PADDLE BOARDING & Chapter 41

Hello, alien lovers!

Stop everything you're doing! DID YOU KNOW PADDLE BOARDING WAS SO FUN?

I certainly didn't until I paddle boarded on a lake on Texada Island for the first time ever. I was slightly high on mushrooms, which probably enhanced the experience a little bit, and then lost my sunglasses in the water after I fell, BUT IT WAS ALL WORTH IT.

Paddle boarding is a new passion that I'm unfortunately only discovering a few weeks away from the end of summer. Spacious Summer 2026, here I come!

(Yes, technically I could buy a wetsuit and paddle board in the winter, but ew.)

Welcome to Chapter 41!

This chapter summarized in one gif:

Enjoy!
lunus 🩷

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

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

The desk in Charles' submarine library wasn’t the best place Maple had hidden under. It was too narrow. The old wood creaked every time one of her limbs bumped into it. The best desk to hide under was in her office at the Ersweld Studios. Well, her former office now that she had been fired.

“How long is she going to stay under there?” she heard Daphne ask. 

“Unclear,” Salvatore responded.

Maple could see their legs and feet from her spot on the ground. Salvatore was in black socks next to Daphne’s sparkly platform shoes. 

Daphne’s manicured hand appeared at the corner of Maple’s vision, handing her a chunky satellite phone. “You should call your crew. They will want to hear from you.”

Maple pressed her hands to her eyes as she went through the tornado of thoughts rummaging in her head. Her original lie, Lie Thirty Seven, had been discovered. Her worst nightmares—getting fired and the cancellation of Betteraves & Betrayals—had materialized. Everyone knew she was a liar and a fraud. 

“I can’t,” she said, barely audible. Her voice was weak.

Salvatore sat cross-legged facing her. He stayed silent until Maple felt brave enough to look at him. “I know this isn’t ideal.”

“This is the worst possible outcome,” Maple said, finding comfort in his bright green eyes.

“It’s not over yet,” he said.

“How?” Her voice sounded so frail, laced with despair. “We failed. We wanted to save the show, and we failed.”

Maple winced. She was forever going to be remembered as the radical trans woman who tanked the second chance Betteraves & Betrayals had been given. Nobody would remember the groundbreaking stories she’d fought to bring to life. Bōøbol’s decision to cancel the show and fire her would feed into the narrative carefully crafted by haters since she’d been announced as the new showrunner three years prior. They all wanted to see her fail so they could confirm what they thought of trans people, of Aliens, and more broadly, of diversity, inclusion, and representation. Maple could already read Peyter’s headlines. “Radical Anti-Human Indoctrinator Who Ruined Our Beloved Show Finally Put Out Of Her Misery.” 

She hated that Bōøbol had given an army of bullies such a victory. Getting rid of her was one thing. Maybe she deserved it, after all the lies. But the show deserved to continue without her. Betteraves & Betrayals had existed for over seven decades. Even if the audiences weren’t close to what they’d been during Daphne’s tenure, there were still fans who tuned in every single day. People still wanted to keep up with the Betteraves family and their impossible stories.

“You didn't fail everything,” Daphne declared, sitting down in the armchair across the room. Maple could see most of the actress if she leaned forward enough. “My return to the show was a lie a week ago. It’s not anymore.”

“Daphne’s right,” Salvatore continued, his tone gentle and supportive, mimicking Maple’s when she’d talked to Yellow after his escape from the motel room.“What they have is old news. We can change that now that we’re one step ahead.”

Maple sighed. Could they be right? Was there a way to turn all of this around? 

She crawled back under the desk, in the shadows of the creaking old wood. She brought her knees up and rested her head on them, closing her eyes. She did her best thinking under desks after all. 

A week ago, getting fired would have been the worst thing that could have happened to her. But a lot had changed since then.

She’d survived death more than once. She’d confronted two armies—the mercenaries, helmed by The Professor, and her bullies during that live stream with Peyter. She’d met her icon, Daphne, and after a rough introduction, she’d somehow convinced the actress to put an end to a twenty-year-long isolation. Maple had helped the alien teenagers, and she’d uncovered deep feelings for Salvatore at the same time. The memories of their naked bodies melting into each other were seared in her mind. Her relationship with Salvatore had gone from coworkers to—What? Lovers?—something deeper, where she’d managed to break through his emotional walls.

She had accomplished so much in just a week. Lie Thirty Seven had destroyed her life, but maybe she was strong enough to rebuild a better one—a life where she wouldn’t have to lie anymore. 

There was only one way to make that happen. She was going to need help. 

“Hand me the phone,” Maple said, determination flaring up in her voice. “It’s going to be all-hands on deck if we want a last shot at saving our show.”

Asking for help meant asking for forgiveness first. Many people were probably furious at her, and she owed most of them an apology. Brooklyn, Cynthia, Rosalie, Ermett… and her crew. The people who had stood by her side for the past three tumultuous years, supporting Maple in her vision for a more inclusive show. They hadn’t been easy to charm, and Maple had worked tirelessly to gain their trust over the years. She'd broken it by lying to them, no matter the reasons why she’d done it. She could see that now. Salvatore had broken her trust by hiding his true motives, and even if Maple understood why, it didn’t hurt less. 

