9
9
Two months ago
The Spotify party is all over socials. New artists and big names are all going. Everyone knows labels throw tons of money and promo into the artists that Spotify shows interest in, and it’s so surreal that I’m one of them. I can’t stop imagining how fun and wild the party is going to be. Kimi keeps reminding me how big of a deal this is. I’m going to meet so many of the people who’ve been supporting behind the scenes, like the people who have added me to crucial playlists I’ve always dreamed of being on. These connections are very important for my next single but all I can think about is how proud my younger self would be right now. All the countless hours singing in the mirror in my bedroom, and at friends and neighbors’ weddings and birthdays—all of it has built to moments like this.
To make things even better, Avery, my stylist, somehow managed to get me an archive dress from Valentino. We’ve done three fittings and the dress is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I feel so honored to be wearing it; I’ve never pulled an archive dress before and I’m beyond obsessed with Valentino. Things are going so well right now in my career and tonight will be the icing on the cake. My performance is going to show everyone what I’m made of. I have the skill, I’ve put the work in, I’ve paid my dues, and I’m here to stay. I have interviews lined up with Rolling Stone, Billboard, Variety—you name it—to talk about my music and this performance.
Angel bursts through the door, practically screaming in excitement. We go over the look: dark browns and beiges to accentuate my features, and, of course, some sparkle across my cheekbones. He gossips while he works, as always, and we keep having to take breaks from laughing so hard. Once he’s finished, I feel so beautiful and so fucking powerful. It’s the perfect makeup look to go with my dress.
When Maya arrives, she makes me a cup of hot tea and honey. I wish I could take all my girls, but I only got a plus-one, and Kimi thought it was a better idea to bring Maya as my date instead of John, to keep the focus on me and not my love life since this is such a big event. I don’t necessarily agree with her on that. I love having John with me and getting to share these special moments with him but I decided to follow Kimi’s lead this time.
Maya’s makeup is stunning; she went with purple tones across her lids and the prettiest sweep of highlighter on the tops of her cheeks near her eyes. Her dress is purple, too, shimmery, and she looks so damn good.
“P., where is Avery?” she asks as Angel starts doing touch-ups on me, getting ready for my final look by adding my signature bright-red lip to make it perfect.
I check my phone, making sure I have the time right. It’s three in the afternoon and we have to leave by four at the latest. It’s totally unlike Avery to be late. I check my messages to see when she last texted. At noon she asked if I wanted her to bring me anything on her way.
“Um, I don’t know. Let me call her.” It goes straight to voice mail. “I hope she’s okay. This is so weird. She’s never late.” I call her again.
Same thing.
My gut tells me something is wrong. Really wrong.
I check her socials to see when the last time she posted was, but I’m blocked. What the fuck?
“Maya, give me your phone, please.”
She hands me her phone and I go straight to Avery’s Insta. She hasn’t blocked Maya, and Avery’s last story was from six hours ago: her getting coffee, then a black screen with text: Not everything is what it seems.
What does that even mean? And why on earth would she block me randomly? She was totally fine at our fitting a few days ago.
“What’s going on, P.?” Maya asks, sounding like she’s ready to go to war for me before she even has the details.
My eyes are stinging, my body numb. I try to find my voice. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. Avery blocked me and isn’t answering my calls. She has my dress for tonight. The dress. She’s supposed to be bringing it over now. What’s going on?”
“Should I call her? Give me her number,” Maya says.
I shake my head. “She probably has your number saved.”
“Try mine. There’s no way she’d have mine saved,” Angel says, clearly pissed for me too.
I use his phone to call her, my blood thumping in my ears.
Her familiar voice sounds through the other end. I can’t stop myself from snapping, “Avery, what the hell? Where are you?”
She goes silent and I pray she won’t hang up. “Princess?” Her voice sounds almost sad as she says my name. How can she be sad when she’s the one who’s ghosting me less than an hour before I have to leave?
“Did something happen to my dress? Is that why you aren’t here?”
She makes a sound between a groan and a sigh, her voice trembling a little as she talks. “Princess, I’m sorry. I got a call from someone . . . I can’t say who. They told me if I don’t bring them your dress to wear that they’ll blackball me from the industry. The dress is gone. I’m sorry. I feel awful and I can’t say anything or tell you anything. But the dress is gone. I’m sorry I didn’t just tell you, but I feel awful and—”
My heart stops. “Who would do that? What do you mean the dress is gone?”
“I had to give the dress to someone else. I got the call this morning right after I went to pick it up for you. They told me I’d never work for them or anyone they know again if I didn’t do this. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what to do.”
I’m pissed. Devastated and pissed. “Avery, you’re supposed to be part of my team and you couldn’t tell me earlier? At least I would have had a chance to get another dress. Now I’m totally fucked. Do you have anything else I could wear?” My head spins, and Maya and Angel look horrified. I’m going to be sick. Tears stream down my face, and I’ve ruined Angel’s perfect makeup.
