3
Sasha
Alexander
In 2 days I’m supposed to appear on a talk show and publicly defend Augustus
Heather says it wil.
“create a groundswell of public support”
for him so he’s less likely to get charged
She made me memorize a statement
Isabelle
Is Admirer broken up if your brother gets charged?
Alexander
I’m not sure
I’m signed until I’m 21. I’m worth too much to let go even if Augustus is done
Heather Erin talks about rebranding me as a solo artist
But it doesn’t matter
I think what Augustus did was wrong
I’m not going to go on a show and say it’s alright
Isabelle
With the Channel’s lawyers, he’ll walk anyway
Your statement probably won’t make any difference
And he’s your brother
Maybe see if you can leverage a more neutral statement and just survive this one?
Alexander
I’m supposed to appear without the helmet
Isabelle
Well shit
Alexander
This is my last chance to leave before everyone knows my face
My last chance ever
Isabelle
What’s your plan?
When I lay out the steps, Isabelle doesn’t say I’m being paranoid.
With the Channel, there’s no such thing.
Instead, she asks me not to tell her where I’m going.
After four years of wearing the helmet, I’m not going to go out into the world without a plan.
Escape will become impossible if I just step out the front door of the beach house with no visor covering my face and get photographed.
But if I leave wearing the helmet, I’ll be recognizable, creating my own media frenzy.
Since Augustus is on trial, there are even more photographers around than usual.
Paparazzi who will follow me if they see me leave.
If I get past them, Isabelle knows the fans and media will try to figure out where I am and what I’m doing.
They’ll know something’s up when my accounts go silent, even though I’ll leave them active to buy me some time.
The Channel will panic.
Any star they’re not monitoring is a massive liability.
We get into trouble, shatter the image.
See: Augustus.
He tore the fans out of their good dreams.
In the evening, Isabelle arrives alone, driving a sleek silver sports car that is somehow her most subtle vehicle.
She parks in the garage underneath the beach house.
We lie on my bed and take cute photos of ourselves.
Get changed, go to a different part of the house, take more, repeat.
Practiced angles and poses to keep the details of my face just out of view.
Isabelle’s hair, fake kisses, our bodies curled close together.
Isabelle will post a few later tonight to make it look like she doesn’t know I’m gone.
Write little words about looking forward to seeing me every day to disguise that we have no idea when we’ll see each other again. She’s got enough saved to make it look like we’re still together regularly if she has to.
We load everything I’m bringing with me into a plain backpack.
There isn’t much besides bundles of cash I withdrew from my personal accounts weeks ago.
We reset my phone, crush the sim card and flush the remains.
More a gesture than anything, but I’m not making some big getaway just so they can track my phone or open it up and learn any secret I’ve failed to hide.
Contacts and contents gone with no intention of retrieving them or reaching out to anyone.
Isabelle says I should at least write down Augustus’s number in case there’s an emergency.
I write down hers instead.
Because along with being my accomplice, ally and associate, she’s my friend. She’s the only person I need to give a hug to before I disappear off the face of the earth. We hold each other for a long time in a posture that isn’t fun enough or sexy enough for anyone else to care about. Touch for us, not the cameras. We don’t say much. We know I’ll come back to the Channel eventually. I’m simply too valuable for them to let go.
And in a way, my seclusion at the beach house with only my security team for company already had me missing the crowds. I’m hooked on it. It’s why bands go on multiple farewell tours.
I leave a small note on my bathroom counter. By tomorrow afternoon, someone will get worried, check my room, find the note.
I’m safe. I’m gone.
It feels rushed, but if I’d taken more than twenty-four hours to plan this, I wouldn’t be doing it. Someone would have caught on to me, or I would have considered the consequences.
That’s how the Channel keeps its stars. They give us what everyone imagines they want. And whenever the fame and the pressure become too much, someone’s on hand, reminding me.
You have what everyone desires. You are what everyone desires. Where can you go that’s better than this?
And if that doesn’t work, there’s always the contract.
Isabelle is her friendly self, chatting with one of my security guards to give me a chance to sneak down to the garage. I should have added don’t fire my security team to my note. They’ve never failed to keep me safe. A couple of them lost their jobs when Augustus was arrested, since they were supposed to be with him. But it wasn’t fair. What my brother did was no one’s fault but his.
I wedge myself into the crammed darkness of Isabelle’s trunk and feel her driving away. Soon, she ditches the paparazzi by going into a twenty-four-hour car wash.
When I hear the car wash door close, I slip out before the next car comes in. I take a side door into the gas station and wait for the cameras to follow Isabelle. Then I use a pay phone to call a taxi to the airport.