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But it’s working.
For one, I’m going to be pressing charges. But even better, once my story got legs with the media and started to get spread around, more versions of me came out of the shadows.
Twenty-five versions of me, actually.
Twenty-five incredibly brave, very angry women who’d all been victimized when they were under the age of eighteen by Kurt. Who had been given money, or NDAs, or even just threats to keep quiet.
Forget his reality show and his album being shelved. The piece of shit is looking at prison for the rest of his life.
“You’re sure?”
I blink away the bad, smiling as I turn to sink into Jackson’s chest.
“I’m sure.”
“We can come back another day, Mel. I’m sure—”
“Just ring the bell.”
I take a deep breath. I can do this. This’ll be fine.
“She’s gonna love you!” I can hear June telling me from the other night when I told her about this. “What are you even worried about? What’s not to love?”
I grin. Jackson being here is helping a lot. But I kinda wish June was too. Though, that’d be hard, given her schedule these days.
Because June Hendrix officially went viral the night she played live on stage with Jackson for his first public performance in more than a decade.
I mean,obviouslyshe did. Not just for being there, but because she fucking rocks. After we played our new song that night, Jackson leaned over and asked if June knew how to playWreck Me Gently.
Which, she does. I’ve seen her cover it in her shows, and it brings the house down. Which it did that night.
About three-thousand people filmed her one-woman, one guitar solo version of the Velvet Guillotine hit. And three weeks later, one of those videos is closing in on eightymillionplays on YouTube.
Her Spotify plays are through the roof, her email inbox is a disaster, and her phone has been ringing incessantly for three weeks.
I couldn’t be happier for her.
Smokey’s Joint out on Avenue C was smart enough—and quick enough—to book her as a resident act for two weeks. When that sold out in about eleven seconds, they extended it another month.
It’s still sold out. Girl is onfire.
“Alright, I’m doing it.”
I take a shaky breath as Jackson rings the doorbell of the gorgeous townhouse on Central Park West. My heart thuds like a drum, and every single dread and nagging worry comes out to play.
I mean, Jackson obviously filled me in on the full story of Judy and my father once we had privacy. Once I could cry the tears of loss and those of happiness into his chest.
Is the woman who answers this door going to hate me, because of what I represent? Because I’m the living embodiment of the faults in the man she loved?
The door unlocks, and my heart jumps into my throat. It swings open, and I tense as I lock eyes with Alice Watts.
A second ticks by, my stomach slowly sinking into my feet. But then, she suddenly bursts into tears, while simultaneously smiling widely.
“Alice—”
She throws her arms around me, hugging me fiercely.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Prudence.”
