Suddenly, I’m a pariah?
I cut my hair and stopped being their perfect girl, and I’m no longer acceptable?
This is so unfair, it hurts. It cuts deeper than Felix’s rage-filled directing, deeper than stumbling through fight sequences until my feet bled, deeper than countless humiliating interviews where they tried to strip away my dignity one invasive question at a time.
I’m embarrassed.
An abandoned table stands by the windows, and I settle at it. I search for Dante, wanting to curl up under his big arm, but he’s across the room, standing with the same executives who came by earlier, his easy laughter carrying over the crowd.
Things seem to be going too well for me to pull him away.
“Room for one more outcast?”
I startle, looking up to find Destiny Hope standing at my table. Her sleek black dress hugs her curves, strawberry blonde hair cascading in loose waves.
A year ago, her face graced magazine covers with headlines screaming about her latest scandal. Though now I can’t recall what it was. Back then, I might have politely excused myself from her presence, not wanting to be associated with someone the industry had labeled as “difficult.”
The irony makes me want to laugh and cry simultaneously.
“Please.” I gesture to one of the many empty chairs surrounding me. “I seem to have plenty of space.” My laugh comes out more bitter than intended.
“Destiny Hope,” she says.
“Reese Sinclair,” I reply, then cringe at my automatic need to introduce myself—as if anyone in this room doesn’t know who I am, and for all the wrong reasons. “Loved your latest album,” I add, trying to fill the awkward silence with something, anything.
“Thank you.” She slides into the chair. “Couldn’t help but notice you’re getting the full freeze-out treatment tonight.”
My shoulders cave inward. “Obvious, huh?”
“People can be so vicious.”
“Oh no, they aren’t—” I pause, swallowing hard. “There’s no point in playing pretend here, is there?”
“They always love you,” she says, each word falling like a stone into still water, “until they don’t. You try to hide? They scream mental breakdown!” She jabs a finger into the air. “Show your face in public? Oh, you’re just seeking attention. Stayquiet?” A harsh laugh. “They assume you’re checked into The Meadows.”
“It’s brutal. I thought, maybe naively, that I was going to take control of my own narrative.” I shred a napkin into tiny pieces, watching the white fragments scatter across the dark tablecloth like snow. The room suddenly feels too loud, too bright, too exposed. “I mean, I’m sure you understand, but all I wanted to do was live my life outside of the woman I’ve been for twenty-nine years. I wanted to be—”
“Normal?”
“Unconstrained.”
“They always need someone to tear down. You’re it. Last year it was me, the year before it was what’s-her-face.” Is that what this is? A full-blown teardown? “When I releasedDisreputeand entered my new era, I wrote songs about my career struggles, about female friendship, about my own growth.” She rolls her eyes. “But since it was such a big shift away from my typical country love songs, they saw it as an opportunity to take my voice into their own hands.”
There’s a peculiar intimacy in shared exclusion—a sort of fellowship in falling from grace that feels both devastating and strangely freeing.
“I’ve never been on this side of it.”
“That can’t be true! What about that mess with Ricky way back when?”
I cringe. “You know about that?”
“Who doesn’t, darling? You were assaulted on stage, an underage woman accepting her first award.” She rolls her eyes. “I remember reading how his bombastic show of affection wasswoon-worthy. No one dared to comment on how scared you looked after the kiss.”
I was disgusted, violated, and afraid. The only thing I remember going through my mind was,Smile, smile brighter, play it off, don’t be problematic.
Everything is different now. I don’t want to be smaller.
“How did you get through it back then?”
