Niagara Falls- Wednesday
Aug. 26th, 2020 04:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fates_jayeJaye ran late this morning. Her alarm didn't go off, her hot water was dicey, it was just a rough start. At least she called in so that when she got to the store, she greeted them with, "Sorry I'm late. Thanks for covering for-"
And then she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Bianca, her hair dyed dark and straightened to exactly match Jaye's, and the expression on her face was one that Jaye only ever saw in a mirror.
"Hey," Bianca said, with an air of bored aloofness.
"...me," Jaye said slowly.
"What?" Bianca asked when Jaye kept staring at her.
"Your hair," Jaye said.
"This is my natural color. So what?"
"What’s that scorched smell?" Jaye asked, sniffing. "Did you iron it?"
"It’s hair. Stop twitching," Bianca said.
"It’s my hair."
"Whichever."
"Whatever. The word is whatever," Jaye said. Honestly, how did someone not know that?
Bianca grabbed a pen and pad from by the register.
"Did you just write that down?" Jaye demanded.
"No."
"Look, Bianca, I appreciate that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, etcetera. But I go out of my way to cultivate a unique look and persona, and, um, so should you," Jaye said.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about."
The Mouthbreather walked in, eyepatch over the eye with the detached retina, and told Bianca, "Morning, Tyler."
"Morning," Bianca answered.
Jaye stared at her.
When the staring finally got to her, Bianca said, "Fine. I'll put it in a pony."
Jaye followed her, saying, "You let him think you were me."
"He only has one good eye. You want me to make him feel b-b-bad about it?"
"Get her wor-"
Jaye grabbed the chameleon puppet by the head to shut it up. When she turned back towards Bianca, she saw that her dad had shown up, and was kissing Bianca on the cheek with a, "Morning, sweetheart."
"Morning, Dad," Bianca said, then saw Jaye staring. "I mean, you're not my dad."
"I'm sorry," Darren said, surprised. "I thought you were my daughter." He rallied, walking over to his actual daughter to kiss the right person on the actual cheek. "Hello, sweetheart."
"Now would be a good time to restock those motion lamps," Jaye told Bianca, pointedly.
"Whatever," Bianca said, but set off towards the back room.
"Guess what," Darren began, smiling. "Thumbing through the Finger Lakes is going into a second printing. They sold out on Amazon dot com."
"Really? Good for Mom," Jaye said, a little weirded out that she actually meant it.
"And good for you. Your mother’s publisher’s re-doing the dust jacket! Sharon and Aaron both agreed to give up five words each. Which means you get ten more. That’s fifteen total!"
That was unexpectedly nice of... everyone. "Awesome. So what's it gonna say?"
"Whatever you want it to," Darren said.
"You want me to write my own blurb?"
"Why not? Sharon wrote hers." Of course she did. "Come on. It’ll be fun. Let those fifteen words show the world just what kind of unique, one-of-a-kind daughter I have."
Jaye almost smile, but looked back towards the stock room and saw that Bianca hadn't gone in. She was just standing there, scowling. And watching. And being a weird stalker.
*****
The bonus of having a best friend who worked at a bar (with a super cute and emotionally vulnerable guy to vibe with) was that you could both drink and hang out with said best friend at the same time, and that was Jaye's plan for tonight. One drink in, she'd started trying to scribble notes on a napkin for her blurb, which so far emained blank.
"Did you sic Binky on your mother so you’d get more words?" Mahandra asked, looking at the blank napkin.
"No. In this instance, I believe guilt was my friend. Actually more like my frenemy because now I feel guilty over getting what I wanted," Jaye admitted.
"Then don’t take the extra words."
"I don’t feel that guilty."
"Oh, look, here comes crazy," Mahandra said, and her frown made Jaye look to the door, where Bianca had just walked in. "She's wearing your work vest and ohgod she looks just like you. And you said she was normal."
Jaye glared at Mahandra, and stalked over to Bianca, something not quite like rage but getting there bubbling up in her. "Hi. You’re wearing my vest. That’s my name."
