'm fine for now, but I want to stop before I overdo it."

"I hear ya." Kyla turned back to Emma. "But we could use some backup vocals. Here. I just want to see how this sounds. Sing your chorus and don't stop when I come in?"

Emma raised an eyebrow, but she took a breath and sang softly, "Up in the sky, looking down at the night…"

Kyla joined on the next line, but the notes she sang weren't the same ones that Emma was singing. "We are Starlight, Starlight."

The line sounded richer now, and somehow fuller. Emma stopped. "How…?"

Kyla shrugged. "Harmony's kind of my thing. Keep going."

Smiling now, not just in nervousness but with a touch of wonder, Emma obeyed.

Between the moon and the city lights

We are Starlight, Starlight…

Roxy walked into Phyllis's house with more than a little trepidation. Immediately, a dark-haired woman with East Asian features bustled into the hallway to greet them. Phyllis took a deep breath.

"Roxy, this is Marisol. Marisol, Roxy. She's Hana Mae's mother."

The smile on the nanny's face froze. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she said, and though her voice was warm, both Phyllis and Roxy caught a guarded note in her tone.

The old Pizzazz probably would have flown off the handle on Roxy's behalf and fired the nanny on the spot. The new one remembered all the times that Hana Mae had asked when her mother was coming back and how those pleas had slowly lessened and tapered off. Both she and Marisol had been there to observe it. She thought about the conversations she'd had with Roxy and tried to recall how many of them had taken place when Marisol had been present. And Ramirez was sleaze, but if Marisol had caught his show this morning, his hatchet job was probably coloring her perceptions.

Phyllis shook her head. "Roxy's been going through stuff," she said. "It's been a lot. Where's Hana Mae?"

Marisol's smile grew warmer. "The little angel's just down for her nap. Should… should I wake her?"

It was Roxy who answered. "No, let her rest. I've waited this long to see her again, I can wait another hour or so."

Phyllis opened her purse and pulled out her wallet. "I've cancelled my appointments and I'm staying in today," she told the nanny. "Here. Take the rest of the day off, and I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Marisol ducked her head once. "Of course, Ms Gabor. And thank you," she added, taking the money.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Roxy snorted. "Thought she'd never leave."

"Hey," Phyllis said, "she's great with Hana Mae. And she'll warm up to you, too, once she gets to know you."

Roxy sniffed. "Who says I'm sticking around that long?"

Phyllis started to retort, but then she realized that Roxy was pulling the same tough-girl act she always did when she was feeling vulnerable. Phyllis bit down on the inside of her lower lip. She could relate. She placed a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Bet you'll feel better after a long hot shower and a nap yourself," she said.

Roxy didn't answer. But when Phyllis tugged at her wrist, she offered no resistance and let her friend lead her toward a guest room.

"Thanks for picking her up, Pizzazz," Rory said.

Phyllis affected a nonchalant attitude. "Hey, any time, Riot."

"How is she?"

She sighed. "Ask me in a day or two. Right now, it's kind of hard to tell." And kind of hard to talk about when I don't know how awake she is and how much she'd going to overhear.

"I understand," Rory said. "Actually, I was wondering if we could meet face to face to hash out some of the details about the benefit."

"I thought Jerrica was handling that," Phyllis said.

"She is, but there are still a few things I want to discuss with you."

"Such as?"

There was a long pause. Then, Rory said, "I'd really rather not get into it over the phone. Could we meet for lunch on Wednesday? You can name the time and place."

"Um…" She reached for her appointment calendar. "Okay, I've got a client to see in Boyle Heights at twelve-thirty. If you don't mind a late lunch, we can do El Tepeyac on North Evergreen at two. It shouldn't be crowded at that time."

"That works," Rory said. "So. You like Mexican food."

"I like their Hollenbeck burritos," Phyllis countered. "See you on Wednesday." As she hung up the phone, she was wondering what the hell was so important that Rory needed to tell her to her face. At least, Wednesday was only two days away. She could live with the suspense until then.

Jerrica was passing by the common room, when she heard the music. She smiled to herself. The girls were clearly over their disappointment. She'd been worried about Emma. The girl had talent and determination, but she was sensitive and from the little bit that Jerrica could tell, she was used to being shunted aside, and denied most of what she requested.

Part of Jerrica wished that she could give the girls their chance to perform, and had it been purely a Jem concert, she might have considered it. The benefit, however, was the wrong venue. Every participant on that stage was going to be a seasoned professional with at least one hit album to their name. As proud as she was of her kids, they just weren't ready.

Listening to the song now, she had to admit that they were good, though. In a couple of years, if they stuck with it, they might just have a chance at turning professional. If that was what they wanted, Jerrica knew that she would give them the help they needed. Right now, though, she had to review the costume designs Shana had dropped by earlier in the day and decide on the look she wanted.

All the same, she waited for the music to end before she stepped away from the common room door.

A half hour later, Phyllis opened the door to Hana Mae's room to find Roxy standing by the little girl's bed, looking down at her.

