I snap a picture in the limo and post it to social. New habits, but already ingrained.
My fan base has grown and evolved. I can show up at a venue and find hundreds of people, sometimes thousands, there to see me. It’s humbling.
Sometimes it’s numbing too.
It’s one of the things I wish I could’ve talked to Harrison about over the past year. My friends understand the fame, but it’s not the same as sharing it with the man who sees me, challenges me, like no other.
When I get to the club, there’s already a crowd.
I get the owner in a corner. “The drugs sold in your club. You have to speak out about them.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I blink. “You told me the other day…”
But then I realize the truth. He won’t say a word. Harrison’s right.
By the time I take the stage, I’m already frustrated.
But I play my set, waiting to be swept up in it as I change from one track to the next. This club is twice the size of Debajo, and it’s nearly full. The crowd is loving me.
I should be loving this.
Pressed near the stage is a group in costume. A girl meets my gaze and dissolves into delighted screams. My attention pans to a guy dancing near her, who catches my eye and makes like he’s giving oral.
I turn away, needing a breather that’s impossible while on stage.
My thumb presses the tattoo on my wrist, the backs of my eyes burning.
Feel alive.
Be alive.
Get it together.
I turn back and motion to security. “Vodka soda.”
Then I throw myself into the rest of my set. I’m finishing the drink when movement in the far corner of the club catches my eye.
The same guy from before. Selling.
I look over at the manager at the bar. He knows it’s happening, and he doesn’t even try to stop it.
The woman from the front of the stage is there, buying.
I want to stop her. To say he’s bad news. But from here, I can’t. I’m the most powerful woman in the room, and I’m helpless.
I finish my set and do selfies with fans. I half wish the woman would come up since she seemed like a big fan. But there’s no sign of her.
Unsettled is the only thing I feel.
I’m headed out through the side door when I trip over something soft and lumpy. When I realize what it is, my stomach drops.
It’s a body. A person.
Horror rises up as I recognize the woman who was buying inside.
I drop to my knees, feeling for her pulse.