"Yeah, well, I spilled coffee on mine, so..."
"Either way, you’re wearing a Wonderfalls vest. In public." Which was embarrassing and if Bianca was really trying to be her she should know that, okay.
"I was in a hurry to leave. Mouthbreather was suckin’ the life out of me. You’d think nearly losing an eye would make him sympathetic," Bianca said, moving to the bar, where Eric was unloading some beer. "Can I have one of those?"
"Ohmygod. She’s like a Jaye Tyler cover band," Mahandra hissed.
Bianca arched her back, making a... noise. "Ow. Oh god. I'm so sore. I’ve been sleeping in a van too long," she said, and asked Eric, "Will you pop my back?"
"Uh... sure," he said, looking a little unsure. He still came around the bar to help her out.
"A really good Jaye Tyler cover band..." Mahandra said.
"You do realize he’s not a licensed chiropractor. He could very easily paralyze you," Jaye called.
Eric wrapped his arms around Bianca from behind, told her to exhale, and pulled her into the air, where Bianca made some more of those weird noises.
"Actually... I think maybe you’re the cover band," Mahandra said. "She’s a better you than you are."
"She didn’t even have to giggle or toss her hair," Jaye said, more bothered by what she'd just witnessed than anything else.
"Also, she’s not stuttering."
"Yeah. I noticed," Jaye said, glaring at the bass on the wall. "I gotta go... do something I don't want to."
"If you need an alibi, make sure your whereabouts are accounted for till after I get off work."
*****
Jaye was desperate. Which was why she invited Sharon over to the trailer, and explained the situation. "At first I thought I was helping her... but now I’m not so sure. I think what she needs more than a friend is her family..."
Well. She explained the situation with some modifications.
"She’s a runaway," Jaye continued. "Her parents are probably worried sick. They think she’s on her way to California. But this isn’t California."
From her spot on Jaye's bed, Sharon shrugged. "What do you want me to do about it?"
"I need a contact number. I have to tell them where their daughter is so they can come get her," Jaye said. "Her name is Bianca Knowles. So we’re looking for a Mr. and Mrs. Knowles in Florida. They’ll be so grateful."
"Why are you doing this? Is there a reward?"
"I’m trying to reunite a family. That’s reward enough," Jaye lied.
"Does this girl even want a reunion? Her parents could be carnies," Sharon pointed out. "Or maybe she’s like you and doesn’t enjoy her family’s company."
Did Jaye get a little defensive there? Maybe! "She’s not like me! She’s nothing like me. And I enjoy your company. I just prefer my family time in short controlled bursts."
Her phone went off- she was still from the time of ringtones, and held up a finger to Sharon as she picked it up. "Yeah."
"We need to upgrade the Bianca alert to orange," Mahandra said.
"She’s still there?"
"And she’s sitting on your stool."
"There are just so many things wrong about that sentence... What’s she doing?"
"Pumping Eric."
Jaye, fearing the worst, felt her heart drop somewhere around her knees. "On my stool!?"
"For information," Mahandra clarified. "About you. She’s all up in his grill trying to suck out any detail she can about you. And he’s like one batted eyelash away from giving up your social security number."
"Eric won’t fall for her shtick," Jaye said. Maybe?
"Oh, he’s goin' down. This girl is so his type," Mahandra told her. "Jaye, she’s you."
Despite herself, Jaye found herself smiling. "You think I'm his type?"
Mahandra snorted. "Like you haven’t noticed. You better get down here," she said, and hung up.
Sharon was going through the fridge, and Jaye swatted the door shut. "You're coming with me. And try to look threatening," she said, and added, "More than usual."
*****
When Jaye got back to the bar, she found Eric leaning over Bianca at the pool table to "show her how to play," and Jaye was taking bets on how Bianca probably already totally knew how to play: both playing pool and playing dumb.
"What's he popping now?" Jaye demanded over Mahandra's protest.
