Chapter Text
Greta Gill and Jo work together in crime. They were computer genius way before they started in the movie industry 10 years ago. Cracking codes and breaking into people’s secrets would be easy.
Along the way, they found Jess McCready. Hired for Greta’s company for his unmatchable talent as a media editor, they became family. With the closeness, they figured Jess was also a software developer and math genius. Joining the schemes, he’d create breaks to get access to the bank accounts they needed.
Carson Shaw, on the other hand, was a very recognized lawyer. Hasn’t lost a case in years. Spent every day in her law books, updating her knowledge. As a woman, she knew she had to be ten times better to get where she wanted. She was stable financially but worked mostly for justice. She believed she could make the world a better place. She was married to her best friend and life-time sweetheart, Charlie Shaw. They were co-owners of their law firm.
One thing they would have in common with Greta and her team: the big, corrupted guys would cross their lives. And soon, hate them.
Carson made a deal and a plea with Charlie before they started the firm: they would never take a case to defend someone who was clearly guilty. And they didn’t have to, money wise. Charlie would handle easier simple cases, mainly focusing on the financial part of the business. Carson took the most complicated cases. She overworked herself. Brought work home. Her home office was just as messy as her cases.
Greta was smart, charming, and most of all, always one step ahead. Always careful, knowing exactly how to separate her legal business from what her new life would become. If, one day, for some unexpected reason, things went down for them, they would be prepared.
Gills Entertainment Studios were on Lupe’s name. They were all very close, but every detail of their crimes was unknown by Lupe. They kept him safe in ways he couldn’t even be considered an accomplice. Greta was CEO for long enough. She decided it was time to put the company under his name, mainly so she could step off a bit. The company was solid built, and she wanted a trustworthy person to keep it creative and moving. Meanwhile, she would gladly continue to be the face of it.
She still did the work, mostly connections. Barely anyone could deny something to her. Jo was an actor. Just as famous as Greta, who also would direct TV shows and other productions.
Auburn, a beauty company specialized in vegan and inclusive products, was in Maybelle’s hands. A gorgeous blonde woman who casually flirted with Jo, amongst other things. Nothing serious, but nonetheless, consistent. Greta worked with appearances, not only for self-protection in a men’s world, but it was a mask and a tool she used for dominance and power.
She created this company with the purpose of making packing and products easier to open and handling, for people with disabilities. The project worked with environment-friendly and vegan substances, as well as had a team of people putting careful dedication in products that were created for all different skin tones, whilst also being affordable.
Greta had conquered everything in her professional life. She had the name, the money, the success, the freedom she always worked hard to stablish.
Things changed on October 22 nd . She would never forget that date. Already a little drunk, heading out of the bar, she stumbled into Dana. Barely recognizable, the woman she once fell in love with was wasted, face a bit swollen, looking sick and lost. When their eyes intertwined, the broken woman muttered: “Greta? Is this a dream? Where am I?”
Greta raised an eyebrow, paralyzed. “Dana, hi. It’s me. I’m here… We are at Sunset Blvd, Cali. Are you okay?”
She broke down. Greta felt so weirded out when she felt Dana’s thin arms around her, face on her neck, sighing, a relief and then a desperate loud cry for help. She couldn’t breathe.
She took a step back and Dana’s eyes were widened. Greta felt her whole body cold, froze. She shook her head and called 911. The ambulance came in no time, but she couldn’t leave her.
Dana was Greta’s first love and first heartbreak. They happily dated for two years; Greta was sure. Until one day she woke up to an empty room. Dana had left. Months later, Jo told her she had seen Dana with a man, a ring on the right finger. Greta pretended not to care, quickly building her emotional walls again. Greta became a workaholic. She’d fall asleep on her desk for months until Jo came to take her home.
All her wounds seemed to crack open and bleed, mixed with the memories of their good days. Some of that love would never just die. She still cared for the woman now knocked unconscious in this loud shaky van, laying down while the nurse gave her oxygen.
Struggling, a voice: “Panic… attack…, pills…, purse”.
Greta gave the grey leather purse to the nurse who quickly saw the prescribed medicine, immediately lifting her head and giving her a cup of water.
When she woke up, they were in the hospital. Greta was still there. Sitting in the chair, staring at the watch in the walls, impatient. Dana didn’t remember the last time someone cared for her at all... And she told Greta everything.
Not long after Dana vanished from her life, without a single note, she was sleeping on friends' couches. Started waitressing on this simple but very well put restaurant. At night, she would usually “live her best life”, hooking up with some people.
For a while, she did all kinds of stuff she wanted, her friends by her side. They never really liked seeing Dana have any stability or routine. They liked the excited, always-up-for-a-party Dana. The one who would flirt with gentlemen and ladies, and often get them some too.
