Chapter 18 #2
Anger simmers in my chest, but I push it down.
We’ve always celebrated together like this, as a team, whenever I accomplished a milestone.
Because Sassy isn’t just me. It’s me and her, my music and her guidance.
She’s been with me through my first album release, when I opened for artists that she spent months booking for me, when I received my first award nominations that she submitted me for.
She’s been my biggest supporter, but when I look at her, all I feel is ice crawling through my veins.
“I know it was you.” I need to throw the words out before I throw a punch. It feels like I’m staring at her for the first time. Someone I don’t recognize. “You leaked those pictures, didn’t you?”
“What pictures?” She’s frozen for a second, brow pinched as she studies my face, like she has no idea what I’m talking about.
“Why don’t we start with the one of Kai and me at his grandpa’s shop?” I spit out. “You called the paparazzi on us.”
A shadow crosses her expression, a brief hesitation that makes her jaw tighten. She regains her composure and stretches her lips into a smile.
“Are you crazy? I didn’t even know where you were going to be.
You ran from the meet and greet, remember?
” She opens the pizza box and offers me a slice, as if asking me to drop it.
“I think you’re just hungry and tired. Have you been eating regularly?
We both know you’re not the best at taking care of yourself.
It’s making your brain obsess over strange things. ”
There’s a patronizing edge to her voice that I hadn’t noticed before. Maybe it’s because I’m older than when I started working with her, but I hear it now, and I hate it. I hate that I missed it, and that I allowed myself to be manipulated like this.
“Except you did know where I was. I shared my location with you,” I say.
When the pictures of Kai and me were leaked, I thought the PR relationship was collateral.
A price to pay for my carelessness. Not only had I accidentally liked that post saying I was aroace, but I had also let myself get caught hanging out with Kai.
The post was my mistake, but Marissa had planned to coax me into a fake relationship one way or another.
She just needed to find some way to get me to agree.
The like gave her a reason. My mind races at the realization.
I don’t know how deep this goes. Or if people from my label are involved.
All I know is I’m a puppet on strings.
“Why did you out Kai and Asher?” I will my voice to remain cool. I want to shake the answers out of her. Make her pay for the pain she’s caused. “How does it feel? To ruin two people’s lives, and for what?”
Even if she confesses, it won’t undo the damage, but I need to hear it.
“You’re being dramatic,” she says. Her eyes widen slightly and then shift to her phone as she types something. I snatch it from her hand in a violent motion and fix her with a glare, daring her to look me in the eye. “Hey—”
“I have proof,” I say coldly. “The paparazzo you hired, he said it was you. Both times.”
After Asher gave me his details, I was able to call him and pay for some info of my own.
I catch it on her face, the moment it sinks in that she can’t lie her way out of this. A flicker of panic crosses her eyes before her mouth smooths over.
“Sasha, I always have your best interests in mind.” She sits down and leans forward, placing her hands in her lap like a parent talking to a child. “I’m just doing what needs to be done so you have a long career ahead of you.”
She doesn’t, though. She’s only ever had Sassy’s interests in mind. Somehow that only angers me more.
“Define best interests,” I say, sinking back in my chair.
Every time she took care of me and made sure I ate three meals a day, every time we watched TV together, every time she calmed my nerves before a show, was it all a lie?
Did she ever actually care? Did she ever see me, or was I just a vessel for the person she wanted me to be?
“By releasing that picture of you and Kai on a date, I was just giving you a push in the right direction,” she says. “We can’t market aroace. Think of every major female artist. They became big names after a little bit of drama in their personal lives. It drives people to listen to their music.”
Anger bleeds out of me like poison. I don’t know what pisses me off more, that she thinks my sexuality is a marketing tool, or the way she stressed the word female, as if the only way women can be relevant is if they talk about men, or that she seems to be confirming what used to be my biggest fear: that to her, my music is only as good as the guy it pretends to be about.
“I thought you wouldn’t agree to a PR relationship unless you had no choice,” she says. “The way I saw it, at best, you and Kai would fall in love, or at least reconnect. Like I said, I had your best interests in mind.”
“Based on what?” I scoff. “Your fucked-up fantasy about what my life should look like?”
“Come on, Sasha. I’m older than you. You’ll outgrow your aroace phase. Sex and love are amazing things. Everyone should experience them, including you. Otherwise it’s just sad. Kai seemed like the right person to help you … grow up.”
