I wasn’t sure why she was explaining herself—but Joel’s potential ire seemed to have her on edge.
She snapped back to herself. “Wear something bright tomorrow, won’t you? I’d love to see you looking up to me from the crowd when I collect my award.”
———
Amos brought my dress to my hotel room before the ceremony. A delay in alterations meant I hadn’t tried it on yet, and I gasped as he unveiled it. It was longer than I’d expected—ever since my shift in public perception we’d been leaning into how fun I was now, how occasionally reckless. But thiswasfun, in an elegant whimsical sort of way.
“Alexander McQueen,” Amos said, as I reached for the beads.
They were what had delayed us, and I could now see why. The whole thing was layered in dozens of tiny navy beads, even the heart-shaped bodice, but where it dipped into a mermaid tail the beads shifted to silver, roiling stars drippinginto entire galaxies. It made me think of a scene fromIn Your Own Way, where Rita dreams of waltzing in the stars but can’t keep from sinking through the clouds. The whole dress felt just like that: a dream that could find no stable footing.
“It doesn’t have pockets,” I said.
“Oh, give me this one,” he snapped, then laughed. “It’s not going to break your rib cage like some dresses I could mention.”
Well, at least we were joking about that now.
“Thank you,” I said quietly. “It’s perfect.”
My hair was twisted up into an elegant knot, my ears studded with cascades of silver, and I was told my car was ready.
I saw Harper then, only briefly but still, here without the cameras it felt private, even if it was a hotel foyer, people jotted about, her own husband moving to the other side of the car door.
“Behave tonight. We don’t need the press,” Joel barked before his door shut.
But Harper hovered outside a second longer. Her lips were a wine-dark red, and she wore plunging green satin that skimmed her every inch. She caught me, startled for a moment, and then smiled. Just like she always did.
And I thought to myself then, like I knew what was coming, that Harper would smile to the very end.
———
Caleb Krause was nominated in the supporting actor category for his work inSunken Bride, and he was so thoroughly delightedhe ran across the red carpet, cutting up other people’s interviews to sweep me up by the waist and spin me.
“We did it Heywood! We’re here!”
I did not point out that I had been here before. Bless him—it felt like decades ago that we’d been sitting beside each other at the Oscars.
Caleb had been trying so hard to break out of the comedic sidekick roles he kept being given, and I was genuinely very happy for him to be rewarded for doing so. Moreover, his joy was infectious and allowed me to admit just how much I wanted this too. I wanted every award, of course, but this felt … definitive somehow.
Almost like we had an unspoken agreement to put this all to rest.
This rivalry, born out of many things but not least Harper’s boredom, and finally I felt she was bored of me too. She had a husband now, a name that carried itself. I was more accomplished, but she was worth more. Maybe that was where we ought to leave things. It had been a year of such little effort from her. Maybe it was time to bury this.
I wanted to let her go, and I wanted to act out to clutch on tight, but most of all I wanted the final ovation; I wanted the curtains to fall with me on the stage and her in the shadows.
I wanted to win.
The lights were too dim, focused on the stage. I knew who I was with a camera and a bright light on me, in the dark, I fumbled. I plummeted.
Iwanted.
I didn’t know when I would stop being so terrified of this hunger within.
Applause. Lights. Music. Laughter, as the host’s voice blurred.
Categories, awards, winners, applause, Harper’s laugh carrying above the others, plucking some cord within me that chimes and chimes and chimes.
“And the winner is …”
