Page 18 of Not My Fault

I’m the one blushing now. Gus flirts with me often, but it’s all part of the plan. Viv looks over my shoulder and smiles after reading the texts.

“That’s cute. You should post that.” She says over her glasses.

“Our texts?” I look at her, confused.

“Yes, it shows it’s not all for show. Good job on making this look real.”

“We—” I stop myself; it isn’t worth it to explain to her thisisreal. “I’m not posting our texts.” Gus wouldn’t want that.Idon’t want that. There has to be some things that belong to just us.

“Okay, but I want a photo of you two posted soon.”

“I posted them on my story last week.” I sigh.

“You have to make it grid official,” she says like it’s obvious.

“Okay.” I nod.

I’m not seeing Gus again until Thursday, but I guess we’ll be taking some photos together. It has to match my grid, so it has to be something artsy. I rarely post on my grid; it’s too much pressure. The comments, the influx of DMs, people telling me it looks bad or begging for the new album. I wish there was a way just to get notifications from the people I actually follow. Sure, I have a secret account like everyone does, but it isn’t the same.

I glance at Gus’s account; it’s mostly tattoos they’ve done with the occasional selfie. The last one was the day of River and Aspen’s wedding. Gus was in a tux and their hair was slicked back, sleeves rolled up to show off their tattoo sleeves. They looked hot as fuck, if I’m being honest.

“Your show on Saturday is going to have extra press and media after the show. I want Gus to be there with you for it. They can sit in the VIP section and then join you in the green room after the show. Okay?”

“I mean, I have to check with their schedule but that’s fine with me.”

“Their schedule?” Viv scoffs.

“Yes, they run a very successful business. I have to make sure they can take the time away.”

“Fine, but they need to be there. Hopefully she can make a night away from hersuccessful business,” Viv mocks.

“They.” I correct.

“What?” She looks at me, confused.

“Gus uses they/them pronouns. I told you this, but you just called them ‘she’. Make sure it doesn’t happen in front of them,” I say firmly.

“Fine.” Viv rolls her eyes. But she knows I mean business because I don’t typically give her such a hard time about things.

We’re quiet for the rest of the ride, aside from Viv’s typing with her long nails until we arrive at the theater we booked for rehearsal. It’s only a few blocks from the concert venue and has asimilar size in stage. The band is already there getting ready, and I need to get changed into my workout clothes. I work up a sweat while I’m practicing for a show. I want to give it my all, and the more I practice the moves during the rehearsals, the easier the performances are.

Georgie is at work today, so I’m alone in practice. I know some of the dancers, but not very well. Viv and the team are always switching them out whenever they felt like it, so I don’t get attached to them. It isn’t something I have much control over like the band. So I kept my opinions about that to myself.

“Have you had time to learn the new choreo?” my production manager asks me.

“Only the first two songs. But we can run through everything, so I know what I need more help with,” I tell her. She nods.

“Okay everyone, we’re doing a full run through, from start to finish, and I don’t want anyone passing out, so please take your water breaks,” she commands. I don’t remember her name; she’s new-ish. My old choreographer/production manager went on maternity leave a few weeks ago. She has the cutest little girl named Natalie, and I sent a gift basket of baby clothes. I don’t think I ever personally want kids, but I do love how cute they were.

I start in the front, running through the first two songs with no issues. The third song is fine, but it’s the fourth one that I’m having trouble with. It’s the faster songs that I’m not used to yet. The choreographer takes the time to go over everything with me again, and I focus so I don’t miss anything. I’m a pretty good dancer, but it isn’t something that comes naturally to me, like singing. I need to practice to nail the moves, which isn’t normally an issue, but I have a little more pressure than normal.

Viv is in my ear (not literally), reminding me that media reps are coming this weekend. They will be watching my every move and waiting to report on my mistakes. Not to mention, it’ll bethe first time Gus sees me play live. I know they saw me last year playing Aspen’s birthday, but that was nothing compared to this stage. What if they see me live and how much pop music I play, and they hate it? What if they see how much I have to compromise to be on the big stage, and they don’t understand it?

Some days, I hate how much I’ve had to give up for the sake of being on stage. But I know, in the long run, it’s something I’ll appreciate. When I prove to the label that I know what I’m doing and I can be successful, they’ll give me the chance to do what I want. They let me record some of my emotional songs for the first album. They’re already pushing for me to write more stuff for the second album. It would be crazy of them to keep me consistently making pop music for the rest of my life. They wanted me to grow with my music, and that is exactly what I want.

They call a water break, and I chug down a few sips of my electrolyte water. The last thing I need is my sugar going too low and being the one to pass out. I tie up my hair with my pink scrunchie and take a deep breath. We keep running through the songs and the moves. For some reason, Viv is nowhere in sight. She’s normally on the side of the stage, taking notes on me. It’s a bit of a relief not to see that, but part of me is worried. Is something bigger going on that she had to deal with? I shake it off and focus on my dancing.

“Good! Just like that, Lu!” the choreographer says.

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