Chapter Seven Violet
Chapter Seven
Violet
“Okay, but which one was she?” Cassie’s face fills the screen of our video call. “Not sure if you noticed, Vi, but that whole team was women.”
I stare at my best friend. Her facial expressions are cracking me up as she sits there in her scrubs with her hair pulled back too tight, and dark circles under her eyes that only a surgical intern could be sporting.
“She was the one carrying the flag.”
The gears are turning in her mind as her gaze rises above her like she can re-watch the opening ceremonies on the ceiling of her car.
It’s midnight back home, and she’s on break during her night shift. I told her I’d set an alarm to get up and call before I got myself ready to head to the studio. She was all over the chance to talk about my chaotic life here in Milan.
“Yeah, I don’t remember.” She shakes her head and sighs heavily. “You just need to get a picture and send it to me.”
“Like that won’t be weird.”
“People take pictures of Olympians all the time. It’ll be fine.
” She takes a long pull and groans from the taste of the liquid in her Styrofoam cup.
It’s from the coffee cart out front of the hospital.
I was a frequent flier there when I’d go visit Cassie, and she’d show me around the different floors.
Of course, there were places I couldn’t visit, but I became pretty close with a lot of the other interns and doctors in the building.
Two of them thought I was hot, which always made Theo mad. Knowing what I know now, I should have fucked them both.
That makes me laugh. As though I’d have it in me to actually do that.
“Are you getting any sleep over there in your ritzy hotel?” Cassie brings me back to reality.
I shrug. “I slept well the first night.”
“Because you were shit-faced.” She’s lifting a brow at me as if to say, and you were swept away by the hot hockey player woman who put you to bed and made sure you were safe.
“Last night I slept decently. Couldn’t shut my brain off about the new song I’m working on.” I put my coffee to my lips and let the taste of caffeine flood through me.
“So, are you a lesbian now?”
I almost spit out my coffee all over the white carpet in the seating area. I’m sure that cost a pretty penny to have cleaned.
“WHAT?” I shriek, unsure if I heard her correctly.
Cassie doesn’t say anything further; she simply stares at me. She knows damn well that I heard her, and I just don’t know how to answer that question.
“I’m not a lesbian,” I finally answer, because it’s true. I don’t date women. I’ve never even considered touching another woman.
“What if she asks you out on a date?” Cassie’s face is practically pressed against her phone now, and I feel like I’m being interrogated.
She startles when someone taps on her window. Then I see her shake her head and tap her wrist.
“Who is telling you to get back to work?” I watch the situation like a silent film.
She groans. “It’s Logan. He’s useless without me there, and they need help to find a vein on the new guy that just came in.”
“Shouldn’t be too bad.”
“He put both hands into a meat grinder…”
My eyes go wide, and I can’t seem to form sentences. “He did what?”
“Drugs were involved,” she groans as she grabs her coffee from the holder beside her and turns off the ignition that she had running for heat. February in New York is brutally cold. “Anyway, I gotta run. Probably end up having to put the IV in his neck. We’ve done it before.”
“Your life is so colorful.”
She blows me a kiss. “Love you, bye.” Then, she jams her face into the camera.
“And don’t word-vomit all over Skye about The Little Mermaid like you do every time you get nervous talking to someone.
” She says it like we’re each on opposite sides of an elevator door and she has to get the words out before it closes.
“Love you, bye.” I shake my head before I hang up the phone.
Hands in a meat grinder?
At least when I talk to my mom later this afternoon, I won’t have to make up a surgery like I did yesterday. She bought it, but I hate lying to her more than I already am.
There’s just no easy way to tell her that she won’t boast about her daughter’s accomplishments, because it could end badly if people found out who I really am.
Linda Lockwood is anything but a locked box. The entire knitting club back home would hear about her mega-famous daughter within milliseconds. I love my mom, but she wouldn’t be able to contain a secret like this.
I shudder at the thought.
The feeling in the pit of my stomach brings Cassie’s question back to light. I know I’m not a lesbian because I find men attractive. And it’s not that I don’t think Skye isn’t hot because she totally is, but could I actually get myself to touch… down there?
Freaking myself out, I get to my feet and decide to shower.
“It’s not like that’s even a thought in Skye’s head,” I tell myself, storming into the bathroom and grabbing the towel from the hanger. “Cassie is just crazy. I’m straight. Skye isn’t into me. We’re all fucking dandy.”
The wig itches.
That’s always the first thing I notice. Not the weight of the mask, not the way the bodice changes how I stand or how I breathe. It’s the wig.
Synthetic strands brush the back of my neck with my strawberry-blonde hair tucked up underneath in secret. We could have chosen a wig closer to my natural hair color, but I haven’t had any wig mishaps so far.
