70% there ~ and Chapter 43
hiiiiii alien lovers,
i didn't accomplish my goal, but I'm 70% there... kind of?
i wanted to publish my book last year, i didn't. i wanted to publish it in the spring of 2026, i didn't. i was hoping for a summer release, but given how 2026 is going, it looks like Perilous Stars (new title) will be published later in the fall.
does that mean i failed my goal last year/this spring/next summer? my therapist says we can reframe it.
maybe I didn't accomplish 100% of my goal... however, i built the platform to publish the book (this newsletter), i started a publishing master's, and i finished writing the actual book. i have a plan, i'm implementing it step by step, slowly but very surely....
so, I'm like 70% there, right? maybe the math is wrong, but it feels like i'm making progress. good progress, i'd even venture to say.
farewells for now xx
Chapter 43 is bringing back one of my favourite trios to write! i don't know when we will see them again [in this universe], so i wanted a scene for maple and them to reflect and experience how much has changed. talking & fucking in the submarine apparently served some emotional purpose???
Previously in Perilous Stars (Chapter 42)
Chapter 43
Salvatore didn’t relax after coming back from his trip to the surface. He told Daphne and Maple that the rest of the mercenaries and the Professor had left, and that for now, the threat was gone. They could all use the boat to go back to Daphne’s mansion, which now looked like ruins on a battlefield.
“Are we safe now?” Daphne asked.
“We will not be safe until I see the Professor’s dead body with my own eyes,” Salvatore responded grittily. His eyes burned with newfound anger Maple had rarely seen .
Once the damage to the mansion was assessed—most of the ground floor and the facade next to the greenhouse needed massive repairs—Daphne made one phone call before she declared that they all needed to get into a car and drive through the night to an undisclosed location.
Now, their little group—a tense Salvatore, a drunk Daphne, and a determined Maple—were all waiting in the SUV next to a hangar on a small airstrip. It was early morning, the sun was still lazily rising in the sky, peach and pink shades colouring the light. Daphne’s private plane was waiting, ready to fly them back to Sobriquet Lake. Betteraves & Betrayals’ final broadcast was still a month away, but they all had much work to do. Salvatore was expected in rehearsals the following day, as per his contract stipulations, which his agent–whose calls he had finally returned while they were driving last night–had heavily reminded him. The crew had received similar orders from Ermett and were expected back to work later that day.
Maple had made a list of who could hate her enough to want to kill her, but none of the names she’d written down made sense. She had minor work conflicts with some of them, but why would the craft guy or one of the three rotating directors they employed attempt to murder her? What would be their end goal? Brooklyn had been tasked with warning the inner circle — Loretta, Maurice, Cruz, and Davenport — about the Saboteur and the Killer, since she had cleared them of any wrongdoing thanks to a blend of video footage and ironclad alibis. Everyone else was still a potential suspect until Brooklyn could prove otherwise, and since Maple wanted her to look for Charles’ research instead, the list of suspects was still in the hundreds for now. It had been decided that Maple and Daphne would lie low in Sobriquet Lake upon their return, working on the plan to overrun the finale broadcast and save the show from cancellation. With so many threats looming, they had to be careful.
“I should go check the perimeter first,” Salvatore declared when he saw Daphne unbuckling her seatbelt.
“Alien Boy, you need to relax,” Daphne said dismissively as she climbed out of the SUV. She rooted out a flask from her imposing bosom. “Want some liquid courage to chill? It’s laced with some alien booze I found in my dead, cheating husband’s lab.”
“No, thank you,” Salvatore said curtly. “I need to keep my head clear. We’re not out of the woods yet.”
“Lame!” Daphne exclaimed as she unscrewed the flask, taking a generous sip from it.
Salvatore left the car, scanning the runway for potential threats. There didn’t seem to be any. Two small planes occupied the hangar, and a third, a larger private jet that was probably their ride, waited on the tarmac. Nobody else was around.
