“Here.” It’s Will, edging past me to wave a security pass at a card reader by the door handle. How did he get that? The door clicks and I shove it open before he can.
I make my way down the hallway toward the backstage area, but it’s crowded now with dozens of event staff and I can barely squeeze a path through. I’m going to miss my cue to go onstage. I can already hear Marty’s voice in my head, yelling at me for screwing up, and my heart is going crazy, trying to tunnel a way out of my chest. I wish I’d taken that pill sooner so I’d feel calm right now, but instead it feels as if my ribs are splintering. I can’t breathe. My vision swims.
A waiter carrying a tray of hot shrimp and sauce bumps into me, and it almost all goes sliding down the front of my dress, but luckily, Will’s suddenly by my side, pulling me out of the way, and then he’s taking my hand and pushing through the crowd, forcing a path through somehow, and then we’re in an empty corridor and I find that I can breathe again. I have no idea where we are, but Will seems to know where we’re going, so I let him lead me. He makes a series of turns, and God knows how, but he gets us to the backstage area.
“There you are!” the woman with the iPad says. Her eyes are wide and panicked, and she rushes over and takes me by the elbow. I feel like I’m a relay baton being passed from one runner to the next as she pulls me toward the wings of the stage.
My hand slips from Will’s. I look back over my shoulder for him, relieved to see he’s only a few feet behind me.
The pill is starting to work, its little atoms speeding through my bloodstream, spreading peace. My heartbeat has slowed, my lungs can inhale their fill, my vision no longer swims. The cheers of a thousand people are a muted white noise in the background, and it’s only when I’m nudged by the woman with the iPad that I realize they’re saying my name. I throw back my shoulders and walk, or rather, float, out of the wings and onto the stage.
WILL
Luckily for me, I have practice standing on parade, so I grin and bear it, or just bear it. The grinning is not happening. I’ve found an out-of-the-way spot, half-hidden behind a large fern, where I have a view of the whole room and all the exits within reach. If only I could escape through one right now, instead of having to stand here listening to the deafening din of rich people talking about themselves.
After the award ceremony we moved to an after-party at a swanky hotel. Luna is easy to keep an eye on as she’s the focal point of the entire room. She’s like the moon with her silver-sparkle gleam, except, unlike the moon, everything and everyone revolves around her rather than the other way around.
I’m trying not to seethe about her sneaking off earlier. The truth is, though, that I’m not so much mad at her as I am at me for almost losing her. My first day on the job and I’m getting distracted by this wild world I’ve been dropped into.
I look at Luna now, smiling as her manager, Marty, introduces her to some other man in his late thirties with a slicked-back hairdo and a flashy diamond watch. Luna smiles at him and politely shakes his hand, but I can see the muscles in her back stiffen, and her body language can’t hide how she’s trying to keep her distance from him.
“Drink?”
I turn and find the girl with the red hair offering me a champagne glass. I saw her doing Luna’s makeup earlier backstage and deduced that maybe the two of them aren’t friends but that, like me, the girl’s just the help.
“No thanks,” I say, my eyes darting back to Luna. I can’t afford to lose her twice in one night.
“Are you having fun?” the red-haired girl asks, finishing her own champagne and setting the empty glass down on a passing waiter’s tray.
I shrug. I don’t want to be rude, but I’m not here for conversation. I’m working. She doesn’t seem to notice, though, as she moves to stand beside me.
“Not your kind of thing, hanging with A-listers?” she asks with a sardonic smile as she nods at the crowded room and starts sipping from the glass she offered me a moment ago.
I look around the room with a frown. I probably wouldn’t recognize anyone in here, even if they were standing in front of me wearing a name badge. Everyone is definitely above-average attractive, though, that’s for sure, and they also exude confidence and privilege in a way that makes me wonder what pills they’re all popping. I wonder what Luna was taking earlier too. Is that normal in this world?
“I’m Natalie,” the girl says, holding out her hand.
“Will,” I say, shaking it, looking at her only briefly before I turn my head back to scan the room.
“What’s your story, Will?” Natalie asks, leaning her back against the wall beside me.
“How do you mean?” I ask, watching Marty maneuver Luna to another corner of the room to meet yet more people.
“Who are you? Where are you from? How’d you get this job?” Natalie asks, peppering me with questions. “I’m guessing you’re ex-military,” she says before I can answer. “You guys all are.”
“Yeah,” I say.
“I’m guessing you miss wearing camouflage.”
“Excuse me?” I say, turning briefly to look at her.
She grins at me. “You’re trying to blend in by hiding behind a potted palm.” She leans in so her shoulder brushes mine. “Hate to tell you, it isn’t working.”
I fidget at my suit cuffs self-consciously. Is it the tux? Do I look as ridiculous in it as I feel?
Natalie gestures at the room. “They’re all desperate to be seen and you just want to hide, which automatically makes you stand out. It’s ironic, I suppose.” She laughs softly under her breath. “Those who want it the least get it the most.”
I follow her gaze toward Luna. She sure seemed happy being the center of attention earlier. On the red carpet she was lapping it up. But here, I notice, with the crowd now two deep around her, it seems like she’s trying to shrink away from the limelight. Marty’s hand on the middle of her back seems to be forcing her to stand in place. It’s odd.
“Don’t.”
I look at Natalie. “Don’t what?”
She gives me a hard stare, her eyebrows raised. “Fall for her.”
I frown, confused. She nods toward Luna. I double-take and then laugh out loud. “Believe me, there’s no chance of that,” I reassure her.
“Why?” she asks, tilting her head in my direction as though her curiosity has been aroused.
I shrug. “She’s not my type.”
“What is your type?” she asks, turning to face me full-on. Her breath, sweet with champagne, fills my nostrils and I can’t help but glance down at her lips. She notices and smiles.
“Not sure I have one,” I answer lightly.
“But you know she isn’t it?” she asks, cocking her head.
“Yes.” I nod. I only like people who are straight up and who aren’t wearing a mask. I also like people with manners who say please and thank you and don’t treat me like I’m shit on the bottom of their shoe. I keep this to myself, though. For all I know, Natalie and Luna might be friends, despite the working relationship, and anything I say could get repeated.
“Well, that’s good,” Natalie answers, reaching up a hand and brushing away some lint from the shoulder of my tux. Her hand lingers and the look she’s giving me isn’t a hard one to decipher. “I’ll give you my number,” she murmurs. “Maybe we can hang out sometime.”