April 15, 2026

I set up the set camera to record a third act fallout between Danielle and Terry. Interestingly, Daisy and Marcus do have a lot more chemistry here than they do as themselves. Nonetheless, I can very much tell they’re acting.

Afterwards, I am sent to do cleaning duty alongside my fellow crew members. Aarya and Rupert are assigned to equipment touchups, Daisy and Marcus are sent to the dressing and makeup rooms, and Lavender and I are sent off to clean both the washrooms and the dining hall. A few other interns from the revolving door of entry level hires get to sweep up the perpetually rat-infested craft service areas. Pierre, to his chagrin, is assigned to the kitchen.

I’m in the middle of wiping up a table while Lavender sweeps the floor near me. 

“So,” Lavender starts, “how are you finding this place?”

“Eh,” I reply, “there’s a lot of bad, but - there’s enough good, I guess.”

Lavender chuckles.

“You don’t have to like any of this,” she reassures me. “No one here does.”

“Why are you still here, then?” I muse.

“Indefinite contracts,” she responds.

After alternating various dining-related cleaning tasks, the two of us move onto the washrooms. In an act of desperation, Lavender decides to use a stall in the men’s washroom. 

“Lock the washroom door,” she instructs me. “If anyone tries to come in, distract them.”

“Ok,” I tell her. 

Just as Lavender shuts the gate to her stall, I hear a knock on the door.

“Anyone in here?” I hear a familiar slight French accent.

I rush out, unlocking and insta-locking the door again.

“Nope!” I confidently lie, “just Lavender and I scrubbing!”

Pierre rolls his eyes.

“Good luck then,” he says before walking away. “You’re never getting that place clean.”

I grab a piece of paper, write “DO NOT ENTER” in all caps, and slap it onto the washroom door.

I need to find some answers.

…

Marcus and Pierre are walking together, having presumably finished their respective cleaning duties. They barely talk for the most part, except when they do.

“How’s Samantha?” Marcus whispers.

“Already dumped her,” Pierre replies. “She has kids, and I don’t go there.”

Marcus lowers his head, looking away.

Unfortunately for me, I can’t gauge any info about Daisy from them. Luckily, because I was able to figure out the floor plan of this set yesterday, I’m capable of finding Daisy’s cubicle.

The area, unsurprisingly, is very organized, with nary a loose sheet hanging from anywhere. The desk is sparkling clean, and her sweater hangs unwrinkled in pristine shape. Interestingly, while no one is inside, the drawers and cabinets are both unlocked and slightly open. I am very much tempted to pull them out further.

What the fuck are you thinking? an inner voice of mine wonders. Are you really going in there?

I ignore my thoughts and rummage through her belongings anyway. Unlike her outside neatness, her inner desk storage is a disaster. Crumpled up papers stack on top of seemingly incomplete origami pieces, with notebooks being arranged into forms that resemble some sort of avant-garde modern tower. Said notebooks, overall, barely have anything in them. 

I start to wonder if there is actually something - anything - I could use to prove Daisy is straight like she says and thus convince my friends not to end her boyfriend’s life. Eventually, I do encounter an off-white covered notebook which appears to have something of substance. While I flip past the table of contents, though, I hear footsteps approaching from the distance.

Oh crap, I think, I’m gonna run out of time.

The person’s footsteps keep getting closer. They have light skin, brown hair grown medium long, a ring on one of their fingers, and thin framed glasses. Their appearance reminds me somewhat of a missing person I saw on the news a few years ago. Panicked, I scramble to re-sort all the scraps and sheets I’ve removed. 

“What are you doing here?” they ask. 

“I’m…helping clean up these cubicles!” I improvise, hoping that the untidy cubicles elsewhere won’t fool them. “Jesus, this place is pretty dusty.”

The person briefly scrunches their face. 

“That’s very kind of you,” they reply, “but there’s nothing to see here.”

“And…how would you know?” I respond.

“I’m Daisy Butler’s manager,” they state. “although I do informal intimacy coordination here as well because the real coordinator never seems to come.”

“That sounds cool!” I exclaim, hoping to distract them.

Daisy’s manager grits their teeth in repressed frustration.

“Look,” they tell me, “I’m sure you’re old enough to know that snooping around people’s personal belongings is a privacy violation.”

I adjust my hair out of nervousness.

“Yeah,” I respond, “It is. And I’m sorry.”

“What were you trying to find, anyway?” Daisy’s manager asks.

“Well…” I start, “I have two mentally ill friends from school who are obsessed with witchcraft. They believe that Daisy’s a lesbian, and they’re willing to pay this one psychic thousands of dollars to prove their theory correct. I thought I’d find something in Daisy’s cubicle to maybe change their minds…but I guess not.”

I swallow my saliva and hope that this cover story can fool Daisy’s manager.

“Alright then,” they say. “I’m not going to tell anyone for now. But if I catch you pulling this nonsense again, we’re going to have a very different conversation.”

“Understood,” I reply. “Thank you…uh…what do I call you?”

“The name’s Spencer,” they tell me. 

“That’s a cool name!” I force a smile in hopes of appeasing them.

Spencer opens the exit door.

“You should get back to work now,” they advise me.

I need to do some more research on these people later.

(Wattpad version: https://www.wattpad.com/1654149573-the-daisy-theory-chapter-10)

(Tumblr version: https://www.tumblr.com/talesfromasnarkylisa/826282673554276352/the-daisy-theory-chapter-10?source=share)