"Jaye," Bianca said, standing up. "Eric was telling me how much you liked billiards. I mentioned I’d never played-"
"Yeah. You’re done playing. Whatever your game is."
Behind her, she heard Sharon ask Mahandra, "Is this the girl from Florida? She looks really familiar."
"Because she’s me!" Jaye said.
"Jaye, I’m s-sorry," Bianca said. "I w-was j-just t-trying to b-be your f-friend."
"There are laws against stalking. And my sister- a very successful, lawyer will see to it your pale imitation of my ass lands in jail."
"Buh- buh- buh-"
"Buh- buh- buh- buh-bye!"
Bianca burst into tears and ran towards the bathroom, while the others looked horrified.
"Okay, that was totally uncalled for," Mahandra said.
Jaye stared at her. "What? That was totally called for. You’re the one who called for it."
"Yeah, um, I tried to call you back," she said, sheepish. "Binky was just asking about you cause she wanted to help write your blurb for the book jacket."
Eric took a folded napkin out of his pocket and handed it to Jaye.
Still hating all of this, Jaye opened the napkin and read it aloud. "'Daughter Jaye, a philosopher, resides in Niagara Falls where she inspires with effortless, undemanding style.'"
"Aw..." Sharon said, touched. "The runaway wrote that?
Okay. Okay, now Jaye felt bad. "Wow. It’s poignant."
"It’s you in a fifteen word nutshell," Eric said.
"I better go check on her," Mahandra said, and told Jaye, "Probably be best if you weren’t here..."
Jaye looked at Sharon, who shrugged, and Eric gave her a disappointed look before heading back to the bar. So, fine. Jaye walked back out the door towards Sharon's SUV, feeling terrible and confused and indignant. "Who writes poignant and incisive blurbs about people they hardly know?"
"Well, she must be nuts if she thinks you inspire," Sharon retorted.
"With effortless and undemanding style," Jaye added.
"Well look at that. You’ve inspired me to walk to my car," Sharon said, opening the door to climb in. "And now you’ve inspired me to leave."
As Jaye sighed, alone in the parking lot, she noticed that with Sharon's giant car gone, she had a clear view of the van with a personalized plate reading "BINKYS." She had a lot of thoughts. Some would make things worse. Most would make things worse. She didn't know what made this better.
And when a junker car with a wire hanger for an antenna pulled into Sharon's space, and the driver got out and went into the Barrel without noticing her, Jaye decided, what the hell. She probably couldn't make it much worse.
After pulling the hanger off the junker car, she jimmied the door to Bianca's van without attracting notice, and was startled when she climbed inside. The back of the van was a shrine to her. There were pictures taken without her being aware, a copy of Karen's book, quotes on pieces of scratch paper, and a notebook. Jaye picked that up to leaf through it, and found her name written all over it, over and over again.
Before she'd been freaked out, but now that she had reason to freak out, she was really freaked out. Enough that when she saw the laptop, she had no problem flipping it open, and to find a screensaver of herself. A box next to the laptop held the items of her stolen wallet that she hadn't bothered to notice- her driver's license, credit card receipts, a family photo.
"You’ve ruined everything."
Jaye spun around, realizing that she was now with her stalker, in her stalker's van, with only a crumpled wire hanger with which to defend herself.
So Jaye did the sane thing and tossed the hanger, instead throwing Bianca to the floor of the van and pinning her.
Bianca put up a fight, which wasn't a surprise. The killer in the movies always did.
"You may have all my friends snookered, but not me!" Jaye told her as they wrestled. "You’re like that girl in that movie who wanted to be that other girl so much that she killed for it!"
"...Grease?"
"Single White Female!"
"N- n- no..." Bianca protested.
"Yes! Admit it. Are you a grifter? Who’re you working for? Is this a plot? Have you been putting hallucinogens in my drinking water?"
"No. I’m st- st- st-"
"Stalking me?"
"No. I’m st- st- st-"
"Stabbing me?"
"No. I’m st- st- st-"
"Stealing my organs after you stab me?"
