Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Samantha Addison doesn’t exist.

That doesn’t mean she never existed, though. 

Yeah, you can poke around the Addison Corporation’s files and legal documents and find a failed sales quota here and there with the name “Samantha” at the top, but that’s all that’s left. “She’s gone for good,” any other Addison family member would tell you if you asked them. “She left a long time ago.”

Samantha Addison came from the Addison family, as is obvious by the name. In the world of advertising, the Addisons firmly held themselves as the leader of the industry with an iron fist. Because of their familial ties to the company, each time a new generation entered the work sphere there would be fierce competition to try to see who would reach the top first. It was obvious that success would not be simply handed to them; you had to either fight for your place in the Addison business hierarchy or suffer the consequences. 

The way that you could potentially rise faster as an Addison was to be a favorite. To have high hopes wished upon you by your elders. For your peers to have faith in you. 

Samantha had none of that. No hopes. No predictions of a bright future. Just painfully average, not quite numbers savvy enough, not quite good looking enough, not quite submissive enough to her elders. She fought against every order she was given as a child. Questioned why her cousins and brothers and sisters would get trophies and medals and certificates in school, why she wasn’t the best. Her father would tell her that she had to earn it. To work for it. To deserve it. Always “do better next time” instead of “I’m proud of how far you’ve come”. 

As expected by her peers, Samantha floundered. She fought twice as hard as her cousins to make sales and earn the highest amount, but still somehow just wasn’t good enough. Unfortunately, this also made her an easy target for harassment, and every day in the office became torture. 

They had all killed Samantha Addison from the very beginning. 

Sammy took the knife that they twisted and decided to get rid of Samantha once and for all.

After finally having enough of the belittlement and torture of the Addison Corporation, Sammy set out to start her own business from the ground up. She gathered all of the extra cash she had laying around and bought out the dingy, dying used car dealership on the east side of town. It was poorly managed, easy to fix up, and desperate -- exactly what she needed in order to fully take charge of the revitalization effort. Now, completely detached from the Addison name, Sammy G. Samuels would finally have a business of her own. She would be her own boss. She would make the rules for once. To Sammy, this must have been what heaven felt like.

It took months for the dealership to finally be in stable condition. As the lot began to fill up with all sorts of shiny new car models, so did the customers. Business at Bigshot Autos was booming, becoming a place of local notoriety.

But Sammy wasn’t done there. She wanted to pound those stupid Addisons to a pulp with how successful she was going to be. She wanted more. She knew she could do more. The business woman started to hunt for empty ad slots wherever they were posted, whether it was in a newspaper, a bus stop, or even just flyers at a local coffee shop.

Luck seemed to finally be on Sam’s side -- like a divine message from god itself, a 90 second slot was available for “AMERICA’S FAVORITE DAYTIME TELEVISION PROGRAM, TV TIME WITH MS. ANNE TENNA”. 

What’s that, you ask? Oh, nothing, just THE MOST WATCHED TV SHOW IN THE NATION.

Good ol’ Sammy should have bought a lottery ticket at that point because this was the biggest jackpot of her entire career up to then.

She started off to the tv studio the minute she received the news, bringing nothing with her except blind confidence and an award winning smile. She HAD TO get this slot. Her entire LIFE depended on it. It would be the biggest “fuck you” to the Addisons to date, and lord knows Sam took every single shot she was given.

She did not expect to meet with the tv show host herself over this matter. Usually with advertising, you met with a representative or someone whose job it was to manage ad stuff. She also didn’t expect her to be so… tall? She wasn’t intimidating like some of the big shots that her family would meet up with in fancy studios like this, nor was she snobby like her mother’s obnoxious talk show host acquaintances; Annabelle Tenna was the first person to ever treat Sam with true, genuine kindness. Not the phony kind that someone who wants something from you puts on. It was kindness for the sake of being kind.

Anne had stars in her eyes and an unwavering passion for entertainment in her soul, cracking jokes to lighten the mood when Sam would start to worry, and talking about her personal life when Sam began to get cagey. It was beyond obvious how she had gotten into this line of work — she was a natural. 

Sam was awestruck on the inside, keeping a suave persona and charming smile locked on her face. 

“Do we have a deal, Miss…?” Tenna asked as she stuck a gloved hand out for a handshake.

“Miss Sammy. Sammy G. Samuels. It’s been a pleasure doing business with ya.” Sam winked, put out her cigarette, and firmly shook the other’s hand. Tenna’s square glasses glinted as her face curled into an infectious smile. 

“I look forward to meeting you again on set next week!”

“Yeah, you too pal.”

Tenna still hadn’t let go of the handshake. Their hands had stopped moving, but the host’s larger fingers stayed clasped around the business woman’s palm. A bead of sweat rolled on the back of Sam’s neck. The air felt still. For half a second their eyes met — behind her glasses, Tenna’s eyes seemed narrowed, predatory. Her sharp smile never wavered. Sam quickly averted her gaze, pretending to glance over the many framed posters lining the office’s walls. She feebly tried to slip her hand away from the grasp. 

“… heh… uh, nice office..!” Sam attempted to break the short silence, a distraction from her escape plan. Is this bitch crazy?? she thought to herself. The grip constricted around the business woman’s wrist when she tried to free herself, alarmingly tight. Sam had gotten herself into weirder, much more dangerous and scary situations than some lady holding her hand in place, but something about the tv show host’s demeanor made Sam shrink in her seat. 

Tenna let go of Sam’s hand. 

She acted as if nothing happened, folding her hands underneath her chin to rest her head on. In an instant her face was back to a passive smile. Under her breath, Tenna let out a chuckle. Sam quickly reeled away from the large desk, nervously laughing, sweating down her face. 

What the hell was that about????

Ms. Anne Tenna stood up from her office chair and headed to open the door for the other woman. She was at least an entire foot taller than Sam, who only stood at 5 feet tall (AND ONE INCH!! VERY IMPORTANT EXTRA INCH!!!). Even though her demeanor was pleasant again, Sam’s head spun with thoughts of what could have happened and how screwed she might have been. She is well aware of how easily someone with Tenna’s sort of power can make someone just “disappear”. She shuddered as the office door closed behind her, wiping off the sweat on her brow. 

It was a lie to say she wasn’t at least a little into it. Sam walked back to her shiny red car in the studio parking lot. 

She threw open the driver’s side door and plopped down onto the seat. Her hands trembled as she slid a cigarette out of its box and tried to light it. Her thumb flicked at the lighter over and over again, the stupid old piece of shit zippo never worked anyway. Sam let it slip out of her hand and onto the carpeted floor of the car. She stared off absently, wide-eyed. The box of cigs joined the lighter on the floor. The business woman loosely gripped the smooth steering wheel in front of her. 

She proceeded to bash her forehead repeatedly into the center of the steering wheel. Loud beeps rang out from the car in time with her outburst. 

Samantha, you better not fuck this up. 

This might be your chance. 

This IS your chance. 

To finally be big. 

To have your own future. 

To have everything . 

Don’t you want to have everything?

With shallow breath, she slowly raised her head from between her white knuckles grasping at the wheel. She closed her eyes. 

Now’s your chance. Don’t blow it, bigshot. 

-Meanwhile-

Tenna sighed as she sat back down at her large office desk. She stretched her arms out over her head and yawned. The host then threw her head into her hands, elbows leveraged off the desk, and groaned. It was a half-groan-half-sob, and it stretched out into a frustrated growl as she chucked her bright red coat off and peeled her gloves off. Tenna ran her hands through her curly hair, stopping at the back to aggressively tug at it in anger. 

“God…. I hope that wasn’t too weird…” Tenna sobbed, ashamed. “That was SO weird….. damn it WHY DID YOU DO THAT?! UGH!” Heavy fists slammed against the desk, making various pens and picture frames jump in place. Tenna ripped off her glasses and rubbed at her eyes welling with tears. She didn’t even know why she was crying she was just so… frustrated! It was humiliating to cry like this! Even in the privacy of her office, which no one DARED to step into without being invited in, she felt a deep pang of insecurity. Granted, all of her employees were used to these kinds of outbursts by now, but it’s not like that makes the situation any better. She’s supposed to be witty! Funny! Clever! God, why did she do that? She had just met this lady and then decided to give her a heart attack, will she even come back next week for the live recording? God…

A quick set of knocks tapped against the office door. Tenna’s head shot up, and she started to quickly attempt to wipe the snot off her face. 

“Ms. Tenna? The guest you just had over came back to give you this,” the voice from the other side said. “She already left, just dropped this off and said to give it to you.”

“Give me it,” the tv show host demanded. She wiped the last bit of snot off of her face and swiftly tossed the tissues in the trash. She repositioned herself, trying to be at least a little authoritative, but looking as disheveled as she was it was just a sad attempt. The stagehand gingerly slipped herself through the doorway and presented what the business woman had given to Tenna. 

