Page 78 of The Encore’s Crown

“He’s so fun,” she says.

“That's one of many ways to describe him.”

“You still talk?”

“Sometimes.”

The last message from Ryder is from January third :

you out?

He sent at 1:43 in the morning. I never answered. I was too busy planning my lavish excursion to Asia with Kasia. Remembering how stupidly hopeful that version of me was makes my stomach feel hollow.

Suri leans closer. “We should all go out Friday. Melina too. There’s a thing at Halcyon.”

“I can probably get Ryder to come.”

The offer is barely out of my mouth before I watch myself become valuable to her.

Her smile widens. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. He’ll come if I ask.”

He will. Ryder has never encountered a room containing cameras and women without trying to enter it. Especially a woman he never managed to bed despite his best efforts.

Suri has added me to two group chats by the end of my first shift and Melina has informed me which manager steals gratis samples from the stockroom. I sell nearly four thousand dollars in product, rescue a teenager from an orange foundation disaster, and convince a woman going through a divorce to buy the red lipstick she keeps insisting is too much.

“It’s supposed to be too much,” I tell her. “That’s the point.”

She leaves with the lipstick and a handful of other bold colors she admits she never would’ve considered before today.

The days begin moving. Slowly at first. Time never seems to move quickly enough anymore. Not since Japan. But it moves. I work. I smile. I post. I answer messages from girls I’ve known since high school asking about Japan.

It looked insane.

Your skin was glowing.

Was the food amazing?

Did you meet anyone hot?

I give them pieces. The temples, clubs, and hotels. Breakfast shaped like cartoon animals. I leave out the tour buses, soundchecks, and two a.m. hotel rooms with his head between my thighs. The man who called me Kroppy and made me believe waiting for him meant something.

Kasia has always been careful about her connection to the band. Medicine is already hostile enough to women without her becoming known as the fiancée of Rafe Ashton before anyone remembers she’s a doctor. So our friends know we traveled with her. They know there was money, access, and enough luxury to make them jealous. They assume Kasia’s doctor salary paid for most of it. They don’t know why I wake with my chest aching and dried tears on my face that I don’t remember crying.

During the day, I’m flawless. I arrive at Lustre with my hair done and my face perfected. I recommend serums, mix foundations, explain why someone’s concealer keeps creasing. I flirt with security guards and accept compliments like currency. To the outside world I'm still young, beautiful, and interesting. Inside, there's nothing.

The nights are hell. Once the house quiets, Aga goes home, Mama stops moving around the kitchen, and Tata turns the television low enough for the silence to get through. For the first few nights, I cry. It pains me how messy it is, not a single cinematic tear sliding down flawless skin in sight. I cry into my pillow until my face hurts. I wake up angry and swollen, then spend twenty minutes icing beneath my eyes so nobody asks why.

On the fourth night, I decide I’m done. He doesn’t get my tears. He doesn’t get to sit in some hotel room knowing I’m wrecked over him while he congratulates himself for doing the right thing. So I bully myself out of it. Whenever my throat tightens, I call myself pathetic. Whenever I remember the way he held my face, I remind myself what he called it afterward.

Fun.

That’s all.

After a week, I've almost convinced myself I'm fine. That all I need is a good night out and drinks to forget everything. I text Ryder during my lunch break.

Going to Halcyon tonight. Come out.