“Princess . . . I can’t dress you today.” She pauses. “Or ever again. I’m really sorry, but I can’t work with you anymore.”
My heart breaks, not only because of the dress or the party tonight, but because this is coming out of nowhere, and I trusted Avery. How could this be happening and why wouldn’t she be able to work with me anymore? None of it makes sense.
“Fuck you, Avery,” is all I can manage to say before I hang up.
I’m so sick of people taking advantage of my kindness and understanding.
“She says she can’t work with me anymore and there’s no dress,” I explain, staring blankly at myself in the mirror.
I feel pathetic. I don’t have anything in my closet that could work for such a big event, and there’s no way I can find something else to wear now. As shallow as it sounds, what I wear tonight will be half of the buzz; no matter how good my performance is, my appearance matters just as much, if not more. That’s how it is in this industry.
“This is so fucked-up! I’m going to kill Avery.” Maya seethes, walking over to my bar cart and popping open a bottle of Hennessy. She downs a huge gulp and hands it to me. I take it and do the same.
“I can try to call some of my people,” Angel offers. “But you know how these things are, it’s nearly impossible to get a dress this late. And if we do find one, it won’t be fitted to you.” He’s telling me what I already know.
“I’m going to call this stylist I know, Kaitlin, she’s amazing and she might have something that could work.” Maya paces, putting the phone up to her ear.
I’m so hurt, so embarrassed, so fucking mad, so numb, all at once. The room feels like it’s spinning, like I’m spinning out of control.
A couple minutes later she gives me the update. “Ugh, so Kaitlin is out of town and can’t get a look together on such short notice and while away. But she did say she’s been following you and would love to work with you when she’s back.”
“Thanks for trying anyway.” I sigh at Maya, but she’s back on her phone, her long nails tapping against the screen. “Princess . . .” She hesitates. “I can’t believe this, but—”
“Show me. Show me now.” I reach for her phone.
Riley Vega poses next to a black Suburban with the biggest fucking smile on her face. Wearing my dress. My hands shake as I scroll through the reposts of her tagging Valentino and worse—Avery. The liquor I downed rises back up my throat and I try to take slow, shallow breaths so I don’t throw up. Of course this is all Riley’s doing. She must have heard about the archive dress, my performance tonight, my song’s strong streaming numbers. Riley can’t handle the thought of me finally breaking out and solidifying my career. If anyone pays attention they’ll see the dress couldn’t have been meant for her; it’s too short because it was tailored for me. Knowing how calculated this betrayal is makes it worse than all of the times in the past.
The corner of my phone says it’s nearly three thirty, and even though Angel is calling everyone he knows, I know the outcome.
I won’t be going to the event, I won’t be performing, and I won’t be able to make up a good enough excuse to appease my label, the press, or the team at Spotify on such short notice.
My first thought is to call John, but I know I need to call Kimi first. She’s going to lose it. I try Wayne but he doesn’t pick up. Fuck. I call Kimi and she doesn’t either. I don’t leave a voice mail because I don’t even know what to say. Maya keeps drinking and cursing Riley, watching all of the posts of her arriving at the step and repeat for press.
Kimi calls back as I take another drink. In my reflection, I notice that my tears are leaving makeup streaks down my face.
“Princess, where are you? I’ve been waiting here for thirty minutes,” Kimi barks into the phone.
“Kimi, Riley stole my dress. Avery never showed up and I—”
She cuts me off before I can finish. “I don’t care what happened, you need to get here, and now.”
“I don’t have anything to wear,” I explain, not wanting to mention the fact that I’m so mentally shaken up by this that it would be impossible to wear anything else, even if I had another option, and pretend nothing happened, then end up face-to-face with Riley while she’s wearing my dress.
“This is the problem with amateurs,” Kimi snaps through the phone in a tone I’ve never heard from her before. “You should have had a backup. You can’t show up here looking like you threw something on either. Fuck. This is not good, Princess. Really not good.” She huffs out an angry sigh. “I’ll figure out what to tell the execs here, but you better lie low. Do not get photographed outside your place. At all,” she warns me. “I mean it.” She ends the call.
I stare at my phone, unable to even react.
Seeing this side of Kimi—who’s supposed to always have my back and should be taking her anger out on Riley or Avery for allowing this to happen—having her treat me like this when I’m already wounded shakes me to my core.
She’s acting like she cares way more about the event than what happened to me or how I feel. Am I that disposable to her?
Tears run down my face. My makeup is ruined.
Everything is ruined.
I scream, throwing my phone across the room. It shatters and little pieces of glass scatter across the floor. The light sparkles as it hits them and it almost looks like glitter. Too bad it’s an illusion, just like everything around me.