It’s amazing how quickly their boss can go from casually making a business deal to wrecking the place. The host’s flashy coat lay strewn on the tile floor, her gloves crumpled in a ball on the opposite side of the room, pens and papers littering the floor. When Ms. Tenna got like that, everyone knew to stay away — unless she specifically wanted something from you; in that case, pray to whatever gods you can think of. This specific stagehand had gotten the short end of the straw, and it was her turn to interrupt the temper tantrum. Thankfully it didn’t seem to be that bad this time. 

Tenna put her glasses back on, took the item, and studied it. It appeared to be Sammy’s business card, white with bold black lettering. 

SAMMY G. SAMUELS

BIGSHOT AUTOS

3912 CYBER DRIVE

A phone number and… a strange code with her name and the letter “a” with a circle around it sat under the address. She flipped the card around to the back. 

LOOKING FORWARD TO MAKING MORE DEALS WITH YOU. CALL IF YOU NEED ANYTHING.

It was scrawled on the back in blue pen, bright against the white card. Tenna sat there, staring at the card like it was the single greatest message she had ever received. The stagehand stood there awkwardly. 

Tenna started laughing. It started low, creepy, hollow, but slowly shifted into genuine joy. She stood up carefully, still laughing and staring at the card, inching her way toward the poor underpaid stagehand.

Giggling like a child, Tenna spun around with the card to her chest. “Is that all you need? am I good to-“started the stagehand, but her boss interrupted her by smooching her on the forehead like some kind of looney tunes character. Leaving the poor assistant dazed, Tenna leaped out of the room and started… singing?

I feel bad for that car lady already… she has nooooo idea what she signed up for, the stagehand thought to herself. She sighed and turned to follow her boss down the hall, who was now belting old showtunes to herself as she made her way to the main stage.

Chapter Text

Annabelle Tenna always knew she was destined to be a star. She studied every movement of the actors on the family television, wrote plays for her friends to perform in the neighborhood, and choreographed dance routines to the songs on the giant radio in the living room. Instead of kicking the ball around outside like the other kids, she listened to radio dramas, taking each story to heart.

In school, Anne was the one to raise her hand first when a question was asked. When anyone needed someone to step in and help them, Anne was the first to volunteer. She wanted everyone to know her name, to think of her and smile.

While majoring in journalism, Anne had a fair share of clubs and hobbies she liked to engage in to fill her time. She was a dedicated member of her university’s theater, doing everything from stage managing to playing the main part. Public speaking events and debate clubs often had Anne participating in some way, presenting or emceeing. A good open-mic night every now and then would pull her in as well, telling jokes and stories to entertain her peers. 

Every single waking second of Anne’s life was filled to the brim with events and activities -- “dull moment” wasn’t a phrase in her vocabulary. Doing nothing wasn’t just boring; it was psychological torture. Yes, it was painfully exhausting at times to maintain this high-speed kind of life, but what was the point of taking time for herself? What would she even do? Lay down and stare at the wall? She was so much more fulfilled to be of use to her community, to bring something noteworthy everywhere she went. 

Journalism wasn’t enough. Even if she did make the cut and have her breaking news hit headlines on every channel, that’s all it would ever be -- a headline. A fleeting moment in someone’s day, maybe floating around in casual conversation for a week, and then irrelevant again. Reporting on urgent facts about an upcoming hurricane has never made someone beloved. A news anchor wouldn’t be beloved for any reason other than making early morning breakfasts a little less lonesome. 

Anne needed to feel adored. To be adored by all.

She wanted to mean something. 

And so she got to writing. Annabelle furiously wrote and wrote, concocting the perfect pitch for a tv show. It would be a show that drew out shocking gasps, created hearty laughs, taught you something new… a show that did everything. Why be stuck with choosing between one program or another when you can watch something with both? It was genius. It was innovative. It was like nothing anyone had ever seen before.

It was quickly declined by every television studio it found itself in the hands of. Despite every single little bit of info one would need in order to make this show a reality being neatly organized in a simple white binder, almost none of the executives ever skimmed past the first two pages. The reason why was simple, honestly: 

“Who does this barely legal chick think she is?”

Men in suits muttered to one another, eyes dull and teeth yellowed from all the lies they spat. 

“It looks amazing sweetheart, really, but c’mon,” one chuckled, “I mean, a talk show AND a game show? Kids segments? Who the hell has the time to watch all this?”

“And where the hell do you think the money comes from to make something this big?” another jeered. “Go sell your face a little, maybe then you’ll’ve made enough dough to buy yourself a stage light or two.” The suits reeled with laughter together like some kind of ugly, wrinkly mass. 

“You’d probably make a LOT more money sellin’ that body ‘a yours!” More laughter.

Anne bit her lip hard. She felt her fingertips buzz as her blood boiled under her skin. Each disgusting remark that was thrown at her splattered onto her heart and slid down to the floor like rotten tomatoes. Her hands morphed into monstrous, clawed gestures, her heels heavy but ready to pounce at any second. Dirtbags. All of them. Every single god damn one of them. Her teeth gritted, sharp canines tearing into the skin of her lip. 

You motherfuckers.

She opened her mouth to speak. The executives sat on the edge of their seats. This was gonna be good.

“NONE OF YOU- YOU -- …you FUCKING DEMONS!” The star trudged forward. “You will ALL REGRET THIS. Unlike you SOULLESS, WORTHLESS IDIOTS, I… I have something you could never understand!” Her voice began to waver. Her body betrayed her angry brows, letting tears slip down her face. A couple of men laughed passively. Another scoffed. 

A live wire had been revealed within the conference room, sparking and threatening to blow. One wrong move and there would be serious damage, emotional or physical. Anne struggled and held her breath. 

Fuck it. 

She grabbed the golden, delicate wires in her heart with both hands and pulled as hard as she possibly could. She had poured her heart out into that unassuming white binder, and she was being laughed at. 

Tenna wiped the tears with the back of her hand. All of the frustration and rejection had been replaced with blind, unfiltered rage. An animalistic grunt made its way out of her clenched teeth as Tenna threw herself to the desk to grab her binder, too agile for the suits to try to pry it from her claws. She lunged at them with full force, ready to bash their heads in and turn the room red. Panic ensued as they realized what was about to happen, scrambling over each other trying to jump out of the way. Tenna’s cute little loafers clacked against the tile floor as she let out a final cry and lifted the binder. 

Suddenly, her feet were no longer on the ground. Her momentum was stopped abruptly, sending her arms flying forwards and releasing the binder. The clatter once it fell was deafening, the room now completely silent except for the labored breathing of the young woman suspended in the air by a security guard. 

All of the anger she carried just then melted away like hot water thrown onto ice. Anne let out a sob. The security guard started to walk her out of the room as the board of executives tidied themselves up. Anne was nothing more than a stupid child. Tears and snot and dry sobs escaped her as she was set down. She threw her stupid chunky glasses to the floor weakly and collapsed. 

“I don’t think this is going to help the situation at all or whatever,” started the security guard, “but I would TOTALLY watch a show like that.” The grisled bearded man slightly turned away, embarrassed and unsure what to do. Giving pep talks wasn’t in his job description, but damn would he love a new program like Tenna’s to watch. “Those bastards only care about the money.” He lit a cigarette and gestured for Tenna to take one. 

“…you would…? I mean, uh, y-you would watch my show?” Tenna mumbled, giant wet eyes looking up at the security guard. She wiped her face and slipped a cigarette out of the box held out to her. 

“Well, yeah. I mean- … well, these guys suck. I don’t know how they got this sort of power or whatever to just, uh, just…” the guard struggled to find the right way to say his thoughts. “You seem like you know what you’re doing. Don’t listen to them.”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah, absolutely! I mean, look at everything you wrote!”

Tenna laughed bashfully. “Heh, yeah, I tried to do as much as I could so the executives wouldn’t have to do very much.” She flipped through her binder. Months of hard work decorated the pages, everything from neat spreadsheets to set designs. “Why are you even telling me all this? I kind of almost killed those guys…”

The security guard fiddled with something on his vest. “I dunno. Just kinda want to see some change around here.” He took a long drag of his cigarette. “I can’t really quit this gig right now, but if I could, I’d be the first in line to, I don’t know, be your security guard? For when you have your own studio.”

The grisled security guard laughed. His laugh wasn’t filled with malice like all the suits before, instead it was filled with something else, something lighter — 

hope. 

Tenna stood frozen. She took a second to process everything, to really understand what was going on; this man, this stranger, liked her show. He really liked it. He saw a future in it. He saw a future in her.

“Look kid, all I wanted to say was that it sounds great, and I don’t want this nonsense to crush your dreams or anything,” said the guard as he loosely gestured with his hands. “Every once in a while, a kid comes in and says they got the new show of the century. But unless they already got one of those idiots up their sleeve, nothing goes anywhere. You’re really the only one to ever try something like that, but- look, your whole life’s ahead of you. Go do something about it.” 

Hope was what Tenna needed. Hope and a lot of elbow grease. There was no way her pitch would be accepted by bozos like that, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t just start her own studio. It’s easier said than done, for sure, but she had already put so much of herself into making this wish come true. The spark in Tenna’s soul was reignited.

