Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Academy Award winning actress Barbara “Barbie” Handler has signed on to lead the newest film at Paramount.

☆☆☆

☆☆☆

Ritchie hands her the divorce papers on a Wednesday morning.

It was inevitable, he says. We’re just…too different now.

And then, just as Gloria’s about to ask no less than a thousand different questions, he adds: I’m moving back to San Francisco. I’ve already found a place. I’ll be gone before the month is out.

What the hell does he mean? Too different?

But maybe Ritchie’s right, maybe it was inevitable. Maybe it’s something that Gloria should’ve seen coming—or maybe she did see it coming, creeping up on them from a mile away and she just…didn’t want to acknowledge it. That it would be easier to ignore the ever-growing rift between them.

Apparently, it wasn’t.

So, while she’s trying to drink her morning macchiato, she signs the papers. Ritchie mutters a thank you and pulls her into a hug. It’s awkward and just a second too long and for a moment, Gloria thinks that Ritchie might not let go, even though he’s the one that greeted her this morning with divorce. He does eventually let go of her, and they just stand there, staring at each other, and Gloria thinks that there should probably be more things said in this awkward space between them, but neither of them say anything.

She should be more upset. She shouldn’t feel like a weight has suddenly lifted from her shoulders and that she can breathe a bit easier.

She shouldn’t be relieved. Relieved that she won’t have to ask Ritchie to please pick Sasha up, and can you please put the dishes away while I’m gone and where have you been all day? And really, now that she’s thinking about it, maybe this is for the best.

Ritchie slips out the door, driving off and leaving Gloria alone in the kitchen with only one question on her mind: how is she going to tell Sasha?

☆☆☆

Sasha takes the news of the divorce exceedingly well. A little too well, if you ask Gloria.

The problem is, Sasha’s too smart for her own good, and Gloria knew that if she waited to rip the bandaid off, Sasha would’ve gone behind her and figured it out anyways.

Which is apparently what happened. Sort of.

When Gloria tells her, “Your dad and I are getting a divorce,” as soon as she slides into the passenger seat with phone and poptart in hand, Sasha replies, without looking up from her phone, “I know.”

It stuns Gloria just how blunt she is about it. Her mouth hangs open, trying to find something—anything—to say. Instead, all she comes up with is: “You know?”

Sasha nods. “Yeah, it wasn’t hard to put together,” she says. “Plus I heard you guys in the kitchen. Dad’s moving back to San Francisco.”

Gloria stares at her, still unable to find the words.

“You don’t have to worry about like, me having divorce trauma. I know none of this is my fault. You and dad just…don’t work.”

Gloria wants to ask what Sasha means by that, but they’re already pulling up to the school drop-off, and all she says is, “Have a good day, honey! Love you!”

Sasha waves awkwardly at her, before turning around completely and putting her other earbud in her ear. Gloria lets her head fall against the wheel, and takes a deep breath.

☆☆☆

Despite her absolute shit-show of a morning, she can’t help but smile when she finally sees the Paramount gates.

Gloria loves her job.

And despite what her daughter thinks, no, she’s not brainwashed by capitalism. The industry is cold and unforgiving and yes Gloria has done a lot of work for free when she really shouldn’t have, but she’d do it all over again because she loves movies. Always has. Ever since she was a little girl and her parents would take her to the movie theater almost every Sunday and let her pick the movie. Being enamored by the elaborate costumes, like the costumes were characters of their own—costumes that seem like they’re from another universe. A universe of technicolor and soundstages.

She loves the work that goes into it. All of the working and moving parts that come together in order to make the movie; there’s the writers and the actors and the set designers and composers and editors and even down to the production assistants. There’s the wig-masters and the makeup artists and the cinematographers and the technicians. It’s science. It’s magic. It’s something else entirely.

And she wouldn’t trade it for the world.

She loves being apart of the movie magic. Loves being one of the ones responsible for the magic. Being able to contribute to films in her own personal way, enhancing a story through her designs. Letting the clothes help tell the story, each piece contributing to a character or story’s progression.

When most people think of making movies, of working in Hollywood, they think of the actors and the directors and the music and, sometimes, the costume designers.

Gloria isn’t famous by any means—thank god—her name shows up in the credits far past any big names. She is well-known, she’s designed some of the more iconic costumes from Paramount’s recent hits, and her name occasionally shows up in those Art of the Movie books, but she’s not famous.

Sometimes she can’t believe that part of her wanted to be an actress. To have starring roles and her name on the marquee and fame and all of its little perks. Back in high school when she was finally able to take a theatre class and she finally felt like something clicked. Like this was always supposed to happen, and it felt right. She could design her costumes at home and in her art class, and then go to her theatre class and rehearsal after school.

When she went to college and met Ritchie, though, it became clear that her true love was design. Ritchie didn’t care for movies as much as Gloria did, didn’t understand why Gloria loved them so much. He went along with it anyway, and she loved him for it, but he could never get as excited about movies as she did. He didn’t understand why she wanted to go to midnight premieres and design new costumes for old films and recite lines because she knows the movies by heart.

Early in her career, she didn’t understand why she had to pick just one. Why she had to be a designer or an actor. Why couldn’t she have both?

But the more and more she auditioned, the more and more she was told, “Hm, we don’t think you’re quite right for this role...” which, translated, is casting director speak for, “We’re going to cast a white person.” So, she focused more and more on her costumes. On design and taking a story to the next level through the clothes an actor wore for their character, and, if it was even possible, she fell more in love with it.

She doesn’t miss it, honestly. In fact, she used to be so sure that she would miss acting. That her life might end if she wasn’t able to do both of them, but she doesn’t miss the anxiety that always overtook her before an audition, or before she went on stage. The way she used to completely block out her performances in her mind, for her friends and family—and sometimes Ritchie—to come up to her afterwards and tell her how good she was, only for her to not remember a single thing.

So yeah, maybe her true calling was costume design. She loves it. It loves her. A match made in heaven.

She’ll take her sketchbook and fabrics and design studio over being in front of a camera any day.

☆☆☆

Gloria doesn’t know why she’s here.

Okay, not like that. And not her her.

The blonde currently standing in front of her office door, looking lost but almost definitely faking that air of confidence about her. What’s she doing here?

“Can I help you?” Gloria asks, getting up from her desk and crossing to the door.

The blonde grins. “Yes! I’m supposed to meet with Gloria…?”

“That’s me,” Gloria confirms. “Who are you?”

Gloria knows who’s standing in front of her. She’s seen Barbie Handler’s face on one of the posters on the studio lot. She’s only the most famous actress in the world right now. And now she’s standing here, several inches taller than Gloria, so she has to tilt her head up a bit, perfect natural makeup and perfect long blonde hair falling to the middle of her back, pushing her curtain bangs out of her eyes with a perfectly pink manicured hand. There’s not a hair out of place. Literally. She’s wearing jeans, a shirt, and a blazer that Gloria knows costs more than she makes in a year, and that doesn’t even factor in the shoes and bracelets she’s wearing.

(Gloria won’t lie, she is a little intimidated, but not so much by the world famous actress in front of her, but by the work load she knows is about to lay ahead of her.)

Barbie stops, taken aback. Like this has never happened to her before. Like she’s never had someone ask who are you to her face and mean it. Gloria tries to bite back a grin as Barbie blinks a few times, obviously thrown off by the question. Her mouth opens, then closes, and opens again, gaping like a fish trying to find something to say. It’s like watching a robot blue screen and reboot, and it’s awesome.

Big blue eyes narrow, and there’s a crease in her brow and truthfully, for a moment, Gloria is a little stunned at how gorgeous she is.

But Gloria works with gorgeous people everyday; this is nothing new.

“I’m Barbie,” she says, suddenly fixing her face with a dazzling smile that Gloria is ninety-nine percent sure is rehearsed. The one percent is saved from the fact that Gloria very obviously just threw her off her rhythm, and she’s doing her best to recover. Barbie sticks out her hand, and Gloria takes it. Her grip is a lot stronger than she thought it would be, especially for someone with nails like that, and if Gloria didn’t know any better, she would think that Barbie’s ego took a hit.

Good.

It’s good to know that someone as famous as Barbie can be knocked over by a simple who are you?

Gloria resists the smug grin that pulls at the edge of her lips, smile tight instead, and says, “Nice to meet you, Barbie.”

The smile on Barbie’s face never drops, but there is a slight edge to it now. It’s barely there, almost imperceptible, and if Gloria had never worked with actors before, she’s sure she would’ve never caught it in the first place.

Lucky her, then, right?

Truth be told, Gloria doesn’t want drama. That doesn’t mean she won’t get it, some actors are notoriously hard to work with. Barbie, as far as she knows, isn’t one of them, but landing a blow to Barbie’s ego is probably not the best way to start. They’re both adults. They can act like adults. Civilized and mature.

Can’t they?

