Page 80 of Spicy Sapphic Christmas

The front door opened with the obnoxious tinkle of that damn bell on the top of it. The door hit the wall from being pushed open too forcefully, the sound echoing off the brick walls of the hallway and ringing in her ears.

The added mix of voices with the squeak of tennis shoes against the linoleum floor set Bunny’s teeth on edge.

Before they could reach the rehearsal room, she stood up from the chair and rummaged through her bag she had dumped in the corner for something to dull the throbbing in her skull. She didn’t like taking them, but she just couldn’t shake this damn headache. It felt like forever before she finally found them and swallowed them down with several big gulps from her water bottle.

They filtered into the studio room, Piper and Jo smiling and looking at each other in ways that made panic flutter in Bunny’s chest. She had known from the start that this was a bad idea. Behind Piper and Jo, Bea walked in with her face set in a perfect mask of distance.

Looked like Bunny would have to be the professional, again. It shouldn’t bother her. It was the way it had always been. But this time, it did strike frustration into her heart. This was why she normally said no to working with others. Even Piper was slipping on her work ethic.

“Finally,” Bunny said as a way of greeting when all three finally took their seats at the table. But Bunny didn’t want to sit down. They didn’t have time to ease into things, and she wouldn’t lose her own work ethic to their blasé attitudes. “There are a lot of things we need to sharpen up. Jo, your movements are too soft, you need to hit the steps on the beat, not just after. Piper, your vocals aren’t where they should be. And Bea, we’re cuttingBaby It’s Cold Outside.”

“What?” Jo and Piper said simultaneously.

Bunny didn’t look over at Bea, but she felt Bea’s eyes boring into her, anger wafting off of her.

“We haven’t factored in enough time to perfect it, so we’ll be cutting that song. It’ll work better without it anyway. The show would be far too tight if we kept it in.”

“And of course it had to be that song, didn’t it? Do any of us get a say?” Piper fired back.

“You’d get a say if any of you actually took this seriously enough to show up on time.” Bunny crossed her arms and gave Piper a stern look.

“We were on time.” Piper said, her tone holding a slight edge, but Bunny also knew when she was trying to calm tension before it rose.

“It makes sense to cut that song.”

“How do you figure that? Because it’s gay and heaven forbid we acknowledge something other than heteronormative society?” Piper was in a mood today. Bunny was going to have to watch out for that one as rehearsal got underway.

“It makes sense because that’s the song that needs the most work done on it. We’re too short on time. As it is, we’re going to need extra rehearsals to make sure every single song is perfect.”

“It’s fine.” Bea stood up, the blankness taking over the fury that had flashed moments ago. That mask caused an ache in Bunny’s chest. An ache she didn’t understand and didn’t want to.

Almost stunned into silence by the agreement, Bunny held her ground instead of staggering back like she wanted to. She slipped a glance to Piper and then eyed Bea over. “Then let’s get started.”

Tension settled over the room, and everything they rehearsed piled more bricks of frustration on top of Bunny’s anger.

They were all being entirely unprofessional. But she didn’t want another round of Bunny is wrong. How could she possibly know what the world was like just because she’d been in the industry the longest?

“Bea,” Bunny spoke softly as she moved to where Bea sat at the piano.

“Yes?” Bea looked up.

Even though she seemed to look directly into Bunny’s eyes her stare didn’t connect. There was no warmth, and no emotion.

“Do you really understand?” For some inane reason, Bunny had to check. She had to be sure that Bea was okay with everything going on.

“Oh, I understand.” Bea turned back to the piano and gently tapped on the keys, not pressing them down hard enough to make the music, but just enough for the ghost of it to vibrate.

“You do?” Bunny wasn’t stupid. She could still feel the tension like a wall separating the two of them.

“Of course, I do.” Bea didn’t look at Bunny, but kept her eyes on the sheet music in front of her. But the page hadn’t been turned, and Bunny was certain Bea had moved long past where the current page had ended.

Pride warmed Bunny’s chest. Bea’s talent was refreshing. It was real and beyond a simple desire to be famous for fame's sake.

Bunny couldn’t let her throw it all away for something that could so easily be kept out of the limelight. Despite what the industry often went on about, not all publicity was good publicity.

“Bea?”

“You’re scared. You’re afraid of being judged, but more than that, you’re afraid the world might actually have moved on, and you’ve wasted all this time being angry and bitter at the cruelty of a world everyone else has left behind.”

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