Thursday, January 14, 2038
Eight Days Until Papal Conclave
5:00 A.M.

Nina wiped the sleep from her eyes and tapped her ear. She usually avoided sleeping with an in-ear alarm, but she’d been hoping to slip out before Vinya and her ever-running mouth woke up.

The plan had failed. Her roommate was not only up, but fully showered and dressed.

That said, there was very little noise.

Vinya was sitting cross-legged on her fully made bed, eyes closed and lips moving softly around sounds that Nina couldn’t quite make out.

Nina slipped out of bed as quietly as possible and tiptoed toward the shower. She saw one of Vinya’s eyes snap open, follow her for a few steps, then snap closed again. Now her chanting was becoming a bit more audible - a calm, winding melody in perfect pitch.

Namo Ayariyanam, Namo Uvajjhayanam…

She was meditating – which was exactly the last thing Nina would have expected from the person who hadn’t stopped talking all day yesterday. Nina stopped for a second and let the soothing melody wash over her, hoping that Vinya wouldn’t notice her lingering outside the bathroom.

That was when Nina’s phone let out a piercing beep on the end table.

Nina ran for the phone, hoping to shut it up before it knocked Vinya’s concentration entirely.

It was too late. Vinya had already launched herself to her knees on the bed and was diving for the end table herself.

Nina grabbed the phone first, blurting out, “Omigosh! I am so sorry!”

The screen was a big, flashing picture of Priscilla’s face.

“Darnit,” Nina muttered, swiping the green arrow and raising the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

“Oh good, you're already up,” Priscilla squawked, “I like that. Anyway, we're sending Aiden Healy down to meet you in the lobby in about twenty minutes. Hope you're ready.”

Nina's pulse was racing. Twenty minutes? Seriously?

She did everything she could to sound unsurprised. “Twenty minutes, okay, got it”

“I know, I know, you're probably not done with your makeup – don't worry too much about it. Just get b-roll interviews with pilgrims in St. Peter’s square and then come back to the studio for your war paint.”

Make up? Nina thought. I haven't even showered.

“You got it, boss.”

“Good. Well, have fun and get us some good footage. Just get the real story. Sane people, OK? Light on the nuns.”

Nina rushed to pull a pantsuit out of the closet. “Sure, sure.”

All right,” Priscilla chirped. “I'll let you get to work.” Then the line went dead.

Nina saw Vinya stumble into the bathroom and splash water on her face. She looked like she’d just been woken from a dream and was trying to rouse herself back to reality.

Nina took a few steps toward the bathroom. “Vinya…Sorry I interrupted your meditation…thing.”

“Navkar Mantra,” Vinya exhaled, blinking her eyes repeatedly.

“What?” Nina asked.

“It’s called the Navkar Mantra. Three times a day - two and a half today.”    

Vinya shook her head violently, which finally seemed to snap her into focus. “Don't worry – I suck at getting my mantras in anyway.”

Nina tried another peace offering. “So you're Hindu then?”     

“I’m Jain,” Vinya snapped, drying her face with a towel. “My last name is Jain. You know, two plus two is four.”

“Sorry,” Nina responded meekly, applying paste to her toothbrush, “The sum total of my exposure to Jainism was the religious emblems page in my Scout manual.”

Vinya rolled her eyes as she uncapped a tube of neon green lipstick. “Oh goody, I get to be the first Jain someone’s ever met - again.”

“Sorry, I-”

“Forget it,” Vinya finished her lower lip and stopped. “At least you’d heard of it. It just gets annoying.” Then the upper lip, followed by an aggressive re-capping and the emergence of a silver eye-liner pencil. “Especially since I’m actually named Jain. Hey everybody, this is Vinya, your screwed-up poster child for Jainism! She’s a sucky Jain, but at least she doesn't eat potatoes.”

“Potatoes?” Nina asked through a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Never mind,” Vinya went to work on her eyes, “another Jain thing.”

There was an awkward silence, and Nina caught herself staring at the ten colors of mascara lined up in front of the mirror as Vinya selected a green one to match her lips. It was time to look for a way out.

“I have to shower. Sorry again about your - uh - Nafka…I mean…sorry.”

“Let’s stick with ‘meditation thing.’”

That seemed to end things, but through the frosted shower glass, Nina noticed Vinya sneak a look her direction before brushing on some bronzer and darting out.

Nina showered in record time, dried herself, and threw on her striped blouse and grey pantsuit. She looked a little wrinkled in the mirror as she combed her hair, but given the circumstances, it would have to suffice. She found just enough brainpower to remember her trench coat, then sprinted down the stairs to the lobby.

Aiden was leaning against the wall in a stained white t-shirt, holding a paper coffee cup in one hand and a folded camera in the other.

He glanced at his phone. “You're late. Prissy wanted you here two minutes ago.”

Nina checked her own device, confirming her tardiness.

“Crap. I'm sorry.”