“So, what can I help you with? I don’t have anyone scheduled until Thursday, and—”

“Oh,” Barbie says, breezing past her like this is her space and not Gloria’s. Like she can just walk in here and do whatever she wants. She takes a seat on one of the studio tables, next to several fabric swatches and old designs of Gloria’s. “I know. I’m not supposed to be here until Friday, because that’s when pre-production officially starts or whatever, but I wanted to go around and try to get to know everyone today. See who all I’m gonna be working with and everything, you know?” Barbie’s eyes linger on the pile of Gloria’s old designs, before a perfectly manicured hand starts rifling through the papers, scanning and studying them. Gloria’s hand itches. It’s an intrusion; a sudden and swift—an invasion of privacy. The annoyance that Gloria already felt towards her begins to simmer into something else, something that lingers on the edge of anger. Something that makes her eye twitch. Barbie, of course, whether it’s out of arrogance or her own inflated ego, doesn’t seem to see the problem with this. That she’s obviously entitled to see them.

Or maybe she just wants to piss Gloria off. Which is more likely.

Gloria has half a mind to go over there and rip the old sketches out of Barbie’s hands.

But she doesn’t move. Her legs remain frozen, unable to move and unable to rip the sketches out of Barbie’s hands to see the shocked look that would come after. Gloria bites the inside of her cheek, makes a fist and relaxes her hand, and then, just as she’s about to say something, Barbie beats her to it.

“These are gorgeous,” Barbie marvels. “You drew all these?”

She’s still studying the designs with wide eyes when Gloria answers, “Yep. Those were for a movie that didn’t make it past the ideas stage.”

“And you did all of this for that?”

“Mhm.”

“Wow,” Barbie whispers. “I’m so glad you’re designing for this film,” she says, standing up and finally putting the stack of old sketches down. Gloria suddenly feels like she can breathe again. “You really know what you’re doing,” Barbie finishes, looking Gloria up and down, shooting her signature sickeningly sweet smile.

Yeah, no shit, Gloria thinks. “Yeah,” she says, unsure of what else to say. “I do. It’s why I have the studio over there.”

She’s good at her job. Great, even. Sure, she’s not won like, an Oscar for any of her costumes, but she doesn’t need an award to validate her work. She knows she’s good, she shouldn’t have to act modest about it. She worked hard and she does great work.

Barbie’s brow raises, and it’s the first time that’s happened during her whole impromptu visit, and really, it shouldn’t throw Gloria off like it does, but something about it makes her uneasy. Like a challenge, or a threat. Gloria doesn’t really know which, but she’s prepared for both.

“You have no idea how happy I am that someone seems to actually know what they’re doing,” Barbie says, peering into the studio as much as she can, trying to make conversation with an unwilling Gloria. She’s awful curious, Gloria thinks. Or just nosy. “Most of the time my costume designers were—” Barbie checks her watch. “Shoot, I have to go, but it was nice meeting you, Gloria! See you Friday!”

Gloria puts on her best fake smile. “See you!” She waves and smiles until Barbie is out the door and down the hall, and as soon as she’s out of sight, she drops the act.

She heaves a sigh, scrubbing her hands over her face and taking another deep breath before turning back to her desk and focusing on her work. It obviously wasn’t enough that she has to deal with Ritchie and the divorce, but now she gets to come into work and deal with Little Miss Perfect.

Great.

☆☆☆

When Gloria arrives at her office the next morning, there’s flowers on her desk, and a note attached, written in stupidly perfect script.

Can’t wait to work together!

♡ Barbie

Gloria rolls her eyes, pushing the flowers to the side until she can figure out what to do with them, hoping she can ignore them and get her work done.

Does she really think that will make everyone like her?

Apparently, yes. Yes it does. Because she isn’t the only one who receives flowers. Nearly every other member of the crew got a pink bouquet and now they can’t stop singing Barbie’s praises.

Ugh.

This is all she needs too, to look like the asshole who doesn’t like the person who gets everyone flowers and pretends to be all nice and innocent to everyone just to win them over.

Gloria tosses the flowers in the small trash bin she keeps under her desk. There. Problem solved. Nobody will ever see it, and she won’t have to feel bad about it. Easy. Now she won’t have to think about it ever again.

Chapter Text

Gloria can’t stop thinking about those stupid flowers.

She’s sitting in the pickup of Sasha’s school, waiting for the bell to ring and for Sasha to find her car so she can pick up something for dinner and call it a day. And she can’t get those damn pink tulips sitting on her stacks and stacks of paper. The little note with Barbie’s swooping handwriting was just the cherry on top.

As much as she loathes to admit, it was a nice gesture. And she hates to admit that thinking about it now makes her smile.

Like, yeah, she can’t deny that after the shitty morning she’d had, that the flowers didn’t cheer her up, but no way in hell was she going to let Barbie think that this would all of a sudden make Gloria sing her praises. Especially after Barbie waltzed in the room like she owned the fucking place. Gloria knows her job is drawing and designing for other people to see,

And it’s not like she hates Barbie. Really, she doesn’t! Hate is a strong word. It’s more like…annoyance. She just doesn’t like celebrities who act like the rest of the world should bow down at their feet, like they’re God’s gift to humanity or something. Doesn’t like it when they seem to float above everyone else, like everyone else are lowly peasants compared to them. It’s annoying, and a real pain in her—and most other people’s—ass.

(Gloria won’t lie, though, watching Barbie’s brain reboot right in front of her was kind of awesome to witness. Most actors she’s worked with either kindly give her their name, or scoff and roll their eyes. So Barbie’s reaction was completely new to her.)

It’s not Gloria’s first time working with someone like this, and it most definitely won’t be the last, there’s always going to be someone who thinks they’re high and mighty.

But Gloria also can’t deny that she’s starting to regret tossing the tulips. That maybe that was a step too far, that it really was a nice thing to do, and that maybe Gloria acted out in a bad mood. She’s adult enough to at least admit that. She just hopes she can somehow salvage the flowers tomorrow morning.

The car door opens, snapping Gloria out of her thoughts. Sasha slides into the passenger seat.

“Hey, bunny boo,” Gloria greets, mustering up a smile.

“Don’t call me that.” Sasha puts her other earbud in, ending the conversation before it could even begin.

☆☆☆

The first thing Barbie’s gaze catches on Thursday morning are the flowers poking out from the trash can in Gloria’s office.

It shouldn’t sting as much as it does. She tries not to be hurt about it. Really. She’d gotten them for everyone in the crew, someone was bound not to like her. It’s just statistics.

And maybe Gloria was just having a bad day. From what Barbie could tell, from the bags under Gloria’s eyes and the messy updo and the growing frown that seemed to etch itself almost permanently into her face, and the fake smile when she waved goodbye yesterday… yeah. It wasn’t a good day. But it happens to all of us. Today will be better, and maybe she can even make it up to Gloria.

Barbie does hate the sight of the flowers in the trash though…maybe she can rescue them and get them in a vase…

She reaches for the door handle, only it doesn’t budge. She looks over her shoulder, making sure that no one else is here, that the security cameras can’t see her, fishes for the bobby pin tangled in the underside of her hair, and wriggles it into the keyhole.

One…two…and…click!

The door swings open, revealing an empty office slash studio, sketches pinned to a cork board and fabric samples scattered everywhere. There’s a sewing machine at the very far end of the room, different rolls of measuring tape strewn across the table, along with a table lamp and fashion design books leaning against the wall for support. One of the books holds the desk up where one of the legs has been broken. Barbie moves silently into the office, trying to be as quick and quiet as possible.

She fails, though, because when she gets closer to the desk, more of Gloria’s sketches catch her eye, and as tempting as it is to reach out and look through them, again, it’s something else that grabs her attention entirely. Three little picture frames along the edge of her desk, with one of them facing down. The first one has Gloria in the middle, a girl on her hip—her daughter, no doubt— and another, older woman on the right. Gloria’s mother, obviously. The second one is just of Gloria and her daughter, both of them beaming at the camera. Her daughter is missing a front tooth. It makes the corners of Barbie’s mouth curl into a small smile, and a dull pain prick inside her chest.

And then: the third frame.

Face down on the desk, shunned from the rest of the photos. Barbie’s hand itches to sneak a peek at it, her own curiosity getting the better of her. It couldn’t hurt…

Stay focused! The flowers!

Right. The flowers. That’s why she broke in here. To rescue the flowers.

Barbie crouches, pulling the small trash can out from under the desk, trying not to let it sting too bad when she sees the crumbled up note she’d left with the bouquet, gathering the pink flowers and rescuing them from their untimely death. They don’t look too far gone, maybe she can salvage them after all.

Barbie’s so focused on the flowers, she doesn’t hear the door slide open.

“What the hell are you doing in here?!”

Barbie bangs her head on the edge of the desk, hissing in pain, dropping some of the flowers she just rescued from the garbage. Her hand rests where she hit her head, trying to ease the pain. She just hopes there won’t be a knot there later.