"No. I’m st- st- st-"
"Stitching a skin suit out of my dead corpse after you stab me and steal my organs?"
"I’m studying you!"
Jaye stopped, and let her go, sitting up. "Explain."
Bianca sat up, shoving hair- Jaye's hair- out of her face. It took Jaye a really long time to get the words "investigative journalist" out of her.
"I’m wr-writing a st-story on disaffected twenty-somethings," Bianca explained.
"For who? Total Makeover Magazine?"
"T-today’s Am-merica. I th-thought if I became more like you I’d understand you better. I really wanted to get inside your head," Bianca said.
"You’re not in my head. You just have my hair," Jaye protested. "And why the phony stutter? Some people might think it’s offensive and not just funny."
"It’s n-not ph-phony. It becomes more pronounced when I’m under st- stress."
Jaye was still glowering at her. "I’m really not buying the whole Mrs. Doubtfire thing. Why does a disaffected twenty-somethin have to transform herself into a disaffected twenty-something?"
"B-because I’m not d-disaffected. I don’t fit the Gen-Y p-profile. I’m too highly m-motivated," Bianca said. "Wh-which is why I’m st-studying y-you. It’s t-true. And I can p-prove it."
She stood- carefully, like she expected Jaye to tackle her again, and pulled some more of the documents from the area that Jaye had been searching when she'd been caught. She handed them to Jaye, let her look through them.
"It’s all my correspondence with my editor. The last f-few are a little angry," Bianca said. "He keeps w-wanting me to s-send something, b-but I ccan’t seem to get st-started."
"'Regarding your article on gen-y losers...'" Jaye read, and frowned at her. "Losers? You’re writing an article on how I’m a loser?"
"N-no. It’s really about w-winners who haven’t w-won. Yet. Or ever."
"I’m a non-winner," Jaye said, more insulted than she would have thought.
"B-by choice," Bianca insisted. "You’re the prototypical Gen-Y-er. You represent a generation of y-young people who’ve been b-blessed with education and opportunity and who don’t just fall through the cracks- b-but jump through!"
"I am not a crack jumper, lady."
"Ah, the w-w-w-witty wordplay, the Ivy League irony. A hallmark of the Gen-Y non-w-winner. M-m-my g-generation."
"I think we're called millennials. I think. Never really been sure on that," Jaye said. "How do you know what 'league' my irony is? Were you stalking me at Brown? Are you the girl who stole my meal card?"
To her shock, Bianca nodded. "I was a fr-freshman when you were a senior. I f-found you when I did a cross sample of graduates who’ve failed to contribute to society in any significant way. Th-that’s not a j-judgement. You’re a victim of the system. I w-wanted to write this article t-to expose the nonwinnerness of Generation Y for what it really is."
"And that would be..?"
"Everyone else’s fault," Bianca stated.
Was she wrong, though? "Okay, you haven’t lost me yet," Jaye admitted. "So it’s an article about me?"
"You as m-metaphor for a l-larger-"
"But about me. How many words?" This was important.
"Five thousand."
Jaye lit up. That was so much more than fifteen! "Awesome!"
"Yeah, it would have been. But now the subject is aware of my presence, my study is tainted," Bianca sighed.
"Uh, does that mean I don’t get my five thousand words?"
"There’s not g-gonna be any w-words."
And from her purse, dropped on the floor in the scuffle, Jaye heard, "Get her words out."
"I'm way ahead of you," Jaye told her purse, and turned to Bianca. "You can't quit now! People need to know what it’s like to be me. And that’s gonna take words. Your words. About five thousand of them. You need to get them out. And I’m going to help you do it." Because she had to. She literally wouldn't sleep because things would sing at her for several nights in a row until she didn't.
"How?"
"By offering you an all access pass to the life of the prototypical GenY-er. Anything you want to know." Not the thing where she spent a bunch of time in another reality where the only person she knew there from high school now had a ten-year-old, or where she hung out at a different bar with an Eric who was a vampire.
"Full disclosure?"
