In the EVIL hideout (Every Villain Is Lemons)
With a little cackle, Stargazer resumes her story. "That's a bit complicated, honey, and we've got to keep you caught up with your own life. So this may be hard to follow. Please hold all questions till after the presentations."
Stargazer reaches out and strokes the shoes before she turns back and pats Knockout's shoulder, as if comforting her. As she tells Knockout the story, matching memories pop up in Knockout's head.
"That's a tale all its own. Laura left home when she was sixteen, so she didn't finish her schooling." Knockout remembers being a young girl in school, talking about the boys and curious as to what her, recently changed, body would do with theirs. "About the only thing she learned in the commune was how to cook and clean and dig in the dirt." Memories of cooking large meals with two or three other people, pulling weeds in an enormous garden, washing home-spun clothes by hand in a big tub. "After Turi was born she tried so hard to make her own way, but without a high school diploma there wasn't much work available." Into her head pop numerous faces indicating there are no openings, several speaking some variation of 'we don't need no filthy hippies here', and a small number suggesting, with and without words, that she could find employment in their bedroom. "She flipped burgers in one of them fast food joints." It was a Burger Chef, the originator of the 'flame broiler'. "Then washed dishes at a HoJo's." This is remembered as not a bad job, she rinsed the dishes and placed them in a tray to run through a large washer. The memory includes her figuring out the manager hired her so he could watch her work in a wet apron. "Then she started waiting tables." It was the smallest bit of flirting with the manager, and she had to promise to wash dishes on occasion, anyway. But she got what she wanted.
"It was the tips that made it work, you know. She started working as a cocktail waitress in one of the airport bars. That's when she made enough to get by." Memory serves, and sometimes it serves pain, regret, and remorse. She hadn't been able to tell Turi, and didn't want her mother to accidentally give it away. The bar wasn't even close to the airport, and had its own runway. Fortunately, she didn't have to use the runway unless they were short handed. The attention, and the money, was almost intoxicating. It was almost an out of body experience, in a way. She almost felt she was floating above herself, watching the ceremony that would turn her from human female into prey for the wolves throwing green at her. As she smiled and twirled and teased, getting more and more excited, something above her became more and more disgusted. What had she done for life to put her in this virtual prison? "She used to come home exhausted, her feet swollen from walking around for eight hours. We'd soak 'em in epsom salts, laughing about it as the lowest form of tender loving care." Memories, just like the life that writes them, can give both pleasure and pain. Laura remembers coming home with swollen feet, usually because the patrons were trying to get her to stumble for a glimpse into her top or up her skirt. Why they didn't just watch the stage she never understood. Tired and aching, disgusted with herself and determined to keep Turi away from it, she'd slog in the front door. Mom was there. Five in the morning, and her mother would have a foot bath ready for her hurting feet.
They would talk over coffee, about how Turi was doing in school, about whether or not Andrea (Laura was gone before Andrea became Stargazer) would sell the newest listing, about what the chances were that either of them would find a man (or woman, thought Laura). When Laura would get weepy, because everything was rigged against her and she felt like Turi wouldn't have a chance, her mother would sit beside her; Laura would lay her head on her mother's shoulder, and her mother would brush fingers through Laura's waves or curls or whatever they were wearing those days. That was what got her through her days. Knowing her mother felt the same way about her that she felt about Turi.
"But you've figured that out, by now. I didn't make up the memories, I'm not even seeing them. Laura had dressed for work, and was taking Turi to her guitar lesson on her way. Getting rammed by the other car was traumatic." Laura is driving through the dark, and Turi is excitedly listing all the songs she's going to learn to play. Her little girl is wearing a white t shirt, jeans, and sandals. No makeup and no sort of hairstyle, but Laura can tell as soon as she finishes filling out she'll have the guys following her around like wolves stalking a deer. There's a tractor trailer between her and the light, so she can't tell when it'll turn green. No matter, as soon as the truck moves they'll move along. Her last thought before the SUV plows into their car is that there's plenty of time to make it to work.
"I never did quite approve of that job. She dressed like a slut and gave expensive drinks to people waiting to go halfway across the country. Back in the day, nobody went to the airport bar when they arrived, only when they're waiting on a departure. The thing is probably closed down, now."
"Oh, you should've seen the stuff she would wear. Hot pink mini-skirts with white halter tops, and the shoes! Why anyone would EXPECT a waitress to walk around all day on high heels." After the crash, Laura opened her eyes and looked, immediately, for Turi. Her little girl had been wearing her seat belt, the air bags had deployed, she should be fine. "That last day, she had on this shiny pink sleeveless one piece that only made it half way to her knees. There were matching shoes, with these ridiculous heels."
"You know, when people experience trauma, their energies spike. They can write themselves on objects around them. Personal objects tend to gather the most energy." Turi had turn sideway to talk to her mother, and leaned back towards the door. When the SUV struck the car, the little girl's body was hurled forward faster than her head could match. Laura figured this out in the same moments that she looked into her little girl's eyes and saw... no one.
"That's where the memories are coming from. They couldn't give me back my babies, but they gave me all their personal effects." Laura's head began to droop, all she could think was 'why her and not me'. As her chin dropped to her chest, she blinked and looked down. The pink stiletto heels were pristine, as if nothing had happened. But there was a jagged, bloody piece of metal tearing into her dress, right where her heart would be. The last word Laura Hanlon's mind ever formed, was 'good'.
Just before unconsciousness takes her, Knockout realizes that under the hospital gown, she's wearing a sleeveless one-piece something, with a large hole in the center of the chest.