Several Years Ago
"Raconteur, you gon' have lotta trouble on your hooves if'n you leave here like this. It just kharma, beb. The energy you put out in the universe come back at you like ripples in a pool." Part of me believed her words and was scared. The other part of me wanted nothing more to do with the superstition and small thinking that seemingly kept every pony around here frozen in place.
"They's never gon' let me leave, no matter what." I replied. "How can I live my life like that?"
My sister shook her head. "Always been different, chere."
I nodded. "Don't help I'm only half blood from an old relationship. If we had the same mama, I'd prob'ly stay."
Beignet shifted on her hooves. It wasn't brought up much how I was born to daddy's other mare. Usually it was to remind me of my daddy's kindness for taking me in when she left me on the doorstep with nothing but a name and a note. She took off and nopony'd seen her since. "Don'chu bring dat up now. You's my blood, Rac. Always gon' be."
We embraced. Her forelimbs around me had to be the best thing I'd ever had in Neigh Orleans. And here I was, giving that up for the chance at a better life in a bigger city. "Take care of everypony, now I'm gone."
Beignet nodded. "You take care of yourself. Be sure to write and tell me when you find your cutie mark!"
Reminded of my blank flank, I made sure the cloak covered me. I slipped out into the early morning. Celestia hadn't raised the sun yet. It was colder than ice, but I trotted along as free as a bird for the first time in my life.
Canterlot was amazing. The ponies of the city, though, were not. Without my mark, it was nearly impossible to get real work of any kind. At nights, I danced at a sleazy bar on the outskirts. That's when I took the name Genuine. I didn't pick up the last name until I married. When the bar failed to pay me, I caved and took a position as a waitress at a family-owned restaurant in the Bitalian section of the city. The irony wasn't lost on me, having fled Neigh Orleans to get away from working in my family's restaurant only to find myself working in another.
I memorized orders, preferring to use my notepad to practice writing. That notepad became my escape from reality.
One of Delmaneco's regular customers was a journalism student by the name of Deadline. His friends called him Hardy. By 'his friends' I mean the random assortment of ponies he came in with. The only constant was a black stallion whose name I never really caught. The guy was so silent, he was practically Hardy's shadow.
As a prank one night, Hardy stole my notepad. I didn't notice until I went for a break. When I finally tracked it down to him, I was furious. He'd read the entire thing. I thanked Celestia only the silent stallion was there. If Hardy had read it aloud to a table full of his usual riffraff, I'd've thrown myself off the cliff.
As he returned it, he told me I should be in school. I told him off about the theft and left it at that. He kept pestering me after that. Every time he ate at the restaurant (which was a lot for a student) he brought up my going to school. I finally confessed to not having a cutie mark and for the first time since meeting him, he got serious. He insisted on it, even offered to help my apply for scholarships and grants to cover tuition. When he brought the forms one night, I reluctantly took them.
Patrimonio Delmaneco, father of the current owner of Delmaneco's, ran the restaurant at the time and called me into the office.
"If it is legal trouble, I could make the little ragazzo disappear, mi cavallina." He began.
I snorted. "No, Patri, he brought me forms to fill out for school."
Patri clapped his hooves. "Ah! At last something has caught your attention. I was beginning to wonder when your waitressing cutie mark would show up."
"Patri. I have a problem." I said, shifting my hooves.
"Si? Tell me. I make your problem go away." He commanded, kindly.
"I...have to put my legal name. And birthplace. And I don't have any documents." After a moment, I added. "And my family wouldn't give me the time of day. Not that I want to bring them into this."
"Ah! I thought you said you had a problem!" He exclaimed, standing. "You're in Little Bitaly. I can have you any name you wish. Well, except maybe Princess Celestia, ha! Leave it to me."
He was as good as his word. By the next day he had all the identification I'd ever need, in the name Genuine. No second names are fairly common, so it was even easier. As I went to sign my name, he stopped me.
"The only payment I want is your story. I don't believe I've ever heard it, mi cavallina. Please." His smile was so infectious.
I told him everything. My old name, my family, their restaurant, and all the problems. At the end, he sat back, satisfied. I signed my documents and turned to leave.
"Ah! Congratulations! Looks like you don't have to go to school to find all of the answers. You have one already!" I turned to look at him in confusion. He pointed at my flank. My cutie mark was there! An x and a line filled in with my Genuine signature on an open book. The signature's in gold, black x-line, white pages. Came in quite useful when I worked at the auction house. Ponies tend to trust an explanation of a cutie mark. I tell them it's because I can detect a fake, but the only reason I can tell is training. Oh, and I guess because I'm a fake, too. Takes one to know one.
***
"She's going to find out about us eventually. Deadline's managed to keep a lid on it, but the papers are going to run something small about my survival. They covered the collapse, now they have to let everypony know that the 'hero' survived." I shook my head. "Pain in the rear reporters."
Div laughed. "Aren't you a reporter?"
Scrunching my nose, I corrected him. "Biographer. Fashion and art columnist. I write for magazines, not newspapers."
Div shrugged. "I don't see much of a difference."
Staring at him balefully, I got up to check on the kettle. "Back to Genuine..."
Div followed, albeit reluctantly. "I don’t see why you have to confront her."
Taking the mugs down magically, I kept my gaze on Div. "If I raise a big enough stink at her place of business, it'll look real suspicious if I suddenly disappear."
"Grandpa needs to tag out." Dad said, tiredly. Bru hung around the stallion's neck, hanging sideways on his adopted grandfather. The kettle whistled behind me.
Div cast his eyes upward and turned to dad and Bruiser. "Bruiser. Get off your grandfather." Div said, crossing over to coerce Bru off of my father.
