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It’d be over soon, so he might as well.
He inhaled, sharp and deep, then turned and pushed through the dressing room door. He cut past the dancers in the hall, the camera crews interviewing them, the roadies and crew and security guards. Vivi’s dressing room was ahead, the keypad lock on the door a giveaway as to who was inside. He walked up to it without hesitation and punched in the code. The lock turned, and he stepped inside.
Vivi gasped—he didn’t see it, but he heard it as the door swung open and he stepped inside. She was on the couch, eyes closed, wearing a silky white robe. He’d rarely visited her during intermissions and thus had no idea how long he had to say whatever it was he’d come here to say—when did she get dressed for act two? When did hair and makeup descend? When did—
“Remy, what the hell are you doing? Did anyone see you come in here? Did the film crews get it?” Vivi asked, panic in her eyes.
“No. I don’t think they—Vivi, we’ve got to talk about this.”
“We can, after the show—” she began. Her words shook.
“Please. Please, talk to me about this now, before it’s all over,” Remy said, voice hard and firm.
Vivi’s lip quivered, her eyes went watery. She pulled her knees to her chest and shook her head. “I don’t know what to say, Remy. I thought you understood, is the thing. I thought you understood that with me, there’s no room for an accident. From the day we started…being together…from that day, you knew how much I wanted to get rid of this heartbreaker reputation. Now I’m in deeper than ever before.”
“I know. I get that. We wrote a whole song about it,” Remy said and managed a half laugh that was a particularly sad attempt at humor.
“We did—and I can’t release ‘Maybe It’s Me’ now, because everyone’s going to say, ‘Yeah, it is, because you’re a cheater,’” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “It’s all ruined.”
“It will die down, Vivi.”
“It will die down, but Remy, it’ll get stirred right back up again. This story is going to be linked, and filed away, and on websites for the rest of my life. When Noel dates someone new, I’ll get brought up. When he releases new songs, people will wonder if they’re about me. When I release new songs, they’re going to assume they’re about him. Whenyouleave the house, people are going to ask you about me. Everything we are now is dirty and wrong and scandalous, forever.” There was still hurt in her voice, yes, but suddenly it’d gone combative and blaming, and Remy felt a shift somewhere in his abdomen.
“I know,” Remy said, pressing his lips together. “I know. I understand. But it’s done. Your career is not over because you broke up with Noel Reid and got with me. You’ve had relationships end before.”
“Not like this. Not where everyone can point and say I was cheating.AndI’m your boss, which is going to make it look even worse. I just…I trusted you when you trusted Val, and that was stupid of me. I should have said you couldn’t tell him—”
“He literally saw us kissing, Vivi. I think he would’ve figured it out.”
“Then I should have made him sign a nondisclosure. I’d have doubled whatever they paid him for the story to keep it quiet.”
Remy ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek then gave in—she had to know. He had to be the one to tell her. “He didn’t sell the story.”
“Remy, I know you want to think your brother wouldn’t do this, but come on. Bianca Treble justhappenedto be hanging out with your brother, and he justhappenedto mention—”
“It’s Celeste,” Remy said, closing his eyes. “Bianca Treble is Celeste.” Silence, silence, until finally Remy dared to look.
Vivi looked like she’d been slapped. Her mouth was open, her eyes darting around the room like she might find the words she needed scrawled across a chair or on the top of the curtain rods.
“Your sister-in-law is Bianca Treble, and you didn’t tell me?” she finally said. Her voice was fragile like a bomb.
Remy’s heart was pounding loud as any song. “I didn’t know. I knew she had websites, but she’s always kept them a secret from us. She keeps that world separate so her sources—”
“Sources like you,” Vivi said breathlessly. Her makeup was running, her tears too much for even the waterproof stage stuff to handle. Her lipstick was smudged, and her robe was slightly open, and had it been any other moment, any other place, any other time, he’d have thought about how beautiful she was.
“I guess,” Remy finally answered, defeated. “Sources like me.”
Vivi nodded, and when she spoke, her voice was hard. “Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. Maybe it was too much to ask of either of us.”
Remy jolted backward a little on her stupid peach stool. The word twisted in his gut, first painful, then infuriating in a way he’d never felt. “I’m sorry—amistake?”
“I just—this is why people like me don’t date people outside the industry. Outside my…part of the industry. It never ends well.” She wiped her eyes with her hand, and her fingers drew away smudged black and cream. She wouldn’t look at him, and he couldn’t stop looking at her.
Remy swallowed hard. “We’re breaking up, aren’t we? During intermission of the last show. We’re breaking up.”
“Look, I need to start getting changed and get this fixed,” she said, looking up and waving a hand over her face. “Let’s just talk later, okay? Please, we can just figure it out—”
“No.”