Mostly. "I’ll let you jump right into my cracks."
[From Wonderfalls episode #2. This episode is not kind about stutters and I'm very sorry.]
And then she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Bianca, her hair dyed dark and straightened to exactly match Jaye's, and the expression on her face was one that Jaye only ever saw in a mirror.
"Hey," Bianca said, with an air of bored aloofness.
"...me," Jaye said slowly.
"What?" Bianca asked when Jaye kept staring at her.
"Your hair," Jaye said.
"This is my natural color. So what?"
"What’s that scorched smell?" Jaye asked, sniffing. "Did you iron it?"
"It’s hair. Stop twitching," Bianca said.
"It’s my hair."
"Whichever."
"Whatever. The word is whatever," Jaye said. Honestly, how did someone not know that?
Bianca grabbed a pen and pad from by the register.
"Did you just write that down?" Jaye demanded.
"No."
"Look, Bianca, I appreciate that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, etcetera. But I go out of my way to cultivate a unique look and persona, and, um, so should you," Jaye said.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about."
The Mouthbreather walked in, eyepatch over the eye with the detached retina, and told Bianca, "Morning, Tyler."
"Morning," Bianca answered.
Jaye stared at her.
When the staring finally got to her, Bianca said, "Fine. I'll put it in a pony."
Jaye followed her, saying, "You let him think you were me."
"He only has one good eye. You want me to make him feel b-b-bad about it?"
"Get her wor-"
Jaye grabbed the chameleon puppet by the head to shut it up. When she turned back towards Bianca, she saw that her dad had shown up, and was kissing Bianca on the cheek with a, "Morning, sweetheart."
"Morning, Dad," Bianca said, then saw Jaye staring. "I mean, you're not my dad."
"I'm sorry," Darren said, surprised. "I thought you were my daughter." He rallied, walking over to his actual daughter to kiss the right person on the actual cheek. "Hello, sweetheart."
"Now would be a good time to restock those motion lamps," Jaye told Bianca, pointedly.
"Whatever," Bianca said, but set off towards the back room.
"Guess what," Darren began, smiling. "Thumbing through the Finger Lakes is going into a second printing. They sold out on Amazon dot com."
"Really? Good for Mom," Jaye said, a little weirded out that she actually meant it.
"And good for you. Your mother’s publisher’s re-doing the dust jacket! Sharon and Aaron both agreed to give up five words each. Which means you get ten more. That’s fifteen total!"
That was unexpectedly nice of... everyone. "Awesome. So what's it gonna say?"
"Whatever you want it to," Darren said.
"You want me to write my own blurb?"
"Why not? Sharon wrote hers." Of course she did. "Come on. It’ll be fun. Let those fifteen words show the world just what kind of unique, one-of-a-kind daughter I have."
Jaye almost smile, but looked back towards the stock room and saw that Bianca hadn't gone in. She was just standing there, scowling. And watching. And being a weird stalker.
*****
The bonus of having a best friend who worked at a bar (with a super cute and emotionally vulnerable guy to vibe with) was that you could both drink and hang out with said best friend at the same time, and that was Jaye's plan for tonight. One drink in, she'd started trying to scribble notes on a napkin for her blurb, which so far emained blank.
"Did you sic Binky on your mother so you’d get more words?" Mahandra asked, looking at the blank napkin.
"No. In this instance, I believe guilt was my friend. Actually more like my frenemy because now I feel guilty over getting what I wanted," Jaye admitted.
"Then don’t take the extra words."
"I don’t feel that guilty."
"Oh, look, here comes crazy," Mahandra said, and her frown made Jaye look to the door, where Bianca had just walked in. "She's wearing your work vest and ohgod she looks just like you. And you said she was normal."
Jaye glared at Mahandra, and stalked over to Bianca, something not quite like rage but getting there bubbling up in her. "Hi. You’re wearing my vest. That’s my name."
"Yeah, well, I spilled coffee on mine, so..."