Once her vision refocuses, she sees Gloria in front of her, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at her.

“Why—Who let you in here?” Gloria asks, setting her bag down.

Barbie smiles, trying to look as innocent as possible, ignoring the dull throb in her skull. “Oh, I did! The locks in this building are like, super simple, and—”

“You broke in here?” There’s a strained look on Gloria’s face, glancing between Barbie and the flowers that she’s holding. “Wha—how—” Gloria flounders for a second, regaining her composure, before settling on: “Why?”

“Well, I saw the flowers in here and—”

“You broke in here for the stupid flowers?!”

“They aren’t stupid,” Barbie frowns. Gloria sighs, pinching her brow before crossing her arms. Barbie won’t lie. It’s kind of cute seeing her so worked up.

“You know this is a felony, right? As in, I call security and have you arrested?”

Barbie smirks. “Please. I’ve been arrested,” she says, nonchalantly, almost thrilled at the now horrified expression on Gloria’s face. “I’m not afraid of you or the cops. Plus, I know the security guy here. Dylan’s actually a really good friend.”

Gloria rolls her eyes. “Oh my god,” she mutters. “You can’t—this is my—you can’t just barge in here!”

“I know. I know, and I’m sorry! I didn’t mean anything by it, there was no one else here and I thought—”

She takes it back. Gloria’s anger is no longer cute.

“What? You thought that made it okay to break into my office? Since you’re Barbie you can do whatever you want?” Gloria puts extra venom into the way she says ‘Barbie.’ It has its intended effect, since Barbie flinches a little when she says it. Her face burns, and she’s trying to think of something to say, something that could make this better, but everything is crashing and burning so quickly that nothing can salvage this.

“No, you’re right,” Barbie says, voice level. It must be the right thing to say, too, because Gloria stops, fury still blazing silently across her face, but just a touch calmer now. She wants to say more, but the words won’t come to her. Instead she’s silent as Gloria closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and calmly says:

“Just…go.”

Noted. Barbie’s not going to argue with her on that. She drops the flowers back in the bin, awkwardly making her way to the door. Gloria goes about her work on her desk like Barbie isn’t even there.

“I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow?” Barbie says, apologetic and slightly hopeful.

Gloria doesn’t look up from her computer.

☆☆☆

Scratch that. Barbie is very quickly becoming someone that Gloria just might hate.

Because one: who the hell breaks into someone’s office for some stupid flowers? Two: why the hell does Barbie know how to pick locks?

And third: was Barbie snooping through her stuff?

(She makes a mental note to ask about getting the lock on her door changed.)

Look, Gloria knows she’s probably being a total asshole, but frankly, she doesn’t care. She’s not had enough sleep or enough coffee to fully deal with this.

Gloria’s eyes scan her desk, messy with papers and sketches, before falling on the picture frames she keeps on her desk. The third one, the one with a picture of her and Ritchie not long after their honeymoon—before the whole divorce thing—facing down.

There’s nothing out of place, Gloria had put the frame down yesterday before she left; she couldn’t bring herself to throw it away, but she couldn’t stand to look at it any longer. It just brought back Ritchie’s words when he handed her the papers.

Too different.

Hm.

She sighs, running a hand through her hair. Best to stop that train of thought there, before it derails her whole day. It doesn’t look like Barbie visibly snooped through anything, even though Gloria kind of wishes she did, just so she could pin something else on Barbie.

Instead she can focus on the fact that Barbie, apparently, has experience in breaking and entering.

Gloria turns to move to her cork-board, only her eye catches the small note she’d crumpled and thrown away along with the flowers, laying slightly un-crumpled on the tile. Can’t wait to work together! ♡ Barbie now warped on the small card.

Another small pang of guilt twists in Gloria’s chest. Similar to the small nugget of guilt she felt yesterday while waiting to pick Sasha up. Only this time it’s grown.

She doesn’t feel bad about it.

She doesn’t. It doesn’t mean anything.

Gloria picks the note up and throws it back in the garbage can, ignoring the pang of guilt, and takes a deep, steadying breath. And does not think about where superstar Barbie Handler learned how to pick a lock.

☆☆☆

SEVERAL YEARS AGO

☆☆☆

Okay. This looks bad.

If her mom finds out about this she is so grounded.

But really, if you think about it, it’s not even her fault because she’s not the one who left her bag in Mrs. Davidson’s auditorium after hours. That was Claire, her best friend and partner for a project in their English Honors class, and who also rode to and from school every day with Barbie. Claire carried two bags, one for school, and one for practice. The problem is, the bags were identical, even though multiple people, including Barbie herself, told Claire that it was a bad idea carrying two identical bags didn’t make any sense, Claire didn’t care. She always seemed to know which was which.

Until now. Claire and Barbie were paired with another kid—David, if she’s not mistaken—for this project, and they all agreed to meet at Barbie’s place, only Claire had grabbed the wrong bag from her locker, and didn’t have any of the stuff for their project and it simply could not wait.

So here she is, outside the auditorium’s backdoor, on an absolutely frigid November night, when she could have gone to Emma and Michelle’s party, having the time of her life with some of her other friends, but no. She loves Claire just a little too much, and couldn’t deny it when she’d said, “Please, Barbie. I need those notes! Mrs. Flanagan already doesn’t like me, and she’ll crucify me if this project is no less than perfect!” And well, even Barbie couldn’t deny that. Barbie was Mrs. Flanagan’s favorite, and Claire was her least favorite. It left Mrs. Flanagan very conflicted.

Barbie is just really grateful to be on good terms with Dan the janitor, because Dan was the one who had told her that the backdoor of the auditorium was the only place in the school that didn’t have any cameras, so there was a very slim chance that she’d get in any serious, actual trouble, since there would be no actual footage of her.

She takes a deep, steadying breath. Clearing her nerves like she does right before she goes out on stage or before an audition.

Why is she stressing over this? This isn’t the first time she’s done this—she’s let herself into Mrs. Davidson’s auditorium multiple times, and at this point Mrs. Davidson had just gotten used to it. But this was different. That was during school hours, usually with a key. It was dark, now, with no key.

And if she were to get caught, then…

Relax, she tells herself, grabbing the bobby pins from the back of her hair, unfolding them and twisting them into the position she needs, before sliding it into the keyhole. You’ve done this a thousand times, she recalls practicing on the doors in her own house, including that one time she got home past curfew and had to pick the lock to get inside. All you gotta do is listen for the clicks.

She slips the pins inside the keyhole, tilting it slightly, adjusting so the lock turns as the bobby pin hits the small pins inside, wriggling until she hears the final clicks.

One…two…three…click!

There.

The backdoor opens, and Barbie slips in, letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding as the door behind her shuts, blanketing her in the darkness of the room. Her eyes take a moment to adjust, before she spots the outline of the bag on one of the old theatre seats.

And, not so helpfully, the light of the security guard’s flashlight.

Shit.

He’s outside of the auditorium, Barbie can see him through the glass on the door, patrolling and bored out of his mind.

Which means she might actually have a shot at this; Barbie’s got to make this quick.

She moves silently, thankful that she changed into her sneakers, crouched to match the height of the chairs, and makes it to the chair with Claire’s bag.

And then, because Barbie knew her luck would run out soon, her foot hits something, clattering against the wooden chairs. The noise echoes throughout the auditorium, reverberating off the walls and catching the attention of the security guard outside. He opens the heavy double doors, slowly entering the room.

“Who’s there?!”

Fuckkkk.

Barbie grabs the bag, now making a mad dash for the back door, as the security guard gets closer. The light of his flashlight catches on her blonde hair, and she knows then that she is truly and royally fucked.

“Hey, get back here!” He yells, gaining speed. He’s fast, but Barbie’s faster. All of those years on the track team paid off for this.

She bursts through the backdoor with Claire’s bag on her back, sprinting back to her car with Claire waiting in the driver’s seat. Barbie makes it, slinging the passenger door open and slipping inside just as the security guard catches up to the backdoor.

“Go, go, go!” Barbie shouts, tossing Claire’s bag in the back. Claire’s one step ahead of her, putting the car in drive and slamming her foot on the gas pedal. The engine revs, and they’re speeding away in a near empty parking lot, with a very angry security guard yelling after them.

It’s quite a moment. Silence settling over them, until Barbie and Claire calm down enough and dissolve into a fit of giggles. “I can’t believe you did that,” Claire says through a laugh.

“I can’t either,” Barbie breathes, high off the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

In the end, Barbie does get grounded. When they call in Mrs. Davidson for questioning—since yes, technically, it’s considered breaking and entering—she knows exactly who it was, but never once gives Barbie away, nor does she agree to press charges, since there was no damage done and nothing actually stolen. She does, however, inform Barbie that she will have to let her mother know, despite Barbie’s many, many protests.