It was this fiery, relentless hope that drove her to recruit friends to help with editing and set building, to rent out a warehouse and set up green screens, to work three jobs to afford more equipment, to build an entire production studio from the ground up with her own two hands. What started as a local broadcast passion project grew and grew, until it became much more than a stubborn girl’s dream — Ms. Anne Tenna’s TV Time was a phenomenon. 

The production studio she had built became solidified, renowned. Everyone all of a sudden wanted to sit in and see what was going on behind those red, satin curtains. From advertisers to investors, someone was always trying to poke their head in and get in on the sweet self-made success that Tenna held onto so proudly. The problem was, if it wasn’t Tenna herself producing the show, the sponsors and networks would try to put their greasy hands all over her brand, her fame, her image. As difficult as it was to produce and host a show at the same time, having no say in how her show is made would be much worse. 

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Tenna took a big bite from her bagel as a comb wielded by a stylist picked at her hair. A magazine rested on her crossed legs, accidentally catching the crumbs. She shook the crumbs off and continued to flip through the pictures absent mindedly. Whatever, someone else will clean that up later. Various employees came and went around Tenna, frantically preparing for recording. Tenna didn’t notice a single one. Her bagel was pretty good though. She shook off her magazine again.

Almost every single page looked the same. Woman in bikini, beer ad, weight loss, woman in bikini, antidepressant ad, weight loss, woman in bikini, beer ad, story about some long lost siblings, tobacco ad, woman in bikini, this is getting ridiculous. Tenna flipped through the pages rapidly. Crumbs flew across the room. Weight loss, beer ad, bikini, bikini, what the hell was going on? She flipped the stupid magazine closed and ate the last bite of her bagel. 

Almost unintelligible because of all the bagel shoved in her mouth, Tenna spoke.

“I don’t know why they even keep printing these, have you looked at it?” She punctuated her point by slapping the magazine against her hand. “There aren’t even really any stories. How does this even sell?” 

The hair stylist sighed. “I don’t even know. I believe you, boss.”

Tenna swallowed. She admired herself in the mirror for a moment, then turned to speak with the stylist again. Before she could open her mouth, the back of the magazine caught her eye.

There was a photograph of a woman in a clean white suit posing next to a shiny new car. She had aviator sunglasses on, bright sun shining from above. She leaned against the car with a hand on the hood. Her dark hair was slicked back and she wore a smug grin. A giant sign with the words “BIGSHOT AUTOS” towered in the distance. A graphic about some big sale sat in the corner of the image, almost as if to remind the reader that it’s supposed to be an ad. Tenna sat, staring, captivated. Suddenly, her head snagged backward, knocking her out of her daydream? Trance?

“Shit! Sorry! Sorry! There was a knot!” the hair stylist cried, apologizing as if he had just committed a mortal sin.

“Ow… it’s fine,” Tenna brushed it off, the saleswoman still on her mind. How had she never noticed her in any of the magazines before? Was this new? Was she always there but Tenna never noticed it? She stood up and went to dig in a bin in the corner of the room, filled with old magazine issues from all sorts of subscriptions. The hair stylist didn’t even consider asking Tenna what she was doing, he just started cleaning up his workspace. It’s better to just kind of let her do her thing -- like how one would treat a house cat. 

As Tenna suspected, every old magazine from that subscription lacked any sort of branding from Bigshot Autos. This had to have been a new deal. 

Tenna didn’t know why she cared so much.

She forced herself to leave the magazines for later, snapping back to reality. Later, she would have all the time in the world to snoop through magazines. Now, she had a show to run.

The main stage was bustling with tech members, rearranging this and that. A small group huddled around the main camera, seemingly arguing about something. A couple of crew members were on all fours, placing tape in the shape of an x. Lights flickered between colors, testing to make sure everything was correct. Tenna decided that everything, in fact, was not correct. Sure, it might have been correct earlier, but now she had new ideas. Twenty minutes was surely enough time to redo the lighting grid, right?

“MIKE. Mike, are you over here?” Tenna hollered and circled the stage, looking for the familiar face of definitely not the stage manager with a drawn on mustache and totally a different person, who is named Mike. “MIKE!” She stomped her foot.

A short, frantic looking “man” appeared out from around a corner, hastily throwing off a headset and buttoning their coat. They were sweating, their eye twitching slightly as they forced a wide grin. 

“Yep! What’s up, boss?” they sounded winded. “Sorry,” they apologized between breaths, “I, uh, was, uhh nevermind, what do you need?”

“Ah, perfect! Yes, I wanted to ask if you could replace lighting que 27 with those new gels we got the other day, also while you have the grid down maybe you could install the new lights that came in with the gels? I know I said I’d stop ordering new lights but they were such a good deal and-”

Tenna spoke at 100 miles per hour, making Mike’s head spin. 

“So light B can go where light 3 is for now, and - Mike, are you getting all this?”

“Uh… y-yeah.”

“Could we get this done soon then? The audience is going to start showing up in…” Tenna glanced at the clock on the wall. “Fifteen minutes. You think you could do this for me? Pretty please?” 

Mike physically couldn’t say no to Tenna, no matter how hard they tried. Not out of fear or anything, just… when she made those big puppy eyes at them, it was irresistible. Totally no other reason.

“Yeah, that can be arranged!” 

Mike kicked themself. 

This studio is hell. I died and this is hell. I am in hell.

The entire fucking grid?! Does Tenna even know how long that takes?! 

Of course she did. Why wouldn’t she? She just puts wayyyy too much faith into her crew. Probably for the worse.

Dammit.

“Oh, thank you so much! What would I do without you?” Tenna leaned down and gave Mike a quick hug. “You’re the best!”

Ok. Maybe this wasn’t hell. Whatever.

Mike’s back already started to hurt in anticipation of carrying around those giant stage lights.

Tenna hummed a little song happily to herself as she walked away.

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“Tune in next time for daring discoveries, touching tales, and questionable quizzes! And for me, of course.”

The audience cheered. Tenna waved goodbye to everyone as she walked offstage, mouthing “thank you”s and putting her hands to her heart. The enthusiastic applause of a live studio audience at the end of a show never got old. It warmed Tenna’s heart like nothing else ever would. If she wanted, she could just stand on stage and the ovations would be endless. Every day, she has to quiet them herself, or else they would just keep cheering. This all went straight to her massive ego, making her feel like a queen. Like she deserved it.

A posse of crew members followed behind Tenna as she strutted down the stage wing, sharing reports and removing mic packs and dusting off her tailcoat. 

“Ma’am, the live ratings for this show were a hit!” one with a headset exclaimed.

“I wouldn’t expect any less from my show,” Tenna remarked, playfully smug. “Only the best.”

The cluster slowly peeled off as each technician returned to their post. Tenna’s gait came to a halt as she noticed two people, the stage manager (her name is Beth, but Tenna just calls her stage manager) and her stagehand, Louie, slumped against a wall looking utterly disheveled. “What happened to you two?” Tenna said, not a single ounce of actual worry in her voice. She seemed a little disgusted, seeing their sweaty foreheads and bandaged fingers.

“The grid…” Beth heaved, “we got the grid done in time…” She looked apologetically at her colleague’s battered fingers. Beth plucked the dark hat off of the other’s head and started to fan herself. “We did it…”

“Ow,” Louie attempted to sign, but with the bandages it was a bit of a struggle. 

“Alright. Well, I guess that’s a relief. The show went well,” Tenna replied, uninterested. She looked away, eyeing the old bin of magazines in the other room from earlier.

“You’re welcome, I guess…” Beth muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes when Tenna wasn’t looking.

“Bitch,” Louie signed when Tenna wasn’t looking.

They giggled. Tenna just walked away, as if she forgot they were even there in the first place. Beth repeated Louie, singing “bitch”. They giggled again.

Tenna returned to her dressing room, immediately going back to digging through the piles of magazines. 

After having no luck with finding any sort of trace of the saleswoman having a deal with the subscription, she went back to the newest issue sitting on the vanity. She peeled off her gloves and coat, setting them by the dresser. Tenna sat down in the armchair against the wall, getting comfortable. She would check the magazine one more time to see if the saleswoman shows up anywhere else, and then she would be done. That’s what she told herself.

Tenna felt like what she was doing was scandalous, almost. She didn’t know why, she just wanted to learn a little bit more about the person she’s going to be working with. The magazine itself claimed to be about fashion and trends, but the content inside didn’t reflect that, making Tenna feel worse. Why were there so many pictures of women in bikinis? That’s not even really fashion! You just wear it to the pool or the beach, you don’t really walk around in your swimsuit. She felt embarrassed. All alone in her own dressing room, she felt like she was being judged. Tenna let the magazine fall to the floor. This is ridiculous.

Tenna dug her hands into her skirt’s pockets, searching for a cigarette or lighter or something, anything. One pocket was empty, but her hand felt something in the other one. It was thin and stiff. Tenna slipped the item out, unable to remember what it was.

It was Sammy’s business card.

