tmwillson3

~~Monday~~ "Hello, you've reached the Love Shack! Sugar Plum speaking. How may I make your love dreams a reality?" Her voice is as bubbly as ever, and Bog can't wait to crush all hope within her at the end of this week. After a long pause, he gruffly responds, "Plum."  He smirks when he hears her muffled gasp; she remembers his voice. Perfect.  As he casually leans back in his leather office chair, he can't hide the sarcasm. "So good of you to answer my phone call after I've been trying to reach you for the last two months. I'm sure you have the money you owe the bank now." "You, you didn't call from your office," she stammers, her voice small. He grins wider; never has he enjoyed being evil more. "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result." He pauses before he airily adds, "Not that you could tell me that since your whole business is founded on insanity and false promises, so I'm not surprised that you're still bankrupt." "Who said I was?" she responds indignantly, much louder now. This is more like her.  It doesn't change how he feels or speaks. She's just upset that he is going to have the final say, and he's excited to rub it in her face. He's been waiting five years to exact his revenge on Plum, and now he will. This pink-loving, annoying, lie-peddling fairy of a woman hasn't made a payment in months, and now it's his time to shine. He'll stomp on in with his trusty staff (he likes fighting, and it scares everyone since it was gnarly) and close her down at last. His two tellers-turned tax associates-turned friends, Stuff and Thang, are at his door, watching with figurative popcorn as he uses Thang's phone, and when they see him lean forward with satisfaction, they jump backward, recognizing that look.  Bog King is about to gleefully ruin someone's life.  It's all a part of the business. He helps co-own Dark Forest Bank, a small, independent bank, with his mother, and it's his job to be the bad guy, getting the money owed and making sure they stay afloat.  He loves being the bad guy. He hates chasing after so many people and barely getting by since people are slowly leaving their bank for larger institutions with more options. It's people like Plum who make him seriously consider leaving the banking industry and do his first love, taxes, because he's also tired of dealing with these people. He just wants to play with numbers all day.  He flashes his friends a knowing look, used to saying these words to others. "You haven't sent any money my way, and since you've been reading all of my friendly email reminders, you know that you owe me money by Friday, or else I'm shutting you down permanently…and you know how much I'm looking forward to doing that." Everyone who hears him say such things always tells him that he has a black heart, and he likes to joke that it is as dark and menacing as his office, just the way he prefers it. The room in question contains three black leather chairs, a mahogany desk, and countless shrubs and small trees. He likes his dark/gray and earthy tones because it reminds him of his favorite place to be: the forest.  "Because you don't want anyone to be happy or to find love, you vengeful, evil man!" Plum protests, something slamming in the background.  "Yes." He smiles because he is proud of his disdain for love; she made him like that, so she should know. "Because I'm evil…my middle name is misery, and I want it to be yours since you ruined all my chances for love and happiness. I wear the moniker of evil proudly " "You don't understand," she wheedles, sounding like she has countless other times.  "No, you don't," he rumbles, growing louder. His friends back away slowly. "You're a quack, and the sooner you stop this cash grab taking advantage of weak people, the better. I'm doing the world a favor." "But, but the world needs hope and love and–" "The world needs to wake up to reality," he interrupts, pinching his nose. "Just like you do. All you want to do is cause more chaos and broken hearts. At the close of business on Friday, I intend to visit your little ol' shack in the middle of nowhere and deliver your foreclosure notice personally." He winces at himself for even mentioning the song lyrics used in the commercial for Plum's terrible excuse for a business. Already he knows that his friends will make fun of him for breaking his own rule.  "There'll be no need," she insists primly. "I'll have the money. You'll see. So go take your trouble elsewhere." He pulls out the foreclosure notice he made especially for her, and excitement fills him as he lays it carefully on his desk. "We'll see. If you're lookin' for trouble, you came to the right place. Good bye." At least he is trying to make references to better songs; Plum's taste in music is poor, if her ad music is any indication.  Once he hangs up, he tosses the phone to Thang, who scrambles forward, clumsily juggles the phone, and then drops the thing. He's slim with light brown hair, but Bog is thinner yet, with dark, almost black brown hair that he doesn't style.  "Whoops, sorry, should go eat my mushrooms," rambles Thang, bending before straightening. "All's well that ends well, right, boss?" He grins as he adds, "So I guess you're excited to visit that funky little shack with its rusted tin roof in a few days?" Bog sighs, knowing this was coming. "Of course I'm excited, but no annoying pop song references!" Stuff snickers as he shakes a finger at Thang, and both pale in silence as he stands, showing how much taller he is. "Especially anything related to Plum. You weren't there with me at that hellsite, and if you were, you'd hate it, too. Get out and take your poor taste in music with you." With a groan, Bog sits and glances at the manila folder sitting on the corner of his desk. If he signs it and convinces his mother to do so, she could retire, and he'd have enough money from being bought out that he could start his own tax business. The pair bicker at the doorway like an old couple, and Bog wonders yet again why they always insist on arguing in his doorway. Based on how Stuff keeps saying that she'll handle "it" and tell him, he's guessing that they're discussing work stuff. "Yes?" he finally intones, tired of it all.  "Boss," calls out Thang after Stuff suddenly tells him to say it. "What happens if Plum defaults?" Boss closes his eyes and winces. "Then we're going to have to do a lot more tax returns for our current members to stay afloat, or take on additional clients quietly. Or I just sell out and escape all this." "And if she does somehow get the money?" continues Thang, backing away slowly.  "Then we scrape by and don't have to do more since we did so much during tax season…or I could still sell and not deal with her and her annoyingly happy smugness anymore," says Bog, sitting up. "Either way, selling out grows more appealing by the day, even if this was my dad's dream." "You should talk to Griselda about that," suggests Stuff, giving him a worried look.  "And let her give me yet another lecture about why she doesn't have any grand babies yet? No thank you," mumbles Bog emphatically, making the other two laugh.  "I'm just saying…you may be wrong about this place, love, and pop music," responds Stuff before she leaves with Thang.  "That's ridiculous," he replies, shaking his head. "Next you'll tell me that someone exists out there who actually likes fencing and my type of music. You're as bad as my mother. Go take your talk of love elsewhere before it rots my brain further or becomes even more dangerous. Come talk to me when you're ready to have a serious conversation." He's left alone for the rest of his day, just as he likes it. No matter how much he dismisses most of what Stuff says, though, he still schedules a meeting with his mother.  —---------- Since it's Monday night, Marianne is at her weekly fencing practice with her private coach. One day soon, she'll be ready to join the private fencing club and kick some butt. Until then, she grunts and practices in her specially designed room with her coach, pretending that her coach is Roland so she can take out all her anger on this woman instead.  They're in the midst of practicing with her blindfolded when her doorbell rings. When the door opens soon after, Marianne knows it must be either Dawn or her father since they're the only ones with keys to her house, and based on the heavy footfalls and lack of sing-song voice, it must be her father.  Seconds later, her assumption is verified. "Marianne!" "I'm kind of busy," she replies, motioning to her rapier.  "This will only take a moment," he insists, his voice growing louder and closer. "Please." She lifts her blindfold and faces him, noting the concern in his wrinkled face. "Okay. What is it?" He points at her with his usual imperious look that he reserves for running the family business. "The annual summer debutante ball is tomorrow night. I want you–" With a full-bodied laugh, she throws her head back in amusement. "After the last few balls that I've attended? Are you kidding me?" she asks dismissively, going back to trading blows with her coach.  She remembers her first debutante ball well; that was the night she met Roland, the beginning of all her problems. He was fresh from college with his MBA, with shiny, golden locks and a smile that fooled all, especially her family.  Within a year of meeting him, they were engaged, and he was working side by side with her to help her prepare to take over the business for her father when he retired. It was the day before the wedding, though, that she was running some numbers at work and realized that they had lost a significant amount of money due to a suggestion from Roland (and somehow it ended up all in his bank account), so she left to ask him about it.  But she never asked him.  "Marianne, you're a unique girl." Her father sounds a little meeker now thankfully. "Roland may have a few flaws–" "That's an understatement," she scoffs, shaking her head and swinging harder.  She still remembers that fateful day so clearly.  She had rushed over to Roland's apartment, having a key even if he always visited her. The place was in the pricier part of town, but surprisingly, his door was open and slightly ajar. She cautiously entered, worried that someone had robbed him, only to discover an absolute pigsty. Moving faster, she rushed past the kitchen to the bedroom, only to come to a screeching halt.  There sat Roland, half-naked and sitting on his bed, passionately kissing another woman.  "Don't worry, honey bunny," he whispered between kisses. "As soon as I'm married, I'll buy you whatever you want. Another apartment, jewels, clothing, you name it. I'll get the money without question and not have to siphon it away like I currently do." "You monster!" cried Marianne, picking up a frying pan with dried egg bits in it and throwing it at his head. "The wedding's off." She barely made it out of the apartment's parking lot when her favorite playlist started, Panic! At The Disco's "I Write Sins Not Tragedies" blaring.  "What a shame the poor groom's bride is a whore." Marianne busted out laughing. "Rather the opposite here, but close enough. I dodged that bullet. I mean, technically, our marriage is saved." She raised her hand in salute. "Well, this calls for a toast, so pour the champagne." Within an hour of getting home, she was belligerent and drunk, and she had managed to set everything from Roland on fire in her fireplace while singing Dionne Warwick and declaring how she would never fall in love again.  She has hated Roland ever since; the only thing she hates just as much is pop music. It reminds her too much of him.   "But he still loves you!" insists her father, moving to face her with a pleading look.  "He loves our money and his hair, and not in that order," she grouses, waving him away.  "But if not Roland, then who?" he asks, now confused and worried as he stands there helplessly. "There has to be someone else." "No, there doesn't," she returns, blocking a few more thrusts.  "Let it go, Dad," she requests for the millionth time, pursing her lips.  "You'll be a stronger business owner with a partner at your side," he states with more force.  Once upon a time, that would have made her stop in her tracks. Now, she's heard it enough times that she's tired of hearing it. "I'm stronger alone," she proclaims, striking again and getting the final point.  She turns around just in time to see his shoulders droop, sadness filling his features. "I don't want you to be alone," he says, speaking from experience.  Her mother died soon after Dawn was born, and her father never remarried since he was so devoted to her. It's so rare he shows his sorrow, so it still shocks her to see it. He's always walked, talked, and acted like a proper Southern gentleman, so there was very little discussion of emotions growing up. This is about as close as she will get for another year.  