She’s not as torn up about it as she should be, probably because she saw this coming, but hey, as much as she hates not being able to hang out after school, it’s much better than having to call her mom from the county jail…

☆☆☆

☆☆☆

“You broke into her office?!”

Barbie winces. “…Yes?”

Mia, her former co-star and one of the people Barbie is lucky enough to actually call a friend, blinks at her. “You broke into her office,” she repeats, slowly. “And you thought she would, what, thank you? Jump for joy? Become instant best friends?”

Barbie grumbles. “Okay, well, when you say it like that…” Barbie trails off, sipping at her iced tea. She thought maybe Mia might take her side in this, but here she was, trying to defend her actions to her friend.

She hadn’t even planned on getting lunch with Mia, but Mia’s working on another movie on the Paramount lot, and their schedules had miraculously aligned, and Mia’s also like, the closest thing she actually has to a best friend in this business. They’d met briefly when Barbie was between filming Suicide Squad and Obsession, and officially met when they were both cast in the all women remake of 12 Angry Men, and hit it off almost immediately.

And Barbie makes friends easily—she always has—which is why she can’t figure out this whole thing with Gloria. She’s never had anyone not like her, everyone likes Barbie. Even before she was famous, everyone’s always liked Barbie. She’s just a friendly person, fame couldn’t even change that. She likes talking to people and getting to know them and genuinely making a connection with them.

Which is why she wanted to meet Gloria early. She was so excited to meet her, too. She’s only worked with one other female designer—whom she adored, by the way—and she was thrilled to work with one again. Barbie loves costumes. Costume design always reminds her of her mom, who designed clothes for dolls, and always found time to play dress up with Barbie when she was little. And if she had it her way, she’d be way more proactive in the costume design process.

(Really, if Barbie was allowed to have her way, she’d do a lot more than be more proactive in costume design, but she doesn’t have time to get into all of that today.)

But Gloria had opened up that door, and asked: “Who are you?” And Barbie really wishes she could say she played it cool. That the question didn’t actually trip her up and make her seem like just another conceited celebrity. But she can’t. Because it did trip her up, and she knows that Gloria saw her trip up, she saw Gloria trying to fight a smirk.

Barbie thought that maybe Gloria was just messing with her, that she was just someone who liked to joke around. But as Barbie lingered in Gloria’s office, she’d quickly realized that had not been the case, and it seemed that no matter what Barbie did, Gloria got more and more agitated.

Hence, the flowers. An apology, of sorts.

(Though Barbie does make it a habit to get flowers for everyone in the crew, it usually brings a smile to their faces, and she loves making people happy!)

Except it didn’t work. Obviously. Instead, it made everything much, much worse.

“I mean, I kind of get where Gloria’s coming from…” Mia says, breaking Barbie from her thoughts, lazily twirling her fork in her salad. “I’d be upset too if some random stranger broke into my office, and, not only broke in, but went through my stuff the day before.”

“But I’m not a random stranger,” she says. The I’m Barbie goes unspoken, but lingers in the air between them. Barbie tries not to think about the venom in Gloria’s voice when said her name earlier.

“You are to her. Doesn’t matter if you’re Barbie. She doesn’t actually know you. To her, you’re a celebrity invading her space—which, you kind of are.”

Shit.

She’s got to fix this. Make things right.

Barbie scrunches her nose. “I hate it when you’re right,” she sighs, running a hand through her hair. Mia grins smugly and shrugs, before her face turns serious.

“You know, you can’t make her like you. The more you push, the more likely you are to make her hate you,” Mia warns like she knows Gloria. Which is weird, because Mia would’ve mentioned Gloria if she had. Does Mia know Gloria? Why didn’t she tell Barbie??

Barbie makes a note to ask Mia about it later.

“I know,” Barbie nods, even though she knows that she can get on good terms with Gloria.

She can do it. She just has to try harder, try to tone it down a notch or two. Maybe even get some advice from Ken, he always knows what to do in these situations.

And also refrain from picking any more locks. Shouldn’t be that hard.

☆

☆

☆

☆

☆

☆☆☆

Gloria is late getting to her office Friday morning.

Barbie knows this because she got to the studio lot early, much earlier than she really needed to, since her meeting with Gloria was not until ten, because she wanted a chance to apologize to Gloria for the last two days and, hopefully, make it up to her, somehow.

So, she’d gotten up early, swung by a local coffee shop that she remembered Mia telling her about not too long ago, and got herself and Gloria a drink—even though she doesn’t know Gloria’s coffee order, hoping that maybe it can act as a fresh start—and waited outside Gloria’s office door, sitting cross-legged on the floor, trying to think of the perfect way to apologize.

How does one apologize for breaking and entering…? “Sorry I broke into your office but trust me it was for a really good reason and I didn’t mean anything by it. Can I make it up to you?” Yeah. Barbie doesn’t think that’ll work too well.

She hears the clacking of heels, and the jingling of keys, along with a huff and grumbling that Barbie can’t quite make out. Barbie’s back straightens at the sound, scrambling to her feet, smoothing out her the non-existent wrinkles on her royal blue mini-dress.

The footsteps get closer, rounding the corner. “Sorry, sorry! I know I’m late. I had to take Sasha to school and—oh,” Gloria’s face drops, as she stops right in front of Barbie, brows furrowed and accusatory gaze pointed at her. Barbie smiles nervously.

“Hi.”

“Hi?” Gloria says. “What are you doing here?”

It’s not malicious. There’s no bite to it, not like yesterday. Gloria’s not angry with her, at least, not yet anyway.

There’s probably still time for that to change.

Gloria looks tired. Like she’s not slept, or maybe like she’s been crying. In these awful fluorescent lights, Barbie can see the dark circles under Gloria’s eyes, red-rimmed and free of makeup. Barbie takes note of it, but doesn’t dare say anything. The last thing Gloria needs is Barbie commenting on her appearance, because somehow, someway, even though Barbie would try to comfort her, she knows it would go wrong.

“I was waiting for you,” Barbie answers simply.

Gloria’s brow quirks. “You mean you didn’t jump at the chance to commit another felony?” Gloria unlocks her door, letting them both in. “Shocker.”

Barbie frowns. “I came to apologize. For yesterday, and the day before. We got off on the wrong foot and I really wanted to try again, so. And also I’m scheduled to be here in about,” she checks her watch, “twenty minutes.”

Gloria looks at her, confused, then looks at the little planner she has on her desk. “Oh, right,” she mumbles. She sighs, turning back to look at Barbie with a bored expression. “Then let’s get to work.”

Barbie smiles. Maybe this time she can make it right. She can make it better.

☆☆☆

It doesn’t get better.

In fact, it keeps getting worse.

Barbie doesn’t know what she’s doing wrong, really. Why she can’t seem to get Gloria to like her. It’s like every time she tries something, it blows up in her face. Completely backfires.

On Friday, during their meeting, Barbie tries to apologize to Gloria. And really, she does try.

But, for the first time in a long time, Barbie’s palms began to sweat, and suddenly the words that she’d spent all morning trying to perfect in her head, ran completely dry, and all she said was: “Sorry. About that.”

The words came out of her mouth almost robotically, even Barbie was stunned at how awkward it sounded.

“Wow,” Gloria said flatly, sarcasm dripping as she drew up some preliminary sketches for one of Barbie’s costars. “You waited outside my door just for that?” Barbie’s face burned in embarrassment, and that had been the end of that conversation.

Barbie spent the entirety of the weekend thinking of what to do, what she would say when Monday rolled around.

Then, Monday: Barbie thought that maybe acting like the last few days hadn’t happened, and tried to act normal. Except that hadn’t worked, either, because Gloria picked up on what Barbie was doing, and made sure that Barbie knew that she had not yet been forgiven. They barely spoke. Barbie felt this…urge to fill the space. This need to fill the silence between them. Nervous and uncomfortable in a way Barbie hasn’t been since high school.

Gloria, it seemed, took great pride in this, glancing at Barbie ever so often with the ghost of a grin on her lips.

Hm.

Barbie tries not to think about it too hard.

She doesn’t work with Gloria again until Thursday. She spent all of Tuesday in and out of meetings with producers, then spends most of Wednesday updating her schedule with her publicist, rolling her eyes at another tweet by TMZ trying to start more dating rumors. She spends Wednesday evening at home, alone, wrapped up on her fuzziest, comfiest robe, trying to not think about what to do about Gloria. Except she fails, caving in and searching “How to make friends at work,” on her phone. She feels silly even typing it on her phone.

The advice is largely bullshit, stuff that’s only really useful in office type scenarios, not movie set scenarios. Nor things that normal people actually say and do with each other, and Gloria would see through the bullshit a mile away. Worse, she would tease Barbie about it, which would just make her squirm even more.

Ugh, what was she going to do? This obviously wasn’t going to leave her alone any time soon, and the more she tried not to think about it, the more she obsessed over it and she knows that’s not healthy. Maybe she could try being equally hostile? No, that would give her a bad reputation, and Barbie’s publicist would kill her for that.