"She got so big," Roxy murmured, turning to go. "She was just a baby when I left her with you."

Phyllis followed her out. "She's not much more than a baby, now," she said. "It's not too late."

Roxy snorted. "Some mother I am. You don't think she's better off without me?"

Phyllis sighed. "I don't have them here, but there are a couple of pamphlets I've got at the office you should look over. I'm not going to pretend that every kid belongs with their biological parents, but usually, that's the preference. There are workshops… counselling… I can connect you with the coordinator."

Roxy looked away. "Maybe."

"You could talk to Rory, too. I mean, more than you have been."

"And then we get married and Hana Mae gets a nuclear family and we all live happily ever after?"

Roxy's bitter sarcasm wasn't lost on Phyllis. "I didn't say that," she said. "I just think that maybe it'll be easier to raise her if he's in the picture. That doesn't mean he has to be under the same roof, but he called me after you dropped your bombshell, and he wants to meet her."

Roxy shrugged. "I don't mind. You can set something up."

"It might be better if—"

A small, tremulous voice interrupted their conversation, drawing both their attentions toward the open door and the small girl standing in front of it, her face nearly as white as her pigtails. "Mommy?"

"How do I do it?" Rory asked plaintively, and Jerrica remembered once more why she'd briefly dated the man. Underneath the suave self-assurance still lurked a terrified little boy and there was a part of Jerrica that earnestly wanted to protect that child. Forging a long-term relationship with him was another story, however.

"Do what?" she asked.

"If she were sixteen… I have some experience talking with teenaged girls. Though usually," he added, "they were squealing and trying to tear my clothes off or get me to sign their arms."

"Hardly typical behavior," Jerrica noted, deadpan.

"It was for me," Rory replied. "Please don't roll your eyes so strenuously," he added. "I can hear them on my end."

Jerrica snorted into the phone. This was the Rory she'd broken up with. "You were asking about Hana Mae."

"I've never been a father before," Rory said. "Not that I know of, anyway." The last was muttered under his breath.

"Well, it's not all fun and games," Jerrica said. "If you want to be a father, it's not just about being the fun dad who takes her to the amusement park and buys her candy."

"I know. I wouldn't really know how to be a 'fun dad' anyway," he added. "Though I do know better than to pack her off to military school, when she's old enough."

"You never know," Jerrica said, "she might want that. Either because she wants to follow in your footsteps, or because she'll find out you hated every minute and decide to go there just to prove she's her own person." She paused for a beat. "You may not know teenaged girls as well as you think you do, if you don't consider that possibility."

"Well, there are a few years to go before I have to deal with that. But if I meet her, when I meet her… what do I do? How do I act?"

Jerrica hesitated. She'd been a foster mother for years, but most of her girls didn't have their parents or extended families in the picture. Ba Nee had been a happy exception. "Be open to anything," she said softly.

"Pardon?"

"Try not to go in with a set of expectations. No matter what Phyllis tells you about Hana Mae's interests or personality, that might not be how she acts around you initially. Or it might be. Don't make major plans for your first meeting. At that age… You might want to take her to Disneyland and plan on spending the day there. And she might have the time of her life, or she might run away screaming when she sees The Evil Queen or Captain Hook." She paused. "Or she might just be upset that she's missing her cartoons."

Rory made a small noise that told Jerrica that he was listening. "What would you suggest?"

"Make the first meeting short. Remember: she's only four. Her attention span might be just, like, ten minutes or so."

"Don't take her to the movies," Rory said. "Got it."

"Try doing something at home with her. Maybe arts and crafts or coloring. Or take her someplace close by for ice cream," she added.

"So, ice cream is okay, but candy isn't?" Rory said, half-jokingly.

"What would you rather have?" Jerrica asked. "A dad who shows up in your life every so often, buys you a whole lot of stuff, and then goes back to his world until he decides to spend time with you again, or a dad who becomes a part of your life, listens to what you have to say, is there for you when you act out, and maybe can't remember your birthday and doesn't take you anywhere but the park, but when he's with you, he's not taking business calls or reading the paper, he's there?" She paused. "All I meant was, don't shower her with gifts for a week and then go back to the music industry and have your admin send off a monthly child support check. If you want to be more than just her biological father, then you need to invest in the relationship."

"Do you think, maybe, setting up a time when Pizzazz can be with us would be a good idea?"

Jerrica smiled. "Honestly? Yes. And maybe, Roxy, too."

Roxy held out her arms wide and Hana Mae ran into them. "Hi, baby," she whispered.

Hana Mae hugged her back fiercely. "You gonna stay?" she whispered.

Roxy squeezed harder. "You bet'cha kid," she said. "You bet'cha."

"Forever?"

The smile froze on Roxy's face, but she sounded sincere when she replied, "For as long as you need me."

Phyllis turned away, but not before Roxy saw her disapproving look.

Wendy looked up when John came through the front door of the apartment. "I shan't give up," she said with a groan. "But this is far more difficult than I'd thought!"

"Still no progress?" John asked, hanging his hat on the stand in the tiny vestibule.

