Alia snickered. “That’s kind, but… it’s over. The only thing people will remember me for is this scandal and me going off the rails.”
I took a deep breath. I wanted to help, but knew she wasn’t wrong. She was caught up in something much bigger than herself. She knew better than I did even at her age. I remembered those feelings from an hour before—the ones for the teen who was told she’d never be allowed a career again.
“I know what that is like, Alia. I had a meltdown in front of the world. They said I was ungrateful when I walked off stage. But the things Max did to me broke me beyond help. It took me years to come back—years to even just stand on a stage with a guitar.”
Alia cocked her head, listening intently.
I continued, “It wasn’t until this last year where I was forced to front this record that I was even willing to do a stadium show. But here I am—older, wiser, and not willing to take shit from mediocre white men with God complexes.”
“But he owns everything!”
“He’ll tell you that, but he doesn’t. Not anymore,” I said. “To quote ABBA, I am finally facing my Waterloo. I will do it for you, but also hopefullywithyou.”
“What?”
“I’m about to call up everyone I know who worked with him as a young woman. I’m about to ask them to join me. I want to shout from the rooftops what he did. If it burns me, so be it. I have bigger fish to fry.”
The words left me before I had time to think about what I was saying. I was willing to out Max for the first time in my life. I would use my current position to right wrongs for girls like Alia. And though it frightened me, I knew younger me needed older me to be that woman.
“Like what?” Alia asked.
“It will come out in good time.” I stood and dusted my cigarette pants. “But you? You will come through this. If I must cowrite something with you to help show them that you are incredibly talented and a force to be reckoned with, I will.”
“You don’t?—”
“No. Everyone deserted me out of fear. I beat myself up over it for years. I won’t let that happen to you, Alia.”
“What do you mean?” Alia asked.
“He cast me aside. He told people not to work with me. You’re right that he knows a lot of important producers and writers. He told people not to work with me. They stood by him.”
In despair she said, “Then how will I survive?”
“If I can, you can,” I said. “And you’re not alone. I’m pretty fucking good at my job, Alia. I had to become an even better producer and writer to survive this long. I will help you and I have a lot of friends, too.”
She searched for words, but found none. Instead, she gave me a tight hug. I hugged her back, realizing just how tiny the girl was. She was a baby and these men had simply discarded her. I pulled away and looked at her tear-stained little face.
“You will be okay. I promise you that everyone I know will work to lift you up. Don’t feel like it’s over.”
“Mary!” Barry’s voice emanated down the hall.
It sounded emergent.
“I gotta go. Call my room at the hotel if you need me,” I said.
I trotted back to Barry, smiling.
“They caught him,” I said. “And Alia is the unfortunate casualty. But we will sort that out. I told her I’m not willing to?—”
“We’re in. They’re pulling us back to announce it, but they’re not doing the big reveal because they have to explain why Sweden was DQ’ed.”
No big reveal. This had to be a monumental shift. The factthat they outed Sweden rather than covering it up felt huge, but I felt even more for Alia. It made her look worse even if she’d done nothing wrong.
“Oh,” I said. “Okay. Where’s Betty? Have you seen her? I want to speak to her.”
“I got answers on that, too,” Barry said. “She had to leave. The guy with a clipboard?—”
I didn’t wait for him to finish. I raced to find said guy and demanded to know where Betty was.