Maple held the satellite phone in front of her, leaning against the desk, with Daphne and Salvatore next to her. Daphne was polishing another glass of whisky, and Salvatore was anxiously staring at Maple. If this last hoorah didn’t work, she could—and would—crawl right back under the desk and hide for eternity.

The first person to pick up was Loretta. “Hola?”

Then, Cruz. “Cruz Nimri speaking.”

Loretta acknowledged Cruz as Davenport picked up last, blaring through the phone, “I told you I don’t have your money, Raoul!”

Maple spoke fast. These people had no allegiance to her anymore. She’d have to appeal to them quickly. “Okay, listen everyone, hi. Hello. It’s Maple. You’re on a group call with me, Salvatore—whom you know from the show because he’s an actor in it and we all worked together—” Oh no, she was babbling! Quickly, back on track! “—and Daphne Dutrignon, the one and only who requires no introduction.”

Loretta sighed. “Maple, cariño, we know the truth. We know you’re lying.”

“Yeah, Maple, cut the crap,” snapped Davenport. “You’re not with Daphne Dutrignon. And I’m glad you’re also not Raoul because I really don’t have his money. Do you know how hard it’s been for us, Maple? We’re jobless!”

“Technically, we still all have a job until the series finale. I’m still under contract,” Salvatore chimed in. Maple smiled at him, a silent thank you. Her job was gone, but she could comfort herself knowing her crew still had one.

“Oh, sure,” Davenport retorted, “here comes the millionaire superstar defending the woman who ruined our lives!”

“Davenport, please, let’s stay professional,” cautioned Cruz. 

“Shut the fuck up,” was Davenport’s immediate response, followed by, “Who cares about professionalism? In a month, we’ll be out on the streets, homeless and broke, while Mr. Salvatore and Ms. Liar will be lusting after each other on a yacht somewhere!”

“I won’t be homeless, I own my place,” Loretta protested. “Mi corazón está roto también, but it’s not a reason to behave like this, Davenport.” She paused. Her tone shifted as she said, “Maple, we’re all going through it, and we’d appreciate it if you didn’t waste our time anymore.”

“Loretta is right,” Cruz added. “I don’t want to know why you did what you did. I just want to move on. I… I thought we were friends.” 

“Me too,” came Davenport’s small voice. “You really fucked up, Maple.”

The weight of shame and guilt crushed Maple's heart. She found herself speechless, incapable, and exhausted from defending her twisted actions.

“I agree, Maple fucked up.” Daphne’s voice was sharp despite the exorbitant amount of alcohol she’d swallowed. Cruz, Loretta, and Davenport all gasped.

 “She’s fucked up big time, and she’s a liar all right,” Daphne continued, unperturbed by the reactions her presence on the call had provoked. “Maple lied to me, too. She also broke into my house and fornicated in my dead husband’s library. Then, she did it again in his secret submarine library. Not once has she thanked me for my hospitality or for not shooting her when I had the chance. She’s ungrateful on top of being a lying ass.”

Maple widened her eyes at Daphne. How was this helpful? Had this been Daphne’s plan all along? To ridicule her in front of her crew?

“But—” Daphne raised a finger and burped.

Davenport gasped. “Was that Daphne Dutrignon burping? Fucking iconic.”

“Silence when I speak!” Daphne exclaimed. “Yes, it is I, Daphne Dutrignon speaking. The reason I am here is that your boss made a mistake by lying about my return, and has tried to fix that mistake ever since. I will be returning to the show because even though that woman has soiled my hospitality and my libraries, I never thought someone could be as committed to our show as I am. But she proved me wrong.”

Maple’s eyes locked with Daphne. She wasn’t sure how to express her gratitude to Daphne. After all this time, to receive this validation and support from her was surreal and powerful. Maple nodded at the actress, hoping that her eyes brimming with tears conveyed some of that gratitude. The actress who only blinked in response. 

“What are you saying?” asked Loretta.

Maple smiled, words coming back to her. “What Daphne is saying—”

Everyone but Salvatore shushed her.

Daphne gulped more liquor before she answered. “What I’m saying is that you should give that poor woman another shot. At least professionally. Friendship? Maybe not after she lied to your face so shamelessly. But think about the show. Do it for the legacy of all the work we’ve all poured into it—not just us but people like your mother, Loretta.”

A tremored gasp escaped from Loretta. “You remember my Mama?”

“Of course I do. I remember you, too, running around the set while your Mama was doing my make-up.” Daphne paused to let a slow, elongated burp out. “This show… It’s always been more than just a job for me. It was a family.”

Her eyes met Maple’s, and she gave her a tiny smile. Maple was too stunned to react.

“A family that’s about to disappear,” interrupted Cruz. “Ms. Dutrignon, with all due respect, it might be too late to save the show.”

“It’s never too late to save the things you care about!” Daphne exclaimed, abruptly standing up, her cheeks flushed with liquor. “Betteraves & Betrayals was supposed to disappear twice before. Each time, we beat the odds and came back.”

“What do you mean by ‘twice ’?” asked Davenport. 