Maple felt a pang of guilt for not having told Salvatore about Brooklyn’s discoveries about the Saboteur and the Killer. He was stressed enough, and she’d noticed on their drive to the airstrip that his left hand had started glowing again. She wouldn’t cause another alien divide by burdening him with information that none of them could do anything about for now. She wanted Salvatore to focus on the show’s finale. Until broadcast day, they would all have to work twice as hard to make sure no one derailed their plan.
The private jet’s side door opened to reveal a man in a pilot uniform in his early fifties, with silver hair and enough charisma to fuel a small city. He smiled broadly as he made his way to them.
“Good morning, Gorgeous,” he said, kissing Daphne on the cheeks. “Good to see you out of your lair.”
She gently tapped him on the chest. “Cosmo, always such a treat to see you. I see you’ve been working out.”
Cosmo’s smile transformed into a grin. “You know how it is. Got to stay in shape for the lady.” He glanced at Salvatore and Maple. Salvatore stared him down, jaw clenched, ready to use his alien powers at the first hint of danger. “Is that your travelling party? I was expecting more.”
Daphne grabbed Cosmo’s forearm, leaning closer and speaking lower, though not low enough for Maple not to hear. “We ran through some… unexpected challenges. It’s just the three of us for now.”
Maple wondered who else Cosmo had been expecting and if he was part of what Daphne had called “her trusted friends.”
The pilot held his hand out to Salvatore. “Cosmopolitan Rogers. Private pilot.”
“Salvatore Suàrez. Actor.” He shook Cosmopolitan’s hand without relaxing his shoulders, still on high alert. His hand glowed in Cosmo’s handshake.
“Actor and alien, eh?” Cosmo said with an unwavering smile. “No te preocupes, yo soy alienígena también.”
“Cosmo speaks seven languages,” Daphne added with a zest of pride in her voice. “And he’s one of your people,” she said, tapping Salvatore’s forearm with a finger. “We can trust him.”
Salvatore’s shoulders didn’t relax. The pilot moved his thousand-dollar smile to Maple, who was still processing the fact that Daphne’s private pilot was also an Alien.
“Maple Defleuvier. Writer.” She waved at him awkwardly.
“Mythomaniac and occasional shit starter, too,” Daphne added with a wink that did nothing to lessen the burn. She gestured at Salvatore, then Maple. “My unwanted step-son and his obnoxious girlfriend.”
“I’m not his girlfriend,” Maple protested. “We’re just coworkers.”
“Are we?” Salvatore asked with a raised eyebrow.
“The two libraries you’ve soiled with your sexual fluids beg to differ,” quipped Daphne. “Cosmo, we’re in a bit of a hurry. We have a show to save.”
Cosmo tipped his pilot hat. “I’m ready to take off whenever you are. Just let me load your bags, and we’ll be on our way.”
He departed with another grin and went to offload the SUV. Maple had one suitcase, and so did Salvatore. Most of Cosmo’s lifting was for the six bags Daphne had brought along with her. Maple winced as he lugged another giant suitcase out of the SUV.
“What?” Daphne exclaimed when she caught Maple’s reaction. “Being on the run is stressful enough without adding fashion scarcity to the mix. I know you don’t understand since you dress like an unpaid intern, but some people care about these things.”
She gave Maple’s leggings and hoodie a once-over. The actress huffed and strode to the plane, her nine-inch heels tapping on the tarmac, the wind blowing open the panels of her knee-length fake-fur coat.
“I think she likes you,” Salvatore said, leaning in to whisper in Maple’s ear. “So do I. I like you a lot.”
Maple took a step back, deliberately not looking at him. “Salvatore, I think it’s best if we keep it professional. We can’t risk another scandal. We’re all going to be busy with the finale. I think we should focus on that, okay?”
His glowing hand reached out to her. She took another step back. “What if you stopped using the show as an excuse? What then?” he asked.
She shot him a glare. He wasn’t playing fair. “We both know this is for the best. You need to pace yourself. You’re still dying.”
“Being with you makes me feel alive. I feel invincible when you’re around, Maple.”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” she said, remembering the terrible pit she felt in her stomach when she thought Salvatore had died. “You’re not invincible. Neither am I, and neither is our show. We can’t afford any more mistakes.”
