Leslie Swann was late for work.
Truth be told, she was late for work most days, but being the network head, she could get away with it. And besides, she often stayed late into the night to make up for it, so she felt nobody had any right to complain about her being late since she wound up making up the hours long after work had ended for everyone else. While they were sitting snugly at home, she was sitting in her office still, trying to find a budget that would work. But today was raining, and Leslie Swann hated rain, and it hadn't started raining until after she'd left the house, meaning she was unprepared for this type of weather because it wasn't just rain, no, it was a goddamned downpour. After spilling her coffee on her shirt, getting honked at by a dictator mom in a minivan with a cheap 4 dollar haircut and the 6 kids she was stuck with because she believed a wife couldn't say no to her husband, Leslie finally pulled up to the building, only to find someone had parked in her spot, despite there being a sign designating it hers. She wanted to scream, but she had more important things to do, and she couldn't waste the energy on that right now. So instead Leslie parked somewhere else, stepped out of the car, and - in her brand new pumps - right into an enormous puddle that went halfway up her leg. Now she screamed. In fact, she did more than scream. She threw a whole ass temper tantrum in the parking lot, and didn't care who saw. Her makeup was running, her hair was a mess from the rain, her coffee was staining into her nicest dress shirt and now she was soggy from a puddle. As she collapsed against the back of her car, she heard shoes approaching her, and looked up to see a woman standing in a dog covered rain slicker, holding an umbrella and smiling at her. "Let me buy you breakfast, screw going in today," Beatrice said, and Leslie, without waiting, flung herself around her old friend and cried. *** "This is very nice of you," Leslie said, sitting at a table in a diner across from Bea as she dabbed at her work shirt to no avail. She pulled her wet hair back and sighed, adding, "I've had a bad week, Bea." "So it isn't just today?" "No, god...it's been an awful week all around. I was thinking today would be maybe alright, and since it's Friday I could go home and then relax and enjoy myself for a few days and then..." "Isn't Friday casual clothes day?" Bea asked, sipping her cocoa, and Leslie sighed, leaning back into the vinyl diner booth. "Yes, but I don't like wearing my civilian clothes to the office," she said, making Beatrice laugh. "Your civilian clothes? Leslie, you work in public broadcasting, not the federal bureau of investigation," she said, trying not to laugh, which only made Leslie start to chuckle herself. "I wanna set a good example, you know? I mean, I don't care if other people wear theirs on casual day, but...I feel like a leader should be well dressed, maintain order, without being a dictator, you know what I mean? How're these people gonna respect me if they see me in my Snoopy pajamas and horse slippers?" "You have horse slippers?" Bea asked, "God, I came just at the right time." "...why were you waiting for me?" Leslie asked, now raising an eyebrow as their waitress set down stacks of pancakes for them. "I need your help, Leslie," Bea said, "The show's coming back, we're already well into pre-production, but...this network head, she and I don't see exactly eye to eye, and I need you to come in and back me up on some things. I wanna hire you." "What kind of credit would it be?" Leslie asked, slicing off a hunk of pancake and dabbing it in syrup before eating it. "Executive Producer," Bea said, "plus, the public broadcasting station will get first airing rights on the new episodes after they've been on the streaming service for a year. Not only will it boost your network, but it puts more eyes on the product." "You sound like you've been sitting in with tech heads," Leslie said, "It's not a good sound." "Believe me, I don't like it either," Bea said, making Leslie smile again. *** Michelle had been having that dream again. The one where she was still 7 years old, and her mother had put her into an art class during the summer because she so badly wanted her daughter to be like her. Michelle had stayed inside during break one afternoon, to finish a drawing, and she'd started having trouble breathing. It became so bad that she started stumbling around the room, looking for the front door, and instead bumping into everything in sight. Paint cans spilled, everyones hard work ruined, and herself covered in colors. When