Barbie groans, scrubbing at her face. She’s going to have to figure this out soon.

Why doesn’t Gloria like her?

☆☆☆

“Why do you hate me?” Is the first thing Barbie greets Gloria with on Thursday morning, waiting for her at her office door, again, like some lost puppy. Her hair falls over her shoulders, bangs framing her face, and she’s wearing a simple blazer, shirt, and jeans again. It’s as work casual as Barbie can get. Meanwhile Gloria’s in whatever looked nicest this morning; she’s already thrown her hair up in a loose ponytail.

Gloria sighs, unlocking her door, letting them in, and placing her bag down on her work table. References sent to her by the director and sketches of her own litter the top of it.

“I don’t hate you,” Gloria says, and Barbie’s face lights up, like she’s finally won some ground with Gloria. “I think you’re annoying, sure. And I don’t exactly like you, but I don’t hate you.

Barbie frowns, “Everyone likes me.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t.”

“Why not?”

About one million reasons instantly pop up in Gloria’s mind, but all she ends up saying is: “Just don’t.”

Barbie’s face scrunches up. “That’s not a real reason.”

“What are you? Five?” Gloria asks, exasperated. “It’s a perfectly real reason. Not everyone has to like you.” God, how much more conceited could this woman get?

“True,” Barbie concedes, before a shit-eating grin tugs at her lips.“But they do.”

“Maybe so, but I don’t have to. We’re both adults, we don’t have to like each other, we just have to be civil enough to work together.”

Barbie makes another face, almost like a pout. She actually pouts. Lips downturned and jutted out just a bit.

Not that Gloria was looking or anything.

“And besides,” Gloria continues, turning back to the work she started yesterday before she left, separating and organizing some fabrics. “Why are you so hellbent on me liking you, anyway? I can’t be the only one. Do you do this with everyone who doesn’t like you?”

“No,” Barbie answers after a moment, her voice low, eyes raking over Gloria. “Only the pretty ones.” She winks.

She’s adding this to the ever-growing list of reasons she doesn’t like Barbie. Inappropriate workplace behavior covers a plethora of things with her, apparently.

Barbie turns on her heel, leaving Gloria annoyed and frustrated.

And, though she will one hundred percent deny it,

Gloria’s cheeks burn.

Chapter Text

Okay, maybe it wasn’t Barbie’s smartest move to retaliate by flirting. Sue her.

But what else was she gonna do? Sit there and take it? She had to do something.

Barbie kind of hates to admit it, but it felt good. At least, it felt good to finally retaliate. To finally find her footing and push back—even if it was a little unorthodox. After going around and around on what to do with Gloria and ‘how to make friends at work’ searches constantly failing her, she really had no other choice.

She’s not exactly proud of it, either. There’s obviously more going on with Gloria than she’s letting on, and Barbie’s not entirely sure what she did wrong to get the brunt of Gloria’s insults—besides her one lapse in judgement—but it was the first thing that came to mind. The quickest thing she could think of without escalating their whole conversation.

(Plus, it was kind of awesome to watch Gloria—who’s either been angry at her or otherwise unaffected by her as a whole—flounder to find an answer as a light blush dusted her cheeks.)

It’s also not very hard to flirt with Gloria, she’s a very pretty woman. And she’s not seen a ring on Gloria’s finger—not that it would matter much anyways.

Besides, maybe this could be a step in the right direction. Maybe this could be an uneasy bridge between them. Gloria said they didn’t have to like each other, they just had to be civil enough to work together, but honestly whatever this is, this hostility between them, isn’t enough to work together in the first place. No matter how hard Barbie tries, she just can’t seem to get it right. Something always goes wrong, and for some reason, this had been the first thing that had miraculously gone right.

It’s just…there’s a feeling somewhere in the back of her mind, something obscured somewhere in her memory, gnawing at her—almost like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

She just…doesn’t know why it bothers her so much. This whole Gloria not liking her thing. Why she just can’t seem to get it right—why it almost feels…familiar, in a sense. Why she feels like she has to fix whatever this rift is between her and Gloria.

(…Yes, she does.)

☆

Claire’s mouth on Barbie’s isn’t exactly a new thing. They’ve kissed a ton of times before. Kissing your friends is normal, right? Always in secret and under the bleachers. It’s just that…well, how can Barbie put it?

Claire is…

Well, Claire is a lot of things, including Barbie’s best friend, but she’s also, occasionally, kissing Barbie.

Not that Barbie is exactly complaining, per se, it’s just…

It feels…wrong.

Not because it’s Claire, or anything. Barbie loves Claire, probably too much, but because Barbie knows that Claire very much has a boyfriend.

Barbie wouldn’t mind it so much if Claire wasn’t dating Josh—who, Barbie might add, is a really great guy, and does not deserve to know that his girlfriend occasionally has secret makeout sessions with Barbie. Which is what spurs her into action, gently pushing Claire off of her.

“We can’t keep doing this,” Barbie breathes, staring into Claire’s blown pupils, eyes flickering down to her swollen lips. “You…you have Josh and—”

Whatever the hell she was gonna say next flies back out the window, because Claire’s lips are on hers again, hungry and wanting and—

The bell rings, jolting them both away from each other. Hair a little messy and lip gloss smudged, Claire says, “See you after practice.”

Barbie smiles, a little breathless and trying to pull herself together. “Yeah, see you.”

There’s a funny, swooping feeling in her belly, and a voice in the very back of her mind. She knows this is wrong. She knows this will only end in heartbreak, no matter how heavenly it feels when Claire’s lips are on hers, she can’t keep this up. It’ll only come back to bite her in the end; either Josh finds out and Barbie gets the blame, or it’ll blow up in their faces, then Claire and Barbie will grow resentful and stop talking to each other altogether. Barbie doesn’t even know what she’d do without Claire, she doesn’t want to find out anytime soon.

☆☆☆

The flirting doesn’t stop.

For every snappy comeback Gloria makes at Barbie, Barbie twists it—or attempts to twist it—into flirty banter, turning their interactions into verbal tennis matches rather than actual conversations.

It’s a constant any time Barbie is in the room with her. Which has become frequent, because, it seems, any and all of Barbie’s limited free time is spent in Gloria’s office. Doesn’t she have things to do too?

She’s constantly making quips and saying shit like, “I’ll get that for ya, babe,” with a wink, or placing a hand on Gloria’s arm and letting it linger just a touch too long, or, most commonly, checking Gloria out. It’s like she has nothing better to do besides get on Gloria’s nerves.

The flowers don’t stop, either. Another part of Barbie’s evil plan to get under her skin, because nobody else seems to be getting extra flowers from the Barbie Handler.

She knows she needs to put a stop to it, too. More than just a glare and rolling her eyes. Knows that she’s supposed to be going through a divorce and that it’s inappropriate as hell to not say anything about it, to allow Barbie to keep flirting with her, but saying anything about it would mean that she would actually have to acknowledge Barbie’s flirting, and Gloria would literally rather walk straight into a busy freeway.

Gloria would never admit this, either, but it’s starting to…mess with her. Not in a bad way—she’s not uncomfortable—it’s just…weird. Makes her feel a certain way that she knows she must put out immediately, because the last time something like this happened, the last time Gloria felt this way, it ended in flames.

It doesn’t help that Barbie kind of reminds Gloria of the worst person she’d ever met. Drudging up old memories of someone Gloria thought she’d forgotten about after all this time, but, here we are.

(Jessica Dunham was exactly three things: popular, blonde, and a demon straight from hell. Doesn’t mean she wasn’t a great kisser though. But she can’t think about that right now, not while Barbie is currently rolling over to her in a nearly broken desk chair.)

“So,” Barbie starts nonchalantly, drawing out the ‘o’ and spinning around in the extra desk chair Gloria has. “What are you doing later?” She’s staring up at Gloria, big blue eyes never once leaving her. Gloria, for the first time, almost finds it hard to look at her directly.

“Working,” Gloria answers. “I have to finish up the designs for you and your costars to make sure that it fits both you and the story, and then I have to pick up my kid from school because her—actually, that doesn’t matter. But I do have to pick her up this afternoon. Why? You planning on staying here the whole afternoon?”

Barbie smiles. “God, no. I wish. The table read is this afternoon, and technically I should be prepping for that but…” she trails off, shrugging. She lays her palms flat against the top of the chair, balancing her chin on the back of her hand, before standing up altogether. “I’d rather be here with you,” she smirks, voice low, winking as she turns to leave, hips swaying.

Something about the way Barbie says it rings in her ears, and Gloria’s eye twitches.

☆

“I’d rather be here with you,” Jessica says, lips centimeters away from Gloria’s, breathing heavy.

Gloria grins. “Really? You’d rather be here under some dirty ass bleachers hooking up at the frigid ass crack of dawn than in bed?”

