23. The Green Room
The Green Room
MARY
“So where is the princess?” Alicia ribbed.
We’d packed in backstage at the Royal Albert Hall and awaited the VIP hosts.
“She’s still coming,” I said. “She just landed not too long ago. It’s a quick turnaround, I guess. Royal nonsense.”
“And yet… she’s still pussy-blind even if she swears she doesn’t care if the girl shows up or not.”
I rolled my eyes. Would I go home with her tonight?
I hoped. We spent the past few weeks talking on the phone about everything and nothing, but it wasn’t the same as lying in bed together, falling asleep to the lull of her breathing.
Nor was it anything close to a real date in public, something I would have killed for.
Hell, I would have settled for a private date if it involved delicious food cooked from scratch!
“Are we going to the afterparty?” Clarice asked. “Were we even invited?”
“To Leah’s?” I asked. “Yes. And I think so.”
“Babe, you are contractually obligated to attend that thing with your girl,” Alicia said. “There is no getting out of it.”
Your girl. I wanted to protest but couldn’t muster the energy. While I didn’t mind attending a party at Leah’s or spending time with Betty, I worried about my inability to keep my hands off her. Moreover, I wanted to get her alone. I had a lot of questions—ones I wasn’t going to ask over the phone.
“Everyone!” The stage manager announced to the packed green room. “The Duchess of Inverness and Miss Roughy will be back any minute, so make yourselves presentable.”
“Don’t you even start flipping your hair,” Alicia batted my hand away. “I had it looking perfect! Stop!”
True to form, I’d brought back the undercut in a more subtle way—one that could be covered as needed.
I tested the waters to see if AJ would whinge or if the record company complained about it being too butch.
We experimented with me wearing less clothing—something a little more daring up top—in exchange for letting my head breathe a little.
Of course, now I worried about that choice.
“I can put it back—”
“No. Be you,” Clarice said. “After all the handwringing about turning it back, you should embrace it. And you shouldn’t even be stunned by one royal or another anymore, right?”
“Yeah. Shaking the hand of the sister-in-law of the woman whose pussy you were face-deep in is nothing, right?” Alicia teased.
I smacked her arm. “Can you please?”
It was true. The Duchess was Betty’s sister-in-law and the most glamorous of the royals. And as she entered and people flocked in greeting, I saw why.
“She’s even prettier in person,” Alicia whispered.
“It’s like she was created in a lab,” Clarice agreed. “A perfectly manicured princess raised up to marry a prince.”
“She was,” Alicia said. “She was born one. It makes sense to Mary, of course.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think it does. Why would any of it make sense to me?”
“Well, I think that answer is obvious, love.”
“It’s not, Alicia. Betty never struck me that way. And she’s different. She’s just… got an edge to her.”
The Duchess was perfect—confident, personable, and sufficiently traditional.
Betty was a little wild and aggressive. She could be nervous and shy, too.
I couldn’t imagine her sister-in-law ever putting a foot wrong, even if Betty might feel mortified.
They were totally different. The Duchess was a figurehead. Betty was a real-life person.
Finally, Leah and The Duchess reached us. Leah, to my surprise and relative dismay, gave me an excited hug as the others greeted their royal patron.
“Oh my God, it has been a million years! How the fuck are you?” It was as if time didn’t matter and we remained part of the same young, sapphic London hipster scene.
“Busy,” I said. “So fucking busy.”
“Busy is good. Betty is here, but… she’s in the VIP with Lou. I promise you she’s here.”
“Oh, I was—”
“Stop. I am… aware and happy.”
I blushed.
Leah whispered, “But I swear to God, she is like my baby sister—the one I literally used to carry around on my hip—and if you hurt her, I will—”
I whispered back, “Leah, it’s all good. Her tears wound me to my core. It’s not my intent.”
Leah patted my shoulder. “Well done, then.”
There was a lull momentarily until The Duchess took her hand out. Thankfully, she seemed too distracted for what she assumed was our showbiz talk.
“You must be the lead singer? Marit?” She asked.
I nodded.
“’Justice’ is fab. Top-notch. I’m hoping you play it in your set.”
“We are,” I answered. “Gotta play the single. I am… honored you think that.”
“Oh, it’s fabulous. We’re excited to see you at UniVox.”
“Are you going?” I asked.
“Of course! We’re the official envoy. Or, rather, I was guilted into going and then decided to drag my husband. And all because of Norway’s dear Princess Elisabeth.”
Alicia looked at me, as if I knew something.
Leah snickered. “Betty is Ingrid’s best friend.”
“Yes, and apparently you all know her now. But what you don’t know is that she fobbed me off and decided to stay with Leah. I swear, Leah, I am jealous!”
“Oh, get over it. She still loves you,” Leah said. “Ladies and Barry, knock ‘em dead. Ingrid, your handler is glaring at us.”
“Fine, fine. So nice meeting you,” the Duchess said brightly.
“She’s just… sunshine,” Alicia sighed.
Somehow, knowing that the most beloved member of the British Royal Family, apart from Her Majesty, was Betty’s best friend raised the stakes.
I worried about Betty’s immediate family accepting us, not realizing that the Brits were in on this, too.
What if the soft masc rockstar was a little bit too much for Betty’s perfectly manicured royal orbit?
As if on cue, Clarice smacked my back, “Shake it off. Get out of your head. You’re going to spend the night with Betty after we absolutely kill. Let it go, Mar.”