My hands grip the edge of my chair. Her words sting, but they ring hollow. A few months ago, they would have devastated me. But now I can’t bring myself to give a fuck about the opinions of people who don’t give a fuck about me. I never should have in the first place.
“What about Kai and Asher? Why did you out them?” My voice feels like a thread, raw with emotion.
“The idea of ‘the boyfriend’ wasn’t going to last forever.
” She gives her shoulders a little shrug.
“Our metrics showed that your fans were starting to care less about the love story. We needed a new narrative to drive people to buy your next album. The artists that last are the ones that are constantly giving people something to talk about.”
We, I register. So there are more people involved than just her.
It’s probably my label. The thought makes me want to scream.
Did they all gather in a meeting room to talk about this behind my back?
Prepare a slideshow about how to ruin my life and my friends’ in ten simple steps?
Bet some poor intern had to put it on their calendars.
“Look, it was nothing personal.” Marissa has the nerve to shrug again. Furious heat lashes through me. The people who made me, the ones who gave me my first chance, never cared about me. I was just a product. I was just Sassy.
“Don’t look at me like I did a horrible thing,” she goes on.
“Coming out is not a big deal nowadays. People do it all the time. And they are dating. It was bound to come out one way or another. If they’re smart, they’ll spin it in a way that paints them both in a good light.
They’ll make it look like their love was meant to be.
They’ll be LGBTQ icons once the cheating scandal dies down. Everyone will be fine.”
Fine? It takes all my self-restraint not to hurl the box of pizza at her. She has no idea what coming out feels like. How traumatizing it can be when it’s not done on your terms. How unsafe.
And she did it all for what? A couple of headlines and streams? For all the money she makes through my success?
I squeeze my eyes shut until I see stars.
I don’t know if she’s always been this cold, or maybe she just doesn’t care.
Maybe Asher was right from the beginning.
This industry destroys the real you. The Marissa standing before me has been stuck in the centrifuge for too long, torn into pieces of her former self and reshaped into a monster.
Or maybe shitty people are just shitty without an explanation.
“You’re fired,” I say flatly. She doesn’t deserve to get another reaction out of me.
“Sasha, you can’t fire me. It’s your label that decides that.” A flame of defiance sparks in her eyes.
“Then I’ll be firing the label, too.”
“Sure,” she scoffs. “Look, I’ve been honest with you. Now it’s time for you to be honest with yourself. It’s time for you to start thinking like an adult. And adults make difficult decisions and move on.”
“I am thinking like an adult.” I wave a dismissive hand at her and swivel in the chair, turning to the computer. I don’t want to have to look at her again. “Leave.”
“You should reconsider this,” Marissa says, standing up. She grips the edge of my chair and spins me around. Her eyes harden into a piercing glare. “I made you who you are—”
“My music made me who I am.” The declaration slips from my lips before I can make sense of it.
For the first time, I believe my words. Sassy wouldn’t exist without my music.
The stories around my love life, they only started because my music was good enough to inspire them.
I thought people only cared about my songs because of the drama around them, but it’s the other way around.
“Get the fuck out. You’ve outlived your usefulness. ”
That earns me a bitter-sounding laugh. “Is that supposed to be threatening? I’ll show you threatening—”
“You heard her,” Shirley interrupts. They come out of the recording booth and stand behind me, holding their phone in their hand. I asked them to hide in there and record everything, just in case. “You’re in my studio. Would you prefer I call security?”
“You should watch the way you speak to me. I can get you both blacklisted. You’ll never work again.
” Marissa shifts her gaze between us. I hate the way my body shivers at that.
Marissa has so many connections within my label and the other major ones.
I don’t doubt she can get me dropped, but I don’t care.
I’m doing the right thing.
“And you should watch your back.” I stand up to match her height.
“How do you think Asher is going to take it, when he finds out it was you who ruined his life? I don’t need to remind you how powerful his family is.
” At this, Marissa flinches, gluing back the cracks in her mask a second later.
I guess she hadn’t accounted for getting found out, or the consequences of it.
And now I have a recording of her admitting to everything, so I give her a shit-eating grin. “Good luck with the lawsuit.”
“Likewise,” she huffs. She turns around and slams the door behind her. “You still owe us an album, Sassy.”
By the time the Grammys roll around, I have a plan. And a brand-new song.
My fingers dance absentmindedly over my piano as I pick up the phone and dial. “Do you want to be my date for the Grammys?”