"You can't do this to Trixie you arrogant buffoon!"
"Watch me, Blue."
The door slammed shut and Trixie stood outside the back of the vaudeville theatre fuming with rage. "Open back up, you haven't paid Trixie yet!" She hammered against the door, before she cried out in frustration and kicked the frame one last time, hurting her toes in the process. "OUCH!"
Miserable and upset she hobbled down the steps to the streets realising, as she reached the bottom, that she forgot her props case near the door. With a grunt she turned around and made her way back up to retrieve her belongings. It took her a good 20 minutes balancing everything from the top of the stairs into the trunk of her car with only one of her feet working properly.
Driving home was a task in and of itself. Every time she needed to use the brake, pain shot from her foot up into her thigh and she hissed in discomfort. Quite possibly she needed to see a doctor about this. But that was a problem for future Trixie.
Right now, she was too angry at herself for botching the show, again. She didn't even know where it went wrong. This particular trick was in her repertoire for years now. Every time she practised the routine it came out flawlessly. Yet again, once she was on stage, it somehow didn't.
She huffed and looked at herself in the rear-view mirror. The bags under her eyes made her look puffy and exhausted. The energetic sparkle she used to see in her reflections every time - when she was in school - had vanished over time and was replaced with the cold realisation that not everything is shits and giggles in real life. Not that it ever had been for her.
Sighing exasperatedly, Trixie sank back onto her couch and closed her eyes, massaging her temples with two fingers from either hand. After a few minutes of doing so she relaxed considerably until she moved her body and was painfully aware that the toes of her right foot were still hurting. Slowly she pulled at her shoes to finally get more comfortable and release the pressure that had been on her limb up until now. Her mouth opened slightly as a sigh of relief slipped through her lips.
This ridiculous excuse for a man, she thought, stretching herself onto the couch as she did. Her mind raced as she tried to figure out a way to get him to pay her after all. Most of the times when a show went south, she at least got part of the payment, if not all of it. That's to say if it wasn't so bad, that she got booed off the stage.
With a muffled thud she put a pillow over her face and screamed her lungs out in frustration. I used to be the great and powerful Trixie! What ever happened? She slid the pillow down and her eyes started to burn as they were watering. "Obviously, the world happened, you dumb and washed-up Trixie," she told herself, tears streaming down her face.
With a snort, Trixie woke up the next day, jumping up from her very uncomfortable sleeping position on the couch with a mumbled, “Eep.” She rubbed her eyes, yawning uncontrollably and swung her legs over the edge to stand up. She remembered a little too late that her foot was supposed to hurt, but it was only a dull sensation that - much to her delight - was surprisingly manageable.
She tested it by bouncing a little up and down and eventually nodded to herself. Maybe she wouldn’t have to see a doctor after all. Well, maybe aside from that uncontrollable saliva flow that happened every time she didn’t sleep in her bed. With a disgusted sound she wiped her mouth dry.
About half an hour later she was on her way to the theatre again. After all, she got hired to do a show, which she did. Up until the end it was fairly ok. Just the grand finale was a bust. And besides, why is it her fault that the crowd was tough.
Instinctively she concluded that it couldn’t be her fault. By the time she reached her destination, she was absolutely sure that her magic act was the best thing that ever happened to that stupid vaudeville theatre.
The thing about confidence though is that as long as you are among people who support you and agree with you - even if it’s just yourself - it’s way easier to uphold. She sighed and let her head drop to the steering wheel. A sudden honk from under the hood made her jump back up.
Gosh this was so much easier back in High School, where everyone else was as insecure as she was. Now she had to put up with people way older, more experienced and worst of all, way more confident than herself.
A few minutes later she mustered up the courage to leave her car and get to the front door. It appeared that nobody was in there, but that was something she was used to. People would try to hide for a lot less than owing money. So, the next few minutes, Trixie tried to get around the theatre and knock on every door and window she could find, only to have no one answer her beckoning.
She ended up in front of the theatre again after she struggled to get around the building for some time, “Trixie demands that you open that door immediately. Do you hear me?”
“Um, can I help you?” came a voice from behind her and she turned around with a surprised jump.
“Whaaa?” Trixie enquired and straightened up right away “Who are you and what do you want from me?” Trixie eyed the person in front of her closely.
“I’m almost inclined to ask you the same thing,” the woman chuckled, “But since you are so vocal about it I think I know exactly who you are, Trixie Lulamoon.”
Suspiciously, Trixie eyed her before she came to a realisation. “Sunset? Shimmer?”