Cary was very well aware that there are times in life where one can’t recall how they got from Point A to Point B. She didn’t expect herself to be the type, and yet here she was, in shotgun of Iona’s pink mini coop, getting a briefing as if she was on a mission from the government. And despite herself, her mind was distracted by the slowly tilting scenery out the passenger window, to help give her some focus on the basic conundrum of how the heck did this come after one lazy text chat?

“So here’s the dealy-o,” said Iona, as she and Cary were both violently jostled over a pothole. “Odila’s going on camera to get interviewed for a job. And she explained it to me three times, and I still don’t quite know what it is.”

“Probably by design,” said Cary, gripping the roof handle above her head.

“Exactly,” said Iona. “But you won’t believe the guy who they got to do the interview on television. Poor man’s hardly camera-ready. The nervous type, you know? Better at making people feel comfortable than being on a stage.”

“Which is to be expected,” said Cary, finding herself bracing against the door frame despite herself. “I mean, this isn’t a town that’s giving birth to a star every minute.”

“Oh, you don’t know that!” said Iona. “After all, everyone is a star that only needs a lit--YEEEEEK!” She squeaked in terror as the car bounced violently once more. “Okay, I did NOT see that curb!”

“Are you okay? Seriously?” asked Cary. “You have a license, right?”

“Of course I’ve got a license!” said Iona. “These roads are just! You know! Civically classical!”

“Okay, even if you're a public face, that's an unacceptably generous description of these roads,” said Cary. “Are you unable to say anything mean? Or something?”

“Everyone’s in the middle of their own hard struggle, Cary! Even these roads!” Iona half sang, though with a note of nervous panic. “Which is why I have a proposal for you!”

“What?” asked Cary. She wasn’t sure if she was asking what the proposal was, or if Iona was still referring to the roads.

“How would you like to interview Odila instead?” asked Iona.

“Are you crazy?!” asked Cary incredulously. “I can think of five things wrong with that off the top of my head!”

“I’ll hear them out!” said Iona.

“One,” said Cary, lifting a finger with her free hand, “I’m not affiliated with whatever job she’s going for! I wouldn’t know what to ask! Two...no! Just, whatever that guy has I’ve got ten times worse!”

“Not true at all for the second one!” said Iona. “I saw you stand under the spotlight of five idols over and over again, and not once lose your Cary charm! There’s no better match to be found. Certainly not here in Ferris City!”

“I don’t think I’ve received a more backhanded compliment in my life,” said Cary. Whatever other quip she had was choked back as they fell over another curb.

“Sorry! That really was me just being stupid!” said Iona. “Okay, here we are! Rainbow’s Edge studio!”

The car mercifully ground to a stop in front of a shimmering office building surrounded on all edges by blocks of concrete and aging brick buildings. Glass- and black-steel-lined, it had “luxury office suites” embossed in gold letters across its front, leading to a bright lit plaque with business names neatly boxed in two white columns. At the top right box, drawing the eye with its red, blue, and green logo, read ‘Rainbow’s Edge’--its lack of smog grime and cracks indicating it must have been placed quite recently.

“Lori! Lori, over here!” called Iona, as she opened the door with a bright wave, to Lori, who was running at a quick one-step pace down the stairs, causing her sunny skirt to bounce and tight curls to spring to the rapid drum of her bright white shoes.

“It’s no good, Odila caught wind and started the interview,” she said frantically as Iona emerged. “Serafine’s gone off to try to stall, but you know how these things go once they…” As Cary began to hoist herself out of the car, her face sank. “This was the consultation you up and ran off for?”

“Who better?” said Iona, as Cary got out of the passenger side to Lori’s outstretched hand, as if to introduce her. “When an Idol’s in Rome, do as the Roman Work does, yeah?”

“God bless America,” Lori said. She shut her eyes tightly, as if trying to find a productive way to disperse her tension. “Cary, she didn’t make you feel like you had to do this, did she?”

“No. I don’t think so?” said Cary, stepping onto the curb.

“I’d never force someone to do anything!” said Iona. “That’s not what Dream Come True stands for!”

“Fine, good! Excellent!” said Lori, shaking her hands at the sides of her head as if to contain a storm. “There’s nothing left to do then. Come with me, we’re in trouble.”

“What’s wrong?” Iona asked, dashing up the stairs to follow Lori’s pace. Cary found herself speedwalking, tugged along by the quiet insistence that she was now, somehow, a part of all this.

“Odila’s doing exactly what we thought she would,” said Lori, whirling the two of them through the doors. “Does she honestly think we need this kind of publicity right now? Sorry Cary, really, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine?” Cary said. She made a faint effort to try to take it in as she found herself lost in a whirl of color and energy. The purposeful footsteps of the job, the loud drone of dozens of eager voices, the sheer sense of life was so different than she was used to. And yet Cary could feel an air of franticness, like she could already see the fault and desperation behind it. But, Cary thought, that can’t be true, right? This was just another pop drama in many.

Or maybe, she reasoned, I’m just not used to being around jobs that people are excited for.

But Cary didn’t have much time to comprehend it before was thrown between a set of double doors, and then another, under the punitive red glare of an “ON-AIR” sign, and then onto the dark of an active sound stage, into the line of sight of Odila. She was about twenty yards away, at a brightly lit white table that almost blazed against the shadows through which a dozen or so cameras peered through.

Odila didn’t even flinch when she saw them walk in. She smiled.

Challenge accepted.

“Sorry about that man, blanked out,” said Odila, flashing the interviewer a smile that was almost cold. “Mind repeating that for me?”

“Yes, of course,” the interviewer said, adjusting the papers on his desk. “Miss Odila, why are you leaving your current job?”

“Hell if I know,” she said with a laugh. “I’m a freaking celebrity! I live a better life than my lovers and my haters alike. And every night, I sleep tight as a baby knowing it.”

“I-I see…”

“But there is one story that keeps me awake at night,” said Odila. “The story of my family, and how I left them both behind for this life. My mother Marisol, and my brother Andre.”

“I see,” said the interviewer, clearly hoping the conversation was straying back into more manageable territory “Did you leave home to become an Idol?”

“Naw, I got kicked out of the house when I was seventeen,” said Odila. “They were real working nerds like you. They tried to stop me, saying ‘hey, Odila! Get an actual job! You can’t make it in that kind of life!’”

“Seems like it was a good thing you didn’t listen to them,” the interviewer said.

“I’ll say,” Odila said with a laugh, before leaning in a little over the desk. Even though she wasn’t there, Cary felt her moving next to her face. She felt that smile, inviting, knowing you had no choice but to be sucked in. “You wanna know what happened to them?”