Understanding the gravity of the situation and why he has pushed her so much in the last year, she approaches carefully. "Dad, I promise that if I find a guy out there who takes my hand, looks me in the eye, and I don't want to hit him, I'll consider him." She places both hands on his shoulders. "But that guy doesn't exist." He sighs in resignation, knowing that with her stubbornness, this is as good as it's going to get. With a nod, he accepts that, and then he makes another request with a pleading look. "Then help me keep an eye on that flirtatious sister of yours." Dawn, oh, Dawn. She is the light and life of the family, a literal ray of sunshine, the eternal optimist, and the most boy-crazy lady there is. She's also far too trusting; her only saving grace is that she has Sunny for her best friend. He's from the wrong side of the tracks and doesn't make much money, so their dad doesn't approve, but he knows everyone and is devoted to Dawn.  Unfortunately, Dawn is oblivious to his love, so instead he acts as her wingman, trying to set her up with guys and enabling her boy-crazy ways.  Marianne has zero desire to attend the ball, but she knows she needs to keep an eye out for any other players or douchebags like Roland. Gritting her teeth, she glares at her father but gives him the slightest of nods, leading him to embrace her. "That's my girl," he says gratefully. "Thank you." "But if Roland appears, I'm leaving," she warns.  Her father smiles before leaving. "Of course." —------Tuesday------- Marianne regrets coming to the ball within five minutes of arriving.  There are too many stuffy people, ridiculous dresses, and judgemental looks being thrown her way. She had always been a tomboy and never quite fit in with the other debutantes that had been her friends, so she used to have insecurities about not being good or pretty enough. Dating Roland had been a weird set of contrasts: she thought she was more secure with him but in truth, he made her more insecure. It was only afterward as she embraced everything she had loved and had been told was not ladylike or appropriate by Roland that she realized she was more than enough and did not need a man. She's different and proud to be so now.  In that way, she ought to thank Roland for waking her up. She learned to love and respect herself, and she finally learned how to fence and fight so that she could beat up Roland. Even now, she enters in a purple cocktail dress (no more of those big, fancy Southern Belle dresses that are impossible to walk in, thank you very much), carrying a family heirloom sword at her side; thankfully enough people have questioned her to know that she won't hurt a soul.  "Marianne, follow me. It's your sister," says her father, taking her arm.  She's not surprised that he tries coaching her to smile more until she finally tells him that she is smiling and happy.  "I hope you're happy enough to dance with your father," he replies seriously.  "Or…someone even better," interrupts a familiar voice, making her gasp.   She should have known it was a terrible idea to warn her father that she planned to leave if she saw Roland; sadly her father still has the wool pulled over his eyes by the sweet talk of Roland despite all the money being gone and never returned and must have warned the lying pig.  There at the bottom of the stairs is Roland, and one of his cronies closes the door behind her, forcing her to stay a little longer. No matter. Maybe she'll finally get to use her blade on Roland.  Roland swirls about dramatically before commencing to sing in his horribly off voice, "Honey came in, and she caught me red-handed creeping with the girl next door." "Roland! You cannot be serious. This song?" Marianne grumbles, glaring at Roland.  Ever since she broke off the engagement, Roland has tried to weasel his way back in. If it weren't for her father begging her not to, she would have filed a restraining order by now. She's tempted now. Her father winces at the image of Roland naked; does the guy have no shame? Still, the jerk drones on. "Gonna tell her that I'm sorry for the pain that I've caused–" "I'm still waiting for that apology," she calls brightly with a big, fake smile.  He rushes up to her and tries to kiss her, so she elbows him in the stomach and kicks him in the groin. It's the best feeling ever, especially when it stops his singing momentarily.  Nonetheless, he plows on like a fly in search of dung, and he smells like he's been playing in it. "You may think that I'm a player, but you're completely lost. That's why I sing." "You are a player!" she cries over his singing. "And a liar, a cheater, and more!" He doesn't stop, though, laser-focused on her until the end. "All this time she was standing there. She never took her eyes off me." He looks smug, as though pleased that she is still listening to him. She's never seen anything so pathetic or annoying. "Hey, it was only one little mistake," he says airily with a careless shrug.  "Little?" she repeats, stomping toward him. "You got a lot of nerve coming in here." Roland always had poor taste in music, preferring some really awful or silly pop music. Ever since the breakup, though, she has embraced her quirky tastes, as well as immersed herself in Taylor Swift and Kelly Clarkson.  If he's going to sing, then she's going to sing right back at him in his face about how much she doesn't need him. At this point, she's already embarrassed herself; she can't muck things up any worse.  Pointing a finger at Roland's chest, she sings, "You think you got the best of me. Think you've had the last laugh. Bet you think that everything good is gone." "Now, now, Marianne," he stammers, starting to lose his cool. "Think you left me broken down. Think that I'll come running back. Baby, you don't know me, 'cause you're dead wrong." She pauses for dramatic effect before pushing him to the floor. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Stand a little taller." He crawls backward, and she kicks the air triumphantly before turning away. "Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone." "But–" She faces Roland again, fists at the ready. "What doesn't kill you makes a fighter. Footsteps even lighter. Doesn't mean I'm over 'cause you're gone." "It wasn't me," he denies, and she charges toward him, a hand at her sword.  "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, stronger. Just me, myself and I." She sings, and he keeps on denying it, as though repeating the lie will somehow make it true. He sees her anger, though, so he keeps on retreating toward the only door in the ballroom, and she chases him there.  It's only when his back is against the door that she finishes by singing, "Thanks to you I got a new thing started. Thanks to you I'm not the broken hearted. Thanks to you I'm finally thinkin' 'bout me. You know in the end the day you left was just my beginning." Lunging forward, she yanks the door open and shoves him out. "And now it's time to say goodbye!" With a satisfying slam, she notes that his fancy, green cloak is stuck in the door, eventually getting ripped as Roland tries to escape. Turning around, she faces her father and Dawn. "Now that was fun!" Her father looks like he wants to facepalm, and Dawn's staring at her feet, no longer flirting with men.  "Well, that was awkward," says Dawn before facing the crowd. "So who wants to dance? I wanna dance with somebody." —------- As the string quartet restarts, Roland bemoans his ruined garment, only to have the door slammed in his face by his lackeys. "Well, Marianne slammed him really good, didn't she?" "Yeah, he'll never own that company now." "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" grits out Roland, staring at them.  "Nope! Long live Roland, the most cunning businessman there is! You just need to go visit that Love Shack on the highway with Marianne–" Roland roars in their faces, "Are you saying that I need help to win Marianne?!" "No, no!" shouts one of them. "Just kidding. It was just a joke. Bye!" And the three disappear, leaving him steaming. After he does his usual breathing and visualization exercises, he has calmed down, only for the door to slam in his face once more. As the shorter man stares longingly at Dawn while she belts out Whitney Houston, Roland gets an idea.  "Are you alright there, little guy?" he asks, not remembering his name.  "Yes, I am…no," groans the short, elf-like guy, closing his eyes in despair. "Hey, I know exactly how you feel," he says, trying to win the little dude over. He almost loses his cool at being reminded of his earlier failure, but soon he is fake-crying a short distance away, short stuff nearby to comfort him. "I wish there was a way to make her fall in love with me," fake-sobs Roland, hiding his eyes. "Yeah, me too," admits the other guy, glancing at Dawn.  "Like I don’t know, maybe something like the Love Shack," continues Roland, grinning and patting his back as the dwarf repeats the magic words. "Great idea!" "It is a great idea, except it'll never work!" exclaims the Debbie Downer, throwing up his hands. "The Love Shack is two hours away, and we'll never convince the ladies to drive that far alone with us, especially Marianne." "Then we will bring others. Don't worry about Marianne; I'll convince her through her father to go," explains Roland confidently, standing. "He always listens to me." "While Dawn may want to go to the famous Love Shack, Marianne would never willingly step foot in that place," reminds the little man, whose concern is waved off by Roland. "Of course not. That's why we tell her and the rest that we're going to Six Flags for the weekend," says Roland, quite happy now that a plan has formed in his mind. "I'll rent a big car that can seat about twenty, and you bring the jukebox money." He falls to his knees. "Please do this with me. It's the only way we can both convince our girls that we love them. Say you'll make the reservation for this weekend, please?" "Sure, I can do that," agrees the guy at last, and Roland rejoices that he won't have to spend any more money that he doesn't have.  "That would be perfect! Then we both can use the Love Shack and get what we want! C'mere, man!" cries Roland, trying to embrace him, only for him to wiggle away. "No thanks. I'll call tomorrow. How many others will we invite?" "My three best friends and three other friends of the girls; that'll look legit," decides Roland, and they part ways. —------Wednesday—---- Sugar Plum loves love. Everything about it. Seeing people with stars in their eyes, watching them fall in love, listening to people sing their hearts out. Love is a grand adventure that she hopes everyone can experience with her help.  Sadly, ever since Bog King came to visit and left his awful review, few people have visited her lovely little shack. It feels as though he's put a curse on the place, locking her away from doing what she loves. It's a shame, really.  Just as she's beginning to despair about losing her shack, she gets a call early in the morning. "Hello, you've reached the Love Shack! Sugar Plum speaking. How may I make your love dreams a reality?" The only thing she loves more than love is pink; it's why her entire room and shack decor are in shades of pink and red. Pulling out a hot pink pen and notebook, she stares hopefully at the salmon receiver.  "Hi, my name is Sunny. Do you have any openings this weekend?" She could dance a jig, as happy as she is! "As a matter of fact, I do! When can you arrive, and how many do you expect to be joining me this weekend? I want to make sure I have the very best accommodations for you when you get here!" she says, writing down his name and number. "There will be ten of us. Is that too many?" he asks, and she pumps a fist in excitement.  If everyone ends up finding love, that would be just enough money to cover what she owes to Dark Forest Bank. Take that, Evil Goblin Overlord! "Not at all!" she chirps happily. "I've got plenty more space if you decide to bring anyone else! Now, is there a certain someone who's coming this weekend that you're…particularly interested in so I can try to help you?" she asks sweetly.  After Sunny explains Dawn and then Roland and Marianne, he gives her half the cost upfront, giving her some help for buying food and having some money ready for Bog. After they hang up, she joyfully cleans the place, doing cartwheels and singing her heart out as she ponders ways to help Sunny.  Based on the rather dubious and distrustful description of that Roland fellow, she doesn't think she'll be helping him. If anything, she'll try to distract him and convince Marianne to go elsewhere. But first matters first. She would meet them all and then decide how best to pair them off.  In the meantime, she has a special phone call to make.  "Dark Forest Bank. How may I help you, Plum? Ready to sign your deed away to me?" She titters. If only she could convince him to come visit whole other women were there. "No. As a matter of fact, I've called to request an extension. I just had a party of ten make a reservation for the weekend, which would cover all that you need. Could you please visit my place of business on Sunday?" "No can do–" "Please?" she begs, drawing out the word. "Just a couple more days?" She's about to say more, but then a muffled female voice that sounds like Griselda whispers harshly to her son.  "Fine," agrees Bog eventually, and Sugar dances in her seat. "But with one condition: I'm allowed to show up at any time to inspect the proceedings." Jackpot. Smirking, she rubs her hands in anticipation. "Come as early or late as you want. I'll be ready to host you. Until the weekend!" If there's any possibility at all that Bog arrives on Friday, she fully intends to pair him off. With some bad weather promising close quarters, it's just a matter of finding the perfect girl… —----Friday—----- "C'mon, Marianne! We are wasting daylight, Buttercup. It's time to go to Six Flags!" whines Roland, much to her displeasure.  "You can always leave without me!" she tries one more time, still not happy about going on this sudden trip. "I hear there's a really terrible thunderstorm heading that way." Unlike Dawn the heavy packer with two full suitcases, Marianne has one duffel bag for the weekend ahead. Ignoring all of the years of debutante training that she was forced to do, she stomps forward, bag and blade popping up as she strides purposely to Roland. She is determined to lay down some ground rules before leaving as Dawn leans casually over Marianne's jeep, chatting freely with Sunny.  "No can do, Buttercup! I already told the weather that it is not allowed to rain on our parade. You two sisters are the most important part of this trip, so you are going!" insists Roland, spreading his arms wide. Once she is close, he reaches toward her, looking smug. "Of course, I knew you would come–" "Which is exactly why I am driving myself, Dawn, and Sunny. You can take everyone else in that giant monstrosity–" "Hey, my Chrysler is pretty sweet, okay?" He motions dramatically. "It seats about twenty–" Why does that phrase sound familiar? It sits in the pit of her stomach, but she can’t place why.  She cuts him off with a hand gesture. "That's over exaggeration, as per your usual lying. Get over yourself. I refuse to drive with you because I don't trust you. And because of that, I have another important rule before we start this trip,"  "Anything to make you happy, Buttercup," says Roland with a too-large smile, twirling his gold locks and failing to impress her anymore.  One day she'll prove it's a wig or else find some way to absolutely tarnish his hair. Chewing gum sounds better by the day… "Since it's a busy highway and amusement park, we stick together no matter what," she intones. "You got it? If one needs to stop, we both do. No one goes wandering off alone. And if the weather gets bad, we pull off to the side of the road; I don't want you to cause another accident because you're too cocky." "You got it, Sweet Pea. You look so cute when you give silly rules like that," coos Roland, enraging her as he salutes her. "We always stick together, even in bad weather." With a shove at his chest, she leaves, stopping Sunny from failing at flirting yet again as she tells her two passengers to get inside.  Rolands quiets the rest of the group by stepping in front of them. "I'll lead the pack. C'mon gang! Hop in my Chrysler. It's as big as a whale, and it's about to set sail!" Again, why does that phrase set off alarm bells in her mind? Marianne is concerned as he waves everyone inside, and she grumpily buckles in, glaring at Roland with hunched shoulders.  "Are you two going to get settled back there or not?" she barks at the pair in the back as Sunny tries to find Dawn's charging cord in his bag.  "Marianne, chill! It's just Six Flags, not your doom," responds Dawn, waving her hand. "Nothing's going to happen this weekend. Sunny has personally assured me that it will be a good, fun weekend of bonding." "That's what I'm afraid of," grumbles Marianne, sighing as the two find cookies instead of buckling up. "Forced bonding with Roland. It's an even number. I refuse to be near him longer than necessary." "It'll be fine," assures both Dawn and Sunny.  "So you say…and then he forces me to get close to him since he knows I don't like heights," insists Marianne, not trusting Roland.  "You won't let Roland do that, right?" asks Dawn, turning a pleading look to Sunny. "I want Marianne to have fun this weekend." "I promise I won't let him do anything bad like that," vows Sunny, noting how Dawn's lips are still trembling. Softly, he begins singing his favorite song, "Don't worry 'bout a thing…cause every little thing is gonna be alright." The next hour and a half is spent singing to all of Marianne's music as she follows behind speed demon Roland, and nothing really bothers her until a pink nightmare of a billboard on the side of the road appears. "What's that faded eyesore of a sign say?" asks Marianne, squinting as her car nears it. "It's so…glittery." "I was going to say pink, but that works, too," chimes in Sunny, scratching his head. "It's more pink than I expected." His word choice strikes Marianne as odd, but she lets it go. "I think it's beautiful! A fine, old work of art," declares Dawn happily, leaning out the window to snap a selfie with the gaudy thing. Of course Dawn would love it…half of her wardrobe is baby blue and pastels, and the other half is pink. Today is no exception, a blue tank with hot pink lipstick and shorts. Sunny prefers his earthy greens for the shorts and t-shirt, as it's hot as an oven outside Atlanta.  "It's the first sign we've seen in a little bit, and it's a little over dramatic for my taste," decides Marianne, ready to dismiss it as she shakes her head and focuses on the looming, dark gray storm clouds ahead.  "Nonsense! It has an important message to share," replies her sister as she reviews the image on her smartphone, smiling at the result. "It says, 'Fifteen miles to the Love Shack!' Can you believe it?" She practically squeals the last part, and Marianne wants to cover her ears. "Are you trying to tell me that that stupid song you used to sing is actually based on a real place?"  The disdain in her voice makes Sunny cringe and nod sadly, but Dawn doesn't seem to notice as she grins and positively vibrates in her seat.  "It sure is! It's the mythical Love Shack!" says Dawn, pointing ahead. "We're less than fifteen minutes from it, and you can already see the glitter on the highway and grass." She leans forward until her head is almost in line with Marianne's, her eyes wide ajd pleading. "I hear it makes all your dreams of love a reality! Can we visit it? Please?" "No. Absolutely not. I never want to visit it," replies Marianne, glaring at her sister. "Love is a lie used to manipulate people and keep them weak." "But Marianne–" "Maybe just a brief stop?" requests Sunny, eyeing her pleadingly as well, and Marianne stares at him.  "No. Not unless forced, which we could be if this storm moves any faster, " says Marianne, turning her gaze to the front windshield.  Minutes later, a thunderstorm warning blasts over everyone's phones, hail and other nastiness imminent, and Marianne starts to worry.  "We have bigger concerns right now, like possibly finding cover. Sunny, if it gets worse, I may need you to call Roland," states Marianne as the sky darkens significantly.  A few miles later, just as she's starting to fear the beginning of the rain, Roland calls Sunny out of the blue. At first, Marianne is surprised that Roland would think of her in her ceiling-less jeep and want to look for whatever cover came first, but she is quickly saved from that trouble. "Hey, ah, Sunny, could you let Buttercup know that I'm dangerously low on gas? I need to stop at the next place we see to get gas, or else this big beauty won't make it," says Roland, and Marianne rolls her eyes. "Roland, you idiot! Why would you do that? How many miles do you have left?" she asks, baffled when he tells her maybe twenty. Now, she's screaming angrily. "Why didn't you look sooner? We just passed gas twenty minutes ago! This could have been avoided!" "Relax, Buttercup…didn't you say you wanted to stop if the weather got too bad? Right now, I would say it is looking pretty grim and bad for roller coasters, so we might as well stop and enjoy some fresh, country air while I fill up," explains Roland, making her scowl. Oh, how she wishes that she hadn't made those rules. Then she could just go home now.  "Where's the nearest gas?" she asks after a long, reluctant pause.  "Why, lucky for us, only a couple miles ahead, at the next exit. I think I see the station now," answers Roland, sounding not concerned at all. "It's a little, old place where we can get together. Follow me!" With a growl, she agrees and ends the call, preparing to leave the highway. Something about what he is saying is bothering her again, and she can't put her finger on it. The problem is that the blue sign that should list gas stations has none listed on it, so now she is even more suspicious as they get off the highway and find no gas station.  Instead, all they see is glitter. Everywhere. Sparkling despite the storms, and the shine intensifies the further they go. "I don't like this," mutters Marianne, and Sunny starts to pale. Each time she expresses her concern, the more quiet and troubled Sunny looks. Dawn is taking too many photos of the glitter to care. It's as Marianne reflects on what Roland was saying last that a sneaking suspicion hits her, especially considering how nervous and guilty Sunny is acting.  "Dawn, was Roland quoting the Love Shack song before we left and then on the call?" asks Marianne, wanting confirmation.  Sunny's gulp and blush says it all, making her furious. Sunny knows this is the plan all along, doesn't he? But why? How could he betray her like that? It's as he gazes longingly at her sister that she realizes why Sunny would play along.  "Yes! I recognized the words, but I didn't recall just then what he was referring to." Dawn taps her chin in thought, blond curls bouncing with the bumps on the road. "I wonder if he knew we were going to pass by this place. But considering how close we are to the Love Shack now, we should visit it, right? Maybe it can give us shelter from this incoming storm!" With the darkness now above them, the rain could occur any moment now, and frankly, Marianne would do just about anything to avoid getting her passengers and herself injured/soaked. It doesn't mean she has to go inside the Love Shack, but shelter for the rest would be nice.  Luckily, just as it starts to rain, the trees recede, revealing a large, open field. Set way back in the middle of the field is what must be the Love Shack. The song says it's just a funky old shack, and it's right on both counts. The state of the weatherbeaten boards in disrepair show how old the building is, and funky is the best way to describe a building painted entirely in glittery, flamingo-pink paint.  "Argh, of course Roland pulls down the driveway for this place! I should have known! You're both trying to trick us! Why would you bring us to this death trap in the middle of a storm, Sunny?" demands Marianne, glaring at the old friend through the rear view mirror. "I trusted you!" "Marianne, please, it's not like that," he tries, hands together in a pleading motion. "I'm sorry–" "It's not a big deal, Marianne, sheesh," interjects Dawn, patting Sunny's shoulder warmly. She shrugs. "So we get delayed. This will be a fun place to stay while we wait for the storm to end. I've always wanted to go here; this is a great surprise!" She smiles warmly at Sunny, and he has the grace to look away in embarrassment, guilt written all over his face. She continues on, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you for arranging this, Sunny! Now I'm sure to find the right man for me." The urge to slap her face or pinch her nose in light of Dawn's naivete has never been stronger. "Dawn, take your hands off him," growls Marianne, giving them both a dark look until Dawn complies. "Think about this: are any of the boys you're interested in going on this trip? Nathan, Aaron, Benjamin, Charles, Darren?" With a gasp, Dawn removes her hand from Sunny and stares in surprise. "No, you're right!" "Now, be honest, Sunny…did you already have a reservation for the Love Shack for this weekend, putting down money even?" asks Marianne, needing to know the truth so that she's prepared and Dawn realizes the gravity of the situation.  "Yes, I did," he admits, hanging his head sadly.  Dawn is floored, unable to move for several moments. When she wakes up, she scoots away from him as much as she can. "B-but why, Sunny?" The kicked puppy dog look on Dawn's face says everything, and Marianne knows she has made her point. Better yet, Sunny looks absolutely wrecked, knowing he caused this. Sunny was in Dawn's class in school, and he's been in love with her almost as long. Marianne saw it on day one of meeting him, and ever since he stepped in front of a big bully for Dawn, Marianne has respected and trusted him around her sister.  This brings him down in her estimation, but she has a sinking feeling why. Just as she's about to speak, Sunny turns redder than a tomato.  Clearing his voice, he gulps loudly. "Because, because I, oh bother, because I like," he stammers, still not having the courage to speak the truth.  Dawn is completely oblivious, as usual. Her eyes widen in shock, and Marianne takes pity on him.  "You think that's why, but you can say the real truth: Roland put you up to this, didn’t he? Because he wants to get back with me, right?" "Yes," confirms Sunny, making it imperative for her not to stay. She has to leave after dropping off these two. They should make up after Sunny asks for forgiveness, and then finally date. It's long overdue in Marianne's mind.  "I hope you never listen to or trust that lying pig again," she tells him, giving him a serious look.  The nod he gives in return tells her everything she needs to know; he feels remorse and regrets everything now. Good.  The car goes silent, so Marianne puts on the theme song of the place they're being forced to visit while getting rained on. At this point, she doubts that Roland even has a low gas tank. Instead of focusing on him, though, she takes in her mortal enemy: the Love Shack. A special love potion to try to get her to fall in love with Roland, and she refuses to play that game.  She doesn't even know why people would want to visit such an ugly place. The grass is not cut, and the bushes around the front are all wild with their large, varying shapes. The area in front of the shack is empty save the sidewalk connecting the driveway to the front porch, and there appears to be games and stuff behind the building.  But she has no intention of discovering any of this. She devises a plan as she drives and parks, so of course she orders Sunny to carry in all the luggage. Dawn doesn't leave the car nor help like she usually does, still staring with a strange look at Sunny.  As soon as he is out of earshot, Marianne turns to her sister. "Now's our chance. We can leave now. You coming with me, or not?" "But what about staying together?" she asks in reply, confused.  "That stopped applying when they did things behind our back that we don't want," returns Marianne coldly.  Just as she touches her key, Dawn opens her car door. "Speak for yourself. I've always wanted to visit, and now I am. Besides…" She trails off and glances at Sunny. "I need to watch Sunny. I didn't realize he liked someone; I need to find out who so that I can set them up here. Which of the three other girls do you think it is?"  "I'm not sure," answers Marianne truthfully.  Dawn grows thoughtful and leans her chin on her hand. "I just wish he would have trusted me enough to tell me. He's always been such a great wingman for me. I would like to support him since he's my friend." Her face wrinkles at the last word. "That's not right. He is…something more to me." She tilts her head to look up at the sky that stopped raining momentarily. "I'm just not sure what. But I need to know something," she says, giving Marianne a serious look. "Why do I feel slightly angry? Bothered? Worried? Jealous does not seem right. Because he likes someone. I ought to be happy for him." Dawn has so much to learn, and Marianne almost wants to stay just so she can see how and when Dawn discovers her feelings for Sunny. Almost.  She turns to face her sister and takes her hand consolingly, ignoring how the car jostles. "Well, I think that is all something you should discuss with him, but I think he needs to apologize and ask for forgiveness first." "Good point!" chirps Dawn, squeezing Marianne's hand. "Thanks!" All further talk is cut off by the sound of Roland's three cronies, talking loudly nearby. As she turns to check on them, all three bump against the purple jeep, the hood lifting up slightly.  "Hey!" she cries, opening her door. "Back away from the car. It's not yours. Treat it well, or else it'll do the same to you." Her threatening look does its job, and the three idiots all stumble over themselves as they apologize and leave. Dawn leaves the vehicle, and Marianne declares aloud, "I would rather get wet and sick than stay in that horrid place with Roland. Bye, sis." Just as Dawn tries to stop her, she turns the key in the ignition, but nothing happens. That's when Marianne makes the horrible discovery that Roland had already planned for this contingency.  "I hate Roland with all my being," she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest. "The only thing I hate more is being outsmarted by him." What did those three sycophants take? That line of reasoning quickly hits a dead end, so she decides to focus on stealing Roland's rental.  "Are you looking for something there, Buttercup?" asks Roland far too sweetly.  She turns and notices the smug look on his face, and she becomes enraged when she sees him deposit his keys in a special pocket on the inside of his pants, ensuring that she won't go after them. As her shoulders bunch and tense up, she scowls fiercely at him, loathing him entirely.  "This is going to end in me either filing a restraining order or castrating him…both options are viable at this point," she murmurs.  "What was that, Sweetheart? Do you need help?" queries Roland, heading toward her until she flips the bird at him.  "Never from you. Stay away from me, Roland. Any more funny business from you, and you will regret it," she warns him. "You lied about the gas and the true location of our trip this weekend." His response is cut off by the sky suddenly opening up, a downpour soaking them all. All make a mad dash to the Love Shack with all the women piling under the awning.  "There's a legit sign here at the entrance like in the song!" cries Dawn, always trying to be positive. "It truly says, 'Stay away, fools because love rules at the Love Shack.'" Marianne knocks on the front door loudly, and a moment later, someone opens it, revealing even more pink and glitter. The woman at the door is peculiar with her hair styled and curled up, a hairbow in front, and the bow matches the hot pink dress and tall boots she wears, blinding Marianne with her brightness.  "Hi and welcome to the Love Shack! I'm Sugar Plum, the owner of this fine establishment. I'm here to make your love dreams a reality–" "We all know what you do; there's no need to explain," interrupts Marianne, causing the owner to frown. "Even if everything here is a joke and can't possibly work. And on the remote chance it can, I'm not entering this crazy place anyway. I didn't agree to come here, and I hate love and all men anyway." "But Marianne! Buttercup, this is–" She swirls around and draws her blade, stopping the tip just short of his nose. "Don't. Ever. Call. Me. Buttercup. Again. I'm not your anything. Got it?" "I, I, whatever you say," he stammers, paling at once.  Satisfied, she faces Plum again, only to notice that the woman has a manic gleam in her eyes that worries her at once. "What?" she demands harshly, putting her blade back into place.  "Oh, I was just noticing how you feel about him. Given the fact that the rain is going to get worse and there could be hail and thunderstorms, I suggest you be reasonable and at least come inside," reasons Plum. "Besides, I would never try to set you up with that blond-haired man; you two don't suit at all. You need someone who isn't afraid of you and appreciates swordsmanship." "That man doesn't exist," replies Marianne, finally going inside because thunder and lightning start then. "Sunny, bring our bags in." As she heads inside, she doesn't see the giant grin on Plum's face, nor does she hear the whispered comment. "Oh, but he does." ~~Earlier That Day~~ "Bog, sweetie, are you free this weekend? I need your help."  