she finally made it out, her teacher immediately called an ambulance. Her peers were even more worried about her than about their now ruined work (they were only children, after all), but her mother... "It's okay," she'd said on the way to the hospital, "Every artist has setbacks." Michelle woke that morning with a terrible headache. As she walked to the kitchen, she found Keagan sitting by herself at the table, reading a book and eating toast. Michelle seated herself across from her after finding some painkillers and popping them. Keagan looked up at her and smiled. "Where's Lexi?" Michelle asked. "At her parents," Keagan said. "Is everything okay?" "Yeah, she just went to help her mom do some things," Keagan said, "...can I ask you a question, Shell?" "Yeah, of course," Michelle said. "...do you think Lexi and I make sense?" Keagan asked. "I don't have a whole lot of relationship experience, so maybe I'm not exactly the best person to give advice on this sort of thing, but...she seems to really like you, and I think that's pretty important in a relationship. I don't mean just, like, enjoy being in a relationship, either. I mean she genuinely likes just being around you, and I think if you can find one person in the world who you can genuinely like being around, then...you know...yeah, I think that's good." "She's just so prim and proper, she's from such an upper class family, she's so..." "White?" "Okay, sure, yeah. I didn't wanna say it." "So what? You're not from 'the hood' or something, Keagan. And even if you were, who cares? Isn't the whole appeal of Romeo and Juliet the fact that they come from different classes of society and yet they manage to find undying love for one another?" "Not sure 'undying' is the right word to use in this context in regards to that story, but okay," Keagan said, making Michelle snicker, "...no, you're right, and I know you're right. I guess I just let other peoples judgements make me judge us. You sound pretty knowledgeable about this sort of stuff, why haven't you been in many relationships?" "Uh, I don't...know." "Are you gay too?" "I don't think so. I mean, I've found girls pretty, but I also like guys, probably moreso honestly, but...it's all aesthetics for me, you know what I mean? Like...it's all visual, and it doesn't elicit any kind of response other than awe or...or admiration. There's no...uh...I don't know how to put it." "You don't wanna sleep with anyone?" "I guess, yeah, I don't really feel sexual attraction," Michelle said, "I guess I've never really openly said that." Keagan smiled and reached across the table, touching her hand, "I'm glad you did, because I think it helps us understand one another more. You know, at first I was worried living together with people I barely knew would be okay, but...I guess there's a reason we all get along after all, outside of our love for media." Just then the phone rang, and Keagan, sitting beside the landline on the wall, reached up and picked it off the hook, putting the receiver to her ear. "Hello?" she asked, before handing the phone to Michelle, whispering, "I think it's Liam." Michelle furrowed her brow. Why would Liam be calling her? She cautiously took the phone and put it to her ear. "Liam?" she asked, "...oh, okay, I'll be right there." "Something going on?" Keagan asked, and Michelle looked at her. "Can I borrow your truck?" she asked. *** Liam had given her the address, but even when Michelle reached it, she was surprised at how out of the way and sort of dingy it was. Sure, it was a storage facility, but even then, she was surprised someone who'd worked in television would put their belongings in someplace like this. She pulled up to see Liam opening the gate from the keypad for her, and then drove through until she parked. She climbed out of the truck and rushed under the awning, Liam approaching her with a duck umbrella. "I like you umbrella!" she stated happily, making him smile. "It is cute, isn't it?" he asked, "Sorry to ask you to help me with this, but I couldn't get a hold of Bea. She's busy." "It's okay, I don't mind. We're coworkers now, right?" she asked, smirking, hitting him playfully in the shoulder. Together the two of them headed inside and to the elevator, where they stepped inside. As the doors shut, Liam punched in the floor he wanted to ascend to, and then looked at his shoes. "You can't tell Bea I brought you here, okay?" "But...but you were gonna invite her first, so what's it matter if-" "Because nobody besides us knows about this place," Liam said, sounding deadly serious. Michelle kept quiet until the elevator