Chapter 17 #2
“Can I give you a piece of unsolicited advice?” Shirley says.
“There was a time when I thought it would be easier to live life the way everyone expected me to because it would hurt less. I was wrong, and I’m so glad I disregarded those voices and gave myself the space to meet the real me, to love them.
It was scary at first, but if I hadn’t, I would have lost myself.
” Their shoulders drop, and their eyes fill with concern. “Don’t lose yourself, Sasha.”
I squeeze the ball of Play-Doh until it flattens between my palms. I don’t want to lose myself, but it’s like Asher said. If you show them the real you, you’ll disappear. So maybe the only way not to lose myself is to be someone else. To hide Sasha and give them Sassy.
Before I can dwell on their words any longer, the door swings open. Marissa barges into the studio, a large coffee order in hand, the loud clack of her boots thunderous against the floor.
“Hey, what’s up?” Marissa asks.
“We were just talking about a song,” I lie. I don’t feel like bringing Marissa into the conversation we were having. I don’t think Shirley would want me to, either. “What are you doing here?”
Marissa is the embodiment of “this meeting could have been an email.” She doesn’t get stuck in LA traffic unless she has no other choice.
Marissa looks between me and Shirley. “Hey, Shirley, would you mind stepping out? I need a private word with Sasha.”
Shirley turns to me, as if asking Do you want me to stay?
“I don’t mind if Shirley hears. I trust them. What’s going on?” I cross my arms and sink farther into the couch, a sense of dread pooling in my chest. If Marissa came all the way here, it means she wants to tell me something she couldn’t tell me over the phone.
“You want the good news or the bad news?” Marissa says.
“Bad news first.”
“Let’s start with the good news.”
“I just said—”
“Your label has an amazing new marketing plan for your upcoming album. Sasha, when I tell you I gasped … it’s so detailed. And they’re doubling our budget.”
“Why?” I ask, my heart dropping. “I already get enough exposure. Why would I need more?” I don’t even want it. The thought of a longer press tour makes me want to bang my head against the wall.
Marissa’s expression turns uneasy. “That’s the bad news. Check your socials.”
Shirley exchanges a glance with Marissa and reaches for their phone. The pause stretches as I grab my own phone. Suddenly I’m met with a picture of Kai and Asher, kissing in the middle of a hallway.
Shock slices through me. What? No, this can’t be. Surely, it’s AI. Or Photoshop—
My body goes cold, my fingers numbing as I scroll through a bunch of posts, eyes darting from video to video, comment to comment.
But it’s real. The picture was taken from far away, but Asher’s arm is clearly around Kai’s waist, and they’re leaning into each other in a way that can’t be mistaken for a platonic gesture.
Several hashtags are already trending: #hecheated, #wreckitasher, #SASSYWELOVEYOU.
“We need to do something.” A sinking feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. This is my fault. My lie, spinning out of control.
Marissa squeezes my shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’re working on a contingency plan. We’ll say that you were blindsided by the news, and that as far as you know, you guys were already broken up.”
“That’s not the truth!” I swat her hand away, scrambling to my feet.
Marissa would do anything to keep me out of this mess.
I understand that’s her job, but doesn’t she have a heart?
My friends just got outed. Everyone thinks Kai cheated on me, and Asher’s spent his entire life protecting himself, only for me to expose him in a second.
“They did blindside you with their relationship,” Marissa says. “It’s not lies when it’s based on the truth.”
The room spins around me until I have no choice but to sit down on the couch. How does she even know that? All I told her is that I wanted to end the contract because Kai had started seeing someone else, and it wasn’t fair to them. She must have put the pieces together when the picture leaked.
Fuck. How did these pictures get out in the first place?
“The truth is a lie,” I say. “I won’t throw Kai under the bus.”
I pull at my ponytail so hard my scalp hurts, but the ache in my chest remains. I can’t let Kai go through this alone. He agreed to the contract to help me.
“It will destroy your career if you don’t,” Marissa says, her tone gentler. “Sasha, how do you think your fans are going to take it? When they find out that you’ve been lying about who your music is about, about dating Kai, and even about your sexuality.”