When Greta met her, she was already wealthy. Provided Dana a comfortable life. Nonetheless, Dana was tired of it, felt stuck - she used to say from time to time, even after Greta would offer her work. She loved Greta, often would think of her when having casual sex with some random Jeremy, Aubrey or Elliot. Whatever. She kept herself drunk for a couple months.
Time passed and she felt the need to find her own place. She was always average as a waitress. “Full & Fillet” paid a fair salary for its worth. The owner, Oliver, was a very quiet but kind man, whose wife recently divorced him, leaving the restaurant on his hands. He was also the chef and made some of the best fillet in the neighborhood. Oliver was always respectful of Dana, looking out for her. He caught himself catching feelings for her, but never did anything other than be there. Eventually, they got together, Dana moved in, and they got engaged. Everything was falling into place.
Until a CEO bribed the chief of the state police and falsified documents to accuse a lot of small business owners of tax fraud so their establishment would close, and he could buy them for a way cheaper price to open new branches of his store. Oliver was incarcerated immediately, the restaurant was shut down, and Dana lost first her job, then the apartment – which she had to sell. She had interviews and tried for multiple jobs. Her friends were nowhere to be found. She was hopeless, drunk, high and exhausted from crying. She could not sleep without the nightmares of living in the streets, seeing her husband get arrested, watch him perish in prison on every visit. She was a body moving her feet around town when she saw... Greta?
In the following days, Jo tells Greta how the same thing happened within her block. To be fair, he has been researching some of wealthiest people in the U.S, a list of the hundred most successful humans that were mostly filled with white men. They all matched in one thing: lack of honesty and transparency. Achievements that looked like they came too easy, as a bunny out of a hat. Hard to understand or explain. To dig deeper, it was hard to find negative press, but rather some couple of nobodies with very convincing stories about their dirt. Jess pops in, a tiny gin bottle in hand.
“What garbage are we discussing today?”
Jo explains. They worked together, shared every aspect of their lives. Jess smirks and adds: “I think we’d have hell of a great time bringing these men down. Cheers” cracked a joke.
Greta goes home that night thinking about that. She had lived without a home, running away from cheap motels to shelters with Joey when they were teenagers. Her mind reminded her of all the times they split some junky food, counted their pennies, how life was not always comfortable or easy. She always knew men had things way better. She’d watch them walk over with their tuxedos, their fancy cars, their snob looks on their stupid faces. She saw how they caused pain wherever they stepped in.
To be honest, Greta didn’t use to feel like she ever belonged. Until she found her friends. Her family. Her head picturing scenarios where this situation could ever possibly happen to any of them. Her stomach starting to turn, the devastation of the idea making her sick. She couldn’t take it. She would do anything to save them, to protect them.
Jess’ joke still cracking in her thoughts. The taste of vengeance lightning. The pleasure of taking matters into their own hands. Calculations running miles, presenting the certainty that their knowledge would make it almost impossible to be caught. Men’s laws… Laughable.
That’s how it started everything. Greta knew she had to tell Joey about what she was getting into.
“I am in. You need my expertise” Joey winked. Greta smiled; glad she had her best friend in this new crazy adventure. And Jess, the inventor of the idea, became pretty much the ignition key. His unusual mindset could bring them everywhere. This was a decision to celebrate. It asked for strong drinks.
In a fancy restaurant, a gorgeous night, the new life being cooked. Silently and excitedly in their inner dialogues.
Carson, some worlds apart, paths crossed in this modern architecture. She’d would allow herself to that privilege every month, when she could forget work and just have a cool night with Charlie. Carson sat next to the windows, tricked, the counter on her left side. The scenery of the outsides showing her there was something out there to hope for.
Spread on the center, some smaller higher tables, made of wood. The most beautiful woman she has ever seen, laughing and drinking with two other people, wearing a long black dress slightly opened on one side, showing her perfect leg. Hair in red curls, falling on her back as she gently took it out of her face.
She realized she was staring and not listening to a single word Charlie had been saying for a few minutes. She thought that she had already memorized every detail of that woman, could easily draw her had she needed. Or wanted. Her friend point at her, calling the attention of the redhead. She froze, the sense of reality. Just pretend you didn’t see it. But she needed to see that woman’s face fully. When she turned around, Carson focused all her attention on her jaw not to let it drop. Her side profile was stunning, although her whole face... Her brown eyes framed by her perfect eyebrows. She forced to look back at Charlie and understand the conversation just after she saw fine lips mouth a “Ohh”. She could see with her side eye when Greta called the waitress, whispering something to them.
Carson was feeling like everything was too much. Charlie wouldn’t stop talking about some crazy client he has been dealing with, laughing ironically. The restaurant was big, waitresses moved fast, her vision getting blurry.
“Charlie, wait a second. I have to go to the bathroom”
“Are you okay?” He asked, frowning. “You look pale, Carson.”