stopped and they both stepped out. The lighting overhead was soft, pleasant, and the sound of their shoes clacking on the hard floor beneath them as they strolled down the empty hall made Michelle feel a bit calmer. After a few minutes, they finally reached a unit and Liam fished a pair of keys out of his pocket, shoving one into the lock, and the second into a second lock. He then pulled the lock off, and started to bend over to pull the door open, but quickly retracted this stance, putting his hand on his back. "Would you?" he groaned, as Michelle nodded and bent down, pulling the door open. What was inside was boxes, furniture, and other odds and ends. Michelle was confused. She expected something amazing, something spectacular, not something so...mundane. "Uh, this is just stuff," Michelle said. "It's Marvin's stuff," Liam said, entering the unit and running his hand up and down a beautiful rolled up rug, "...or, it was Marvin's stuff. It's mine now. But there's one box in here in particular that I'm looking for. It's big and dark green and plastic, it should be labeled BBC." "British Broadcasting Corporation?" Michelle asked, making Liam laugh. "Beatrice Beagle Costumes," he said, "How he wound up with it is beyond me, but he told me one of the last times we spoke that he had it stored in his unit, which he left me directions and the key to after he...well, you know." "Is that it?" Michelle asked, pointing to a box in the dark corner, underneath a few other boxes. She helped Liam move the other boxes, before she bent down and pulled the other box out and together they knelt to the floor and Liam lifted the lid. Michelle couldn't believe her eyes. Inside was Marvin's costume, and costumes to numerous other human characters who showed up on the series - like Bea's veterinarian Veronica and her dog trainer Theresa - which Michelle immediately wanted to touch. "This is amazing," Michelle whispered, making Liam smile. "Indeed," he said, "I figured we needed to pull these out for the show when it starts shooting soon, so I wanted to ask Bea to come, but I figured...well, this wouldn't even be happening without you, so you should know where this stuff is." "...what was Marvin like? I mean, as a person?" Michelle asked, and Liam sat down in a nearby rocking chair, running his thumb over the wooden head of his duck umbrella, smiling warmly. "He was such a great guy. So much fun, so smart, so caring. Most of the people Bea recruited were very empathetic folks, hence doing a childrens show, and Marvin and I really understood one another...once the show ended, we were still..." He paused and bit his lip, either trying not to cry or trying to choose his words carefully. "...I miss him so much every day and I just wish he'd reached out to me instead of killing himself," he whispered, tears starting to roll down his face, as Michelle crawled over to him and put her arms around him, hugging him tight, and him hugging her back, somewhat surprisingly. "...this morning, Keagan and I were talking about sexuality, and how, even though I'm not exactly queer, the fact that I differ from 'the norm' makes why we became such good friends make a lot more sense, because she's gay, and you're gay, and...I guess it's nice to find a community, even if it is one often steeped in loss," Michelle said, "...but it doesn't have to be loss, right? Because, look, he isn't gone. He's still here, in a way." "He always will be, not just in this unit, but in my heart," Liam said, which made Michelle almost weep at how sweet this was. She might not feel sexual attraction, but she certainly understood the concept of undying love. *** Eliza was pacing nervously outside Stephanie's office door, chewing at her fingernails, as Bea and Leslie were inside, talking to Steph. Eliza had been told to wait, but she didn't understand why, and the waiting was beginning to drive her nuts. "You're treating the show as a commodity," Leslie said, sitting across from Steph, "but the thing is, art isn't a commodity. It's a creation. To treat it as anything else is to cheapen it. There's nothing inherently wrong with making money from art, but to see it as nothing other than pure financial net gain...that's where it loses something special, and people notice." "So you're suggesting we don't push the advertising right off the bat?" Steph asked, and Leslie shook her head. "No, I'm suggesting you don't advertise it at all. I mean, sure, commercials, print ads, whatever is fine, but the minute you start churning out toys, dolls, etc, that's when people start to see it as not something personal or