I’m staring at myself in the full-length mirror of my hotel room in Milan. The city is already awake and buzzing with people now that it’s just after seven-thirty in the morning.
When I walk through the lobby in my leggings and sweater, nobody knows that I’m the one who is headlining the Olympic Closing Ceremonies to sing the Star-Spangled Banner.
Nobody sees me.
They see Solace. A mask with sharp theatrical lines, framed with a platinum blonde wig.
My hands trace the sequins on my corset bodice, and yes, I look stunning. But I look stunning in the eyes of the person underneath, hiding from everything around her.
The masked woman in the mirror looks fearless and ready to conquer the biggest moment she’ll ever experience.
Underneath, my palms are sweaty, and my heart is thumping like drums announcing the arrival of someone important.
There’s a knock on my door, and I freeze. All the blood drains from my body.
They knock again.
I feel like they can see straight through that door and into the violet eyes of my secret personality.
Should I call Michel?
Can he get here in time if I’m actually in any danger?
Why did I get dressed in this? It’s not like I had anywhere to be.
Quickly and quietly, I start stripping the shell of my second personality, laying it into the lockbox that I’ve kept stored under the bed.
The wig is draped over the plastic head form I travel with to keep it from tangling, while the mask rests on the bodice’s fabric.
I slide the box into its hiding spot and tiptoe into the bathroom, cranking the shower in hopes that whoever is at my door will go away.
“Maybe the closin’ ceremonies would be a good time to reveal your true identity,” Ollie suggests as soon as I pick up the phone.
“No,” I say immediately. “And you know why I can’t.”
She sighs heavily. “I’m sure it’s fine by now. It’s been over a year since you’ve heard anything from that company. They don’t even know you exist anymore. I doubt they had their hands involved with the fiasco at Madison Square Garden.”
“They wiped me off the board,” I remind her. “They completely erased my entire history as a singer.”
Ollie clears her throat. “Just think about it, Toots. I gotta run.”
She hangs up without another word. For anyone who isn’t Ollie, I would assume they were annoyed and ready to hang up, but this is actually quite normal for Ollie, even when she’s thrilled about something.
Skye: Hey
My heart skips a beat when Skye’s text pops up on my phone. I slowly lower myself onto the massive bed and force myself not to giggle like a schoolgirl as I reply.
Violet: Hey, yourself. How are the games?
Skye: Not sure yet. We have our first preliminary game this afternoon.
Talking to her reminds me I know diddly about hockey.
Violet: That’s so fun! Are you ready? Nervous? Excited?
Skye: All of the above, actually.
That makes sense to me, honestly. I’m nervous about being the headliner for the closing ceremonies, an event that will last maybe five minutes. She will be at the top of her game, nonstop, for hours on multiple days. Even when I’m in concert, nobody is counting on me but me.
Skye: Can I ask you a question?
Oh shit.
She’s going to ask me on a date.
She’s going to ask me if I’m gay.
I don’t know how to reply to either of those questions. Would I enjoy going out with a girl? Does the fact that I’m questioning it mean that I may be bisexual?
Violet: You just did
I hate that I said that. Too late to take it back now.
Skye: Ha. I guess I hit my quota then.
Now I feel bad.
Violet: Yes, you can ask me a question :)
The text bubbles pop up a few times and disappear, making me more and more nervous each time she starts typing. What could be so bad that it’s taking her multiple times to say it?
Is she really asking me out?
“Breathe, Vi. Just fucking breathe.”
Skye: Why are you in Milan? Are you an athlete?
Oh shit, thank God.
I don’t know if I can say those two things in the same sentence, but I’m so relieved that’s all she asked me. I’m practically trained to answer this question.
Violet: I’m not coordinated enough to be an athlete LOL. I was initially supposed to come to Milan to watch Theo, my cheating ex-boyfriend, play hockey since he’s on the men’s team for the USA. I refused to miss out on my chance to experience Milan, so I’m here just enjoying the sights.
Did I give too much information? Was I too wordy?
“For fuck’s sake, you’re not being interviewed.” I stuff my face into a pillow and yell, allowing myself to relieve some of the tension. Why do I feel so damn tense when I talk to her?
Skye: Oh, that’s cool. What do you think so far? Have you seen anything worth writing home about?
Would it be cheesy to say, yeah, you? Probably. And it’s not like I can talk about the recording studio. So, I reply with the one thing everyone else talks about when they visit the city.
Violet: Duomo di Milano was amazing!
And now, because of my lie, the rest of my day is accounted for.
While Skye is at her preliminary game performing in ways she’s expected to, I will be digging myself out of yet another lie.
Violet: Hey, Cass. Which outfit should I choose for sightseeing?