Tenna flipped it slowly in her hand, examining it. The saleswoman had written on the back to call if she needed anything…

Was she hitting on me?!

Tenna’s face immediately flushed at the realization. 

The host couldn’t take it anymore. She forced herself out of the chair and swung the door open, almost sprinting to the elevator and pressing the top floor button in a hurry. The sooner she got to the studio’s bar, the sooner she would forget about all of this nonsense.

The mirror hanging in the elevator reflected Tenna’s face in the white light. “Get yourself together. You’re a grown woman,” Tenna scolded herself in a half-whisper. 

The elevator dinged, and the door slid open. 

Just don’t think about it.

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The apartment’s living room was dark. Shapes blended together as Sammy’s vision blurred a little. The only light in the room came from the television, casting odd shadows and colors across her face. The condensation from the bottle in her fist dripped down her knuckles and onto the old tank top she wore. Empty bottles littered the carpet, radiating from her spot on the couch. An empty tortilla chip bag sat across her lap.

Sammy attempted to reach for the tv remote to turn the volume up even louder, but her coordination was fuzzy. The tv remove smacked off of the armrest of the couch and landed right in front of the screen. 

The TV's speakers rang out.

“Tune in next time for daring discoveries, touching tales, and questionable quizzes! And for me, of course.”

The image on the screen swam around in Sammy’s vision. The woman on the screen waved to the viewer. Sam knocked back the last of the alcohol in the bottle.

Next time, she’ll catch the afternoon broadcast instead of the late night rerun. To prepare, of course. For the ad.

“God, I’m such a fucking creep…” Sam slurred to herself. She then promptly passed out.

Chapter Text

The energy was high this morning, much higher than on a regular filming day -- Tenna was in a good mood. Stagehands chatted around the green room’s coffee pot as business ran smoothly in the background. Instead of lingering around, eavesdropping, Tenna was showing Sammy around the studio. It would be bad if she got lost, after all.

“...and that was the last time I EVER let a visitor use the studio bathrooms,” Tenna chuckled. Sammy let out a sharp laugh, slapping the tv show host on the back. 

“Hey, that was a good one!” the saleswoman replied as she came down from her laughter. “You ever thought of costing a comedy special before? I bet you’d be great at that kind of thing.”

Tenna brushed Sammy’s idea off, feigning humbleness. She flushed a bit. “Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly do something like that,” she giggled, “or else I’d have no more jokes for the show!” 

Both women laughed. In reality, the pleasantries shared between them were just for show, hollow, curated to get on one another’s good side. Strictly business, as per usual around the studio.

Tenna led the shorter woman to a large room lined with curtains and racks of elaborate costumes. 

“Here (as you can probably tell) are the dressing rooms. Feel free to put any stuff in here that you might have brought.” Tenna said, walking over to one of the changing stalls and fixing a twisted curtain. “I don’t think we have anyone else in here for today, so make yourself at home!”

Sammy eyed the room. “Sweet,” the saleswoman rubbed her neck, peering around out of curiosity. “So what’s the deal again?”

“My makeup and hair team will be with you in about, maybe ten minutes? If there’s anything you need, you can find me in the green room. I’m sure my stage manager is around here somewhere too, the short one with the freckles. She can help you out too,” Tenna smiled. Sammy gave a slightly sheepish smile back, a little taken aback with the host’s insistent hospitality. In the past, wherever she did ad shoots, Sam was the one directing the whole thing from typically a random warehouse out in the middle of nowhere. That’s the reason why she mostly did paper ads.

Tenna closed the door behind her with a little wave, leaving Sammy alone in the dressing room. The saleswoman poked around the room a bit, already bored just sitting and waiting for the makeup people to arrive. She lit a cigarette and started puffing on it.

On the side of the room with the door, there were a handful of vanities lined with various hair and makeup products. Starry wallpaper decorated the walls. She slid open the curtains to one of the changing rooms: there was a mirror, a stool, and a few hooks to hand clothes off of on the wall. She shut the curtains, uninterested. 

Something caught Sammy’s eye. Hanging off of one of the costume racks, a short, sequined, golden dress with tassels and lace stood from one of the clotheshangers. It was haphazardly mixed in with other random costumes, barely poking out, but the shimmer caught her attention.

If this is my costume, I’m going to kill someone, Sam thought. 

A small knock came from the door, then it opened with a few crew members. Sam sat down at one of the vanities, already talking it up with the makeup team.

----------------------------------------------------------

When Sammy returned from the dressing room, she looked as sharp as ever (despite having her face caked with copious amounts of stage makeup). Her short, dark hair was slicked back and out of her face. She wore a pale green blazer on top of her white dress shirt, with tan pants. An obnoxious gold watch flashed on her wrist. Sam was told she could pick out what she wanted to wear, since it was her ad after all, and she chose something nice but simple. 

“It doesn’t matter what I look like, really. It’s what I say that gets their attention,” the saleswoman explained, fixing the sleeves of her blazer. She smiled cunningly at Tenna. “Does that make sense, doll?”

Tenna sputtered a little, before answering “yes” a little too enthusiastically. She laughed nervously at herself, ashamed of how childish she must have come off as.

“L-Let’s go to the stage and go over lines, yeah?” Tenna quickly interjected, walking off toward the stage and leaving Sam in the dust. 

“Someone’s excited to get going, huh?” the saleswoman teased, scrambling to catch up with the host’s quick pace. 

“Uh… yeah! I do like to keep a consistent schedule on our recording days, it makes things run a lot smoother on the technical end as well.” Tenna attempted to regain her professionalism, directing her train of thought to her work instead of the short businesswoman trailing behind her. 

“Seems like you do a lot of work.”

“Uh, well…” Tenna tried to uphold the facade of humbleness, but it was true! She does do a lot of work. Why lie?

Before she could properly respond, Sam spoke up again.

“When’s the last time you let yourself really unwind? You seem like you’re on edge, what’s the matter?” 

Sammy lit another cigarette -- they made her put one out earlier in the dressing room when the makeup team came in -- and smoothly placed a hand on the host’s lower back. Tenna jumped from the sudden contact, completely dumbfounded by the words coming out of the shorter woman’s mouth. Tenna stood there, looking stupidly. Sammy flashed a sly grin. 

She removed her hand and walked ahead, right onto the stage where crew members were working. Tenna was beyond flustered. She had forgotten about her job forever ago, concentrating only on the way Sammy’s hand felt on her back as it slid into place, firm fingers slightly digging into her coat. Embarrassment flooded her body, then frustration. How dare this woman treat me like that?! How dare she, treating me like some dumb whore. Who does she think she is?!

Before Tenna could let her anger bubble further, the stage manager jogged up to her with a clipboard in her hands. 

“I was looking for you. I just wanted to make sure with you that the prop list looked correct,” Beth explained as they glanced over the sheet one last time before handing it to her boss. Tenna didn’t spare a single glance at Beth as she spoke, instead staring daggers at Sammy and clenching her teeth. 

“Boss…?”

“You’re in charge of that. Go ask someone else,” Tenna growled. She watched from afar as Sammy flipped through her script, laughing as blush crept up on another stagehand’s face. That little shit needs to be taught a lesson later, Tenna thought to herself. She took a deep breath and redirected her train of thought. You have a show to run. Priorities, Tenna.

Beth knew better than to question her boss. She slipped back to the stage without a word.

A shiny car sat at center stage, illuminated by the dozens of lights lining the recording area. Sammy stood, back leaning against the door, skimming over her script. The taller of the assistant stage managers, John, went over the script with her from offstage. 

“Didja wanna go over it one more time?” John double checked, sensing Tenna’s presence on set before they could even see her. “You should go over it with ‘da boss, probably…”

“I think I got it down by now, it should be fine,” Sammy replied, rolling the papers in her hand into a tube and gesturing with it. “Your boss will love it, I’m sure.” Ash fell from the end of her cigarette.

“Uh, you’re not supposed to, uh,” the assistant s.m. started, “you’re not supposed to smoke on stage, it’s kinda dangerous…” They rubbed the back of their neck, not used to having to enforce any rules themself. 

“Yeah, whatever, I’ll put it out when we go on.”

“Yeah, but-”

A gloved hand plucked the cigarette straight out of Sammy’s mouth, shadow looming ominously as a tall figure blocked the stage lights.

Tenna leaned over the shorter woman, forcing a tight smile through her anger.

“No. Smoking. My lovely stage manager over there made sure to let you know. Okay?” Tenna’s voice was sickly sweet, but her body exuded pure rage.

“A-Alright, jeez lady,” Sammy mumbled, turning her body to look away. 

“Wonderful.” Tenna suddenly whipped her body around and shouted. “STAGE CREW! GET IN HERE, NOW.”

A mad dash of people crowded the stage in an instant, all sweating and glancing anxiously at one another. They stayed silent, obedient.

“Thank you all for being here,” she began. “This morning as I arrived, as you all know me to do, I passed by our wonderful recording area, the stage,” Tenna gestured to the stage they all stood on. “Do you all want to know what I found on the stage this morning?”

