Shame scraped through his chest like sandpaper.
“While I have no desire to go deep into details on what was the worst time of my life, I will say my former sponsor was tied to questionable practices that Ihad failed to see. It wasn’t until Frankie spotted him backstage at my debut and recognized him as a man who’d ruined the career of another designer that I discovered his dark side. Frankie urged me to cancel the show, but he overheard and threatened lawsuits. In that moment, I thought for sure I was doomed to forever tie myself to him. But Frankie, bless her women-support-women heart, didn’t go down without a fight.
“She allowed him to think he’d won.
“Of course she did. That was Frankie…strategic, sharp, and so much braver than he’d ever given her credit for.
“All while plotting another way to buy me the time I needed to rid myself of him,” Lola continued. “Frankie did this by creating a scene so bizarre, so chaos-causing, that the program was canceled.”
Marcus stared at the stage, the truth knocking the wind out of him.
Frankie hadn’t been the saboteur. She’d been the shield.
His throat tightened, guilt clawing up like a thousand paper cuts from inside.
Onstage, Lola turned her gaze to the front row, her warm brown skin glowing beneath the lights. “Frankie, thank you. And thank you to the Georgianna Birdie Center for believing in me from the beginning. Back then, my brother and I spent afternoons at what we called the GB Center in Harlem. It was the only place that felt safe. Thanks to them, I received afull scholarship to the Fashion Institute of Technology. And my brother received a scholarship to attend the School of Visual Arts.”
Applause swelled. Marcus could barely hear it.
His focus drifted to Frankie. She was watching him. A dare in her eyes.Reconcile this, asshole.
Before he could move, Lola’s brother, Tyler, stepped out from the wings and took the mic. “I don’t have my sister’s talent for fashion, but thanks to the Center, I found my own path. I’m proud to match whatever is raised tonight.”
Pride swelled in Marcus for the success of Tyler and Lola. In the hopes Frankie would be able to read the gratitude in his eyes, he turned back toward her seat and found it empty.
She’d vanished. Her message clear. Fuck off!
Jaw tight, Marcus shoved the hurt aside and pushed through the crowd to approach the siblings. “A little heads-up about what really happened at Lola’s debut would have been appreciated.”
Tyler’s easy smile faltered. In its place came something older, heavier. “Lola’s lawyer advised her not to speak about it until her contract was officially severed. And I couldn’t say anything without risking everything she’d worked for.”
Marcus blew out a breath, scrubbing a hand down his jaw, reminding himself not to make this moment about himself. “Thank God for good lawyers.”
“Great lawyers,” Tyler corrected. “Ms. Birdie made sure we had the best. And now? We’re free.”
“I’ll match whatever’s raised tonight,” Marcus said, trying not to feel anything but happy in this moment for his friend. “And I’ll cover your match, too.” He raised his hand when Tyler started to protest. “I know you’re doing well. But my finances are more…aggressively boring. Let me do this. It’s the least I can do.”
Before Tyler could respond, the house lights flared back on, and Ms. Birdie appeared center stage, arms wide like the curtain call queen she was. “Show’s over! Now scram, all of you. The ghosts need the room.”
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
Marcus didn’t laugh. Was this Ms. Birdie’s way of giving him space to unravel in private?
Ms. Birdie clapped twice, the sound sharp as a gunshot. “I mean it. Skedaddle!”
The crowd continued to stare in confusion.
She sighed. “The rooftop bar is now closed, darlings. But an open bar awaits you in the Blue Room. Tip your bartenders generously!”
Only then did the exodus begin. Guests filed out, some with wide eyes and others whispering among themselves, as if the night’s revelations had left them stunned.
Marcus stayed still as the roof emptied. There were worse places one could be left to sit with their demons and come to terms with their future. A future that wouldn’t include Frankie Peterson.
As the lastof the crowd trickled out, Ms. Birdie swept past him in a breeze of silk and smug satisfaction. She paused long enough to murmur, “All is not lost. Stay put.”
Hope bloomed as she left him there alone.
Within seconds, the lights dimmed.
