One Of Them Days 2

Another Year Later…

Dreux sighed, dramatically flopping onto the faded floral couch, sending a small cloud of dust dancing in the afternoon sunbeam.

Dreux: "Okay, brainstorm. Rent is due in five days, and we have... squints at the near-empty jar on the counter...

(approximately enough for a large pizza, if we really stretch it.)

Alyssa hummed thoughtfully, running a hand through her vibrant, untamed curls. She was perched on the edge of the rickety kitchen table, balancing a half-eaten bag of sour gummy worms.

Alyssa; "Pizza's tempting, but not exactly rent-paying material.

Dreux: What about that vintage dress you thrifted last month?

Alyssa: The one with the crazy psychedelic print?"

Dreux: wrinkled her nose.

Alyssa: " Bassett the Beast?

Dreux: I was hoping to wear that to the open mic night next week.

Alyssa: Think she's worth enough to cover, like, at least one light bill?"

Dreux: Depends

Alyssa sigh, popping another gummy worm in her mouth. "Is there a burgeoning psychedelic vintage dress scene in Bed-Stuy? We gotta research the market. Maybe a targeted Instagram campaign showcasing ' Bassett's transformative power'? We could even stage a photoshoot with you posing in front of that graffitied wall on Malcolm X..."

Dreux: (considered it.) "Okay, okay, I'm hearing you. But what if... what if we combined forces? Like, a multi-pronged attack on the financial abyss?"

Alyssa raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Elaborate, my friend."

Dreux: "You with your soulful pipes of artwork and me with... well, with Bassett and my questionable fashion sense,"

Alyssa: gestured wildly. "We could busk! You promote your heart out, I strut my stuff with new inspiration and Bassett rakes in the dough."

Dreux laughed. "Busk?

Alyssa: Uhm have you seen the competition at the LA metro-train stop? We'd be drowned out by the dude with the didgeridoo and the breakdancing squirrels."

Dreux: Okay, fair point, (she conceded.)

Dreux: But what about... online? Like, a livestream performance? We could call it Rent or Bust: A Starving Artist Extravaganza?

Alyssa: Ooh, I like the extravagance part," Alyssa admitted, tapping her finger on the table.

Alyessa: We could solicit donations! Maybe even offer 'special requests' for a slightly higher contribution. I'm thinking 'Killing Me Softly' sung in Yiddish... that's gotta be worth a few bucks, right?"

They both stared at each other, a glimmer of hope sparking in their eyes. The thought was absurd, chaotic, and utterly ridiculous. But in a city like L.A, sometimes absurdity was the only thing that made any sense.

"Okay," Dreux said, grabbing her phone and starting to type furiously. "Let's make this happen. 'Rent or Bust' goes live Saturday night. We need a killer backdrop, some funky lighting... and maybe a sign that says 'Squirrels Welcome (But Must Pay Cover Charge)'."

Alyessa grinned. "I'll work on the Yiddish."

The next few days were a blur of rehearsals, frantic social media promotion, and desperate attempts to make their tiny apartment look presentable. Dreux raided her closet for anything remotely stage-worthy.

While Alyessa perfected her soulful rendition of "Hava Nagila."

They even managed to borrow a string of fairy lights from their perpetually grumpy neighbor, Mrs. Rodriguez, after promising to keep the volume down.

When saturday night arrived with a palpable sense of anticipation. Dreux, decked out in “Basset the Beast” with a generous helping of glitter, nervously adjusted the makeshift camera stand. Alyessa, looking effortlessly cool in a vintage band tee and ripped jeans, strummed a few chords on her guitar, her voice echoing with a peaceful energy.

"Alright, world," Dreux announced, clicking the "Go Live" button. "Get ready for 'Rent or Bust'! We're here, we're queer, and we're slightly terrified."

The comments started rolling in almost immediately. Supportive friends, curious strangers, and even a few trolls looking to spread negativity. But as Alyessa began to sing, her voice rich and powerful, a hush fell over the virtual room. People were captivated.

The donations started trickling in, then flowing, then practically flooding the screen. $5, $10, $20... even a surprising $100 from someone who claimed to be a "huge fan of tragicomic artistry."

Dreux and Alyessa exchanged a look of stunned disbelief. They were actually doing it.

As the night wore on, the energy in the room grew. Keke danced with unbridled enthusiasm, showcasing Basset the Beast in all her glory. Alyessa belted out song after song, her voice soaring with emotion.

Alyessa even took requests, butchering (and loving it) everything from Britney Spears to Bob Dylan.

By the time the livestream finally wrapped, they were exhausted, exhilarated, and slightly overwhelmed.

They huddled together, staring at the donation total

(on the screen.)

It wasn't enough to cover the entire rent, but it was damn close.

Dreux: "We did it, Alyessa," Dreux whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.

Dreux "We actually did it."

Alyessa wrapped her arm around Dreux shoulder, her own eyes shining.

Alyessa: Not bad for a couple of starving artists and a possessed vintage dress."

They weren't out of the woods yet. They still needed to figure out the remaining balance. But for the first time in weeks, they felt a glimmer of hope. They had each other, their talent, and a whole lot of ridiculous determination.

In a city of angels like L.A, that might just be enough.

What could they do next? Maybe a bake sale? A viral tweet? Train Mrs. Rodriguez's cat to do tricks? The possibilities, as chaotic and unpredictable as their lives, seemed endless.

The rent might be due, but they weren't giving up without a Level up.