There’s a beat. Then, a response I never saw coming.
“Excuse me?” she snaps. “Have Ibeen okay? Violet, doll, I’m not some fragile little—”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I am thriving,” she continues without missing a breath. “I’m always fine. You’re the one running on espresso fumes and bad decisions.”
The line goes dead.
I stare at my phone, unsure of what the hell just happened. Ollie is sassy, loyal, and allergic to vulnerability, but what I just experienced was completely out of left field.
And what the hell did she mean by baddecisions? Does she know about Skye? Why would that be a bad decision? And how would she know?
Something about Ollie feels off, and if I weren’t heading to the hotel to grab my things for the concert, I’d be making damn sure that’s the last time we have an encounter like that.
The mask feels heavier under the lights.
It’s ridiculous because it doesn’t weigh anything at all. It’s made of smooth canvas with glittering accents that cover my eyes and my nose. But the instant I step out on stage, it settles into place like a second face. Solace. Not Violet. Never Violet.
I remind myself of this as the music drops low and the audience grows quiet. The kind of quiet that only happens when the crowd wants to be impressed.
It’s a private concert for the Olympic athletes and Milan’s cream-of-the-crop citizens, none of whom need to wear the Olympic logo on their sleeves to get in.
No pressure at all.
I step up to the mic, my platinum wig falling a few inches above my shoulders, and I breathe deeply. My bodysuit fits a little looser tonight, and I can’t recall skipping enough meals to lose this much weight, but I guess the time I spend with Skye can be classified as a new workout regimen.
Lots of sweat.
I need to up my caloric intake when my day includes anything involving her.
“Benvenuti allo spettacolo,”I welcome the audience to the show in Italian. A phrase I had to practice over and over in my mirror when I got back to my hotel room this morning.
My memory pulls me back to the moment I heard Skye speak the language, and it rattles me in the best way possible. I could never make Italian sound as good as she does.
I usually keep my speaking to a minimum to avoid my voice being heard too much. Even though I keep my tone higher when I’m Solace and normal when I’m Violet.
When I’m me.
I ease intoShadow in the Spotlightsince that’s what people are here for. It’s been a number one hit for so long, and not one of those songs that was overplayed on the radio. Ollie made sure of it.
I let the muscle memory take over, allowing my voice to do what it’s always done when I step onto the stage. It takes control, allowing me to hide in plain sight. The nervousness dissolves just enough for me to look out over the crowd, scanning faces and making the fans feel seen. That’s what they like. Especially those who are holding phones and recording.
And I swear they wet themselves when I point to their camera and it’s part of their video. It’s like a weird version of whack-a-mole.
I hit my high note, letting it soar out over the crowd, hearing half of them sing it with me while the other half lose their minds. It always happens like this. It’s such an intense note that gives everyone chills, including me.
As I swing into the next verse, my eyes find Skye. She’s never hard to find, especially when she’s with her entire group of teammates. Her shoulders are relaxed for once, and her long hair is still damp as if she came straight from the locker room. She’s not paying full attention to the stage at first; she’s laughing at something Paige and Rissa are saying.
Then her eyes come up and land on me. It makes sense because I’m the main event. Or at least Solace is. And feeling her eyes on me, knowing there’s no way she can tell it’s me, feels nauseating. I’ve wanted to tell her, but haven't found a good time. I’m not telling her through text, and last night she was so in character with dominating me that I didn’t feel I could look over my shoulder with my leash attached and give a casual, “By the way…”
Something changes in her expression, and it takes my breath away. Confusion first as she stares at my bodysuit. Then focus, like she’s trying to put together a puzzle without knowing the final image.
My heart skips a beat, and I feel instantly anxious. She doesn't know it’s me. The mask, the wig, the character, they’re doing their job. And yet, her head tilts slightly, like she’s listening to some underlying secret in my song. Like she recognizes the shape of me without knowing why.
For a moment, I almost miss the words, but I catch them.
I turn away from the crowd, pacing the stage the way Solace does with confidence and poise. I lift the mic, close my eyes behind the mask, and give everything I have as I sing the next line. If I stop or give myself time to think, I’ll fall apart.