The group stayed silent, dripping with shame.

“I found NOT ONLY cigarette butts ON STAGE, but PROPS from rehearsal that were SUPPOSED TO BE PUT ON THEIR TABLES FOR TODAY! WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU ALL DOING LAST NIGHT?!” She stomped her heel on the hardwood stage, sending out a loud clack that reverberated in the suffocatingly quiet room. “Does ANYONE want to tell me what you were doing, on off hours, messing around on stage? Anyone? You should all know that this is unacceptable.”

One brave crew member spoke up. “I don’t know what the cigarettes are about, but the props team… the props team told us to just leave them out and that they would deal with it.” He bit his knuckle, cringing at his own ratting-out of the props team. 

“Of course. Of course it was them. I swear to god… you are all dismissed.” Tenna rubbed her temple and shooed off the stage crew. A sigh of relief swept through the crowd as they dispersed.

Tenna calmly returned to Sammy, still leaning against the car. “I’m sorry about that, it just reminded me.” Her cheery demeanor was back. “Shall we go over the ad?”

Sammy couldn’t get the image of the terrified stage crew out of her head. Why had they been so afraid? Had Tenna really done something so bad before that it scared them into submission? She could almost hear how hard they were praying in their heads for mercy. There’s no way that Tenna is…

She shook the idea out of her mind. None of her business, right?

“I’m ready as I’ll ever be,” replied Sammy. She forced a smirk, trying to regain her usual composure. 

The rehearsal went just as Sammy had practised before, reciting her lines and turning up the charm. 

“Over at Bigshot Autos, you could get your hands on a brand new baby like one of these,” Sammy said, placing her hand on the roof.

“Ok, cut, can I say something?” Tenna interjected.

Sammy paused, confused. “Sure, what’s up?” She sounded disinterested.

“How about you go inside of the car instead of just showing the outside the entire time?”

“I was already about to do that. I was gonna show off the interior and talk about it.” Sammy furrowed her brow and placed her hands on her hips, as if trying to make herself appear larger. When she didn’t get another response, she rolled her eyes and went back to the script.

Sammy continued with her spiel, opening up all the doors and pointing out features and details inside the car.

“The center console can come down as well, revealing two more cuphold-”

“Talk about the seating more,” Tenna interrupted, again.

Sammy huffed sharply, beyond annoyed. “No, I know how I’m going to do my ad. Just let me finish.” She balled her fists.

“But-”

“Oh my god, can you just let me finish this? I’m almost done, just let me do my thing,” Sammy groaned.

“Hey, you can’t talk to me like that! Without me, your ad won’t-”

“Well maybe if I was able to present MY ad, then I’ll let you put it on YOUR show!”

“WITHOUT MY SHOW THERE IS NO AD! YOU WILL LISTEN TO ME.”

“You’re not my mom,” Sammy said, mockingly.

“That’s IT! I’ve HAD IT with you all today!” Tenna stood up dramatically, storming off. “I don’t even care anymore! Fine! Do it your way! I don’t care!”

The stage was once again left in an awkward silence.

“What’s up her ass?” Sammy grumbled. The camera crew was too afraid to even try to come up with a response. “I get why you’re all scared of her now, jesus, if my boss was a mega-bitch like that I’d give her a piece of my mind!” 

No reply. Sammy groaned and started to walk backstage. “Whatever, just call me on when it’s my turn.”

John and the other assistant s.m., Louie, looked at each other. 

Boss is going to rip her to shreds, Louie signed.

“I know. It’s gonna be a bloodbath,” John said. “A freakin’ bloodbath, I tell ya.”

Louie slipped a ten dollar bill to John. I’m betting on Tenna.

“Don’t gimme this, I’m also betting on ‘er.” They slipped the bill back, and added one of their own.

Louie scampered off with two crisp ten dollar bills, looking for Beth. She still owed them for dropping that stagelight on their hand last week. 

----------------------------------------------------------

The show went perfectly. The theme for today was racing and racecars, and the contestants competed in a mariokart-esque competition. Sammy’s car advertisement fit perfectly into the theme, almost seamlessly transitioning from game to ad. The audience absolutely loved it.

Sammy was a hit with the audience, specifically. The way she worked them, riled them up and reeled them in was phenomenal. Sammy could probably sell anything to anyone, judging by how naturally it came to her. Tenna couldn’t even try to deny it. Sammy was made for this. 

Tenna almost entirely forgot about how she planned on chewing Sammy out after the show.

Their rating for the day skyrocketed. It was a new record.

They wanted more.

More Sammy. 

After the show, a sea of chatter erupted in the crowd. Who was that lady? I had never heard of that dealership! I want to see her on the show! She was so entertaining! I could sit and watch her talk all day! Do you think they’ll have her back? I want her on the show!

Sammy placed a hand on Tenna’s shoulder as she approached from behind, taking the host’s attention away from the marketing team discussing today’s ratings. 

“Nice job out there! Seeing you do your show live is way better than over the screen,” Sammy smiled, patting the host’s shoulder. Tenna smiled back, rolling her eyes playfully.

“What, you’re saying you watch me a lot at home?” Tenna joked.

“I do! I really do,” Sam laughed. “I was a little starstruck seeing you work your magic out there.”

Tenna flushed a little at all the praise. She was used to hearing it all from her employees or journalists during interviews, but hearing it come from a new person got her excited all over again. 

“What did you like about today’s show? Specifically.”

“Oh, well, uh. I liked when you made every question on the quiz a trick question, that was hilarious! The contestant’s faces were priceless!”

“And…?”

Sammy could tell what game Tenna was trying to play. It was so obvious, how had she not noticed sooner?

The business woman leaned her body closer to Tenna, hand drifting from her shoulder to her back. 

“Honestly, I liked it whenever you were up there. I liked all of it. I loved it, even.” Tenna chuckled under her breath at that. Sammy brought her body parallel to Tenna’s, looking her directly in the eyes. Tenna swallowed hard. 

Just as Sammy opened her mouth to speak, a young looking employee, possibly an intern, tapped Tenna on the shoulder. He was holding a heavy looking stack of papers.

“Excuse me? Um, miss…? Here are the papers you wanted photocopied from earlier…” He looked down at the floor shyly, slightly holding the stack out toward his boss. The young employee suddenly began to sweat, realizing that he just interrupted something.

He began to stumble over an apology, but Tenna just wordlessly turned around to him and snatched a handful of the papers. She read one, flipped to the next paper, then the next, increasing in speed. Tenna tossed the small stack on the ground, expression blank. 

“I don’t like this graphic anymore. Tell Becky or whatever her name is to make a new one by tonight.” Sammy couldn’t tell which was scarier -- Tenna screaming in someone’s face or Tenna not having any reaction at all.

Tenna’s face remained unreadable as the intern stood there, waiting to be berated. When he noticed that she decided to not yell this time, he slowly bent down to pick up the scattered, now pointless, papers. 

The intern mumbled, “Yes ma’am.” Tenna watched him crouch down, stand back up, and stumble off without a word. Tenna hummed quietly in approval.

“What was all THAT about,” Sammy blurted out in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.” The businesswoman’s face had begun to twist into an expression of disgust. 

Tenna shrugged, distantly. “I didn’t like it. The graphic looked weird.” She spoke as if she had done nothing wrong.

Sammy took a step back. “Do you even hear yourself?”

“What are you implying?” Tenna’s demeanor had started to morph from disinterest to defensiveness. She put her hands on her hips.

“What? You don’t see when your employees cower from you? What the fuck is that about?” The shorter woman shoved a blunt finger in the other’s face. “You treat them like… like pets! Does that get you off or something?”

The green room had gone silent. Everyone held their breath, waiting for shit to hit the fan. Tenna loomed over the businesswoman, eyes like daggers.

She spoke.

“How DARE you speak to me like that. This is MY studio. NOT YOURS.”

Tenna’s voice boomed as she walked closer and closer to Sammy. She stumbled backwards until her back bumped against the wall. 

“I WILL RUN MY STUDIO HOWEVER I LIKE. THEY ALL SIGNED CONTRACTS TO WORK HERE. AND JUST SO YOU’RE AWARE, YOU ALSO SIGNED A CONTRACT WITH ME FOR YOUR AD!”

Beth fished out two 20 dollar bills from her wallet and rolled her eyes. Louie and John silently celebrated.

Sammy barked up at Tenna, “Don’t you start that with me, I read THE ENTIRE THING! YOU’RE TRYING TO SCARE ME TOO NOW? WHAT IS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM?”

She had had enough. Tenna twisted her fist into the front of Sammy’s shirt and threw her out into the hall. Sammy fought, grabbing and scratching at Tenna’s arms. Tenna kept her fist balled tight around the fabric, manhandling the other woman into her own personal dressing room. She slammed the door closed with her foot, startling onlookers.

The employees in the green room had only heard the door slam. They knew better than to try to intervene. It would have been pointless trying to rip Tenna off. None of them were big enough or strong enough to go up against her, and trying to talk it out would have gone nowhere. All the crew could do was pray for the stupid little car lady to come out of this alive.