As Bru disappeared back into the other room, Bruiser happily astride his back, dad threw himself onto the couch. With a tray of tea following me, I took up a seat across from him. He looked at me with one eye. "Foals were not this hard to deal with the first time around."
"If I ever jumped on you, I would've gotten a very stern lecture...from Silver." I said plainly.
He winced. "I'm trying, Life."
I waved a hoof. "No, sorry. I didn't mean it like that."
The silence was horrifyingly awkward for a minute. I gestured to the tray invitingly and took up a mug of my own. Div's cutie mark was painted on the side, but in a style reminiscent of stained glass. I was suddenly very interested if there was a mug with my cutie mark in the house and where this one came from. Although, it might've been interesting because of the quiet in my old home.
Shoving aside the awkwardness, I hazarded a try at conversation. "So...Deadline used to date Genuine Article." I said.
He lifted his head up to regard me fully. "How do you know..." I shook my head, not ready to admit to one of my biggest failures in front of my father. "Well, yes. Although, at the time, Hardy dated several mares. Bit of a party animal. If I recall correctly, things got briefly serious before she realized he wasn't exclusively hers. Not that he ever let any of his mares on. I think Gen was just blindly smitten." Dad's magic took a mug of tea up to his lips.
"She'd just come to Canterlot." I interjected as he drank. "He could have been her first."
Dad choked on his tea. While he tried to compose himself, I corrected myself. "I mean, her first stallionfriend. I really don't want to think about my boss that way."
Gently, he set his mug down. "That's okay. I have to remind myself you're not a little colt anymore." My dad's eyes grew wide. "I take it somepony had The Talk with you, right?"
I felt my face go slack. My brain ceased functioning. A little numb, I nodded.
"Not Silver, I hope?" My dad asked, smiling.
I shook my head.
"Your mother?" He continued.
My brain hiccoughed. "Mama Pro." My hooves went over my mouth.
"Progetta diVolare? As in, one of the mothers of Sogni?" He asked, eyebrows raised. I nodded again. "I wouldn't have taken her to know much about stallions...sexually." This was mortifying. I suddenly wished I'd taken a course on teleportation. My dad peered at me curiously. "Are you normally this red? I mean, you're always red--"
"Genuine Article." I gasped as my brain finally starting working.
"Right! Well, he may have been her first...coltfriend. I'd like to think that he did right by her and left her...as virtuous as he found her. Or, at the very least, he made sure to make it clear what his intentions were. Given how his later marriage worked out, well, let's just say Hardy commits to his deadlines. And not much else." Dad finished with a shrug.
"How were things when he broke them off?" I asked.
Another wince. "Bit of a mess. She was working for Canterlot Auction House as an intern. He was a brash entertainment reporter. Their worlds collided every so often. Arguments would ensue at private events and one spectacular blow-out on the auction floor. Both were nearly fired." Then dad shrugged again. "Then, nothing. Hardy made editor and stopped going out to every event he could. Gen gave up on him and eventually got married to a book collector who frequented the auction house. Life moved on."
I doubted that. At the very least, Genuine held a grudge. But, more than that, she held a secret. A secret she once shared with me.
***
"You got lotta nerve, showin' yo face round 'ere, beb." Genuine said as I walked into her office. Her accent seemed thicker, likely due to what must be rage at me and mine. "Yo' little boo already done shown me the kinda stallion you are."
I snorted. "I never told him anything; he figured it all out on his own somehow. And that little trick with the manticore and the train shows me exactly how far you'll go to silence anyone who would speak out about you."
Her brows furrowed. "I don't know what in tartarus you--"
I cut her off. "If I go missing. If my family is harmed in any way. Know that even wiping all of us out wouldn't save you from justice, Raconteur."
Her eyes flashed in anger, her lips pressed into a thin firm line. She gritted out around her teeth. "That name's from long 'go, podna. Your beau was fool even to speak it in front of me. You don't want me angry."
I held up my chin and met her gaze. "Leave my family alone, then."
Her eyes widened. "Your family the one bringing up all this mess. You don't want a stink then don't raise one."
"Your little bribe attempt nearly cost me my livelihood, Genuine. Then sabotaging our way home? Well look who survived that!" I said, patting my chest for emphasis.
She stood up from her seat. "Now you really lost it. Don't come 'round 'ere t'rowing accusations at the wind and diggin up old bones! I didn't tell you my story so you could use it against me."
"Why did you tell me your story?" I asked, a bit sidetracked by the idea.
She looked murderous. "I told you because I thought I could trust you."
"I trusted you, and it blew up spectacularly on me! Don't act innocent! You're not the victim here." I replied. She crossed around her desk to stand facing me. We fixed each other in heated glares, neither of us backing down.
"You wanna talk innocent? How about that foal you brought home. Oh yes, I heard about that one. Some poor little painted foal just falls into your lap and you got married just to keep him. And to a Royal Guard, no less. Can't just pick up and leave as easy now, can you?"
"If you do or cause anything to be done to my foal or my husband, Genuine..."
"Where did all this backbone come from?"
The door behind me opened. Her secretary piped up. "Madam Article. Your lunch appointment is in fifteen minutes."
With a wave, Genuine shooed the secretary out. "I got business, Mr. Story. Whatever you think I did, I'll do worse if you and yours don't stay away. Now, leave." Genuine said firmly, hoof pointing at the door.
"Don't threaten my family, Genuine. I'm stronger than you think. I think the fact that I'm here, alive, should be enough to tell you that." I said as I turned around to leave.
Eerily, she let me go without another word.