Chapter 46 Athena
ATHENA
Zara Nova sits across from me in a private corner, commanding attention without even trying.
Everyone in the Pantheon is focused on her, waitstaff lingering a beat too long when they approach our table, the manager repeatedly finding excuses to walk past. Even I feel the pull of her gravity—that rare magnetism that can’t be manufactured or bought.
Three Grammys, two world tours, and a cultural impact that transcends music have made her one of the most recognizable faces on the planet. And now she’s here, in my casino, discussing her upcoming residency.
“Thanks for agreeing to meet one-on-one,” she says, taking a sip of her champagne. “My manager wanted to tag along, but these conversations get so bogged down in details when the suits are involved. I told him to sit this one out—he can come next time when we’re finalizing everything.”
“I prefer it this way too,” I reply, appreciating her directness.
“It’s easier to discuss your vision without being interrupted every other sentence.
” I refill her champagne flute. “We’ve gone through your checklist, and I don’t see a problem with any of the points.
The Palestra can be transformed however you wish, and we have state-of-the-art sound and lighting systems. Do you have any concerns from your side? ”
Zara nods. “I do, but my concerns are on a personal level,” she says, picking at the salad she’s barely touched.
“I need to know what I’m actually getting myself into.
Twelve months in Vegas is…” She trails off, twirling a lock of curly dark hair around her finger.
I’m getting a certain energy from her. Her stare when she meets my eyes is intense, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think she was flirting with me.
She wasn’t like this when we met for the initial negotiations with her manager present.
“A long commitment,” I finish for her. “Especially if you’re not used to desert living.”
“Exactly. I’ve done the weekend performances, the awards shows, but living here? I’m not sure I can handle the constant noise, the tourists, the artificial everything. And I like being outdoors, so I’m afraid I’ll get cabin fever.”
“Well, if you decide to live at the Olympus during your residency, you will have your own private entrance,” I explain. “We have an excellent penthouse suite with a spacious terrace and a small private pool.”
“That sounds good,” she admits. “But what about when I need to escape? I’m used to having options.”
“The desert is beautiful if you need to get away,” I say. “Most people who visit never see beyond the casinos, but there’s something almost spiritual about the landscape once you leave the city behind.” I smile and add, “I’m happy to show you around. I love driving.”
“Oh? You want to be my tour guide?” Something shifts in her expression—a subtle change in the tilt of her head, the curve of her smile. She leans forward slightly, her voice dropping to a more intimate register. “I’ll take you up on that.”
Wait. Is she…?
I freeze, replaying my words in my head, searching for anything that might have been misinterpreted. The invitation was purely professional, a courtesy I’ve extended to other performers.
But the look she’s giving me now is unmistakable, and I’m thrown completely off balance. I had no idea Zara was queer.
“And do you live here too? I bet you have a bad-ass suite,” she says and leans in even closer. “I’d love to see it some time, if we’re going to be neighbors.”
“I…” I hesitate, unsure how to navigate this sudden shift. Most people assume I still live at the Olympus, and for privacy reasons, I like to keep it that way.
Zara studies me for a moment, then her eyes widen in realization. “Oh God, I completely misread that, didn’t I?” She laughs, though a flush creeps up her neck. “I’m so sorry. I thought you were—” She stops herself and brings a hand to her forehead.
“No need to apologize,” I say quickly. “It’s just that there’s…someone special in my life. I’m not sure where it’s heading. In fact, it may be going nowhere, but…”
“Say no more.” She holds up a hand, composure returning. “Professional boundaries restored. And can we please keep this awkward exchange between us? I think the champagne has gone to my head, and no one knows I’m…well, you know what I mean.”
“Of course. Don’t worry about it.” I’m grateful for her graceful recovery.
“But if you’d like to explore things other than the desert while you’re here, I can help you with that.
Discretion is my middle name, and I have a lot of successful and attractive single female friends who are equally discreet. ”
Zara’s eyebrows shoot up, and for a moment she looks genuinely surprised. Then she leans back in her chair, regarding me with newfound interest.
“Wow,” she says. “The mysterious Athena Stavros runs an underground queer dating service too?” There’s no malice in her tone, just amused curiosity.