“You told me to do it!” I yell, anger pulsing through me even though I know it’s not her responsibility. I agreed to this in the first place, and I should have known better.
“Because you had to, Sasha. Your image is more important than your personal feelings. Your entire career hinges on what your fans think of you.”
My image. My throat burns with a mixture of tears and frustration. Is this what the rest of my life will be like? Lying to avoid compromising the previous web of lies?
“They won’t have much mercy for Kai or Asher either if you tell the truth.
Kai was your accomplice. If you come clean about the contract, they’ll hate him as much as they’ll hate you.
” She crouches beside me and reaches for my hands.
“This isn’t about being honest, Sasha. This is about damage control.
Someone has to control the narrative. Right now, you do.
You can leverage this into a heartbreak album that paints Kai in a good light to soften some of the blow.
But there’s nothing you can do for them right now.
They chose to kiss in public. These are the consequences. ”
Chose to kiss in public. How the fuck is an empty hallway a public space?
I replay the scene in my mind, but the pieces don’t fit together quite right.
Asher wouldn’t make a mistake like that, especially if he wanted to keep his relationship private.
He’s been in this business since he was born.
He knows how to avoid paparazzi, which means …
Did someone set them up? But who? And why?
Marissa’s words wash over me like distant echoes, lost in the static that fills my mind. I started this. I need to put an end to it.
When we try to exit the studio later in the day, a swarm of paparazzi surrounds the building.
The moment they catch sight of me, they press forward, attempting to breach the doors, but security stops them.
With no other choice, we escape into the parking lot, and I squeeze into the cramped trunk of Marissa’s car.
She drives us out of there, darkness enveloping me like a protective cloak as I lay my head on a blanket Shirley lent me for comfort.
It should feel suffocating, being stuck in a trunk like I’ve been kidnapped, but the world is quiet and dark, and the steady rhythm of the road soothes me, so I drift off to sleep.
It’s like my brain needs to reboot. I don’t know how to process all of this—the pictures, the comments, Marissa’s words.
The jolt of a speed bump and a text from Shirley forces me awake.
i know you’re going through a lot, and i can’t tell you what to do because i know shit about PR.
but if you ever want to talk, or continue our conversation, i’m always in the studio.
and in case you need to get your mind off things, we’re holding an emergency puzzle night this friday. you’re more than welcome to stop by.
I smile. They really are like an older sibling.
My street is quiet when I step out of Marissa’s trunk, no paparazzi in sight.
I stretch my arms and crack my hips back into place, feeling some tension release from my muscles.
Thankfully the press doesn’t know where I live—Marissa probably put out a fake address to confuse them—but it’s only a matter of time before they find out.
Fame is eating me up. Soon it will eat up my home, too.
I need to ask my moms to take Sonia somewhere safe.
“Sash. Are you listening?” Sonia’s voice snaps me from my stupor when I walk through the door. I need a shower. I probably smell like whatever was in Marissa’s trunk—fast-food leftovers and spilled energy drinks. “There’s someone waiting for you in your room—”
Her frown deepens, and she looks uneasy.
A knot forms in my stomach. Asher. Kai.
I don’t wait to hear the end of her sentence before rushing upstairs. My hand trembles as I push the door open, but when I look inside, it’s not either of them in front of me.
“Hey,” Mia greets me. She sits on my bed with one of my plushies in her lap. It’s an identical octopus to the one she has in her room, the one I won for us in the claw machine after trying for weeks.
It feels like forever ago.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. We haven’t talked in weeks, and she hasn’t tried to call. Neither have I. But it hurts to think about her. It hurts to remember the things we said.
“Your sister said I could wait for you.” Mia’s gaze meets mine with a softness that tugs at my heart. “I should have chased you that night, not him. I’m sorry.” She’s not even switching to Spanish, and it creates this strange distance between us.
“I shouldn’t have left like that,” I say, voice strained with regret. “I’m sorry.”
My notes are filled with things I wanted to say to her, but right now I can’t remember any of them.
“I’m sorrier.” Mia’s eyes glisten with tears. “I didn’t mean the things I said, Sasha. You’re not broken. I don’t think that.”
“Then why did you say it? Did you just want to hurt me?”