But then?

Nine Hours Ago

She saw him often, the husk that wore her David's face.

He didn't see her though. Penny doubted that man saw much of anything. He got up, he worked and, presumably, he ate and slept just enough to keep doing it.

In all the times he'd come into the coffee shop since their split, he'd never once noticed her sat at the table they used to share. He got his coffee and sandwich, paid and left. Her David, the one from the first two years of their relationship, would have stayed, cracked jokes, maybe chatted with the barista if the shop was quiet. But life and lies had poisoned that. She would give anything for a way to undo everything that bitch had caused, but the damage had been done. Venomous little words that had started the downward spiral. And those words couldn't be unsaid. Still, Penny swore she would have done anything.

"Anything?" A voice cut through the cafe air like a straight-edge razor.

Penny looked up. Had she said that aloud? There was a figure seated across from her, though she hadn't seen them sit down. A figure in a showgirl's outfit, all teal and silver sequins. A porcelain mask covered their face but there was a smirk in their voice.

"Anything at all, hm?" their voice continued in a whisper "He must be a special man, this David... How about we make a deal then, eh miss?"

"Who... are you?" Penny's eyes narrowed. The mask put her on edge, she couldn't see the wearer's eyes.

"I am representative of a show that's new in town. You may call me Motley. Do you think David deserves to find love and happiness?"

"Of course I do, I love him! He deserves so much better than this and I believe he can get it!"

"You believe... But not enough to stay, right?" The showgirl raised a hand. "Lets skip the questions like how I know so much about your life, miss Hart, and move straight on to my sales pitch. I can offer you a way to fix your relationship, make David's life exciting again and, perhaps, even make the women who hurt him pay. Go on, admit it, you're interested."

Their painted lips and staring hollow eyes gave nothing away. A business card was slid forward by a silk gloved hand. Matte black, looking almost like a hole in space, embossed with glittering gold letters, a sleek calligraphic double H. Underneath was a phone number in the same golden script. The masked figure in the Showgirl's leotard stood. "Well miss Hart, you can call me... when you decide to take what you actually want."

Several hours later, Penny stared at the card. Eleven digits. She sighed and punched them in.