DOROTHEA

NINE

"...I'm doing better than I ever was..."

———

February 19th, 2018

"Hey! Stop—You're both sisters whether you like it or not!—"

Taylor was in the middle of playing her unofficial role as peacekeeper between her two cats when a knock echoed throughout her Chelsea apartment. She furrowed her eyebrows, curious at the unexpected visitor, but then sauntered barefoot into the foyer anyway. It was probably one of her security guards dropping off a package.

"Hi there, Sunshine."

Her publicist, Tree, was revealed as she opened the door. Taylor's eyes immediately wandered to the red-haired woman's laptop case and folder in her gloved hands. "I didn't think we had any meetings scheduled for today?" She said, laughing faintly.

"Exactly. So I shouldn't be interrupting anything," Tree noted. She then arched a meticulous eyebrow and smiled. "May I come into your apartment, Taylor?"

Taylor smiled. "Only if you use the magic word."

Her publicist stared at her. "I'm coming into your fucking apartment, Taylor—"

"Fun choice. But not the word I had in mind," Taylor mentioned, stepping aside as the other woman's heels met the hardwood floor. She struggled to suppress a grin as she watched Tree enter the living room and set her purse down. "You packed a little light for a sleepover."

"And if this is your way of telling me you've decided to make a career switch to comedy, I'd like to resign."

Taylor's jaw dropped in mock offense. "You laugh at my jokes all the time."

"It's part of what I signed up for," Tree sighed, pulling her laptop out of its case.

"Wait, I'm not funny?"

"Not what I said," Tree breathed, though a teasing smile formed on her lips.

Taylor sat down on the armchair across from the other woman, pulling her knees up and hugging them against her chest. She glanced out the window, where fresh snow had lightly begun to fall, then returned her gaze to Tree. She watched the woman type a few things on her computer, a crease forming in her brow as she concentrated. Meanwhile, Taylor filed through her brain, trying to think of the reason for the woman's spontaneous visit. Her expression didn't match the one she typically wore to deliver bad news.

"So..." Taylor began lightly, "how are you on this beautiful snowy day?"

"Great." Tree smiled, not looking up from her laptop. "But a cup of coffee might be nice to help me thaw from my walk over here. If that isn't too much to ask?"

"Not at all." When Taylor stood to go into the kitchen, she tried to steal a glance at the woman's laptop, but Tree moved to block her view just as she walked past. She rolled her eyes. Sometime after she hired her publicist, the two of them had developed an incredibly dry, dark-humored way of interacting with one another. Obviously, Taylor enjoyed it. But when she wasn't sure what to expect, it was aggravating.

"So, how many guesses do I get as to why you're—" Taylor stopped when she came back into the living room with two steaming mugs of coffee.

"Here?" Tree laughed, taking one of the cups. "Well, you're smart. So probably just one."

Taylor's eyes remained nailed to the piece of paper in the middle of the coffee table as she sat down. At the top center of the page, in bold, graphically-pleasing font was DOROTHEA J. MADISON.