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And they’re all filming me.
“I think Kal needs to spend some time at the health and wellness spa,” Lydia mutters, bringing up the spa’s terminal screen right then and there. “I’ll book her an appointment immediately. A little time off, I think.”
“That’s my job,” Margot snaps. She reaches over Lydia’s lap and hits the terminal button, making the screen disappear.
Lydia’s mouth falls open like she’s just been slapped.
“I’ll do it,” Margot adds after a second of silence. “Just … let Kal and I talk privately for a moment. Outside. She needs some air.”
* * *
Sometimes it’s hard to tell which Margot I’m going to get. Will it be Margot the manager, ready to get down to business and tell me what needs to be done? Or will it be Margot the best friend, the woman who left Luna with me all those years ago, ready to embark on new adventures together?ThatMargot hasn’t shown her face in eons.
Which is why I’m so shocked she’s sitting next to me right now.
She and I sit in companionable silence for a few minutes beside a massive fountain by the valet podium that looks like a giant symbol of a female orgasm. The pristine pink shell with vulva-like folds sits prominently on display, water gushing from it. Margot and I stare at the statue for a while. Then she looks up at the stars as she pulls out a strawberry cigarillo, imported from Terra. She hands me one.
I balk at the offering and hold up my hands. “Are you serious? We’re in public. I can’t smoke out here.”
“You just had a giant meltdown in the middle of a packed restaurant. There were at least twenty terminal screens pointed at you when you called Luthor a sorry excuse for an ingrown hair. Which … very creative, by the way,” she says with a slight smirk, then lifts the cigarillo to her mouth. She removes one of the silver bangles from her wrist, clicks a tiny button on it, and uses it to light the end of her cigarillo using some sort of purple fireless flame.
“It’s new,” she mutters, slipping the bangle back over her wrist. “Came out last month.”
“Don’t change the subject,” I say. “I know I just fucked everything up. I’d apologize for it, but the truth is, I don’t think any of you realize just how difficult it is, being me.” I bite my bottom lip to keep the tears from slipping down my cheeks. Damn, I wish Xavian was here. It pains me to admit it, but … I kind of need him right now.
Margot’s mouth falls open, and she almost drops her cigarillo, staring at me with a look of sadness. “Kal, I—”
I hold up a hand. “Just listen. Look, I’ve been spiraling, yes. Because ever since I started getting these big tours and getting plastered across the terminals all night and day, I haven’t been able to fucking breathe. I haven’t been able to just be me. And then I got caught kissing a woman.” I cringe at the memory. It shames me that I can’t even remember the woman’s name, because I was too drunk and was having too much fun. But she probably remembers the day she got to make out with Kallista, Grammy award nominee. It’s probably a blast for her. She gets to go around, living her authentic self, bragging about how she kissed a pop star while I’m still suffocating in the closet.
You’d think that, by now, no one would have to live like this anymore. But instead of worldwide acceptance, there’s three times as many planets ready to hate you simply for being different.
“I’m bi,” I continue. “And I wasn’t ready to come out yet. But then I got outed as gay. Which, again, I’m not. But if I try to correct people, try to deny the accusations, it could go one of two ways. Either I tell the truth, that I’m bi, and am forcibly outed. Or I deny the accusations and continue to hide.” I exhale slowly. “But I’m tired of living this way, Margot. Not just the queer stuff, any of it. I don’t like the person I’m turning into.”
Margot lets out a soft squeak of sympathy, then puts her hand on my shoulder. “I am so sorry, Kal. I’ve been so stressed and wrapped up in this job, that … that I’ve lost sight of what’s important.”
She’s not wrong. For the past three years, it’s felt like she’s been slipping away more and more with each passing day. Three years ago we used to love eating at greasy spoons, trying all kinds of new foods and not counting the calories. It’s sad how quickly things change.
“I thought … we’ll get through one more tour,” she says. “Just one more. And then we finish that tour, do a bunch of interviews, work on a new album. Then it starts up all over again. This industry is brutal. Not just for the talent, either. But for all of us.”
I nod as I listen. I’ve never taken the time to think about what it might be like for Margot, who has only been a manager for three years and seems to be struggling every step of the way. Not like she’s made it easy to sympathize with her, though.
“The way Luthor speaks to you, though. I hate that piece of shit,” she says, then takes a drag of her cigarillo. “If he wasn’t the best in the business, I’d say dump him. But I can’t make that call for you.”
“Is he, though?” I ask, wincing.
She stares at me with a confused grin. “What do you mean?”
“The best, I mean. Because he sent us to Nocturne. Almost got the three of us killed, and we didn’t even get paid.”
Margot takes another drag and hums thoughtfully. “You think he knew about the general being bad news?”
“Probably. But I think he was too tempted by the money and his connection to that fucker and didn’t care either way,” I say with a shrug.
“Damn.” Margot puffs on her cigarillo and we fall into silence for a few moments. “You’re looking better lately, by the way. Healthier. Despite all the stress and shit.”
I tilt my head at her and smirk. “Really? It helps that Xavian’s been feeding me, I guess.”
Margot doesn’t even seem surprised to hear me say that. She stares up at the night sky and sighs. “I had a feeling. It sucks that a man you just met has been better for you than the person who’s known you since childhood. I really fucked up, didn’t I?”