"Either way, you’re wearing a Wonderfalls vest. In public." Which was embarrassing and if Bianca was really trying to be her she should know that, okay.
"I was in a hurry to leave. Mouthbreather was suckin’ the life out of me. You’d think nearly losing an eye would make him sympathetic," Bianca said, moving to the bar, where Eric was unloading some beer. "Can I have one of those?"
"Ohmygod. She’s like a Jaye Tyler cover band," Mahandra hissed.
Bianca arched her back, making a... noise. "Ow. Oh god. I'm so sore. I’ve been sleeping in a van too long," she said, and asked Eric, "Will you pop my back?"
"Uh... sure," he said, looking a little unsure. He still came around the bar to help her out.
"A really good Jaye Tyler cover band..." Mahandra said.
"You do realize he’s not a licensed chiropractor. He could very easily paralyze you," Jaye called.
Eric wrapped his arms around Bianca from behind, told her to exhale, and pulled her into the air, where Bianca made some more of those weird noises.
"Actually... I think maybe you’re the cover band," Mahandra said. "She’s a better you than you are."
"She didn’t even have to giggle or toss her hair," Jaye said, more bothered by what she'd just witnessed than anything else.
"Also, she’s not stuttering."
"Yeah. I noticed," Jaye said, glaring at the bass on the wall. "I gotta go... do something I don't want to."
"If you need an alibi, make sure your whereabouts are accounted for till after I get off work."
*****
Jaye was desperate. Which was why she invited Sharon over to the trailer, and explained the situation. "At first I thought I was helping her... but now I’m not so sure. I think what she needs more than a friend is her family..."
Well. She explained the situation with some modifications.
"She’s a runaway," Jaye continued. "Her parents are probably worried sick. They think she’s on her way to California. But this isn’t California."
From her spot on Jaye's bed, Sharon shrugged. "What do you want me to do about it?"
"I need a contact number. I have to tell them where their daughter is so they can come get her," Jaye said. "Her name is Bianca Knowles. So we’re looking for a Mr. and Mrs. Knowles in Florida. They’ll be so grateful."
"Why are you doing this? Is there a reward?"
"I’m trying to reunite a family. That’s reward enough," Jaye lied.
"Does this girl even want a reunion? Her parents could be carnies," Sharon pointed out. "Or maybe she’s like you and doesn’t enjoy her family’s company."
Did Jaye get a little defensive there? Maybe! "She’s not like me! She’s nothing like me. And I enjoy your company. I just prefer my family time in short controlled bursts."
Her phone went off- she was still from the time of ringtones, and held up a finger to Sharon as she picked it up. "Yeah."
"We need to upgrade the Bianca alert to orange," Mahandra said.
"She’s still there?"
"And she’s sitting on your stool."
"There are just so many things wrong about that sentence... What’s she doing?"
"Pumping Eric."
Jaye, fearing the worst, felt her heart drop somewhere around her knees. "On my stool!?"
"For information," Mahandra clarified. "About you. She’s all up in his grill trying to suck out any detail she can about you. And he’s like one batted eyelash away from giving up your social security number."
"Eric won’t fall for her shtick," Jaye said. Maybe?
"Oh, he’s goin' down. This girl is so his type," Mahandra told her. "Jaye, she’s you."
Despite herself, Jaye found herself smiling. "You think I'm his type?"
Mahandra snorted. "Like you haven’t noticed. You better get down here," she said, and hung up.
Sharon was going through the fridge, and Jaye swatted the door shut. "You're coming with me. And try to look threatening," she said, and added, "More than usual."
*****
When Jaye got back to the bar, she found Eric leaning over Bianca at the pool table to "show her how to play," and Jaye was taking bets on how Bianca probably already totally knew how to play: both playing pool and playing dumb.
"What's he popping now?" Jaye demanded over Mahandra's protest.
"Jaye," Bianca said, standing up. "Eric was telling me how much you liked billiards. I mentioned I’d never played-"
"Yeah. You’re done playing. Whatever your game is."
