Chapter Twenty-Eight. Luna #2
Jamie’s been nice and has asked good questions, not just about Hudson but about my journey as an artist and what I hope to accomplish with this tour and my next album.
But I’m ready for the interview to be done.
I didn’t think they’d want something so in depth—usually I talk to someone for just a few hours—but Ashley said that it’s a good sign that they’re so eager for a large profile and exclusive access.
It means my star is rising, and hopefully this feature will help it stay in the public’s good graces.
When Riley walks out after bringing the food, I follow her out the door and down the hall and pull her into a closet with me. We’re face-to-face, with brooms and mops all around us, and she laughs.
“What?” I say, pulling her to me. “I just wanted a minute with you before I finish my PR rehab tour.”
“Nothing, it’s just that we’re literally in the closet right now. And that’s exactly where I never thought I’d be.” She kisses me, and I hold her close and deepen it. “I hope this fixes everything.”
“It will,” I murmur, even if I have no idea if that’s true.
I’ve felt an ever-present hum of anxiety ever since the stories broke, but I’ve made an effort to stay off my phone all day for the sake of both this feature and my sanity.
This is a big gamble, and if I think too hard about it, it’ll terrify me.
I kiss Riley again instead, and the feeling of her soft lips on mine and her smooth skin make me feel instantly calmer.
I can do this. I just need to keep pressing forward, and with a few more strategic moves this will all be handled.
That night in the studio I let Jamie watch me work with Charles as we tinker with “The Truth,” the song I started in Mykonos, and record my vocals for “I Kissed Her First,” under the written agreement that she can’t release any information about the contents of the songs.
Regardless of anything else, I am on fire with my music right now.
I’m full of ideas and we’re making faster progress than I ever have before.
I’ve never recorded like this while touring, but I don’t want to stop and risk losing any of these ideas.
I can feel how strong this music is, and every time I write a new lyric, I’m flushed with gratitude and relief to be writing again.
It’s late by the time we finish for the night, but to her credit Jamie sticks out the entire day. Only when I’m back in my hotel room do I let myself go on my phone and see what people are saying about me.
The song has definitely turned the tide at least partially back in my direction.
People still want to hear directly from me, but lots of fans are speculating that Hudson and I actually were broken up already.
Since I tagged Riley, everyone knows who she is now, and people are commenting asking her what’s happening, but she hasn’t responded to anyone, and instead has just continued on with her “day in my life as a private chef for a pop star’s world tour” series.
I feel like I’m clawing my way back to where I was last week, one exhausting day at a time. I’ve only slept a few hours each the past few nights, and it’s starting to wear on me. But all I can do is keep pressing forward and try to work through the hum of anxiety in the pit of my stomach.
When it’s finally time for me to go onstage the next day, I’m scared.
I haven’t felt like this since the first night of the tour—actually, no.
I don’t know if I’ve ever felt like this.
There have been days in my career where I knew I’d go out to open for someone and not one person would care or that I’d be singing to an almost empty arena.
But there’s never been a day like this, where I have to wonder if the fans who have made my career hate me now.
I’m sitting on my dressing room couch, staring into nothingness, when Ashley opens the door.
“You have a visitor.” She ushers Riley in, and I can’t help but smile.
While I know Ashley’s not thrilled about Riley and me—in her words, this is an “inconvenient time for love, especially this kind”—I know that at her core, she is and always will be my biggest supporter.
Ashley leaves us alone, and Riley walks over to me. When I stand to greet her, I tower over her in my stage heels, and she stands on her tiptoes to kiss me.
“Oh my god, are people out there?” I ask as we sit on the couch.
Riley laughs, but after looking at my face a moment longer she frowns.
“Luna. Of course they are! It’s a packed house, like always.
If anything, people are even more excited to see you than usual.
” The tension in my shoulders lessens incrementally, and suddenly I think I might cry.
Riley cradles my face in her hands and gazes at me tenderly.
“They love you. You haven’t built something that could crumble overnight like you’re imagining. ”
“I didn’t realize how precious this all was until now,” I whisper, not looking away from Riley for a second.
“Now that I’m afraid of losing it.” And I mean my music.
I do. But I also mean her, this real type of love that feels like the rare thing everyone has always talked about.
I don’t want to get so scared for my career that I turn my back on this, and I can feel myself slipping closer to that with each moment.