His eyes glinted in the morning light. “You were never a mistake for me.”
“We’re a distraction to each other,” she said, her heart heavy. “I can’t afford any more of those either.”
She left, heading straight for the plane. Maybe Maple could persuade Daphne to share some of her alien booze with her. She’d need it.
As soon as the plane took off, Maple reached out to the flask to get some alien liquor, hoping to take the edge off. She found it empty next to Daphne, deep asleep in one of the comfy and spacious armchairs.
The actress snored loudly with an open mouth, drooling at the corners. Salvatore excused himself to the bathroom. Maple tried to focus on the podcast she was listening to, but to no avail. She felt jittery at the idea of coming back to Sobriquet Lake, which was a novel feeling for her and for the town she’d grown up in. Sobriquet Lake had always felt safe to Maple, even when she was going through high school and Peyter’s bullying. Now that she’d been fired from the show and was coming back there to hide, and faced with the looming threat of the Professor, her sense of safety had been replaced by a vast blanket of anxiety. The Professor had identified Maple and Daphne as Salvatore's associates, and now their lives were at risk as well. The actress had activated her network to arrange for private alien security to escort them from the airfield to the remote location they had picked, where Maple and Daphne would be guarded 24/7 until the finale. Daphne had reassured everyone that the folks she had hired were up to the task, ready to put up a fight against the Professor and his minions.
An additional security team would monitor Salvatore, since it was all over social media that the star would make his return to the show after a summer of scandals. The public backlash against him has quieted down compared to the vitriol thrown at Maple’s way. Still, they were all anticipating the spotlight placed on Salvatore upon his return–from his fans, from the paparazzi, from Ermett and Boobol, and most dangerously, from the Professor. They needed to leave the Professor or anyone else who wanted to sabotage them with few opportunities to do so. But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t try. Maple, her team, and the three security details hired to keep them alive until the finale had to be ready for anything.
She had also received news from Cruz and Loretta that Ermett had doubled security at the studios to avoid any complications during the filming of the finale, with Maple being declared persona non grata on set. A memo containing that fateful picture of Maple throwing up in her mom's bushes had been sent to the crew, stating that all communication with Maple was forbidden and subject to immediate termination. It seems that while Maple, Salvatore, and Daphne were preparing to face the deadly threat posed by the Professor, Ermett was preparing for his biggest threat: Maple Defleuvier and her zany alien stories.
After another hour of looking through the plane’s porthole while Daphne’s snores played in the background, Maple decided to visit the bathroom. Maybe splashing some cold water on her face would wake her up. She couldn’t let fear take over. Ermett and The Professor be damned, because she still had a job to do.
She moved carefully towards the back of the plane, focusing on her breathing. Her mind was only playing two tapes on loop: fear and lust. When she wasn’t stressing about everyone’s physical safety, she thought of Salvatore, the way his body felt next to her, on her, inside of her… which immediately prompted a torrent of other unwanted images. His hands grabbing her neck to keep her centred as he gently pushed himself inside of her, primal lust flickering in his gaze. Her body couldn’t stop conjuring memories of how good it felt to be fucked by Salvatore. He wasn’t just the best lover she had ever had. He was the only lover her body had ever craved with such fervency. Maple had never enjoyed describing love as a drug, although she was a big Kesha fan, but with Salvatore, a simple grunt from him made her feral. The need to have him inside of her, to know he was nearby, to know she could be his if she only agreed to. She couldn’t avoid the comparison anymore. Maple was craving Salvatore like a drug. His passion, and the untamed desire and care he had shown her at every step of their relationship, had rendered her utterly and perilously in love with him.
“You were never a mistake for me.”
His words replayed in her head as she knocked on the bathroom door. Salvatore was still in there. It had been over an hour, which she had enjoyed because not having him next to her had allowed Maple to think about something else. That was her biggest problem: she couldn’t not think about the actor when he was around. She hoped that some time apart in the next few weeks would help ease the scorching feelings she had for him. She might be addicted to him, but she wouldn’t let that addiction jeopardize his safety or the success of their show. Their relationship was a distraction neither could afford when both needed to stay focused and alert in the face of the challenges to come.