“Not exactly, but I have connections,” I say with a chuckle. I pull a business card from my jacket pocket and write a number on the back before sliding it across the table. “Anyway, the offer stands. That’s my personal number. Please don’t share it—I’m very private.”
Zara takes the card, examining it before tucking it into her purse with a laugh. “That’s usually my line.” She pretends to look around for hidden cameras. “Am I being punked? I’m supposed to be the one giving out my closely guarded personal number with warnings about privacy.”
I laugh along, and with the tension broken, I steer the conversation back to safer territory. “About the residency—we’d also arrange private transportation for you, of course. And the contract includes use of the Olympus jet for personal national travel during your off weeks.”
We discuss scheduling details, performance frequency, and rehearsal space requirements, but I’m finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate.
My thoughts keep drifting to Ruby. Her car has been missing from the driveway since yesterday, and I’ve sent her three texts today, receiving nothing in return.
I don’t even know if she’s in Vegas, if I’ve ruined everything by admitting how I feel.
“What about the rehearsal schedule?” Zara asks, pulling me back to the present. “I’ll need at least three weeks of setup time before opening night.”
“Not a problem,” I assure her. “We can close the Palestra during the day for a full month before your premiere if needed. The space will be completely yours from nine to five.” I force myself to focus. This deal is important—potentially transformative for the Olympus. I need to be present.
My phone vibrates against the table, and I fight the urge to check it immediately. Another minute passes as Zara outlines her lighting preferences, and the phone vibrates again.
“I’m sorry,” I say, unable to resist any longer. “Would you mind if I quickly check this? It might be important.”
She waves a hand in permission, and I pick up the phone, my heart racing when I see Ruby’s name on the screen.
Sorry for the late reply. I’m in San Francisco with my parents. A second message follows: I’m thinking of you.
Relief floods through me. She’s safe. She’s with her parents.
“I take it that’s good news?” Zara asks. “You’re smiling.”
“Yes,” I say, typing a quick response just to let her know she’s on my mind too, not pushing for more. “Apologies for the interruption. I’m all yours.”
When I look up, Zara is studying me. “Is that her? The special someone?”
I hesitate, then nod. There’s no point in denying it. “Yes.”
“She’s a lucky woman.” Zara traces the rim of her flute, her gaze drifting momentarily to the panoramic view of the Strip beyond our window. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, though I suspect I know where this is headed.
“To explore that side of myself.” She smiles ruefully. “My whole life is decided for me down to who I’m allowed to be seen with.”
“Have you had these feelings for a while?”
“Always.” Zara hesitates. “I fooled around with girls in college sometimes, but that was a long time ago. And then fame came knocking on my door. I’m grateful for that, but it also meant my days of experimenting were over, and I fantasize about dating women all the time.
” She studies me for a moment before adding, “I wish I could be you for a day.”
“Me?” The comment almost makes me laugh. Zara Nova has millions of adoring fans and chart-topping hits. “I’m not sure I understand where you’re coming from.”
“There’s this sexual confidence radiating from you,” she says. “I picked up the vibe immediately—that you’re queer and completely comfortable with it. You just own who you are.”
I frown and shake my head. “Between you and me? I’m not as out and proud as you might think.
” The confession slips out before I can consider it.
“I don’t hide exactly, but I don’t date in public either.
The business pages feature me occasionally, and word travels.
I’ve spent my life making sure my family in Greece doesn’t find out, so I’m careful. ”
I wonder why I’m sharing this with her. This meeting is supposed to be about her residency, not trading personal secrets.
“You’re not out to your family?”
“My sister knows now. Found out recently, actually. She’s supportive. But my mother is traditional Greek Orthodox, so it’s complicated.” I take a sip of champagne. “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like too. To walk through my casino with a woman on my arm.”
“Huh.” Zara tilts her head as she looks me over. “Who would have thought?”
“We all have our blind spots,” I say. “Areas where courage fails us, despite how strong we appear elsewhere.” I lean back in my chair and smile.
“I think this residency could be good for you in more ways than one, and my offer stands on introducing you to some likeminded women. No pressure, no expectations, and certainly no headlines. Just…possibilities.”
Her eyes meet mine, and I catch a glimpse of the woman behind the platinum records and magazine covers. “Possibilities,” she repeats. “I like the sound of that.”