Behind her, she heard Sharon ask Mahandra, "Is this the girl from Florida? She looks really familiar."
"Because she’s me!" Jaye said.
"Jaye, I’m s-sorry," Bianca said. "I w-was j-just t-trying to b-be your f-friend."
"There are laws against stalking. And my sister- a very successful, lawyer will see to it your pale imitation of my ass lands in jail."
"Buh- buh- buh-"
"Buh- buh- buh- buh-bye!"
Bianca burst into tears and ran towards the bathroom, while the others looked horrified.
"Okay, that was totally uncalled for," Mahandra said.
Jaye stared at her. "What? That was totally called for. You’re the one who called for it."
"Yeah, um, I tried to call you back," she said, sheepish. "Binky was just asking about you cause she wanted to help write your blurb for the book jacket."
Eric took a folded napkin out of his pocket and handed it to Jaye.
Still hating all of this, Jaye opened the napkin and read it aloud. "'Daughter Jaye, a philosopher, resides in Niagara Falls where she inspires with effortless, undemanding style.'"
"Aw..." Sharon said, touched. "The runaway wrote that?
Okay. Okay, now Jaye felt bad. "Wow. It’s poignant."
"It’s you in a fifteen word nutshell," Eric said.
"I better go check on her," Mahandra said, and told Jaye, "Probably be best if you weren’t here..."
Jaye looked at Sharon, who shrugged, and Eric gave her a disappointed look before heading back to the bar. So, fine. Jaye walked back out the door towards Sharon's SUV, feeling terrible and confused and indignant. "Who writes poignant and incisive blurbs about people they hardly know?"
"Well, she must be nuts if she thinks you inspire," Sharon retorted.
"With effortless and undemanding style," Jaye added.
"Well look at that. You’ve inspired me to walk to my car," Sharon said, opening the door to climb in. "And now you’ve inspired me to leave."
As Jaye sighed, alone in the parking lot, she noticed that with Sharon's giant car gone, she had a clear view of the van with a personalized plate reading "BINKYS." She had a lot of thoughts. Some would make things worse. Most would make things worse. She didn't know what made this better.
And when a junker car with a wire hanger for an antenna pulled into Sharon's space, and the driver got out and went into the Barrel without noticing her, Jaye decided, what the hell. She probably couldn't make it much worse.
After pulling the hanger off the junker car, she jimmied the door to Bianca's van without attracting notice, and was startled when she climbed inside. The back of the van was a shrine to her. There were pictures taken without her being aware, a copy of Karen's book, quotes on pieces of scratch paper, and a notebook. Jaye picked that up to leaf through it, and found her name written all over it, over and over again.
Before she'd been freaked out, but now that she had reason to freak out, she was really freaked out. Enough that when she saw the laptop, she had no problem flipping it open, and to find a screensaver of herself. A box next to the laptop held the items of her stolen wallet that she hadn't bothered to notice- her driver's license, credit card receipts, a family photo.
"You’ve ruined everything."
Jaye spun around, realizing that she was now with her stalker, in her stalker's van, with only a crumpled wire hanger with which to defend herself.
So Jaye did the sane thing and tossed the hanger, instead throwing Bianca to the floor of the van and pinning her.
Bianca put up a fight, which wasn't a surprise. The killer in the movies always did.
"You may have all my friends snookered, but not me!" Jaye told her as they wrestled. "You’re like that girl in that movie who wanted to be that other girl so much that she killed for it!"
"...Grease?"
"Single White Female!"
"N- n- no..." Bianca protested.
"Yes! Admit it. Are you a grifter? Who’re you working for? Is this a plot? Have you been putting hallucinogens in my drinking water?"
"No. I’m st- st- st-"
"Stalking me?"
"No. I’m st- st- st-"
"Stabbing me?"
"No. I’m st- st- st-"
"Stealing my organs after you stab me?"
"No. I’m st- st- st-"
"Stitching a skin suit out of my dead corpse after you stab me and steal my organs?"
"I’m studying you!"