special but as just another thing to entice children. That's where you lose respect." Steph sighed and ran her hands through her hair. She should've known Beatrice would find a way to throw a wrench in her longterm advertising plans. Suddenly, Bea stood up and walked to the door, opened it and pulled Eliza in gently by the arm. "This is my puppet maker, Eliza. She worked with me on the original show," Bea said, "Eliza, please, show Stephanie why making money off something cheapens it." Eliza nodded, then put a dog hand puppet on her arm before kneeling down in front of the desk, hiding herself. She popped the puppet up in front of Stephanie, and Stephanie smirked, unsure of where exactly this was going, but curious to see certainly. "My name is Brisket!" Eliza said in a high pitched voice, "Right now I'm your friend, and that makes you feel good doesn't it?" "I...suppose," Stephanie said, trying not to laugh. "You need to put yourself in the mind of a child watching the show," Bea said, and Steph nodded, trying to do just that as Bea added, "Go on Brisket." "Right now you know I'm here for you, to listen and to help, and make you not feel so alone, and that's a good feeling isn't it? Because the world is big and scary and it's easy to feel overwhelmed," Eliza continued as the puppet, "but then you see another kid, maybe even a kid who bullies you every day, with a backpack with me on it, and that makes you sad doesn't it? It makes you not trust me anymore, and then you will have a hard time trusting anyone, all because little ol' me was also friends with your bully. That doesn't feel good, does it?" Steph's eyes widened, and she looked from the puppet back up at Bea. "Do you get it now?" Bea asked, and Steph glanced to Leslie, who cleared her throat and patted Eliza's head, telling her she could get off the floor, as she leaned forward and crossed her legs. "Children aren't stupid. They aren't reliable gullible consumers. They can tell when they're being sold to, likely moreso than any adult can," Leslie said, "You go down that route, you lose that connection, and soon you won't be any different from any other show. Being on a streaming service, along with the addition to be beamed into every home thanks to my public broadcasting network license, means you're gonna have more eyeballs than anyone else right off the bat, and your show will be more accessible than any other kids show. You tell a child they're special, then sell the very thing that makes them feel special to other children, all you're doing is giving them lifelong relationship issues." Steph nodded as Eliza stood up and pushed her glasses up on her face, hugging Brisket to her chest. "I think I get it," Steph said softly, actually meaning it. As Eliza left the room, she bumped into Michelle, who was hauling the green plastic box down towards the costuming room. Both women immediately apologized to one another, and Michelle smiled at the puppet on Eliza's hand. "That's cute," Michelle said, and Eliza held Brisket back up, putting the voice back on. "Thanks! I am pretty cute!" she said, making Michelle laugh before she continued on her way. The door opened, and Bea and Leslie stepped out into the hall. Bea put her hand on Eliza's back and rubbed it gently. "You did great, kiddo," she said, "Go back to The Hole. I'll have your lunch delivered, okay?" Eliza nodded and headed along her way, as Bea turned to Leslie. "Thank you," Bea said, "I knew you could make this work." "I'd do anything for you Bea," Leslie said, "...thanks for including me. I should probably get to the office now, though," she added, checking her watch. Leslie and Bea hugged, then Bea stood and watched Leslie Swann walk off towards the parking lot. Bea stood there and smiled to herself, not knowing Leslie was smiling to herself. Leslie had had a bad week, but once again, all it took to make her week better was the dog. All it ever took was the dog. Mans best friend, as they said. Leslie reached her car, let herself in and started it up. Being with Bea again as a team made her feel so good inside, that now she couldn't go to work in a bad mood. Leslie Swann was still late for work. But this time it was worth it.
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Beatrice Beagle follows a young woman obsessed with a defunct pizzeria and kids show featuring a dog mascot. As she uncovers more about its mysterious past, she becomes sucked into the life of the woman who played the mascot, they both discover just how much they need eachother. Archives
April 2024
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