Maple knocked again when the bathroom door didn’t open. “Salvatore, are you all right?”
Still, no response.
Her mind reached for the “anxiety” tape and played it again. Salvatore’s hand was glowing before they had taken off. He was still dying from an unknown Alien disease. What if he were dead on the other side of the door, lying inert on the ground of a private jet’s bathroom?
The door unlocked. Maple pushed it open.
The space was almost as big as her in-suite bathroom back in Sobriquet Lake. It had a sink, a large mirror circling the room, a toilet and shower, and a couple of cabinets. Right at the centre of the room were three familiar faces, sitting, each wearing a piece of the outfit Salvatore had worn before entering the bathroom.
Yellow waved at her. Just as last time, he had opted to dress in Salvatore’s hoodie, which reached below his knees. “Hi, Maple.”
Blue was wearing Salvatore’s white tennis socks and his tank top which was also, thankfully, long enough to cover most of his glowing blue body. “What’s up?”
Red only scowled at Maple. He’d put on Salvatore’s briefs, leaving the rest of his red skin exposed.
Maple took a moment to assess the scene. “Welcome back, everyone. Then, she sighed. “What’s going on?”
Red crossed his arms, refusing to meet her eyes. “Nothing.”
She rested the back of her hands on her hips and gave Red a stern look. “You’re all here again, less than a week after the last divide. Something’s obviously up.”
Based on what Salvatore had shared with her, Maple had deduced that even if the divides were inevitable, their increased occurrence was linked to his ongoing internal turmoil.
“Is this because of what I told Salvatore before we took off?” she asked, stepping inside the room and making sure to close the door behind her. The last thing she needed right now was to add a drunk Daphne to the situation. The teenagers were enough to deal with on their own.
“Why do you care?” Red snarled. “You’re obviously not horny for us anymore.”
“Red!” Yellow objected. “Maple’s just trying to help.”
She nodded. “I am. I understand that maybe you’re hurt by my decision not to engage…” She searched for an appropriate word. “Romantically with Salvatore, but I still care about him—and about you three, too.”
“Not everything is about you,” Red mumbled under his breath.
“He’s right,” Blue said. “We don’t care about you anymore. Even if you’re super hot and whatnot.”
That made Maple blush. She shook her head, reminding herself that the compliment was coming from a teenager and not the man who had given her over five climaxes in the past three days alone. “Okay, fine, it’s not about me. So, what else is going on?”
Red’s frown didn’t falter, and Blue looked down. Yellow was the only one making eye contact. He shrugged, almost defeated. “They won’t admit it, but they’re scared.”
“No, we’re not!” Red protested.
“Yes, we are,” Yellow’s soft voice pushed back. “There’s no point lying to Maple anymore. She knows everything.”
“Scared of what?” she asked.
There was a silence during which the teenagers exchanged a heavy look.
“The Professor,” they all said in unison.
“He’s still out there,” Yellow continued, hugging his legs to stop his body from shaking. His eyes hollowed in terror. Maple wanted to hug him and tell him she would protect him and the others, no matter what. But she knew it was a futile promise to make.
“That bastard is obsessed with us.” Red still refused to look at her, but he was interacting, which she considered progress.
“He’s a monster,” Blue said before his voice quivered. “I, just… I can’t see him again. Every time he’s around, I feel…”
“Powerless,” Yellow concluded for him. Blue nodded, and Yellow reached out to him. Blue held Yellow’s hand in his, blue tears falling from his eyes. “I’m so scared.”
Yellow squeezed his hand. “So am I.”
Red shrugged, trying hard to pretend none of this was impacting him. “He’s just an asshole. We’ve dealt with assholes before. We’ll be fine.”
“Yes, but he’s not just any asshole, is he?” Maple said, grabbing some tissues and handing them to Blue. “He’s your father.”
“I wish he weren’t,” the teenager said, taking the tissue and wiping his tears. Inky blue staining white. “He is such a shitty dad.”
Maple sat on the ground, her back to the door. “It’s okay to be afraid of bad people. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Fear is weakness,” Red mumbled.