----------------------------------------------------------

The wind was knocked out of Sammy’s lungs as her back was slammed against the wall, Tenna’s grip slowly cutting off circulation from how hard she gripped her shirt. The shorter woman wheezed, trying to recover from the impact as the host grimaced. Sammy could feel Tenna’s hot breath on her face as she breathed heavily, body fuming with anger. 

“I invite you to my studio, into my space,” Tenna started, voice wavering, “I am nothing but kind to you, and you-”

Tears began to well in her eyes, fogging up her glasses. 

“Y-You say I’m, that I’m mean…! I’m not a mean person!”

The host’s words gushed from her trembling lips, almost incomprehensible.

“What did I do wrong?... I…I’m doing my best! I’ve had to be strict with them for so long because if- if I don’t, no one listens to me! Ever! No one ever listened to me! They won’t take me seriously!” Tenna’s shoulders heaved as she openly sobbed.

“I don’t want to scare them! I’m not a scary person! I swear! Why are you being so mean to me?... I’m… I’m working so hard…” Tenna jostled Sammy around by the shirt, attempting to gesture, emphasizing her cries. 

“I don’t understand why you come to me and then tell me I’m a bad person!” 

Sammy stared, slackjawed and wide eyed. For once in her life, the businesswoman didn’t know what to say. She searched in Tenna’s wet eyes, hoping that somewhere in there she would have an answer to all the questions thrown at her. The taller woman’s sobs had died down into sniffles, but her jaw was still clenched with a grimace. 

The Annabelle Tenna, nationwide sensation, ‘Queen of Screens’ had completely shut down in front of Sammy, the dealership owner on the edge of town. Sammy felt wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She had practically just met Tenna, and now there they stood, nose to nose in a dimly lit dressing room, tears streaming down the star’s face. 

The businesswoman had only come to Tenna because of the promise of money. It was as simple as that. Sammy would record her ad, get more sales, maybe be invited to do another, and then go on with her life.

But now, with the once proud tv show host practically at her knees, begging Sammy for answers, reassurance, anything, the goalposts in her had shifted.

Sammy decided to break the silence.

“I just wanted to ask,” she breathed, “...if you were doing ok…but clearly not.” Sammy laughed shallowly, exhausted. She held her hands up in a sign of forfeit. A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead. There’s no way she was really going to do this.

“You, uh, you’re…. You’re not a bad person. You’re right, you were nice to me.” The businesswoman averted her eyes, embarrassed. “I’m… I…” Sammy pushed the words out through gritted teeth, her pride preventing them from coming out.

“I’m so-rry.”

The apology came out broken, apprehensive, hard to say. Sammy wanted to kick herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she had uttered those words to someone.

Sammy didn’t know why she even felt like she had to apologize to Tenna -- she hadn’t done anything wrong, really. She stood up for the stage crew, who were WAYYYY nicer to her than Tenna was by a long shot. But the way Tenna’s eyes gave off the impression of a kicked puppy, abandoned on the side of the road, she felt her ego give in.

Tenna’s expression slightly softened at Sammy’s words. She was suddenly overly-aware of herself, of how insane she probably looks. Her mouth went dry.

The host’s grip on the dress shirt loosened, Sammy letting out a sigh of relief as blood rushed back to her neck. Still pinned to the wall, the shorter woman slowly slipped off her pale green blazer and let it drop below her. 

“You were so nice to me… I just- I want to know what happened. Why can’t you be nice to them like you were with me? Why…?”

Sammy shakily forced a warm smile on her face.

“What happened, babe?”

All of the anger and sorrow had left Tenna’s face. She was slackjawed, ashamed of her horrible behavior today but much too proud to say it. Her breathing began to slow.

Sammy looked up through half lidded eyes, exhaustion replaced with another emotion she was unable to truly pinpoint. Her nose almost touched Tenna’s, their faces were so close. 

“You work so hard… I can tell. I see how much you put into the show. I see it. When… Do you take breaks? When was the last time you took a break? Like… a real break.” It came out almost as a whisper. Tenna slowly drifted past the other woman’s nose and pressed her lips into Sammy’s. Her fist fully let go and instead pressed flat against the shorter woman’s chest. 

At first it was messy, frustration and desperation, guilt and sorrow, guiding Tenna as she mashed her lips against Sammy’s. The businesswoman quickly caught up to Tenna’s pace, and began to slow her down a bit. Her hands rested against Tenna’s waist as she pulled her in gently, trying to get the other woman to get as much enjoyment as possible from the kiss. She clearly was just pent up, stressed, exhausted. Sammy would gladly lend a helping hand to the poor tv show host if that was what she needed after all.

Tenna gasped in surprise as Sammy suddenly dug her fingers into the soft skin on her hips through her skirt, giving Sammy the perfect opportunity to shove her tongue deep into her mouth. She dragged her tongue slowly along Tenna’s teeth, pulling desperate moans out of the woman. They parted for a moment to catch their breath, then Tenna dove right back in for more. 

So needy.

After a few more moments of making out, Sammy dragged her lips away and grazed Tenna’s cheek, then her jaw, then her neck. Tenna’s lipstick painted the other woman’s face, smearing even further as Sammy teased her. 

The businesswoman unbuttoned the first two buttons of Tenna’s shirt and began to bite at her. Tenna whined, desperately groping and pawing at Sammy for stability as her legs felt weak. Sammy was ravenous, biting and sucking and grabbing at her sides and ass, drawing more delicious sounds out of the host. 

Sammy noticed how Tenna’s legs began to buckle, and decided to “help”.

“Oh my god,” Tenna moaned as Sammy pressed her knee between her legs, hiking up the front of her pencil skirt.

“Please, please, please…” Tenna incoherently babbled as Sammy kept biting and pressing harder. The host began to rock her hips, rutting against the knee, breathing heavily. Sammy was winded just by the sight of the proud, confident tv show host crumbling and melting from her touch. She picked up the pace, working double time, moving her lips back onto Tenna’s as she moaned in her mouth.

Tenna couldn’t remember the last time she felt this good. She was happy with just letting herself give in and be pleasured by Sammy, her usually busy mind instead filled with just one thought: fuck me.

“You’re doing so good, babe…” Sammy groaned, earning more noises from Tenna.

“TENNA? ANNE…? ANNE WHERE DID YOU GUYS GO?”

The voice yelled from somewhere down the hall. Shit. They’re looking for us.

Sammy suddenly stopped everything, frozen. Tenna felt herself slowly come down from the high, trying to smack herself and come back to reality. 

“Oh god, I hope that woman from the ad segment is ok…”

“We would have probably heard by now if something happened though, no?”

“You’re probably right, but I can’t stop worrying.”

The voices were moving closer.

Tenna quickly shoved her skirt back down, buttoned up her shirt, and grabbed Sammy’s blazer off the floor. Sammy quickly pulled it on, tucking in her shirt and trying to fix her hair. 

“Oh shit.”

Tenna saw herself in the vanity mirror. Her dark red lipstick had been smeared all over her face and neck, dirtying her white shirt a little. She quickly glanced over to Sammy, only to see that she looked way worse. 

The dark red appeared brighter against Tenna’s dark complexion, but on Sammy it looked almost like fresh blood. Her nose, her chin, her mouth, it was smeared everywhere. 

Tenna furiously scrubbed at Sammy’s face and her own with makeup remover. The businesswoman sputtered as the wipe was roughly rubbed on her face without warning, Tenna scrubbing like she was trying to grind her skin off.

“Ow, stop it!” Sammy batted her away. “Just tell them I got a bloody nose, that’s good enough, right? It looks close enough?”

Tenna stared at Sammy as she frantically wiped at her mouth with her sleeve. 

“Ehhh…..”

There’s no way anyone would buy it. But what choice did they have right now?

“Ok fine, here take these tissues.” Tenna shoved a handful of tissues at Sammy. She took them, not knowing what to do with them. She looked dumbly at Tenna.

“Your nose. You just said it was for your nose. Your bloody nose. Remember?”

“Oh right,” Sammy placed them on her face, pretending to plug her nostrils.

It was clearly Elina and Leo looking for them based on their voices… oh god. Sammy hadn’t met them yet. Tenna had forgotten to introduce them. 

“ANNE??????” Elina shouted, right against the dressing room door. “ARE YOU IN THERE?”

“Y-YES JUST GIVE ME A MINUTE,” Tenna shouted back, fumbling with her appearance a bit more. Sammy was fully committed to the nosebleed role, standing crouched over, prepared for them to open the door any minute.

“Oh good, we’ve all been looking for you! We saw you had a little… argument earlier,” Leo said.

“We can’t find the ad lady either, maybe she left?” Elina added.

“Uhhh…” Sammy stood there, eyes shooting from Tenna to the door and back to Tenna.

“Uh-” Tenna started, but was quickly cut off by the door swinging open.

Chapter Text

“LEO! NINA! HELLO!”

