CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
BUD LEROY
You can do this, Lila. You’re always staking vampires.
LILA MURPHY
Never. I’ve never staked a vampire.
BUD LEROY
Never, always. Potato, potato.
Vampire Falls. Season one, episode six – “Did You See?”
Fucked, I tell you.
Thankfully, Vivian skated off the other side of the stage, so I didn’t have to come to face to face with her, which was probably a good thing because I don’t think it’s a good idea to look directly into the eyes of a goddess.
“Babe!” snaps Roxy, slapping the clipboard on the side of her leg.
“Huh?” I say.
Roxy’s trying to talk me through my set again, but I’m a little distracted. You know, by the VMA level performance just now.
“Are you taking this in?” She pulls the curtain back and watches the Headset People hauling stuff onto the stage. “We have literal minutes until they’re set up for you.”
I shrug. It’s all I can muster (I’ve always wondered about the usage of that word, and this feels like the right time).
I watch everyone moving drums and ramps back and forth, but all I really see is Vivian.
It’s like she moved so fast around the stage she’s left fragments of herself behind to remind people what they saw was real, and not a hot girl mirage.
I look down at my costume, created with such love and passion for a show that means everything to me, but now is just a symbol of my failure. I pull the headband from my hair.
“What the hell are you doing?” says Roxy, tearing it from my hand.
“What’s the point?” I say, ducking out of her way as she tries to put it back on me. “I can’t follow that!”
She looks at me for a moment, her shoulders sagging a little.
“RuPaul couldn’t follow that, babe. I’m sorry. But it wasn’t really what this is all about, was it? She just blinded people with her hair and incredible, incredible, incredible legs. I mean . . . balance.”
“So that’s it then?” I say.
Roxy shakes her head. “You have to try, babe. Come on.”
“What’s the point?” I repeat, falling into Roxy as one of the Headset People barges past me. “He didn’t even see me and I’m standing right here. Wearing a cape. I’m just going to humiliate myself if I go out there.”
I can tell from the placement of Roxy’s eyebrows that she’s torn between shoving me on stage to at least try and out-perform Vivian and scooping me up and running back to our room where she’d tuck me in bed and hand-feed me Haribo.
She looks at a couple of guys shifting the last item on stage, as the song playing for the crowd comes to an end.
She puts her hand on my shoulder and opens her mouth to speak.
“All set back here?”
We look round at Fake McKinley, who’s not actually Fake McKinley for the first time since we’ve met him but is wearing a pair of black joggers and a black T-shirt.
The T-shirt is tight, tight, tight, and he is ripped under his werewolf costume.
Not that I’m in the frame of mind to appreciate that right now.
OK, I totally take a few seconds to appreciate it.
Roxy gives him a look, and he ducks his head so he can see behind me then looks back at her, his palms up.
“Where are the swords and the sticks?” he asks.
I look down at my boots, guilt swelling in my stomach when I think about the input my parents had into creating them.
“She doesn’t want to do it,” Roxy says.
“Why the hell not?”
This is the most engaged I think I’ve seen Fake McKinley, like, ever. The muscles in his jaw are tight (not as tight as his T-shirt, though) and he’s looking down at me with such intensity I think if he really concentrated, he could make laser beams come out of his eyes.
He puts his hand on my shoulder, turning me to face him. I suspect he considers crouching down to talk to me but decides against it.
“What’s going on with you, Eliza?”
“I can’t do it,” I say, shaking my head. “I can’t go on, not after that.”
“After what?”
“Are you serious?” I say, gesturing at the Vivian fragments that are still spinning around on stage. “After Vivian.”
“Why?”
“Did you see her?” I ask, chewing the inside of my cheek.
He nods and folds his arms. “She was sensational.”
“Exactly.”
“But that doesn’t mean you won’t be your own brand of sensational.” I glance at Roxy, who nods, then I look backat him. “Sure, the crowd enjoyed what Vivian did. I did too. They enjoyed it because it was fun and carefree.”
“And hot,” I say, folding my arms over my breastplate.
“Very hot,” confirms Fake McKinley. “But that is not what this is about, and she knows it.”
He holds his finger up and nods at the Headset Guy who’s pointing at his watch, then goes on.
“Roxy showed me your reels on Insta, Eliza. It’s not fun, and it’s not carefree, but it’s full of heart. Passion. You do this because you love it, right?” I nod. “Do you think Vivian did that because she loves it, or because she looks incredible on a pair of hot pink roller skates?”
His voice is soft but firm, and I feel like we’re the only three people on the planet right now. I look up at him.
“Probably the roller-skates thing?” I say.
He smiles, a relaxed gentle smile, and nods.
“You can learn to skate, but you can’t learn passion. You either have it, or you don’t. And you have it. Show them how much.”
I blink at him, the hairs on my arms standing on end.
“We’ve talked this all through, and Roxy says you can do it.She says you love this so much, you probably do it in your dreams.” I glance at Roxy, who has a little sparkle in her eye.
“We’ve got everything you need – your song, your floormarks, the props.
Even Dorothy is out there for you. We’ve all done our bit, Eliza.
You go do your bit. You bring the passion. OK?”
I’m so pumped full of emotion right now I think I could somersault into a UFC ring and shoot flames from my bare hands.
I nod at Fake McKinley who holds his hand out for a fist bump, but I hug him instead.
He’s incredible at hugs, and I soak up all his good vibes along with a calming zing of lemongrass I’m guessing from his shower gel.
We break apart and I look over my shoulder, ready to go.
Charlie Chamberlain’s watching us from the other side of the stage, probably posted by Vivian as part of her tactical takedown, but I ignore him and turn to Roxy.
“Strap my swords on.”
Roxy rushes to strap the sword holster across my body. Fake McKinley joins her and they confer, checking it’s secured. I check I can reach my weapons and my cape is still hanging right.
Roxy moves round to my front, puts my headband back on, then puts her hands on my shoulders.
“Forgot to say,” she says, kissing the top of my head, “you might get a little wet.”
“What? How?” I look from her to Fake McKinley, who looks pleased, maybe even proud. “What?”
“Just wanted to warn you,” says Roxy, tweaking my hair, “but don’t worry about it.”
“Those two sentences don’t go together?” I say, looking up for sprinklers.
“That’s your cue,” says Headset Guy, doing a sort of winding gesture with his finger then scurrying off behind a stand with lots of buttons.
Roxy and Fake McKinley step back, admiring their handiwork as though they’ve just got me ready to send down the aisle.
I nod at them both, then bite my lip and walk to the centre of the stage.
The closed curtains ripple in front of me, and I try not to think about the hundreds of eyes on the other side.
I look over my shoulder at my friends. Roxy smiles and gives me a double thumbs up, and Fake McKinley makes a heart shape over his chest, then taps it with a closed fist and mouths one word.
Passion.