Madison took a last drag off the stub of her cigarette in the smoking area outside the hotel, then she balanced it with a swig of coffee.  The caffeine still hadn’t quite kicked in yet, and it didn’t help that morning air was close to freezing. Why couldn’t the Pope have keeled over in the summer? Rome would have been so much nicer.

She pulled up the white fur ruff of her coat, still trying to convince herself that the shaking was because of the cold.

There was a temptation to brush it off as “getting too old for this crap,” but even in her heyday there were certain points on the alcohol scale that she knew would have consequences at the office.

She’d passed that point about 11 P.M. last night, then kept going for another two hours.

It was bad enough dealing with the boss from hell, but she’d been doing that for twelve years.

What she didn’t fancy, however, was dealing with said boss in close quarters while also dealing with her ex…well…whatever the hell Dan was. They’d never really established that in the first place, which was why he was now an ex-whatever.

On top of it all, she had to deal with freaking Nina Whatever-Her-Name-Was. Madison was a recovering idealist herself and dealing to wide-eyed newbies was always a bit of a nails-on-chalkboard experience – not to mention that accent.  The girl couldn’t have been any more Wisconsin if she’d doused herself in Miller Lite and swan-dived into an Olympic-size vat of cheese curds.

Madison pulled her rhinestoned cigarette case out of her handbag, lit up another Virginia SuperSlim, and inhaled. Chain-smoking real cigarettes wasn’t really her thing either, but she had a feeling it was going to be one of those days. She exhaled through her nose, while closing her eyes and leaning against the cold stone wall of the building.

The moment of peace didn’t last long – promptly interrupted by Dan Dragovich’s voice. “So, how’s the morning shift going?”

Madison’s eyes snapped open. She really didn’t need this right now, but there he was, with his graying walrus mustache and his crappy old shirt and his cracking leather jacket.

She purposefully tapped the ash from her cigarette onto his shoe, “Wouldn’t know. New kid got the early shift.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Dan looked at his feet. “Rome treating you all right then?”

Really? Madison thought. Mr. Never-Lost-For-Words is feeling sheepish? That’s a first.

“Rome’s treating me fine,” she snarked, “except for the fact that it’s frigid and there's a bunch of holy-rollers in the streets.”

Honestly, she wished he’d quit the overly familiar garbage. They had a working relationship - kind of – but they weren’t what you’d call friends. The whole tortured-ex-lovers routine had gone stale ten years ago, and now it was like having some sort of warped joint custody agreement over the daily news. Mommy and Daddy pretended they didn’t hate each other “for the kids” – except in this case the “kids” were full-grown production staff who freaking knew better.

Dragovich tried again. “Look, Maddy, I-”

“What do you want, Dan?”

Dan rolled his eyes, snapping out of “daddy mode” and back into “annoyed ex mode” – which Madison found mildly less grating.

“Nothing. I was just literally asking how things are - like I know you or something.”

“Right, because you’re so attuned to other people’s emotional needs.”

“Okay, that’s just uncalled-for. “

“Yup,” Madison took another puff. ”It’s almost like I don’t want to talk to you. So, tell me why you’re still standing here.”

“I -” Dan sputtered, “I just figured you’d know how things are going on with the office politics, and at least you won’t give me the line about how we’re all one big WWN family.”

Madison let out a faint laugh. “Wait, you’re coming to me for gossip? That’s a new one.”

Dan sighed again. “I haven’t had my people on a joint team with Prissy’s guys in ten years, and there’s a rookie in there who I’m sure is getting a first-class Pristol-whipping. What’s her name, Anita?”

The light bulb went off in Madison’s head. “Oh, so that’s what this is about. Grandpa Dragovich feels sorry for the new girl? Really?”

Dan stumbled for a response “No, I’m just…I mean…”

Madison glared at him over the top of her sunglasses.

“Okay, yes. Among other things, I’m worried anytime Prissy gets her claws on a rookie.”

Now it was too much, and Madison started convulsing with suppressed laughter.

“You’re worried about Cheesehead Minnie Mouse? I’m sure she’s already getting a full work-over.” She finished her cigarette and flicked the butt onto the pavement. “Girl has no clue what’s about to hit her.”

Dan stared at his shoes again but didn’t back off, so Madison decided to go for the jugular.

“You’re not hot for her, are you?” she spat, “I mean, it was messed up when it was me, but I’ve got like ten years on this one.”

His face turned a deeply satisfying shade of red. “What? No! I’m old enough to be her father!”

“Never really stopped you before,” Madison deadpanned.

“I am nowhere near old enough to be your father.”

Madison decided to twist the knife further. “I wasn’t talking about me.”

That one always got him.

“Enough!” Dan fumed. “I’m not having that conversation again. Just asking you to look out for the kid. Okay?”

“Look out for her? What? Save her from big bad Prissy?”  Madison took long sip of her coffee. “Yeah, that worked like a charm last time I tried.”

Dan sighed. “Maddy, that was ten years ago.”

“Oh, of all people, I do not want to hear that from you.” 

Dan shook his head, “Are we really doing this again? Look, this is different, and-”

“I said no. Just...no.”

“Maddy, she’s not -”