Daphne sat back down and inspected her perfectly manicured nails. “None of you would know about this, it was before your time. Loretta’s mom wasn’t even part of the crew yet. But just before I arrived on the show, there were talks of cancellation. Baker Ersweld, Ermett’s father, the main producer at the time, fought back and pushed to introduce Adele as a new character. He’d hoped the tragic storyline planned for Adele would help boost the audience and save the show from cancellation. He was right, albeit not entirely. People loved Adele—they loved me. Audiences skyrocketed. The storyline to kill my character was scrapped. The show stayed at the top for years, and even after my departure, the show went on for twenty more years.” She paused to lubricate her mouth with more liquor. “All I’m saying is, this isn’t the first time we’re in trouble. The show survived it then, and it survived after the cancellation by CBC. It can survive this, too.”

Loretta sighed. “I want to believe we can, but…”

“How?” Cruz continued for her. “How can we save the show now? Bōøbol and Ermett have decided to cancel it.”

“All Baker’s kid cares about is money, just like his dad did,” Daphne said. “We need to convince him there’s still a shit ton to be made.”

“It’s the same for Bōøbol,” Salvatore chimed in. “They care about numbers, that’s the only language these big corporations understand. We just need to deliver.” 

“But how?” Davenport asked. “Even if the finale breaks all records, it’d be a long shot—and there’s no way the finale is going to be good. They’re writing the episode with AI! Nobody’s going to tune in to see that.”

Maple had read the unfortunate announcement of Ōgust taking over her role as writer. As a creative living in the age of AI, she had a lot of feelings about her role being given to a machine and about Ermett’s lack of creative integrity. That Bōøbol, a mysterious sci-fi streamer with opaque internal operations, resorted to such a move was disappointing, albeit not surprising. They were using the show to push their own agenda, which apparently leaned towards creating AI content for their platform. But Maple couldn’t help but feel betrayed by Ermett’s lack of belief in the creative system. Daphne was right—just like his father, he only cared about money. Maple had hoped their shared history would have encouraged Ermett to fight for her, or at least for the creative vision she’d tried to implement in the show. The delegation to an AI to write the finale episode was proof she’d been mistaken about Ermett's dedication to her vision and to the show at large.

“We have a plan,” Maple said tentatively. “But we can’t do it without your help.”

She was glad that for the first time in a long time, “we” had replaced “I.” Maple was tired of holding the weight of the show’s survival on her shoulders alone. She didn’t have to anymore, thanks to Daphne and Salvatore. She was realizing that maybe she never needed to in the first place. She had wanted to prove to everyone she was capable and wasn’t “too young” or “too inexperienced” or “too trans” or “too pro-Aliens” to succeed. But she had tried to hold on to all the pieces by herself, which had proved to be an impossible task that had driven her to madness and to lying to all the wrong people. Her crew had never been the enemy, and if Maple had realized that earlier, and if she’d consulted with them first, maybe she would have never had to utter Lie Thirty Seven in the first place.

“I know you have no reason to trust me,” Maple continued, picturing the faces of Davenport, Cruz, and Loretta as she spoke. “But I’m not doing this alone anymore. Salvatore is with me, and Daphne is, too. If you join us, then we’ll have a real shot at saving our show. Together.” 

Silence welcomed her declaration.

It stretched and was only interrupted by Daphne’s swigs at the whisky bottle. Their plan was risky, complicated, and would only work if everyone was on board. The future of Betteraves & Betrayals wasn’t just in Maple’s hands anymore. It was in the hands of all the people who had contributed to its success for the past decades.

“Do we get unlimited autographs from Daphne if we accept?” Davenport asked, hopeful. “In case your plan doesn’t work, I can sell them online. My OnlyFans has been very slow to pick up.” 

“I’ll subscribe to your OnlyFans,” Cruz said hastily. “Just tell me the handle, and—” 

“I’m in.” Loretta’s voice was decisive. “I owe it to my Mama to try everything I can to save her legacy. Ms Dutrignon, you’re right. This has been more than just work for my family. It gave my mother a chance when no one else would. She was fresh off the boat and barely spoke a word of English. Betteraves & Betrayals gave her a good life, and it gifted me the same. So, yes, I’m in.”

“Same for me.” Cruz cleared his throat. Was he getting emotional? Maple placed a hand on her chest, holding her tears at bay. “I… I wouldn’t be anything without this show. Of course, I wish Maple hadn’t lied, but we all make mistakes. I made a lot of mistakes with the people I love, like with Dav—”

“Ugh, fine, I guess I’m in, too,” Davenport cut him off. “ I have lots of talents, including porn, of course, but I’d rather do make-up. I was meant for big things, and this job is my only shot at winning a Soapy Awards for Best Make-up. I’ve had my speech written for years. It’d be a shame not to use it.”

Maple let out a sigh of relief. She wanted to jump into Salvatore’s arms and celebrate the great news with him. However, she was given a second chance, and she wouldn’t let it be wasted. She needed to win back everyone's trust to save the show. Salvatore was a distraction she could no longer afford.

 “Great!” Daphne clapped her hands, then burped again. “Let’s go save this motherfucking show then, shall we?”