“That’s what he wanted us to believe,” Yellow said, glancing at Maple, who smiled at him. He returned her smile. “We’re not weak.”
“Aren’t we?” Red’s temper was flaring. “We keep splitting up. What if we divide when he’s around? There won’t be anybody to stop him from taking us back there…”
The simple allusion to the bunker rendered all three teenagers quiet. Maple looked at each of them, thinking about the best thing to say. She had no firsthand experience with that kind of trauma. Peyter and his internet trolls were awful, but they’d never threatened Maple’s life or taken her agency away from her. It was also now apparent to her how the stress and turmoil caused by the disease and the divides were likely to bring more divides, keeping the teenagers and Salvatore prisoner of a toxic cycle triggered by the simple mention of The Professor and his abuse.
She thought about Daphne’s parents and how, like the Professor with his children, they had hoped to control their daughter, and how, like Salvatore, the actress had defied the odds to thrive and build a life she could be proud of. Then, Maple remembered all the storylines involving abusive parents that Betteraves & Betrayals had explored over the years. One in particular came to mind.
“Pietrich’s dad tried to kill his son multiple times,” she said, recollecting the many plotlines involving Ron Rester, Pietrich’s estranged father. “When that didn’t work, he threatened Adele and her baby, Evelyn.”
The teenagers stared at her.
“Are you trying to compare our real-life trauma to a character’s?” Red retorted, now fully pissed. “Are you for real?” He turned to Blue and Yellow. “Is she for real?”
“Stories are powerful,” Maple added before she lost her audience. “I’m not saying it’s the same. I know that Pietrich is just a character. I can’t take away what the Professor did to you. I can’t even pretend to be able to defend you against him. But I can remind you that you are strong. Just as Pietrich eventually overcame his father’s abuses, you can too.”
“Red is right,” Blue said. “How can we hope to survive another battle with the Professor without Salvatore? Even with him! The disease is weakening all of us. We couldn’t defeat him all those years ago, we had to run! Now that the disease is so advanced, we have no chance.”
“Except you’re not alone anymore.” Maple grabbed Blue’s free hand. “You have me.”
Red scoffed. “You’re just a human, and you don’t even care about us anymore.”
Maple felt a sense of clarity as she spoke next. She couldn’t defend them against The Professor, but she could support them in other ways. She could be honest to herself and to them, and maybe that would bring all of them some comfort. “My feelings for Salvatore are complicated. But I care for him, and I’m not the only one. He has you three, the crew, and no matter what happens, he will always have me, too.”
Admitting that out loud to herself and to them relieved Maple. In one way or another, she needed him in her life. Even if they weren’t together, they could never go back to the way things used to be. They had been through too much for that. Maple didn’t want to pretend the past ten days hadn’t happened. They had happened, and for better or for worse, they had transformed her. If there was one lesson she’d learned from soap operas, it was accepting one’s destiny, no matter how different it looked from the one she’d hoped for. She and Salvatore could be friends, and they could be in each other’s lives.
Red’s eyes welled up. He sniffed, looking in Maple’s direction, but still not directly at her. “You promise?”
She reached out to him. Blue and Yellow watched apprehensively.
]Maple missed a breath. She wanted all of them to feel safe, and she also needed Salvatore back. She was putting on a brave face for the teenagers, but she was scared, too. Maybe, just like them, she was afraid to be alone again. Daphne, Brooklyn, her moms, and the crew were in her corner, but there was only one person who made her feel seen like never before. When Salvatore was around, she felt invincible, too.
“I promise. You will never be alone again.”
Red reached for Maple’s hand.
She held back tears as she said, “Come here,” opening her arms wide.
All three teenagers rushed into a hug. For an instant, sitting on the floor of a private jet’s bathroom, fear didn’t exist anymore.
Maple felt invincible again.
to be continued...
Lying Doll 🩷 Sexy Alien in Perilous Stars (Chapter 1).
🧨 if you think someone might enjoy these letters, pass them along to your people.
🔉 if someone forwarded this email to you, subscribe here to stay in touch.