Chapter Thirteen. Riley
Chapter Thirteen
Riley
I walk out of the VIP tent in a daze after the show.
I can’t believe Luna changed the lyrics for me.
They were for me, right? I mean, how could they not be?
I’m the one making her tapas for the shows here, we did the whole tapas tour the other day, and it feels like she’s telling me she feels something too.
I had assumed the spark I felt between us was all in my head.
I mean, she has a boyfriend. And their relationship is so public; even if it’s not what she wants, it’s not the kind of entanglement I want to get in the middle of.
But also … maybe I’m overthinking this. Maybe changing the lyrics like that was just casual for her.
I’m packing up my kitchen, still running the lyrics over in my mind and remembering how it felt like she was looking for me in the tent, when Rhia walks in, still in her stage makeup and costume.
“What was that?” she asks bluntly.
I keep packing pans into my mobile kitchen case. “What do you mean?” I think I sound convincing, until I make the mistake of looking up and totally crack. “I know, right? Was that … for me?”
Rhia seats herself on a stool and starts unlacing herself from her stilettos. “It sure sounded like it. Are you going to do something about it?”
I hesitate. “No? I guess not?” I say finally. “I’m sure it’s nothing. She has Hudson.”
“She hates Hudson,” Rhia retorts. “Well, maybe not hates. But he clearly doesn’t give a shit. Their whole relationship is giving setup.”
“I don’t think it was a setup for her,” I say quietly.
“Maybe not originally. But when we’re rehearsing, I see all the times she calls and he doesn’t pick up, all the random designer shit he sends instead of showing up, like, ever. I don’t think it’s the relationship they’re selling, that’s all I’m saying.”
“I wouldn’t be the person she cheats with.
The woman she cheats with. I’m not a total cliché.
” In college I was always careful to avoid the girls who just wanted to try being with a girl, whose boyfriends said girls didn’t count and probably all manner of other homophobic things.
I didn’t want a kiss at a party. I wanted something real.
Since Liv, I haven’t had anyone to talk to about things like this.
She was my sister but also my best friend, and we would always compare notes about the idiot guys she met in kitchens—one of whom I now know is who first gave her drugs—and the girls I’d meet at school who I was almost sure would end up marrying men and having two-point-five kids.
I lost her twice. First when she started using, then again when she died.
In her absence it’s felt wrong to fill that space with someone else.
But I think with Rhia I’ve found a real friend.
“Is it bad that I do hope it was about me? And that she meant it? We kind of had a moment on the flight to Paris, too, and then we went to the Eiffel Tower together. It feels crazy because, you know, it’s Luna Leya.
But also, if it was anyone else but her, I would feel, like, totally confident in it and make a move. ”
Rhia’s been listening carefully, nodding encouragingly.
“I totally get that. She’s also our boss, so it’s a weird vibe, and you don’t want to lose your gig here even if you claim it’s just a summer thing.
We’ll work on that next, by the way. But I think she just put herself out there, so … maybe you should too.”
“That’s so true.…” I murmur. “You really think it meant something?”
“I think Luna doesn’t beat around the bush.
So I mean, yeah, it meant something. But I also think that she’s totally focused on her career and would probably never do anything to risk it.
So if being a secret is a dealbreaker for you, this might not be what you want.
And I wouldn’t risk my job for anything, especially if I was on my first big assignment like you are. ”
“That’s really good advice,” I say thoughtfully.
Rhia shrugs and takes one of the cookies I had sitting in a Tupperware on the counter. “Or you know, just fuck it, run to her dressing room and kiss her. Hard to say.”
I laugh. “Maybe the alternate-universe version of me does that. Thanks for the advice, though.”
“Anytime. Just keep paying me for the sessions in cookies.”