A smirk tugs at Jessica’s full lips, and Gloria can’t help but feel the pride swell in her chest knowing that she did that.

And smudged her lipstick, but mostly the smile. Jessica’s got a reputation for being a frigid bitch, but not with Gloria. Even with her own boyfriend—David or Derek or Damon?—she’s known for her resting bitch face.

But never with Gloria.

(Which, by the way, who even coined the term resting bitch face? It’s true, don’t get Gloria wrong, she’s seen Jessica decimate someone with a glare, but it feels sexist.

Okay, maybe not the thing to be thinking about when Jessica Dunham is looking at her like that.)

She’s softer with Gloria. Not as concerned with making people cower with a glare in the hallways, rolling her eyes and laughing and just kind of being a little cruel overall. Jessica laughs at Gloria’s awful jokes and sends her secret smiles in the hallway or in their one shared class together and really, to hear her laugh and it not be directed at anyone, not dripping in cruel poison, it makes Gloria warm inside.

Gloria often wants to ask her why she’s still with Damien, but Gloria already knows the answer to that one. It’s the same reason they’re under these nasty bleachers at seven-thirty in the morning.

Gloria isn’t really concerned on whether people know she’s bisexual or not. She doesn’t have a reputation to ruin. Not like Jessica, who’s at the very top of the food chain and could, honestly, stand to be knocked down a peg or two.

And really, Gloria should be smarter than this. Knows that she shouldn’t get attached and that this is all just one fun fling for Jessica. That Gloria is more than likely to get her heart shattered if they keep this up.

A bell rings, ripping the two of them apart. Jessica fixes her hair, checks to make sure her makeup isn’t too messed up, and leaves Gloria with a kiss on the cheek. It’s soft and gentle and everything Jessica Dunham should not be.

“See you later, Glory.”

Gloria smiles at the nickname, watching her leave, face warm and tingly from where Jessicas lips touched. She sighs as other kids begin trickle in, trying to get a grip before she has to sit through Pre-Calc.

☆☆☆

☆☆☆

Barbie can’t stop thinking about the face down picture frame on Gloria’s desk.

They’d finished the table read fifteen minutes ago, just as the sun’s setting, creating this dreamy look on the Paramount bucket that Barbie truly never gets tired of. But Barbie’s supposed to be going over the small little notes she took during the read, before she has her official notes session tomorrow evening, but she can’t help it when her mind keeps wandering back to that sad black frame. Her hand itches just thinking about it.

And she knows she shouldn’t. Shouldn’t be wondering about this woman—about this woman she barely knows—and her personal life. It’s none of her business, really. Not even close to any of her business. In fact, it’s on a whole other planet compared to Barbie’s business, but she can’t help it. She’s a naturally curious person, and whatever is on the other side of that frame is probably one half of what’s making Gloria so prickly. It’s been bothering her since she saw it on Gloria’s desk when she went to rescue those dying flowers. The picture feels like some missing piece to the Gloria Reyes puzzle.

She doesn’t know why Gloria just can’t open up to her. As of now, she knows exactly two solid facts about Gloria. One: she has a daughter. Two: she’s not a fan of flowers. But the face down frame gives her something else to chew on for a little bit. At least until she has the courage to ask Gloria herself—which isn’t likely—or Gloria reveals more information about herself willingly to Barbie, where the chances are near zero.

Barbie wonders if Gloria thinks about her. Plotting every move to have some sort of upper hand, some form of leverage over her, always one step ahead—one quip ahead—of Barbie. Closing herself off and deflecting everything that comes out of Barbie’s mouth.

No, that’s ridiculous—even if it does fuel Barbie’s ego a little bit. Gloria probably forgets about Barbie the moment she’s off the lot.

☆☆☆

Gloria’s going to rip her goddamn hair out.

She can’t get Barbie’s perfect fucking face out of her head.

She’s been trying to relax for the last hour and a half, after she’d gotten home and changed into her comfiest pair of sweatpants, poured a glass of wine, and headed to the couch with her sketchbook in hand.

Usually, after a long, mind-numbing day, Gloria puts on an old movie—something she knows by heart so she doesn’t have to pay a whole lot of attention—and sketches out scenes from the movie, or sometimes, she even creates her own costumes for the movie. Just something to keep her hands busy and to numb her mind.

Except she’s on her third sketch now, and the face of who’s supposed to be Lorelai from Gentleman Prefer Blondes, is the same blonde she’s been working with for the last two and a half weeks. The same big blue eyes and curve of her lip when she smirks.

So, she tries again. But all she can hear is Barbie’s annoying voice ringing in her mind.

“No, only the pretty ones.”

“I’d rather be here with you.”

Ugh, fuck off.

She scrubs at her face, trying to scrub away the memory of Barbie looking her up and down. Of Barbie’s hand lingering a second too long. Of Barbie, period.

Stupid Barbie and her stupid smirk and her pout and her wink and her stupid long legs and—

Well now Gloria feels like she’s getting off track here. The point is: she can’t focus, and it’s all Barbie’s fault.

She puts her sketchbook down with a huff. Drawing is obviously not helping, so maybe she should just focus on a movie.

She tries the original 12 Angry Men, but that failed spectacularly when she remembered the remake, and then couldn’t shake the image of Barbie sporting a button up with the sleeves rolled up, hair pulled back and—

Okay. Enough. No more thinking about Barbie. At all. Ever. Any and all thinking about Barbie must cease, immediately.

Gloria takes a deep breath, and finds something else to watch. Something she can actually pay attention to. Sunset Boulevard is the first movie she sees when she clicks on TCM, so she presses play and tries to focus on Norma Desmond’s descent into madness.

She’s not even fifteen minutes in when she realizes that won’t be happening. Her eyes keep drifting to her phone sitting on the coffee table, fighting the urge to pick it up and scroll endlessly through Instagram. Gloria doesn’t really do social media—Facebook has too many people from high school trying to recruit her into MLMs, and she tried Twitter a long time ago, only to quickly realize that it wasn’t for her—but Instagram and Pinterest are really the only ones she uses, and more often than not it’s for inspiration. Or to post some of her own art. But that’s the extent of her social media.

The more she stares at her phone, the more it seems to stare back at her.

Fuck it.

Gloria grabs her phone, opens up Instagram, and before she even fully realizes she’s done it, she types Barbie’s name into the search bar.

Even her profile is perfectly curated. Gloria rolls her eyes. Of course it is, she thinks, totally not stalking through Barbie’s posts. Part of her wonders how much of Barbie’s time goes into perfecting her social media presence, or if that’s something she even has control over.

She doesn’t know how far down she scrolls, past posts of Barbie on set with other actors and actresses, at awards shows and red carpets, or even the occasional selfie, until she checks the date on one of the posts and sees that it’d been posted almost three years ago.

Christ, she has got to get it together.

There’s one post in particular that grabs Gloria’s attention. It’s a Halloween post from a few years ago, Barbie’s wearing a red baseball cap backwards, hair braided into two simple plaits, and a peachy pink dress that stops mid-thigh, with a red logo in the center of her chest that reads Rockford Peaches. The caption is simple, in all lowercase, and says: “ain’t no crying in baseball,” followed by a peach, a baseball, and a baseball bat emoji.

This feels targeted, somehow. Barbie just so happens to dress up as one of the characters from one of Gloria’s favorite movies? Logically, she knows that this really is random. It’s a three year old Halloween post, there’s no way Barbie could have posted this and thought ‘Oh you know what? This would really make Gloria squirm.’ A League of Their Own is probably one of Barbie’s favorite movies, too, unfortunately. Which means Gloria has to find a new one.

She glances up at the TV, tearing her eyes away from Barbie in the Peaches uniform, thumb hovering over her phone, unable to miss the iconic Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up as Norma stares into the camera, and the screen goes black. Gloria’s attention goes back to her phone as the credits roll, ready to continue scrolling through Barbie’s posts, thumb hovering over the same photo it was a moment ago, and just as she tries to scroll, a white heart pops up in the middle of the screen.

Oh no.

☆☆☆

Barbie frowns when she spots the notification banner on her phone.

@gloria_reyes liked your photo!

Normally, she has her notifications turned off on all her social media, unless she wants her phone to actually blow up with notifications, but she’s only able to catch this because Instagram was already open, scrolling through her feed.

She clicks on it. It’s an older post, one from Halloween a few years ago, when she dressed up as one of the women from A League of Their Own.

Another ding!

@gloria_reyes followed you!

She clicks the profile, eyes scanning through some of the posts to make sure it’s who she thinks it is, and can’t help it when the Cheshire-like grin splits across her face. Barbie was right. Gloria doesn’t seem to hate her as much as she thought she did. Gloria does think about her when they aren’t snipping at each other. Barbie doesn’t want to jump to conclusions or anything…but stalking your co-workers instagram is not usually a sign of hatred…unless Gloria’s just hate followed her. But that’s not a real thing, and besides, she still got Barbie’s attention.

