Chapter Thirty-Seven - Becca
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
I want the stage to morph into a sink hole and swallow me, but it doesn’t. The heat from the bright stage lights bakes my skin as I stand there, my heart on display, as the footage of one of happiest, most intimate moments of my life plays out on a massive screen in front of thousands of people.
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. I can’t fake my smile anymore, but I refuse to let a single tear fall. So I keep my face as blank as I can, even though I’m screaming inside.
Dozer looks exactly like a kid in a candy store, while Lucky does his best to appear calm and unbothered.
But I can see the tightness around his eyes, the slightly wild panic flashing in them.
He must realize like I have that this was no accident.
Starlight has purposefully designed this moment to play out now, in front of a live audience here and at home.
The same way they must have made sure it went viral online.
The realization slams into me so hard I almost gasp—I’d thought maybe it was one of the other finalists. They all had reason to want Team Bucky to fail. But this moment right now, only makes the truth more sickening. Someone from Starlight followed us out into the parking lot with a camera.
And they’d leaked the footage.
They must have also had someone watching my hotel room. Or maybe they bribed one of the hotel staff for the security camera footage because they knew what they’d find, and they wanted the world to see it.
For views and comments.
And why wouldn’t they? This is a competition designed to generate publicity for the agency. It’s not about the content creators. Not really. Sure, we’re the ponies in this race—but Dozer and the execs are the ones calling the shots. They are the ones who really stand to benefit.
To them, airing the footage of our kiss isn’t a violation. It’s dollar signs.
It takes every ounce of strength I have not to unleash the rage I feel coiling like a snake in my gut, to stand there and let the crowd say whatever they want about us, to watch Dozer feign shock, when I know he’s the one who probably approved the idea of airing the footage in the first place.
Finally, the screen goes black, but the crowd is still pretty fired up, their voices carrying around the massive room.
“Well,” Dozer trills into the microphone. “That was . . . unexpected.” He chuckles, the sound grating against my spine. “Team Bucky,” he swivels, putting us on the spot. “Any comments?”
Every eye is on us, every camera lens focused and waiting for our reaction. Expectation, so thick you could slice it, presses down on us. Since we’re creators, we have no choice but to answer. Because we owe it to the people who have been supporting us.
Right?
Lucky and I look at one another, a thousand unspoken words between us. There’s still a connection there, burning brightly despite everything trying to extinguish it. It reminds me that I’m not alone. Despite the hurt and all that’s gone wrong, we’re still Team Bucky, and we’re in this together.
Lucky lifts his brows and it’s as if I can hear his voice in my head. Just go with me on this one, Holly G. Just this one last time.
Even though the fissure in my chest throbs, deep and ragged, I give him the slightest of nods.
Lucky’s reaction is instantaneous. His face becomes animated, and his lips form a lazy grin. He throws an arm over my shoulder and drawls, “Now, Mr. Dozer, let’s not make a big deal of nothing. It was a kiss, not a crime.”
Dozer’s face lights up, obviously delighted that Lucky is playing along. “It looked like it was a little more than a kiss, Mr. DeLucca.” He waggles his eyebrows dramatically for the camera.
Now it’s my turn. Shoving Lucky’s arm off of me, I step away from him, nose wrinkling. “Trust me, it was nothing but a case of temporary insanity.”
The crowd erupts, and Dozer lets out a booming laugh, holding up a hand to silence them so he can question us further. “Wait, so you two are not together then?”
“No, we’re not,” Lucky replies at the same time I say, “That’s a big negative.”
I roll my eyes for good measure, and the crowd eats it up. It doesn’t matter that it’s a lie, that we’re still playing a game. Our masks are on, and it’s exactly what the people want to see.
“We got all wrapped up in the moment,” Lucky shrugs. “After losing the challenge in Tombstone, we were determined to show up in Vegas. Which we did. We got a little carried away, that’s all. No big deal.”
“It was the heat of the moment. That’s it. And it’s not going to happen again,” I add, propping a hand on my hip. “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”
Relief floods through me as the audience starts clapping and cheering. It seems like most of them are buying it. Weariness spreads through me, but I will myself to hang on for just a bit longer.
“Well, you heard them, folks!” Dozer booms into the microphone. “So how about we get back to those standings, that’s what we’re here for after all!”
With the attention shifted back to the massive screen behind us, I peek at the other finalists. All of them, even Ross who rarely looks bothered by anything, seem super annoyed. I can’t blame them. So far during this live show, nearly all the attention has been focused on Lucky and me.
We’ve managed a bit of damage control, but the competition isn’t over yet. My mom’s face flashes in my mind, as I force a breath through my nostrils. If our names aren’t near the top, then more than just the Starlight Challenge will be over for me.
“After the challenge in Tombstone, these were the standings for our finalists,” Dozer explains, pointing to the screen. This time the appropriate graphic pops up to illustrate his point. “And now . . . how about we have another drumroll?”
The audience obliges and a new graphic quickly replaces the old one. “And there you have it, folks! The current Starlight Challenge standings!”
“Whoa,” I breathe, shocked to see that Lucky and I are tied with Evie and Ziven for first place.
Lucky whistles through his teeth, his eyes slightly wide. I steal another glance around the stage, and the other finalists look downright murderous. It makes my stomach flip over.
All I wanted was to come here and win the contest so my mom and I could live. But even if I do, my problems will still be there, and it feels like I’m all tangled up in a giant spider web, stuck without any hope of freeing myself.
“That’s not all!” Mr. Dozer’s smile grows wider. “It’s time to announce the final challenge!”
The crowd cheers, and I tense, not fully ready to see just what will determine my fate.
“Up to this point, we’ve had our finalists working in teams,” Dozer waves a hand in our direction. “But now it’s time to showcase what each of them can do on their own.”