"Oh, I've convinced her to disobey a number of the rules that place has laid down for her, but when she does, they may make things less pleasant for her, but there's no indication that they mean to pack her off. Not even to boarding school!" she added.

John sighed. "I don't believe Father meant that to be a punishment, truly," he said. "It was meant to prepare you to take your place in society."

"You make me sound as though I was to be a-a debutante, when we had neither the money nor the connections to dream such a thing!"

John shook his head. "I keep forgetting how times have changed," he said. "That rubbish is less important now; there's not been a debutante ball at court for nearly forty years. Were you to attend a boarding school now, though, it's entirely probable that you'd meet girls and perhaps boys from all walks of life, and the connections might be useful down the road."

"Boys?" Wendy exclaimed, startled. "How… astonishing."

"If you're here past the summer, you might expect the same," John pointed out. "Though for Michael's sake, we might hope you aren't."

"They barred her from the outing to the amusement park," Wendy groaned. "But they promised her she'd have another opportunity. I tried to pretend that I thought the whole thing beastly and that she'd be better off running away, but she told me she's been in places that were so much worse, and…"

"And…?" John prompted.

"And she'd miss me, too much," Wendy said with another groan. "Her other friends, too, of course, but… Do you know how long it's been that anyone has truly wanted me for me? Not as leverage to keep you in line. Not as a curiosity to be trotted out when the youngest boys are homesick and Pan thinks they'll be right as rain with a good bedtime story. But simply because… they liked me?"

"She can't go to Neverland," John pointed out. "And you can't stay here. Not forever. One way or another, the two of you will be parted. The only question is how much more it's going to hurt when it happens."

Wendy nodded miserably.

"Say," John said suddenly, "do you think she might run off if you chose to run with her?"

Wendy's eyebrows rose. "Perhaps…" she said, considering. "Perhaps, she would, at that…"

Phyllis was going over some reports and thinking wryly that she'd resented it when her father had brought his work home with him. Then again, what she'd really resented had been that his work had never stopped. He'd go to her guitar recitals with a pager in his pocket, step outside the hall before she ever went on, and return long after she'd finished. When she'd blown up at him, he'd asked her whether she would have preferred he not go at all. The day she'd said 'yes' had been the last time he'd ever attended.

She wasn't going to make that mistake with Hana Mae. Sure, she brought home work, but she tried to save it for when Hana Mae was asleep. And if the little girl was awake and needed something, Phyllis was quick to push away whatever she was working on and get back to it later. So far, the arrangement was working.

She got up and stole down the hall, following the sound of Roxy's voice.

"…married the princess and they lived happily… ever… after!"

Phyllis smiled. The light in Hana Mae's room was out, meaning that Roxy had either been making up the story or telling it from memory. She was good at both. After a moment, Roxy joined her in the hallway.

"She's sleeping," Roxy said with a sigh. "And I'm beat."

"Yeah, well, you've been through a hell of a lot," Phyllis said.

"I know. Hey. Thanks for getting me out."

"What are friends for?"

Roxy winced. "Thanks for that, too."

"I'm going to sit up for a bit," Phyllis said. "Still got some stuff to review. I can break out a Viennetta if you want."

Roxy shook her head. "Nah, I'm not hungry. Might just go out and get some air. I've been cooped up since…"

"I hear you," Phyllis nodded. "Lucky for you, this is a pretty safe neighborhood, but watch yourself anyway."

"Always do," Roxy said. She went into the spare bedroom and emerged with her purse a moment later. "Well. Bye for now."

Phyllis nodded absently, going back to her home office and her folders. Absorbed in her work, she didn't realize how much time had passed until she finally pushed the last item aside and realized that it was after two in the morning. No wonder she was feeling tired! She frowned. She hadn't heard Roxy come back. Maybe she'd… No, she would have had to buzz to be let in. Phyllis groaned. "If you went on a bender, Roxy, I swear…" she muttered.

She went into the spare bedroom, half-hoping that Roxy had somehow managed to get in after all. The bed hadn't been slept in. But on the leopard-print bedspread was a sheet of notepaper.

Pizzazz, it read, thanks again. Tell Hana Mae I love her and I'm sorry, but she doesn't need me. She has you.

It was unsigned. Then again, it didn't need a signature. Phyllis crumpled the note, feeling her heart plummet down to her stomach. Damn it Roxy, she thought, she's just a kid! How the hell can you do this? And how the hell do I break it to her? She was about to shred the note when she thought better of it. Maybe Roxy would be back when she'd cooled down. But if she wasn't, if she ended up going to jail—or worse, on the run from the law—one day, Hana Mae might want proof that her mother had loved her. If that day ever came, she'd have it.

Phyllis uncrumpled the note again, laid it flat on the desk, and set a large book atop it to smooth out the creases. She didn't think she'd be able to sleep now, but she knew she was going to try. Hana Mae was going to need her tomorrow, and she owed it to the kid—and to her clients—to at least try to get a good night's sleep. And if she had to call in tomorrow to be there for the kid, then so be it!