Barbie follows her back. It’s only fair, right?

Barbie scrolls down through Gloria’s instagram, which doesn’t have nearly as many posts as Barbie’s does, starting from the earliest post and working her way up. Her profile is a mix of what Barbie assumes is her own artwork and designs, and a few, rare, selfies sprinkled in with travel photos. Barbie goes through every single photo and double taps, almost leaving a comment on one of Gloria’s selfie’s, before going back through to one particular post that caught her eye. It’s several photos, some sort of family vacation, Barbie assumes, because there’s Gloria and her daughter—who, really, are in most of the pictures, while only one photo has Gloria, her daughter, and someone Barbie hasn’t seen before. He’s awkward, grinning at the camera on the other side of Gloria’s daughter, round glasses and kind of a boyish charm to him. He’s only in one picture though, and something tells Barbie that maybe he was forced to take this one. (Okay, now she’s getting way too invested in this. If only Gloria would open up to her…)

The husband, then. Odd, Barbie hasn’t seen a ring on Gloria’s finger. Seems to be one here, though. Could he be the reason for the face down frame…?

@gloria_reyes: Family trip to the Rockies! ❤️🏔️

It’s cute, really. A normal family photo dump of a normal family vacation. Little weird that it’s the only one with Gloria’s husband in it, but maybe it’s just a privacy thing. She seems to be really protective about all that stuff. Not that Barbie could really blame her.

Now, for the fun part.

Barbie scrolls back up and clicks on the Message button, ignoring the text from her publicist about her next late night show slot, and starts typing.

☆☆☆

@barbie:

hii

i didn’t know you had an instagram

seen

@barbie:

you do know there’s read receipts in dms, right?

you can’t ignore me foreverrrr ;)

@gloria_reyes:

Yes.

I can try, though.

@barbie:

so…can i ask why u were stalking my profile?

if u wanted to know more about me all u had to do was ask ;)

bc i would be down to play 20 questions

@gloria_reyes:

🙄

Are you always this annoying?

@barbie:

yes 😇

@gloria_reyes:

Don’t you have to be on set at 6 tomorrow?

@barbie:

…maybe

@gloria_reyes:

Goodnight, Barbie.

@barbie:

see you tomorrow ;) xoxo

☆☆☆

Gloria wakes up dreading the day ahead of her.

She’s got Barbie from ten ’til noon, and she knows Barbie’s smug face will be waiting to bring the whole Instagram thing up. Practically chomping at the bit.

Sure enough, Barbie’s already waiting outside her office door.

“Good morning,” Barbie chirps.

Gloria fumbles for her keys. “Hm.”

Barbie’s still smiling, and Gloria can’t tell what type of smile it is. It’s perfect, her facade again. Gloria can’t discern whether Barbie’s about to badger her over her Instagram, or if she’s really just Like This in the morning.

Neither one of them say anything. There’s a weird tension in the air, just on the verge of making things unbearably awkward. So before it can get any worse, or before Barbie can beat her to it, Gloria says:

“Go stand on that pedestal for me.”

“Yes ma’am.” Barbie mock salutes with two fingers, smirking. She hops up on the pedestal and shoots Gloria a wink.

Gloria glares at her. Barbie remains unfazed, smiling with faux innocence, batting her lashes. A memory flashes in Gloria’s mind, of being in college and smart, brown eyes and a mouth that worked faster than the rest of him.

She turns away from Barbie, ignoring the low burn in her belly.

Gloria grabs her roll of measuring tape and a pencil, and tries not to think too hard about it. About him.

She starts by measuring the length of Barbie’s arms, writing down the measurements as she goes along in relative silence. It’s nice. Normal, even. Gloria’s finally doing her job without Barbie getting on her last nerve.

She’s totally not thinking about how close they are and how intently Barbie’s watching her. Especially with their height difference. It’s not that Gloria minds, really, because it’s not like there’s much else you can do while someone gets your measurements, but Barbie’s stare feels…well, it kind of feels like the longer Barbie stares at her, the more and more she’s being observed. Like Barbie’s trying to figure out when Gloria will slip up, waiting for her to bring up the Instagram Thing.

(Or, worse, like Gloria is a puzzle and Barbie is trying to solve her. Trying to look for little clues here and there.)

Barbie does, eventually, break the silence. Because of course she does.

“You know, you and I are a lot more alike than you think.”

Gloria doesn’t look up. Instead, she rolls her eyes and scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious!”

This time Gloria does look up, meeting Barbie’s bright blue eyes in a challenge. Barbie leans down, just a bit, close enough that it’s like Gloria’s vision zeroes in on Barbie. Damn her and her magnetic charm. “We both love movies…we both like long walks on the beach…we both went to drama school…I think we could even be friends if we tried hard enough. Maybe even more,” Barbie’s voice is low, her stupidly perfect manicured hand reaches up and pushes a lock of hair behind Gloria’s ear. Gloria doesn’t miss the way she glances at her lips.

Look, it’s not like Gloria doesn’t know that Barbie’s playing with her. Messing with her, trying to get her to open up and reconcile whatever this thing is between them. The wall that Gloria’s put between herself and Barbie, gently trying to pry Gloria open.

And goddamnit, it’s starting to work.

Which is exactly what Gloria was afraid of. Because every time Barbie gets like this, teasing and testing Gloria, it reminds Gloria of Jessica, who was a she-devil in every sense of the word. Always pushing Gloria’s buttons and always flirty—never serious, only wanting to see how far they can go before Gloria snaps.

Gloria keeps her face neutral, because Barbie is trying to get a reaction out of her, and Gloria won’t let her have this.

She doesn’t hear the knock on the door, and nearly jumps when she hears Carol’s assistant, Aaron, say, “Uh. Sorry. Am I—I’m not interrupting something, am I?”

Gloria falls back to reality, releasing a breath she didn’t even know she was holding, cheeks just a touch warmer than they were a moment ago. She shoots a glare at Barbie. Barbie simpers sweetly.

“No, Aaron. Nothing at all. What did you need?”

☆☆☆

Mia:

Are you free?

Gloria:

After I finish this design, yeah.

Mia:

You wanna get lunch together?

It’s been forever since we’ve been able to catch up 😭

Meet me by Stage 18?

Gloria:

See you there!!

☆

“So…” Mia starts as soon as they sit down at the little outdoor tables near Stage 18. “I heard you’re working with Barbie? How’s that going?”

Gloria groans. “Not you, too. I always forget you two are friends.”

Gloria has known Mia since they were both unknown, struggling to get their foot in the door. Mia had just moved from some small town trying to make a name for herself. They’d actually met on the set of one of Mia’s first movies—some superhero movie, Spider-Man, if Gloria remembers correctly—it was Gloria’s first time on a real set, and it was evidently Mia’s first time, too. They’d bonded over their own nerves, how they were both trying to be something in this industry, and their love of classic Hollywood. If Gloria hadn’t already been married to Ritchie, hadn’t already had a kid, there’s no doubt in her mind that she would’ve fallen in love with Mia.

Mia was the first real friend Gloria had after she’d moved to Los Angeles ten years ago, when Sasha was only four and Ritchie still loved her. Mia has, on more than one occasion, babysat Sasha—though Gloria doubts Sasha actually remembers it. She’s the closest thing Gloria has in her adult life to a best friend.

“She’s not so bad, really,” Mia defends, sipping on her strawberry lemonade. “She did tell me that she broke into your office. Seemed pretty proud of it at first, too.”

“That doesn’t surprise me, actually. That’s like the most on-brand Barbie thing you could’ve told me.”

“I told her she was crazy. And that you had every right to be mad at her. I love her, but sometimes I don’t think she realizes that her actions have consequences.”

“Tell me about it,” Gloria mutters over the lid of her coffee. Mia takes a bite of her sandwich. There’s a comfortable beat of silence between them, before Mia asks:

“So how are you? Really, I mean. We’ve both been so busy and I feel like I’ve missed out on so much.”

Gloria pauses. She could completely come clean to Mia, tell her about the divorce and how it’s made her feel lately and how she feels like she’s going about this all wrong—how she’s angry but for all the wrong reasons.

Or, she says nothing. Waves Mia off and tells her she’s fine. Plus, Mia knows Barbie. She’s friends with her, even. And the last thing Gloria needs is for Barbie to find out about her divorce and have a field day with that information.

“Gloria?”

Gloria sighs, steeling herself. “Ritchie and I are getting a divorce.”

Mia blinks. “Oh. That’s…I mean—How does that make you feel?”

Mia has never really liked Ritchie. Gloria only knows this because Mia has told her. Several times, even.

Gloria snorts. “What are you, my therapist?” Mia grins. “I’m fine, I think. I mean I’m not fine fine, I’m not like, devastated or anything like I should be. And I keep thinking I should be more devastated but I’m not…”

“And Sasha?”

