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“I say we’ve been too lenient with her,” Luthor says. Lydia looks stricken, and Margot skewers him with a glare. “This should have been nipped in the bud two years ago. You want to continue having me on as your representation, then you better get your head out of your ass, honey. Come back to reality. You can’t sleep with your employees. That’s rule number one, right next to rule number two: no fucking your fans, either.”
“Now that’s enough!” Margot cries, jumping to her feet to place herself in between me and Luthor. The two size each other up, and for a moment, I’m afraid the situation might actually come to blows. “You can’t speak to her that way.”
“I’m her agent,” he says. “I’m trying to get through that thick skull of hers, because she’s not listening. Hasn’t been listening. If she wants to stay at the top of the charts and keep making albums, then she needs to get her head on straight.”
My hands curl and uncurl into fists at my sides as I suck in a deep breath. I’ve been crying so much it’s getting difficult to breathe. How did anyone even find out about Xavian and I? When I checked into the hotel, I used the name I usually use. Miley Meyers. No one but my team knows that name.
“How did they figure it out?” I murmur.
Lydia jerks her head to look at me, but Luthor and Margot continue to squabble with each other.
“I said … how did they figure it out?” I ask again, louder this time.
“Anonymous tip,” Lydia says. “That’s what HAHA’s rep told me, at least. Whoever sent it in used the form.”
“And they believed it?” I ask, wiping away a few lingering tears from my eyes. “They ran that article without even fact-checking to see if it was true?”
“They checked,” Lydia confirms, and frowns. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Someone over at Hades’ Dream sold you out.”
Furrowing my brows, I say, “But I was wearing a Weave and used the Miley Meyers name. How would they even know it was me?”
Lydia’s throat bobs. “Someone leaked your fake name. We’re still not sure who did it, but someone got a hold of it. I think you were doxxed. It happens all the time.”
Oh my god. Will this nightmare never end? First someone ends up in my dressing room. Then someone tries to kill me at my own meet and greet and finds out which room I’m staying in. Now this? It’s too much. My vision swirls around me until stars burst in my eyes,
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I say. Margot helps me stand up and escorts me to the bathroom. But instead of puking up my guts like I think I’m going to, I sit down at the table and bury my head between my knees. “I can’t breathe.”
She rubs my back in soothing circles. “I know. I know … it’s okay. Just. Deep breaths for me, okay? I’m on your side with this. Luthor is completely out of line. Kal, if you want to fire him, I’ll be with you every step of the way. I’m not going anywhere.”
With glistening eyes, I look up to smile through the pain lancing my heart. “Thank you, Margot. That means a lot to me.”
She smiles back as she kneels in front of me, still rubbing my back. “I know I haven’t been the best friend you deserve lately. And I can’t apologize enough for that. All that shit back on Nocturne really got me thinking. Life is too short. Yeah, the pay is great. But what’s the point when we’re so miserable all the time?”
I cup my mouth with my palm as more tears streak my cheeks. But this time, it’s not because I’m upset about Luthor, or Xavian, or the headlines. This time, it’s because it feels like an enormous weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Margot is with me. My best friend is back. Throwing my arms around her neck, I murmur, “I’ve missed you so much.”
She squeezes me in a tight embrace. “I’ve missed you, too. We’re going to get out of this mess, Em. Don’t worry. We will. I promise you we’ll figure it out together.”
* * *
The suits are livid, of course, and remind me that I signed a contract stating I would put on this charity concert no matter what. It’s happening, and that’s that. Not that I wanted to bail on it, anyway. It’s going to be difficult to give my performance my all, but this is for charity. A cause near and dear to my heart. I wouldn’t back out anyway.
Unfortunately, Xavian has been ordered to stay away from the venue. They can’t order him off the planet, of course, but theycanbar him from entering the stadium.
Not having him with me for the event is going to make this colossally difficult. The short time we’ve spent together has been the happiest I’ve ever been. His support and guidance have been invaluable. He doesn’t deserve to lose his job because I wrongfully insisted we leave the apartment together. If we hadn’t left Toronto, chances are no one would have ever found out about the two of us.
Or maybe I’m just deluding myself into believing that. Someone obviously wanted to hurt me badly enough to dig. Fucking internet. It really is the biggest cesspool ever invented, isn’t it?
The stadium looks beautiful, but how could a venue made entirely of crystal be anything but? I have my doubts the acoustics will work out, though, even though the Cristalite staff members rushing around during the sound check tell me everything is in order. A few security guards arrive at their posts, and I even sign a couple of autographs for them. Soon, this amphitheater will house more than fifty thousand people. One of the largest concerts I’ve ever done.
My heart hasn’t stopped racing since arriving. Margot keeps reminding me to drink water. Her nagging reminds me of Xavian, and now I just feel depressed all over again.
“So, what’s the first song you’re singing tonight?” Margot asks as I sit down with my ceyloria pith, the instrument I picked out for myself back on Persephone’s Cradle. It’s similar to a Terra guitar, except it has sixteen strings and sounds closer to a harp.
I pat the instrument's hollow body and try to force myself to smile. It doesn’t work. “‘We Own the Stars.’”
“Oh, that sounds pretty. Is that a new song?” she asks, tilting her head.
Nodding, I say, “Yeah. I wrote it back in the apartment. I … I wrote it for Xav. For us.”
