“Sure, sure,” the PA agreed.
My scheme worked. I called Kaldi and asked if I couldstop by. I promised to let them film me and Jaz. They thought it was great and got us passes lickety-split. So, wearing gladiator sandals, a mini dress that looked like Anthropologie dressed Holly Go Lightly. I’d been limited on what we could buy but the drag queen at the brunch place we hit up on the way over said I was “on fire”.
We entered the VIP room, spotting pop artists, an aging rockstar, and an EDM genius all in the first few seconds. Boho-chic people paraded around successfully and effortlessly. I tried not overreacting.
“Is that… who I think it is?” Jaz asked.
“Christelle?” I whispered. “Pop super star? Yes.”
“This is amazing.”
“We’re not in Norway anymore, are we?” I joked.
“Fuck no.”
“We’ll come get you when the Swedes are going up,” the PA said. “Until then, enjoy.”
She left and we filtered to the bar. Between two industry types talking about streaming royalty rates and a popstar with a woman I assumed was her assistant, we ordered their signature cocktail—a clean, fruity vodka number.
“So, where is Mary?” Jaz asked.
I looked at my watch. “Mary is… doing a press event with the Swedes and the Germans. We won’t see the Germans, though. They apparently did well yesterday. If I see them, I’ll say hi.”
Jaz grinned. “And so… do you get to spend any one-on-one time with thegirlfriend?You’re dating a rockstar. Does it feel real?”
“Sometimes, yes. Most of the time, no.”
It was unreal to be attached to the Woman of the Hour even if two days ago, it felt like nothing at all. We were just Betty and Mary. We spent time with her dad and ate from a fair food truck. Now, I was here in a VIP room very aware of the status of a woman I adored.
I was now in the thick of it.
Before long, Kaldi approached with a mic, making it clear it wasn’t just about Mary’s fame, either. “And here you are!”
“I’m back,” I said.
“This is so cool! You had such a good idea!”
I blushed.
“So, Astrospectre wants to go, too. And to our surprise, the Zamboneys are going.”
“The Germansandthe Brits are going to support the Swedes?”
“I suppose so,” Kaldi said. “A stunning act of solidarity. A must-see moment.”
After topping up with a beer, we followed Kaldi to the stage. As 4låt finished their quick soundcheck, I settled in backstage. Across the stage, a man laughed and gestured. It was Max Mixxon, the man who hurt Mary. I tried figuring out what his game and deal were until Astrospectre arrived with the Zamboneys.
Play it cool. Play it cool.
In truth, I wanted to punch that man. Mary hadn’t gotten into specifics, but she also didn’t need to. I watched enough documentaries on child stars to know people preyed on talented young women. The way he stared at Alia and directed her every move spoke volumes.
When Mary arrived, I noted her expression upon spotting Max. She set her jaw the way she did when deeply uncomfortable. Ignoring him, she busied herself with finding a chair for her dad, who braved the steps roadies ran up. He nodded my way, but didn’t act overly familiar. While he got prime real estate, he stayed off camera. I figured Mary was protective of her dear father. I wondered how he felt about Max being there.
Thankfully, there were no blow-ups, and everyone kept to their sides. It was as if for the set, everyone called a truce as Mary and company took the high road. I sighed relief as Maryand Clarice took their place by me, keenly aware that the cameras rolled. At least we had each other.
“So, what are you most excited about?” I asked in my official voice.
“I just want to support them,” Mary answered. “Alia is so young.”