The weather forecasters didn’t know what they were expecting to see when they walked through that door, but it certainly wasn’t their boss standing rigid with her hands behind her back while the day’s advertiser stood in the back, tissues glued to her face and eye twitching. 

Tenna seemed awfully… chipper. 

Silence hung in the doorway, each waiting for the other to say something, anything. 

“Wh…? Heyyyy, Tenna… I just wanted to see if you were, uh… doing alright,” Nina toyed with her curly hair awkwardly and looked away. “Is everything ok…? Heh.”

Leo adjusted his tie and started to back away. “Hun, let’s just meet up with them later ok? They’re, uh, busy right now-”

“NO! No! Sorry, wait… Have you met Ms. Samuels yet? I don’t think I introduced you guys…!” Tenna gestured for the couple to enter with a big smile, much to Sammy’s dismay. 

The businesswoman stuttered a quick hello. Tissues covered the entire lower half of her face, muffling whatever she tried to say. 

There’s no way Tenna is actually this stupid, she thought. Nervous sweat rolled down her brow.

“Oh my, are you okay?” Leo gasped slightly at the sight of the ‘bloodied’ tissues. He shot an accusatory glance at Tenna. 

“Bloody nose. I have a… a bloody nose. It’s bleeding. I’m fine, hah…” Sammy had never cringed this hard at herself in her life. It was utterly humiliating. The couple CLEARLY could tell what had transpired, why was Tenna trying to turn this into a social event?! Sammy clenched her teeth into a tight fake smile under the tissues.

Tenna shrank under Leo and Nina’s gaze, ashamed and suddenly aware of what it looks like.

“WAIT NO, wait, she, uh, she told me it happens sometimes, right?”

“Yeah-”

Tenna didn’t let Sammy finish. “Yeah, she gets bloody noses! Low… blood iron. Iron deficiency. There isn’t enough iron.”

Sammy kicked Tenna sharply on the calf, quickly shutting her up.

What the fuck was she talking about?!

Nina visibly cringed. “...Alright then.” She turned to Leo and gave him a glance that said “let’s get out of here before Tenna opens her big mouth again please get me out of here”.

Leo turned to leave. “Alright, well it was nice meeting you, Ms. Samuels. Nina and I have a meeting to get to now-”

“Wait, you guys didn’t shake hands, it’s rude to-”

“GOODBYE, TENNA!”

The door slammed shut once again. 

After a moment, Tenna placed her hands on her hips, dejected. 

“Wow. Rude,” Tenna rolled her eyes.

Sammy rubbed her face, deep and slow as if she was trying to scrub the memory of what just happened from her mind. She didn’t know how many more blows to her ego she could take in one day before she decided to go play in traffic and die. She had been yelled at and thrown around for all to see, and now everyone probably thinks she got her shit rocked by that stupid tv lady. At least if they had been caught in the act, she would have been able to hold over everyone’s heads how she can make their fierce, scary boss melt in her hands. 

The businesswoman balled up the tissues dramatically and threw them to the floor with a frustrated huff. She turned to the other woman and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. The host looked at Sammy in surprise, eyes wide and cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Tenna,” breathed Sammy, “What. The fuck. Is wrong with you.”

Tenna was taken aback. “I- I panicked!-”

“Jesus Tenna, blood iron? What does that even mean?”

“I-”

“And now they all think YOU BEAT THE CRAP OUT OF ME BECAUSE OF THE WHOLE ‘BLOODY NOSE’ THING!”

Sammy got up in Tenna’s face, fuming. Tenna looked away with an ashamed look in her big doe eyes. 

“There’s NO WAY they don’t think that, I saw the way they looked at you! They think YOU beat ME up!” Sammy turned away and threw her hands in the air. “LORD, JUST KILL ME NOW!”

If Tenna could shrink, she would have disappeared that instant. 

“I couldn’t help it! I just- I just kept talking because if I didn’t stop talking I would seem GUILTY, which I’m not, and-”

Sammy cut her off. “Oh my god, Tenna. Just- just relax. Chill out for a second. It’s fine. We’re fine. There. It’s decided.”

“What?”

Sammy dug through random drawers in the room, trying to find something more heavy-duty to remove the lipstick still smeared on her face. 

“Yeah. What are we gonna do about it now. It’s over. No use worrying over it, just suck it up and deal with it.” Sammy mostly directed her words at herself, but Tenna seemed to really take it into consideration. A small bottle of liquid makeup remover was taken from a low cabinet as Sammy got off her knees, now reaching for cotton pads sitting in a caddy on the vanity. Tenna swiveled her body around the room, following Sammy as she buzzed around. 

“...Alright,” Tenna said with a sigh.

“Hm?” 

“I’ll do what you said, forget about it, move on.”

“Oh.” Sammy hadn’t even registered that Tenna heard her, thinking out loud. “Yeah. Good. Ok.”

“Should we… go check on the stats for the episode today…?”

Right. They were at work.

“Oh- yeah sure,” Sammy replied absently, still trying to wrap her head around how long the day had been. It felt like she lived a thousand lives in just the past six hours.

The two women left the dressing room, both desperately attempting to snap back into “work mode”.

--------------------------------------------------------

Sammy plopped herself down onto one of the green room couches. Tenna paced back and forth as she flipped through papers on a clipboard and spoke numbers through an earpiece, supposedly to whoever was in charge of keeping track of the ratings. Her heels clacked as she circled, muttering “mhm” and “yep” every few seconds through the earpiece’s microphone. Sammy tapped her fingers on her thigh, bored.

Most of the crew members had dispersed, some going home for the day. On the other couch, two people played a racing videogame with clunky controllers plugged into the ancient tv against the wall. Sammy’s gaze drifted to the screen, slightly entertained by the little race cars zooming on the screen. 

“Wow, really? You sure you’re not just pulling my leg?” Tenna spoke into the receiver. “...Really? Oh, wow!”

Sammy was completely invested in the virtual race now. The guy playing as the princess character seemed better at the game than the person playing as the short guy, but otherwise it was a pretty fair race. The guy snickered as he elbowed his friend, saying something about how he’s going to lose. 

“Did you hear that!?” Tenna was bouncing excitedly on her toes as she leaned into Sammy’s personal space, trying to grab her attention.

The businesswoman was pulled from her trance “Huh? No, you’re wearing a headset, dumbass.” 

“Mike said that the viewer rates went way up today! He said that your segment was a hit! He predicts that the views should only go up from here! Isn’t that exciting?” Tenna clapped her hands together with joy. 

“Yeah, that’s pretty good,” Sammy replied. “Wait, from here? As in… you want me back on the show…?” A slight smile began to creep up on her face as the prospect of fame and fortune studded her future. Sammy lounged, placing her hands behind her head nonchalantly. “Pshh yeah, I guess I can come on again if you really want me to-“

“You would get paid for your time, of course,” Tenna explained, trying hard to keep her excitement under control. “If you’re open to hosting an actual segment, I’ve had some ideas and I think the audience really liked- oh, but you don’t have to host anything! No pressure! You don’t even have to be on screen, I’ve been needing help with a lot of paperwork lately and I think it would really help-“

“Woah! Slow down!” Sammy held her hand out in an attempt to move Tenna back and out of her face. “How about we get this all on paper first before we make any decisions, yeah? You sure do run a hard bargain though.” 

“Oh, right! I’m sorry, I got a teensy bit excited there,” Tenna let out a small laugh. She stood up fully and recollected herself. “I’ll have a contract written up for you by Friday,” Tenna promised.

Maybe that weirdo on the phone was actually onto something, Sammy thought, taking note to call back when she got home.

Sammy hoisted herself off of the couch and stretched her arms over her head with a sigh. “Gotcha. Well, I’ll come by on Friday then,” Sammy said, checking her wristwatch and smoothing out her blazer. 

“Yeah! I’ll see you then,” Tenna replied, unsure of why she felt a little… disappointed? 

Yeah, they had an -- intimate -- moment earlier, but that didn’t mean that Tenna was entitled to anything, right? She basically had just met Sammy, and it was because of business, not personal escapades. It wasn’t uncommon in Tenna’s line of work for stars to indulge themselves, no strings attached, but she wasn’t one to usually involve herself in such activities. Sure, she’s had her fair share of flings, but there was serious cash on the table with Sammy, and Tenna would never forgive herself if she pushed it a little too far and lost the deal. After all, she’s at work.

Sammy thanked Tenna for showing her around, turned to the elevator, and swung her car keys on her finger as she pressed the button. The subtle jingling of the keys echoed in the now empty green room, Tenna watching as the elevator door opened and Sammy disappeared into them. The shorter woman flashed a toothy grin at Tenna and held her hand up as a small wave as the doors closed. 

God, this was gonna be REALLY hard to keep professional.

--------------------------------------------------------

With one final signature, the deal was sealed. 