Jaye stopped, and let her go, sitting up. "Explain."
Bianca sat up, shoving hair- Jaye's hair- out of her face. It took Jaye a really long time to get the words "investigative journalist" out of her.
"I’m wr-writing a st-story on disaffected twenty-somethings," Bianca explained.
"For who? Total Makeover Magazine?"
"T-today’s Am-merica. I th-thought if I became more like you I’d understand you better. I really wanted to get inside your head," Bianca said.
"You’re not in my head. You just have my hair," Jaye protested. "And why the phony stutter? Some people might think it’s offensive and not just funny."
"It’s n-not ph-phony. It becomes more pronounced when I’m under st- stress."
Jaye was still glowering at her. "I’m really not buying the whole Mrs. Doubtfire thing. Why does a disaffected twenty-somethin have to transform herself into a disaffected twenty-something?"
"B-because I’m not d-disaffected. I don’t fit the Gen-Y p-profile. I’m too highly m-motivated," Bianca said. "Wh-which is why I’m st-studying y-you. It’s t-true. And I can p-prove it."
She stood- carefully, like she expected Jaye to tackle her again, and pulled some more of the documents from the area that Jaye had been searching when she'd been caught. She handed them to Jaye, let her look through them.
"It’s all my correspondence with my editor. The last f-few are a little angry," Bianca said. "He keeps w-wanting me to s-send something, b-but I ccan’t seem to get st-started."
"'Regarding your article on gen-y losers...'" Jaye read, and frowned at her. "Losers? You’re writing an article on how I’m a loser?"
"N-no. It’s really about w-winners who haven’t w-won. Yet. Or ever."
"I’m a non-winner," Jaye said, more insulted than she would have thought.
"B-by choice," Bianca insisted. "You’re the prototypical Gen-Y-er. You represent a generation of y-young people who’ve been b-blessed with education and opportunity and who don’t just fall through the cracks- b-but jump through!"
"I am not a crack jumper, lady."
"Ah, the w-w-w-witty wordplay, the Ivy League irony. A hallmark of the Gen-Y non-w-winner. M-m-my g-generation."
"I think we're called millennials. I think. Never really been sure on that," Jaye said. "How do you know what 'league' my irony is? Were you stalking me at Brown? Are you the girl who stole my meal card?"
To her shock, Bianca nodded. "I was a fr-freshman when you were a senior. I f-found you when I did a cross sample of graduates who’ve failed to contribute to society in any significant way. Th-that’s not a j-judgement. You’re a victim of the system. I w-wanted to write this article t-to expose the nonwinnerness of Generation Y for what it really is."
"And that would be..?"
"Everyone else’s fault," Bianca stated.
Was she wrong, though? "Okay, you haven’t lost me yet," Jaye admitted. "So it’s an article about me?"
"You as m-metaphor for a l-larger-"
"But about me. How many words?" This was important.
"Five thousand."
Jaye lit up. That was so much more than fifteen! "Awesome!"
"Yeah, it would have been. But now the subject is aware of my presence, my study is tainted," Bianca sighed.
"Uh, does that mean I don’t get my five thousand words?"
"There’s not g-gonna be any w-words."
And from her purse, dropped on the floor in the scuffle, Jaye heard, "Get her words out."
"I'm way ahead of you," Jaye told her purse, and turned to Bianca. "You can't quit now! People need to know what it’s like to be me. And that’s gonna take words. Your words. About five thousand of them. You need to get them out. And I’m going to help you do it." Because she had to. She literally wouldn't sleep because things would sing at her for several nights in a row until she didn't.
"How?"
"By offering you an all access pass to the life of the prototypical GenY-er. Anything you want to know." Not the thing where she spent a bunch of time in another reality where the only person she knew there from high school now had a ten-year-old, or where she hung out at a different bar with an Eric who was a vampire.
"Full disclosure?"
Mostly. "I’ll let you jump right into my cracks."
[From Wonderfalls episode #2. This episode is not kind about stutters and I'm very sorry.]
