He blinked.
Seconds ticked by. He opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to the punch.
“Second time offenders, like this man, could receive more punishment. But, of course, he wasn’t convicted at the time. Why is that?” I knew the answer to my own question, but I wanted to see this prick bluster.
“Oh, come on Jestiny.” Rupertalmostlooked annoyed at me. It was unusual, since his perfectly curated image didn’t include such negative emotions. “He was just doing his job…”
“The answer to my previous question,” I interrupted, “was because he committed his crimes - and I certainly do call them crimes, if not a legal one, certainly a moral one - in London. Not far from here. That kind of harassment is okay, legally speaking, on this side of the pond, right? Do you think it’s okay?”
Was I imagining it, or was Rupert turning red?
“You’re right,” I said, as if I was conceding. I nodded and frowned, looking askance, as if I was chastened. “His job was to lie on his back so he could get a picture up my skirt.”
There was a slight gasp from the audience. I’m pretty sure that wasn’t prompted by the big lights that flashed over the stage.
“How much did those picturessell for last time?” This was a technique I had learned a long time ago. Don’t everassertyourself. No, that wasn’t feminine, or sweet. Notprincessyenough for the general public. But ask a question instead. “Do you remember?”
Of course, he remembered. But he denied it, just as I suspected. “I don’t…”
“The tabloids bought those photos for a million pounds the day I turned eighteen.” I let the smile just melt away now, because I was caring less and less about this perfect pop girl image. “Twenty-four hours before, it would have been illegal to do that. I had just gotten out of a dinner with my family…”
“Well, let’s talk about that. Your brother was arrested…”
“Yes, because one of them tried to stick his lensupmy skirt, literally. Not justaimingthem up, but stuck an object between my legs, to uhmmm…” I caught a look at Jareth at the wings of the stage, clenching his fist. Was it because of the memory, or because I was turning this into a hostile interview? “Exploit me, right? Is that the right word, Rupert? My English is not so good, so maybe you can help me. You’re familiar with exploiting women, right?”
He balked and went pale. That’s right, fucker.I know what up-and-coming actresses have to do to get onto your show, you pathetic, disgusting piece of shit.
“The legalese is too complicated for my little brain but...” I conjured that smile again because Ihad to, before Jareth’s head exploded. “That’s called assaultandbattery, right? Sexual assault and battery, in America. I don’t know about here, after all, it’s just so confusing.”
It wasn’t confusing. My brother rearranged the paparazzo’s face, and the charges were dismissed because that journalist deserved worse. He deserved to be killed. Any judge or barrister knew he was a lost cause.
I was sorry we pulled Jorik off of him, but we didn’t want him put away for murder. Not when he was on the brink of his first championship.
“Well, that’s completely different from what happened a few days ago…”
“It’s less exploitative, I suppose, now that I’m wise and experienced at twenty-three years old.”
I was making him look like an ass. I told Jareth not to make me do this, but he insisted. Now look at what was happening.
“That’s not… that’s not what I’m saying. You’re trying to put words in my mouth.”
“Am I?”Blink, blink. Blink the little doe eyes and make him think you hadn’t meant itthat way.“How so?”
Questions. Ask questions. Have themexplain.
“Let’s move on.” He cleared his throat, giving a small finger gesture, like scissors, to indicate to his team to cut the previous interaction from the live broadcast. “You’re from the Philippines, right?”
I let my smile linger, the question hanging in the air between us. He knew I was from the Philippines. Everyone did. That’s why I was Miss Philippine Idol before I was Miss World Idol.
“They call you the Taylor Swift of the Philippines. How do you feel about that?”
Like the media is too lazy to realize that two women who work in roughly the same genre of music could possibly have their own personalities. The public imagination could only handleoneof every item, and having to consider that pop stars aren’t all a monolith would just be too difficult to understand for the two working brain cells of the collective Hollywood imagination.
Not to mention, they were basically dismissing my culture, my heritage, and the extensive Filipino Music industry that was at my back.
But I can’t say any of that, so instead, I smiled. “Well, Taylor Swift is an amazing artist and performer. I’m grateful for the comparison.”
Without missing a beat, he jumped on my apparent cooperation. “Is it true that you all eat with your hands?”