Emma Leigh- Sienna Day- Tina Kay- Danny D -

“I’m thinking we’re three weeks from eviction,” Emma replied. “And the only offer on the table is from Danny D.”

“Not these.” Tina flipped the folder open. Inside were blueprints, permits, and a single photograph of a woman in a tailored suit standing in front of a restored playhouse in Prague. “Her name is Sloane. She funds endangered art spaces. We apply, we get the money, Danny D can’t touch us.”

The night of the performance arrived clear and cold. The marquee, patched with tape and hope, read: ONE NIGHT ONLY . Forty-seven people came. Not a full house, but close. They sat in the dark, wrapped in coats and curiosity. Emma Leigh- Sienna Day- Tina Kay- Danny D

He didn’t knock. He simply walked in, smelling of cigar smoke and old money, his suit too sharp for the crumbling seats. He stood in the center of the orchestra pit, looking up at the three women on stage.

Danny D sat in the back row, alone. When the lights came up, he didn’t move. Emma walked down the aisle and stood before him. “I’m thinking we’re three weeks from eviction,” Emma

Before Emma could answer, the stage door creaked open. Tina Kay swept in, shaking rain from her hair like a cat exiting a bath. She carried a manila folder thick as a brick.

The lights went up.

“We are,” she said.