Back home: drugs and politics, & Chapter 17

Hello, my alien lovers!

I returned to Vancouver, happy and rested from my European trip. It was great seeing my family and friends and eating my weight in butter.

Most of Europe still hasn't legalized weed, so it was also great to come home to Turtle Island and get to my happy place, which is every time I can smoke weed near the water.

When I was in France, I kept telling everyone how great Canada is, how progressive we are compared to France... only to come back to Vancouver's Mayor decision to sew chaos in our poorest communities.

But that's okay; we'll keep mobilizing for the most marginalized, no matter what.

If you wonder how you can help, look into your local elections and make sure you support candidates who don't want to annihilate poor people. In Vancouver, the next by-election is on April 5th.

We made it to Chapter 17! Thank you for reading and following Maple's story as she tries to get her shit together to save her show. But will she succeed? Where's the sexy alien she can't stop thinking about?

So many unanswered questions... enjoy your read!

L. 🩷

If you're new to the story, start with Chapter 1

If you missed the last chapter, Previously on Perilous Love Stars

As uncertain and wild as it seemed, the plan was all Maple had to hold on to.

Faced with threats she had no control over–Who was ruining her show? Who was trying to kill her? Where was Ermet?—a production shut down and a pile of lies bigger than her sudden need for caffeine, Maple had one more card to play. Mrs. Parviere's revelations had helped trace a path to victory, or at least not the total annihilation of everything Maple had built for the past three years. Betteraves & Betrayals was in danger, and she was its showrunner. It was her responsibility to fix it. If she had to uproot her life to make it happen, then that's what she'd do.

She rushed home, noting the shady SUV still parked at the street corner, and stopped on her front porch to snap a picture of the vehicle. She sent it to the roommate group chat with Brooklyn and Storm. "In case I go missing…" 

Her phone vibrated with an incoming call. "Hello?" Maple answered, climbing the stairs two by two to get to her room. She needed to pack. 

"Too little time, too much to say," Brooklyn said on the other end of the call. "I finished my éclairs, and I think they're fantastic. Question: Are you currently being followed by a shady SUV? And finally,  I found your coordinates."

Maple threw a suitcase on her bed and stopped. "Wait. What coordinates?"

"Daphne Dutrignon's. Her house is not on any publicly accessible map. But I know people. I had to pull a lot of unpleasant strings to get it. You owe me."

Maple's heart was about to explode with a renewed sense of purpose. She had an address, and her delirious plan was unfolding! 

"A shady SUV may or may not be following me, yes," she confirmed, jamming clothes chosen randomly into the suitcase. "But I don't know if it's for me or someone else on the street. It could be tailing anyone. Now that I think about it, it's probably for Mrs. Parvière. That woman must have an endless list of enemies." 

Brooklyn didn't need to know all the details about the potential killer. There was no reason to worry her until Maple had concrete proof and not just words from the sexy lips of an actor. Her best friend had a baking competition to focus on, and Maple had an itinerary to figure out.

"Maple, are you in trouble?"

"No, of course, no! I owe you for the coordinates, Brooke."

A silence followed, during which Brooklyn was probably deciding whether to ignore Maple's poor attempt at switching topics.

"You really do.  Good luck, Maple."

"Good luck with the competition. I know your éclairs will be divine!"

Maple hung up before Brooklyn could bring up the SUV again. She wanted her potential future murder to be solved, hence why she'd send the picture, but until the murder happened, she had a plan to execute. Soothing Brooklyn's worries wasn't part of it. 

Her phone pinged with a message containing coordinates. A quick internet search indicated she had to drive to the nearest airport and take a flight to XXXX, then hop on a smaller flight to XXXX, where she'd rent a car and drive to XXXX. Daphne's house was marked to be in the middle of a lake, starkly located in the middle of nowhere in the North of the province. Brooklyn was right; based on the maps Maple could find online, it seemed no roads led to the lake. She didn't care if she had to hike and swim to that house. Maple would find Daphne Dutrignon no matter what and convince her to return to Betteraves & Betrayals.

With her phone turned back on, she couldn't delay any longer one of the (many) problems facing her. Ignoring the 200+ missed calls she'd accumulated since last night, she started an impromptu video call with her top crew.

The second the call connected, Loretta, Davenport, Maurice, and Cruz spoke simultaneously. All were a different degree of anxiety, going from mild (Davenport, pragmatically reactivating his OnlyFans) to intense (Loretta, sobbing, recalling memories from growing up on set). Was the show over for good? Was Ermet dead? Was Maple the hot, unidentified brunette tabloids captured with Marsha around the clubs last night? (When Maurice scoffed at that, Cruz retorted, "Maple can be hot when she tries.”)

Well, Maple wasn't the mysterious brunette. She also explained the show wasn't dead yet, as she hadn't heard official news from Bobool. (Truth.) She admitted not knowing where Ermet was or if he was still alive, but she hoped he would soon be found. (Half-truth. She wanted him alive, but if the people attempting to kill her were behind Ermet's disappearance, it was possible they'd killed the producer already.)

Finally, she admitted that she had the perfect solution to save the show (truth based on a lie): Daphne Dutrignon was returning to Sobriquet Lake! She had called Maple to voice her support for the show. She requested the showrunner visit her residence before travelling with her back to the Ersweld Included studios. Daphne would argue in person—and win—the case of Betteraves & Betrayals to Bobool's executives. Nobody could resist the soap icon and her legacy with the public. Daphne would convince the powers that be to continue production, with or without Ermet—R.I.P. or C.B.S. (Come Back Soon), and all would be well! Yes, the current situation was stressful, but fear not, Maple Defleuvier had a plan that would work. She was a story seller, and that's what she did, convincing her crew one by one that she had all of this under control. (A mix of truth and lies.)

After thirty minutes of gaslighting her closest collaborators, Maple hung up. She grabbed the pink vest Storm had gifted her last Hanukkah and rolled the suitcase outside the house. She was going North to find Daphne Dutrignon and bring her back to Betteraves & Betrayals if it was the last thing she did.

The SUV was still parked on her street.  Maple glanced at her car, a nondescript electric vehicle she'd bought with her first paycheque from the show. She could drive to the airport and hope whoever was inside the mysterious SUV wouldn't follow her into the clouds. Or she could do something about it once and for all.

She returned to the house, exiting moments later with a perfect replica of Adora's sword from She-Ra And The Princesses of Power. It was "perfect" in every sense of the term, and just like She-Ra's sword, it could slice and kill. (She had bought it with her second showrunner paycheque. With her third paycheque, she'd paid for her part of the house, which had prompted a call from her concerned financial advisor reminding her she had taxes to pay.)

Maple wanted to smash the SUV's windows but opted for a tamer introduction by slashing one of the side mirrors instead. Potential killer or not, she had no time to lose. She had a show to save. Nobody would get in her way.

The mirror fell on the asphalt and splintered.

"Whoever's in there," she shouted, surprised by her bravery in the face of unpredictable danger, "you have two seconds to get out before I do the other side."

The SUV door opened. A familiar face with a broad smile appeared.

"That won't be necessary," Salvatore said, his arms raised above his head. "I surrender."