Jerking his head up, he looks in the doorway to find his mother in one of her favorite dresses, a staid, mossy green one with white flowers dotting the neckline and her head. Her red, wiry hair is at odds with the neat cut of the skirt, and she has a mischievous smile on her face, which can only mean one thing: she's trying to set him up again.  "Sorry, mother, I can't. I'm busy this weekend," he lies, looking down at his work to prevent her realizing the truth.  Sadly, he's too slow, and she knows him too well. "Doing what, exactly? I heard from the 'shroom heads that you're shutting down that fraud at the Love Shack at long last, but I thought that was happening today?" They're decent workers, but they all gossip like old biddies. The only times Bog dislikes them is when they get a message wrong, little the "A tall chef is into shark storage" ordeal.  "Well, that is, uh, the shutdown could take longer than expected," he explains, making it up as he goes. He faces her. "There's a group staying at that awful place all weekend, so I'm planning to go there tonight and expose Plum for what she is. If they listen, then I'll leave right away, or else I'll come back on Sunday to collect when she breaks more hearts." Griselda wanders into the room, lifting a leg to scratch it as she listens. When he's done, she asks with forced innocence, "Is there a possibility that you'll stay all weekend? To ensure there's no possibility of things working out?" "Mother," he huffs, knowing her tricks all too well. "No. Drop it. I've banned love from my life–" "And practically all of Dark Forest Bank as a result! It's not fair for you or the rest, son," she insists, giving him a pleading look. "You could at least try while there. You never know." "No. Which is also why I'm not helping you this weekend," he states, looking at the door to ask her nicely to leave. Pouting, she protests, "But I found you the perfect–" "Perfect what? Girl who happens to be visiting when I fix something? What's her name?" he returns on a sigh, head going into his hands. He's so tired of her matchmaking. Why can't she just let him be? "Maxine," she answers glumly. "Bog, are you sure you won't meet her? I think she's perfect for you." "You said that about the first fifteen women I met, and look how those turned out," he says, glancing up. "Not good. Please, mother, let me figure out my love life on my own." "I make no promises," she replies, leaving the room, showing that she won't fight him on this. "But you're missing out with Maxine! She's swell!" With that, she leaves the room, and he goes back to work. When his headphones go on, he doesn't notice his mother cornering Stuff and Thang.  "Are you two going with him to this shady Love Shack?" she asks, looming between them.  "No, we weren't planning to–" "Well, now you are," she says, interrupting Thang. "It's good to learn how to do this part of the job, and if he does go, then I want the two of you to ensure that he stays the whole weekend." She leans in and gives them the fierce look Bog inherited from her. "Got it? This is your employer speaking here." "Yes, ma'am!" they both declare before nodding. "It's for his own good." "It is, and it would be a fun thing for you to see as well. So go have fun this weekend," Griselda says, shooing them away.  Thang leaves, but Stuff remains. Recognizing the look as one where she explains mysteries of her son, Griselda leads Stuff to her office. "What is it?" Stuff takes a seat on the opposite couch, and then she asks, "I don't think there's a point in teaching us this aspect of the bank. Bog seems like he is growing fed up with banking and would rather just do tax work, but he seems afraid of giving up the bank since his father created it." Nodding, Griselda shakes hands with Stuff in appreciation. "Thank you for telling me. I'll talk to him before he leaves and you two follow." Stuff leaves her office soon after, and Griselda returns to her work until it is almost time for Bog to leave. Soon, she is back in his doorway. He's listening to music, unaware of her presence, and it makes her glad to see that he doesn't completely hate working. Nonetheless, she needs to explain how she feels so that Bog can make a good decision.  "Bog, you have a minute?" she asks, strolling in when he looks up.  "Yes." He gives her a questioning look. "Does it involve Maxine?" The set of his jaw suggests he is frustrated, so she keeps it short. "No. But you do know that I can retire any day now, and I just might. Then it's up to you if you want to keep or sell this bank. I'm fine either way, and so would your father be if he were alive." He stands there slack-jawed a moment before he thanks her, and that is enough for her. With that, she practically skips out.  "Bog is sure to meet someone! I could have grandchildren yet!" Bog leaves his office soon after and heads home to pack a bag just in case. After that, he makes the long drive to the Love Shack, hating the glitter and grimacing when he turns onto Primrose Lane. The place looks exactly the same as before, and he hates it, especially once it starts raining. Parking behind the other cars, he leaves his car when it is pouring outside, and he isn't surprised to see Stuff and Thang driving together behind him.  It means they can help him make an entrance. It's going to be an interesting weekend.

Sarah couldn't get the image of the red aura entering Jareth out of her head. She never saw Didymus so happy, and this odd magic unsettled her. Skipping dinner, she ventured outside, needing fresh air to clear her mind, as well as to look for a letter from her family. Walking around the school didn't help, though, and after making a full turn, she was still restless. As she walked up the sidewalk to enter the school, she heard something she never had before: singing. The man singing had the most beautiful, nay magical, voice she had ever heard. Caught up in it, she headed toward the hedges of the Labyrinth, until she came to the opening. The golden tendrils of the late afternoon sun showcased the crimson and ivory roses that dotted the tall hedges, filling the air with the sweetest fragrance. She wanted to enter the shrubberies, if only to inhale the blooms’ scent fully and immerse herself in the gorgeous baritone. It was then she remembered herself and the warning the headmaster