“What the . . .” Lucky mumbles beside me. On my other side, Sean blurts out, “Seriously? Why?” The other finalists’ expressions all mirror the same confusion and concern. Even the audience is murmuring.
“Now, don’t panic,” Dozer soothes the room. “Our finalists are still operating as a team, only with this challenge they have double the opportunities to win your votes. You will be voting on each finalist individually, but those votes will be combined with their teammate’s votes.”
Dozer waits a few moments for the crowd to settle, throwing a glance over his shoulder at the finalists. I still feel a little uneasy, but at least Lucky and I are still a team . . . even if just in name only.
“Now, let’s get into the nitty gritty of the challenge!
” Dozer booms into the microphone. “Given that all our finalists got their start by creating videos, we, at Starlight, wanted this final challenge to be an homage to their creative platforms. For this challenge, each finalist must create a video. The content of these videos is entirely up to the creators, but the goal is to highlight their strengths as a content creator, especially in their chosen niche. Each finalist will have 24 hours to put their videos together before we air them live here at the final session of Vid Con! After which, there will be a short voting period and then it will be time to announce the winners of the Starlight Challenge! What do you say about that?”
The entire auditorium buzzes with energy, but I’m a little confused. A video? That’s our final challenge? It seems almost too easy.
After the live show ends, we’re ushered backstage and given our hotel accommodations, but no one says much as our group heads over. The other finalists keep their distance, and it’s clear they’re not happy about the standings.
At least the cameras are gone for the night.
Inside the hotel, everyone disperses pretty quickly, and soon it’s just me and Lucky standing awkwardly in the lobby.
“So . . . what do you think about the challenge?” I’m desperate to hear his voice, aching to hear him crack a joke or call me Holly G—even though I can tell from his rigid posture that being alone with me is the last place he wants to be.
Lucky shrugs. “I think I’d better start making some calls. A lot of planning to do.”
I realize he means to create the same kind of dangerous stunt content he used to do before the accident.
“What are you going to do?”
Lucky’s expression grows more serious. “What I have to. We both want to win right?”
“Yes, but . . .” I clench my fists to keep from reaching for him.
“But what?” Lucky’s eyes blaze.
“Just . . . be careful, okay?” It’s still not what I want to say, but I pour my heart into those four words, hoping he understands what I’m really trying to tell him.
Lucky nods. “I’ll be fine.” He pulls his phone from his pocket. “And it looks like Team Bucky will be as well.” He taps the screen with a finger. “Just have to stick with the plan.”
“Right . . .” I say, shifting from one foot to the other. “That was pretty clever what you did on the stage, playing the kiss off like that.”
“Just figured we might as well keep them guessing, right?” Lucky shrugs again, and I can’t stand how my heart twists in my chest. “Besides, it’s the truth, right? It’s not like we’re actually together. Not anymore.”
His words rip through me, and my throat aches with the tears I’m trying desperately to swallow. “Right,” I say, although it kills me. “But . . . I think I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have accused you like I did. I know you didn’t have anything to do with the footage getting leaked.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that. I owe you one as well. I wasn’t trying to upset you or anything, I was just trying to figure out a way to make the whole thing less shitty.
But I shouldn’t have said what I said, and I definitely shouldn’t have said what I did about your mom.
It’s none of my business. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Becca. ”
“I know,” I admit, wrapping my arms tight around my torso.
Even though his words are sincere enough, they don’t make me feel better. There’s still an awkward distance between us. It’s unbearable. Everything else I want to say completely evaporates.
I drop my shoulders, deflated. “I’m gonna head to my room. Goodnight, Lucky.”
“Night, Becca.”
I’ve never had a problem with my name until this very moment. When things were right with us, Lucky called me Holly G. Always Holly G. I never knew the sound of my own name could break my heart so much.
I yank on the handle of my suitcase, making a beeline for the elevator. I jab the button praying that Lucky isn’t planning to share it with me. Thankfully, I’m alone when the doors close and it begins to lift.
Then the tears come. I don’t try to stop them this time, and in the short walk from the elevator bay to my room, I’m barely holding back the body-shaking sobs. Every single emotion that I’ve been suppressing pours out of me as I collapse on the bed.
Pressing my hands to the raw and aching spot in my chest, I let myself completely fall apart.
I cry for my mom and how much of a stranger she’s become.
I cry for my lost childhood, for the responsibilities my mother heaped on my back.
I cry because even if I win this competition, I don’t know if I’ll ever get my mom back.
I cry because at some point, creating content stopped being fun.
I cry because I hate feeling like I’m obligated to give so much of myself away to my fans that there’s none left over for me.
I cry over the fact that Lucky was right. As much as I hate being an influencer, it’s a part of me and deep down, I’m terrified of what will happen if I’m not one.
And, of course, I cry for the way my heart hurts over Lucky.
I want so badly to go back to Tombstone, back to the way he touched me and held me when the cameras were gone.
Back to that moment under the stars when nothing else mattered.
He was just Lachlan and I was just Becca and that was it.
No expectations, no obligations, nothing but us.
But we can’t go back. I don’t think we can go forward either.
Lucky’s quick thinking up on stage may have salvaged our image in the public eye, but it didn’t fix what’s broken between us.
So I curl up in a ball and let myself ugly cry. Makeup streaks down my face and stains the stark white comforter, but I don’t care.
It isn’t until much later, with mascara ringing my eyes that I pull myself together and sit up. The clock has already begun on the final challenge, and I think I know what I have to do.
Swiping at my tears, I shove my hand inside my bag, reaching for my tripod. I set it up, pointing the camera of my phone directly at my face.
With a deep breath, I hit record.