“She’s…I mean, she said she knew it was coming, and that she was okay with it but she’s been…distant lately. More distant than usual.”

Mia hums. “Maybe it’s just a part of being fourteen. You remember how awful it is to be that age.”

“Maybe…I don’t know,” Gloria says. “She’s just…I know there’s something wrong. Something’s bothering her, and I don’t know what. She won’t tell me about anything.”

Mia places her hand over Gloria’s. “Sasha’s a smart kid. If she wants to tell you about it, she will. If you push her…”

“She’ll just push back, yeah, I know,” Gloria finishes for her. Silence settles back over them, and Gloria feels like another weight has lifted off her chest. Hm. Maybe she should talk about things more often. Maybe this is where Sasha gets it from.

She takes a deep breath, uncomfortable with all of the focus on her, suddenly guilty for only talking about her problems, and changes the topic.

“So...what’s this new movie you’re doing with Scorsese?”

☆☆☆

☆☆☆

When Sasha had told her mother she was totally fine with the divorce, it was only halfway true.

Kind of. Maybe? It’s more like 70/30. Or maybe 65/35.

Thing is, she knows that things haven’t been the best between her mom and dad. They didn’t really fight—at least, not in the way that Sasha had heard other kids’ parents fight at school. Arguments here and there, sure. Passive aggressive comments thrown at one another? Occasionally. But really what Sasha had noticed—maybe well before her mom and dad did—was that they just…didn’t love each other anymore.

It is true that she knew it was coming, and that she knew it wasn’t her fault in any way

But it’s change. And change is scary. And her dad moved back to San Francisco, so she won’t be spending weekends with him. Which is fine. She’d rather be literally anywhere else except San Francisco.

Sasha had come to the realization a long time ago that her dad was only really prepared for a kid. A baby. A toddler. A kid. Not a teenager. Once Sasha started growing and forming her own opinions, her dad seemed less and less involved.

Not that she’s bitter about it or anything. Why should she care, anyways? He obviously didn’t care enough to say more than bye, kiddo. Like, what the fuck?

So yeah, by all means, she should be happy—should be totally and one hundred percent fine with the divorce. She shouldn’t be laying here at one in the morning staring at the glow in the dark star covered ceiling thinking about her dad’s new life in San Francisco.

It just…hurts. But she’s not sure who she can talk to about it, if she can even talk about it at all. Normally, she’d just go to her mom, and even though Sasha would deny it later, they’d probably cry it out a little bit and get ice cream later, but she doesn’t even know what she would say—what she’d even ask. How do you say “hey mom I’m glad you guys have finally come to a decision, but I think it just hit me that my dad doesn’t love me like I thought he did,” without bursting into tears?

Besides, she’s fourteen now. She’s practically an adult. She can handle this by herself.

Which is why she answers with, “Fine,” in a short and clipped tone, after her mom asks how she’s doing. She doesn’t mean for it to have so much poison laced in it. Doesn’t intend for it to sting. She wants to apologize immediately for it, for the sudden confused and worried look on her mom’s face, but it never comes.

She’s handling it, okay? It’s fine. Everything’s fine. She’s a big girl now, she can figure it out all on her own.

☆☆☆

☆☆☆

@barbie:

hiiii gloriaaa

are we ever gonna talk about you stalking my profile 🤨

also can we play 20 questions

@gloria_reyes:

You have literally millions of followers that stalk your profile regularly.

Besides, I wasn’t stalking.

@barbie:

yeah but none of them are you, miss mysterious

@gloria_reyes:

No, we are not playing 20 questions.

@barbie:

:(

why nottttt

u never ask me any questions :(((

@gloria_reyes:

Because we’re both adults? And maybe I don’t want to.

Also anything I want to know about you I can google.

@barbie:

not everything ;)

boooo ur no fun :/

wait i had something important to ask u and now i can’t remember what it is…

☆☆☆

Not that Gloria would ever admit it—lest it fuel Barbie’s enormous ego—but Barbie isn’t…totally unwanted company. She can reach the shelves that Gloria can’t, and that makes her life a hell of a lot easier. Plus her constant chattering is nice background noise for Gloria to work with. Even if it’s near constant flirting, poking and prodding, but not quite breaking any boundaries. Any real boundaries, anyway.

It just…there is something about it that drudges up old memories. It doesn’t really bother her, she knows Barbie’s just trying to get under her skin—but on the off chance that it does get under her skin… Like the other day when Barbie got too close and all Gloria could focus on was Barbie. It felt…wrong, somehow. Like sure, technically, there wouldn’t be anything wrong with it. Gloria’s not married anymore—well, the papers haven’t gone through yet, so officially she still is—so no harm, no foul. There’s nothing wrong with, say, flirting back with her.

But there’s something about it nagging in the back of her head. A warning, maybe?

She really just wants to go back before Barbie. She doesn’t even want to think about Barbie anymore. And really, she’d like to have the upper hand again. If this is a game they’re playing, Gloria wants to win.

(If she’s honest, it’s a stupid amount of fun watching Barbie squirm.

She’s probably a little crueler than she needs to be, and really, she doesn’t mean to be like, actually mean about it. It’s just kind of fun seeing her—a world famous actress—try to fumble her way through an awkward conversation.

Barbie’s not completely off the hook for breaking and entering into her office, either, so at least she can have some fun with that, too. But Barbie flirting with her every time she tries to throw something at her has given her the upper-hand, and Gloria really, really, wants it back.)

Gloria grabs her phone off the countertop and starts to mindlessly scroll instagram before landing back on her and Barbie’s conversation. Mission failed successfully.

@gloria_reyes:

Have you really been arrested?

And can you please stop sending me flowers? I’m allergic.

Just as she presses send on the message, a different message hits her phone.

Unknown:

Hey, heard about Ritchie. Hope you’re okay.

Are you in town? Do you wanna get drinks sometime?

☆☆☆

Barbie’s in the middle of reading when her phone screen lights up.

(She actually really loves days where she can just read. Plays, screenplays, novels. Anything. Everything. She’s got a library card under a pseudonym, and a stack of unread scripts taunting her, only growing in size the longer she puts them off. It gives her something to do when she’s not working. Plus, it makes her place feel a little but cozier than normal, like it’s not as big and lonely—but that’s a thread to pull later with her therapist.)

It’s a message from Gloria.

Barbie scrambles to unlock her phone to look at the message. Gloria doesn’t message her. Gloria barely tolerates her. Why is she dm’ing her at ten p.m.? Normally Barbie has to initiate all of their conversation, and even then, Gloria leaves her on read half the time. Or just straight up ignores her completely.

@gloria_reyes:

Have you really been arrested?

And can you please stop sending me flowers? I’m allergic.

You know what? She’ll take it. Baby steps.

Barbie can’t help but smile reading the messages, biting her lip just trying to contain her grin. Gloria messaged her. It’s like a step in the right direction. Maybe they can be friends after all. It would be a much better change from…whatever it is they’re doing right now.

What are they doing right now? Barbie thinks. It’s so familiar, Barbie hasn’t necessarily done this song and dance before, she’s not typically like this at all. But something about Gloria…she doesn’t know what it is—why she’s so drawn to her. And sure, maybe it is a little conceited to not give this whole thing up until Gloria actually likes her and doesn’t want to strangle her, and yes, maybe Barbie did cross a line by breaking and entering into Gloria’s office, but she’s apologized for all that stuff now. It should be water under the bridge between them.

Barbie is very aware of the power she holds, even if she doesn’t like it. It puts an unnecessary power dynamic between her and whoever she’s working with, and most of the time, it just makes things awkward. She worries about the flirting—even if it is harmless—just as a means to get an upper hand on Gloria, but especially since Barbie had been fumbling every conversation with her before she’d tried it. It was like that power dynamic she was so used to shifted, turned completely on its head.

Barbie stares at her phone, the text box blinking back at her as she figures out what to say. How to say it, just to keep things fun.

@barbie:

wouldn’t you like to know ;)

can do, babe.

do you take edible arrangements instead?

@gloria_reyes:

Don’t call me babe.

@barbie:

bossy…i like it ;)

but fine. i can respect that

and if u must know, yes. i have been arrested. twice, actually.

u wanna see my mugshot

@gloria_reyes:

No, I believe you.

@barbie:

[barbiemugshot1.jpeg]

too bad u got it anyways

@gloria_reyes:

Oh my god.

Okay, ignoring that.

Are you free tomorrow?

@barbie:

why ;)))

ummm lemme check

no. i have some meetings with the producers all morning

then in the afternoon it’s all camera tests

@gloria_reyes

Damn. Okay. That’s fine, I need to figure out some stuff with hair and makeup anyways.

See you Thursday, then.

@barbie:

byeee glory :) <3

seen

There’s a giddiness in her chest, spreading throughout her whole body, making her feel like a live-wire.

Barbie can’t wait for Thursday.