“No, I’m fine. I’ll be right back” And she didn’t even try to force a smile when she fastened her pace not worrying to look back. Specially because if she did, she would probably catch the eyes of the woman in question, whose table was quite in the way to the bathroom. The woman responsible for the mess inside her now.
Greta shared a look with her friends, a quick check on the boring man who was left behind. “Excuse me, chickadees. Keep the celebration going”, she smiled. They knew her too much.
Carson locked in one of the stalls. God, Carson. Breathe. Put yourself together. What is even happening right now?! Am I sweating? I feel like I’m going to pass out from how fast my heart is beating! Wash your face, yeah, fresh water, that’s what I need. Carson left the stall and aggressively turned the sink, letting the water fill her hands, bringing it to her face. The cold... Didn’t do anything.
She sat on the corner, on the floor, knees to her head, hands on her face. She has never felt this overwhelmed. She was alone. She couldn’t tell Charlie. What would she say? “Charlie, I know we are married but look at that woman... I can’t think of anything else, she looked at me, she said something about me and I’m panicking”? This was when she heard the door open, and she looked up, embarrassed...
Before she could even process, she was already saying: “Um... I was just... Hi, um, sorry”. It was her. Carson was apologizing for... Being there. Greta looked at her worried and concerned, not the vision she expected. Pretending she came there to do something other than flirt with that cute and probably taken girl, Greta beautifully turned into the mirrors above the sink, analyzing her face.
“Mind if I ask you why you left your guy to sit on this bathroom’s floor?”, she glanced quickly, coming back again to re-apply her lipstick.
“I... I didn’t intend to... Be sitting on the floor.” Carson managed to say, stumbling to get up.
“So why are you? Is everything okay? Did that douchebag do something to you?” Greta turned, waiting for a response.
“Oh no... Don’t- He’s my... Friend... Best friend... Husband. That too. He didn’t do anything.” Carson was a lawyer, she was a reader, she was not so confident, but she always knew what to say. What am I saying?! Shit!
She felt Greta glaze, trying to read her body language. She never felt so uncomfortable. “I should probably head back”, but she couldn’t move away from the wall.
Greta waited a moment. “Okay. May I at least know your name? I’d like to put a name to the face of one admirer.” She laughed. Wait, what?! Of course she has a perfect laugh.
Carson widened her eyes. She felt so called out and... Angry? How could someone be so full of themself? “I'm sorry? Admirer? I’m not sure what you mean.”
Greta was used to that. “Oh, my friend caught you staring. I usually trust them.”
“I wasn’t staring. I’m Carson. Carson Shaw.” And her voice came out serious, shy.
Greta was amused. Carson. “Well, nice to meet you, Shaw. I’m Greta. Greta Gill.”
“Hi, Greta. You shouldn’t really assume people are staring at you in public spaces like this. This place is huge, fancy. I could be easily appreciating it or be lost in my thoughts.” Carson stated, very proud of herself and gesturing her hands to make her point.
“Were you though? If you were, your guy is really more boring than I thought.” Greta couldn’t hold this comment any longer. She chuckled. “Really, Shaw. So basic. You can absolutely do better.”
“You are so outrageous. Unbelievable. This is pure disrespect. Excuse me.” Who does she think she is?
But while Carson stormed out, Greta said, raising her voice so she could hear: “I’m glad I made you feel better!”
Carson was so pissed. In fact, she wished she had screamed at her. She also wished Greta would’ve stepped closer, so she could feel her perfume better. She wanted Greta to make her admit. She wanted to feel Greta’s warm breath close to her face, circle her lips with her eyes. She just needed... A beer. Alcohol. Yeah.
Back to her table, hoping Greta would unrealistically stay in the bathroom until they left, Carson didn’t think this place was this good anymore.
“Come on, Car. It’s the fanciest restaurant we have ever been! I ordered for us... If you don’t mind? I think you’ll be very happy about it.” Charlie shook her a bit, from across his seat, trying to get a smile out of her.
“Fine! But get us some drinks at least!” Her dimples showed up. In time for Greta to see them, and smile back, while parading her way back to her friends.
“On it” Charlie said rapidly heading to the bar. “Your best whine, please.”
Spaghetti Al Limone. This was Charlie’s fantastic food choice. When they were finally ready to leave, Carson called the waitress for the bill. She smiled politely. “Your bill was paid, ma'am. Consider it the restaurant’s courtesy.”
Carson was confused. Charlie looked excited. “Free meal? But why? Were we, like the ten thousandth couple here or... You know, a special number?”
“You could say you were lucky. Anything else?”
“Wow. Thanks! That’s all, I guess.” Charlie shrugged his shoulders.
Carson took a glance at Greta’s direction, but she was distracted drinking. Her brunette friend, who looked quite familiar, winked in response. She knew who had paid their bill.
Jess raised his glass: “To uncharted waters!”, they clicked their glasses and laughed in unison.