Sammy agreed to present ad segments on the show, talking about whatever sponsorship there was each day. It seemed easy enough, just trying to sell random crap to people through their screens. It certainly would be a lot easier than trying to haggle with automotive companies over the phone all day. It wasn’t hard to find a general manager to take over Big Shot Autos while Sammy moved on to bigger things in life. On the business side, outside of just talking to a camera, Sammy would handle the boring paperwork that Tenna never really paid much attention to. This was Sammy’s idea, as she bragged about how quickly she could get through a stack of documents in one sitting, coffee still hot by the time the last one is signed. There was nothing Tenna loathed more than reading through encyclopedias worth of legal mumbo jumbo, and with Sammy so willing to take it over, she didn’t have to think twice on the offer. 

The only thing bigger than the reams of papers to sign was the fanmail pile. Well, it had started as a pile. Tenna had meant to get around to opening all of the letters, but the mail just kept coming, and since the guy who handled the mailroom quit a few weeks earlier, a mountain of unopened envelopes sat untouched in the far corner of her office. Even Tenna knew that it was unlike her to ignore any sort of praise from her fans, the task of opening and sorting through every single letter felt daunting. 

Sammy’s eyes fell onto the heap of letters that sat, piled on the floor haphazardly in the corner of the office when Tenna ran down some of the details of the contract. It was awfully distracting, slightly intriguing, and somewhat mysterious, piles and piles of letters shoved into an empty corner. 

“What’s up with the letters?” Sammy interjected, having completely forgotten that Tenna was even talking. Tenna blinked, confused. 

“Oh… I meant to get around to opening those, but more just kept coming,” Tenna admitted.

“What’s in ‘em?”

“Just mail from fans. The mailroom guy quit, and I haven’t gotten around to finding a new one yet. There’s just so much, I don’t know how I would even get through all of them!”

“Why not just get rid of them?” 

Tenna’s eye twitched. “Get… rid of them?”

Sammy tapped her cigarette into the tray on the host’s desk, watching lazily as ash fell from the small ember. “Yeah, you said it’s too much. Just get rid of them then, no one will know.”

“Sammy I can’t do that! They’re from fans! People spent their time on these! I’m not a monster.” Tenna crossed her arms tightly.

“Ok then… hmm,” the businesswoman tapped dull fingertips on the desk in thought. “How about you throw ‘em in with all the other crap I gotta look through. I’m gonna have to be sitting for a while to get those done anyway. I can let you know if I find anything interesting,” Sammy said with a wry smile. 

Tenna perked up. “That would actually be fantastic, yeah! Are you sure you wanna take up all of this? So soon? It’ll be a lot on your plate.”

“Oh, baby, this is nothin’. Compared to my old gig, it’s like I’m not even gonna be working at all!”

“Your old gig? Like, at the dealership?”

“Ah,” Sammy felt a pang of something she wasn’t really sure how to pinpoint in her chest. “Before that. Advertising agency.” Maybe if she kept it short, Tenna wouldn’t ask questions.

“Like with the Addisons?”

Sammy stiffened at the name. “Story for another time,” she said curtly.

Thankfully, Tenna took the hint and dropped it.

Things went pretty smoothly overall for the first couple of weeks with Sammy in the studio. An old conference room was converted into an office, which Sammy quickly settled into. Tenna had made sure to sufficiently furnish the room before her new business partner got there, complete with a velvety red chaise, a coffee table, and sturdy file cabinets. Facing the door from the far end of the room, a dark wooden desk stood, along with a leather swivel chair and a lamp. 

Sammy put her bag filled with various office supplies down onto the low table, stepping closer to the luxurious desk to inspect it. It might have been an antique, even, as the brass knobs on each of its many drawers looked slightly worn. 

It all felt too nice. 

The businesswoman’s face screwed up as she spotted a small card on the desk, addressed to her in fancy cursive. She felt nauseated looking at it.

Flipping it open, it read: 

“Dear Ms. Samuels,

I hope you enjoy your new office. If you feel like it needs anything else, let Mike know and he will handle it. 

Feel free to join me and the crew at the bar on the top floor tonight for drinks.

You know where to find me.”

Signed, Anne Tenna.

Sammy couldn’t understand why they were treating her presence like some sort of big deal. Wasn’t she just some random ad lady that now did paperwork? What was the big deal in that? Why did they care so much?

…

Was that tv host only giving her special treatment because they almost hooked up?

Sammy’s stomach twisted grossly at the thought. She slid the leather chair back and sat down on it, elbows on the desk and head in her hands. She rubbed her temples as if it would make all the unpleasant thoughts go away. A frustrated sigh left her lips as she recollected herself, going to unpack the supplies she brought to the office. She hastily slid open a drawer on the giant desk and threw the card in. 

During the show that day, Sammy had a short segment to present a sponsored product. It was sort of a test-run to see how the audience would react to seeing her again. The viewer engagement was higher than average during the ad, just as it had been when she advertised her dealership. Tenna could barely contain her excitement over the fact that her little “experiment” worked (even though it was Mike who suggested that they gave Sammy something smaller to start with). 

“They love it! They love it, Sammy!” Tenna cheered while jostling her business partner around by the shoulders dizzyingly. Sammy swatted her big hands away, laughing.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. That’s enough.” The shorter woman tried to uphold a cool facade, but she couldn’t help herself from smiling. 

The tv host’s enthusiasm was infectious, and it radiated off of her like a warm glow; her smile was brighter than any spotlight a stage could offer. The way Tenna’s body moved was almost dance-like, following a rhythm only she could hear, shifting her heels and gesturing with her hands as she talked about all of her new ideas and future aspirations. 

Sammy couldn’t help but ask herself, how does she do it? The businesswoman nodded along to the wishful words that ran from Tenna’s mouth, maybe truthful, maybe daydreams, and all because an ad segment went well? Sammy started to sweat. The weight of the compliments and praise slowly morphed from pleasant to suffocating. Her eyes silently darted around the room, still absently nodding to Tenna, looking for some kind of escape route from the conversation. Mike stood by the stage door, signing something to the stage manager and their assistant, Leo and Nina pressed buttons on a vending machine and waited for snacks to fall down, and Sammy weighed her options. 

It might be weird to try to talk to Leo and Nina now, it looks like they’re busy, and… wait, didn’t Mike look different yesterday? Mike had a suit, not… cat ears?! 

“-Right, Sammy?”

Sammy sucked in a quick breath and tried to refocus herself.

Why did she even care?

Why did she care that Tenna was saying nice things? It’s not like receiving compliments for her skills was a new experience. So why was this any different?

Why did Tenna even care?

Why would this larger-than-life tv star spend her precious, valuable time on flattering the paperwork lady? Yeah, she did keep the viewer retention higher than normal, but that was a part of the job. It’s not like she did anything special. 

Sammy stammered. “Uh, yeah. Yeah.”

Tenna’s chest tightened. Shit, too much. I’m being too much, she thought. “I better get going to my office now,” Tenna said flatly with an apologetic smile, and quickly turned on her heel.

“Hey, wait!” Sammy called out, jogging a few steps to catch up to the other woman. Tenna halted and waited for Sammy to speak, surprised. “The note. I saw the note.”

Tenna’s shoulders tensed a little, unsure if she was about to be turned down, chewed out, or some secret third thing.

“Sorry, you don’t have to come tonight, I just wanted to invite you because you’re now a part of the team, and I thought it would be nice, but you don’t have to-”

“No, I was gonna ask if it was still on.”

“Huh?”

“Are you, is everyone still going tonight?” 

Sammy wiped her clammy hands on her dress pants, then folded them tightly across her chest. Real smooth, jackass.

“Uh… Yeah! Yeah, it’s still on, we’re still going! A lot of the crew likes to head up to the bar after work anyway, it’s just a causal thing, it’s not like fancy or anything-”

“I’ll see you there, then.” Sammy patted a sympathetic hand on Tenna’s arm before turning back to go to the green room. Tenna smiled dumbly. 

“Yeah. Yeah! See you there!” 

--------------------------------------------------------

Tenna did not go to her office after her exchange with Sammy, but instead opted for her dressing room. 

She hung up her long red coat for the day, placing it next to twenty other identical long red coats on the clothing rack. She rolled her dress shirt sleeves up to her elbows as she kicked off her yellow heels, and began to rummage through her vanity drawers. She found a large scrunchie shoved in with other hair supplies and bunched her thick hair up into a ponytail -- in reality, it was more of a poof -- and tied the scrunchie in. Tenna plopped herself down on the leather couch across from the vanity, propping her legs up on the coffee table.

She felt guilty for not noticing how Sammy became uncomfortable with her earlier, too wrapped up in her own ambition. 

But she still came back, right?

Tenna sighed. She looked at the high shelf above her vanity, spotting the bottle of brandy that sat next to various other random gifts from investors and companies, none of them truly meaningful. 

A little pregaming never hurt, right?

She plucked the bottle down and uncorked it, pouring herself a glass. The leather couch made a “poof” sound as Tenna plopped back down into her spot. 

I hope Sammy liked the desk I picked out, Tenna thought, passively. It took ten employees just to get the thing up the stairwell. She took another sip from her glass. Ungrateful shits. Why would I need to pay extra for them to just do their job?