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I’m still not ready to say it out loud.
I’m still on the fence and I know that while at this point in the world we live in, I can probably say something, this industry doesn’t really allow it.
No, cancel that. They promote the shit out of us having relationships with group members but I swear on all that’s holy the minute that actually happens, all hell wouldn’t just break loose it would deconstruct and come for you.
All seven circles of it.
I stare down at my texts.
I’m literally standing at the Grammy awards and more concerned about my phone, about him texting me back to let me know that he made it.
I don’t realize how up in my own head I am, until I see it.
I mean the world sees it.
A proposal.
To a gorgeous pop star.
From him.
All on camera.
Live.
For the world to see.
My hands shake until she walks up to me and grabs them. I have no clue who she is. She’s not a K-pop artist, she’s not even famous, I know at least that much.
But the hand holding.
It does something.
I stay still.
She looks down at my thumb. “Eyes clear. Smile wide. I’ll get you through whatever situation this is, but I need you to focus because in three and a half minutes you’re about to perform in front of millions of people and the biggest acts in the history of acts. Can you do this for me? Can you make it work? I mean of course you can, Jay, it’s what you do. So focus. One step at a time.”
I swallow against the knot in my throat. “Who are you?”
“Siu needed some help here in the states. I’m backup. I’m your new manager. And I will see you succeed hell or high water.” She glances over at me. “I’m his daughter.”
“What?”
“Daughter. Twenty-two, very good looking so you don’t even need to compliment me. I’m his daughter and I’m in charge of the label that sold it’s soul, quite literally here, in LA. I”ll be all over you, relatively speaking. You need anything? Also that’s most likely”—she starts looking over my outfit—“a publicity stunt, okay you look good, everything’s going to be great, sing your heart out, dance your ass off and I’ll be here when you need a good shoulder to cry on.”
“But why would I need a shoulder…” I stop talking.
Her hair’s a weird funky blue, she has matching eyes and she’s short. Wait is that a SpongeBob shirt? “Go. And life doesn’t choose for us when our hearts are in it. You’re going to do amazing, Jay. I believe in you.” She leans in and whispers, her hair smelling like coconut. “Fighting.”
THE END
