Page 72 of The Naughty Professor
Before I could reply, Felix’s phone buzzed.He groaned, fished it from his pocket, and rolled his eyes at the name flashing on the screen.“Oh God,” he muttered.“It’s Lux.”
“Answer it,” I said, grinning.
He sighed, then swiped.“Lux, darling, to what do we owe the pleasure?”
Her voice exploded through the speaker.“Felix, baby!Guess who’s making her Broadway debut!”
Felix blinked.“You?”
“Oh, yes, honey.Me.‘Burlesque: The Musical.’ Opening night is in three months.I’m playing the Cher role, but with more tits and fewer inhibitions.”
I could practically hear the sequins rustling through the phone.
“You’re going to be on Broadway?”I said, incredulous.
“Sweetheart, I am Broadway now.You bitches better be in the front row.I’m sending you VIP tickets — free, obviously, because you’re my emotional support academics.”
Felix chuckled.“Lux, you’re incredible.”
“I know.Oh!Want to hear a filthy joke?”she asked, not waiting for an answer.“What’s long, hard, and full of—”
“Lux!”Felix interrupted, half laughing, half mortified.
“Fine, fine, I’ll save it for the curtain call.Anyway, wear something slutty-adjacent, both of you.Love you, byeee!”
The line went dead.
Felix was grinning like a fool, staring at the phone.“She hasn’t changed a bit.”
“Maybe she can’t,” I breathed.
He turned to me, his expression softening.“Yeah.She’s one of the few who never switched back.”
I nodded.Lux — Juniper, as she once was — had become a permanent fixture in our lives, both literally and philosophically.I’d even devoted an entire chapter of The Elixir to her case.My theory was simple but unsettling: for some people, the serum didn’t transform them into someone else — it revealed the self they were meant to be all along.
Lux hadn’t just become Lux.She’d been waiting to step out of Juniper’s shadow her entire life.
Of course, that wasn’t true for everyone.For some, the serum acted like a temporary spark — a chemical permission slip to live louder, braver, more vividly.When the effect faded, they went back to themselves, carrying only the memory of freedom.
And then there were… anomalies.
“I still can’t get over what happened to Joan Stanwyk,” Felix murmured, as if reading my thoughts.
I sighed.“Yes.No one expected that outcome from the serum.”
Joan — once the head of VCU’s Philosophy department — was now the self-anointed “Sister Joan of the Holy Glow.”She had a cable show,Salvation & Sequins,preaching to a rapt audience of the spiritually gullible.Her hair was cotton-candy pink, piled high like a divine meringue.Her makeup shimmered with the intensity of a televangelist and a Vegas showgirl fused into one terrifying entity.
And she was rich.The televangelist now had a mega-mansion, a private jet, and sold custom Bible covers embossed with her face.
Felix shook his head.“She took the serum three years ago.Said she wanted to ‘understand transformation.’Next thing you know, she’s praising Jesus and selling salvation candles for $49.99.”
“She doesn’t see herself as a grifter,” I mumbled.
“No,” Felix agreed.“She thinks she’s saving souls.”He sighed, leaning back in his seat.“It’s wild, Thorne.For every Lux — someone who becomes who they’re supposed to be — there’s a Joan.Someone who becomes a parody of themselves.”
His phone buzzed again.
Felix glanced down.“Oh, it’s Rhoda.I have to take this one.”
