The Not-Outcast(99)

I frowned. “I’m not.”

“You won that grant. Only two other people have won that same grant. That’s a big deal, and…” She suddenly got quiet.

I fixed her with a stare. “What?”

Melanie only got quiet for a reason.

She let out a sigh, biting her lip and scrolled to the last part of that article. “They got ahold of the personal essay you sent in for the grant.”

My heart stopped.

My body swayed.

My legs almost gave out.

I was reading, and I couldn’t be seeing what I was reading.

Grants were tricky. Some were almost scientific and cold. They wanted straight facts, data, and information. They didn’t want personal items, but not the one I applied for. They wanted a personal essay for the reason I was pursuing that grant, and what I wanted to do with the money.

I laid it all out.

All. Of. It.

I told them about my mother. My dad. How I was getting my head in order as I went through therapy, but I told them about my past, about what I endured during my time with my mother. It was right there, in print, the essay I wrote, and how I knew what it was like to be desperate for a warm meal when you were locked out of your home.

This was out there.

Anyone could look it up, and they’d know my story.

This news site thought they were doing me a favor. The whole article was about me, but mostly about Come Our Way, but— Oh shit, shit, shit.

Melanie took her phone from me, and my fingers didn’t move.

“Babe.” She pulled me to her, and I went, laying my head over her shoulder. She hugged me, smoothing a hand down my hair. “I’m going to say something, and I hope you’re in the mindspace to hear it. If you aren’t, well, I think I’d say it anyway. I know that your past has never been a secret. You’ve never been ashamed of it, and I know this is a big difference between talking about it with your family and friends, but I’ve been thinking for a long time that you shouldn’t be in the shadows anymore. Then you started seeing Cut and I thought, ‘Finally! She’s going to get pulled from the background.’ And now this is out, and I think, I really think, you need to just own this.”

I started to pull away, but she caught my shoulders.

“Your story can save lives. What you went through, it’s not normal. I mean, it is, but it’s not. From where you were, to where you are now. You’re one fucking rad bitch, and you need to tell people about it. About you.”

“I’m messed in the head.”

“Everyone’s messed in the head. Some are just worse than others, and some deny it, some don’t even know about it. I’m just saying, you’re a fucking beacon of light. You were for me.”

“So, you want her to do what? Do a speech at the event in an hour? Capitalize on our private moment?” Cut’s voice came from the hallway, and it was low, and I heard the danger there. He was pissed, beyond pissed.

Melanie turned to face him. “No. I’m only saying she shouldn’t hide anymore, and she’s been hiding. All this time.”

He didn’t respond, but his gaze went to mine. He had his phone in hand. “The team’s PR department is already fielding calls about the articles. They’ve moved to get what they can pulled down, but they’re getting a lot of questions about you. If they’re getting calls like that, then I’d assume Come Our Way is getting a ton, too.” A pause. The edges around his mouth strained. “A national news channel already picked it up.”

Oh, whoa.

I couldn’t. I just frowned. “Is this normal?”

“No.”

“Cut’s never seen with a chick, and now they’re finding out about you, I’m not surprised at all. You’re made of golden gooey aura and shit. Everyone else will find out now too.”

The door opened and Sasha came inside, carrying an outfit, her makeup bag, and she had a bottle of vodka with her. She stopped in her tracks, reading the room. “Apocalypse?”





*



Sasha was filled in, and in typical Sasha fashion, she had a lot of one-word comments.

Finally. Fuck. Fierce. Frenzied.

She didn’t elaborate on what the last word meant, no one asked, and we all moved on. It fit in with the theme, but Sasha was behind Melanie’s sentiment. She agreed with the ‘golden gooey aura’ and I needed a moment.

KC’s Dirty Rag didn’t take down the article, but the other news site did. My very, very personal essay was removed, but I knew it was out there. Fucking Internet.

“I keep my life private, and I keep my image about hockey.” Cut came to my bedroom’s doorframe.

Sasha and Melanie were using the guest bathroom to get dressed, and both were two drinks in. They had the sounds of Queen filling the apartment, and both were on the operatic part.

I’d retreated to the bedroom thirty minutes after Sasha’s arrival because it was a lot. Just…a lot.

Looking up, I said, “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, coming inside and shutting the door behind him. He’d changed, too, so he was wearing an all-black tuxedo. It was that kind of event, and he looked very 007-esque. When I was in a better mood, I’d be teasing about calling him a certain spy’s name in bed, but I wasn’t there yet. We hadn’t moved to the funny part of the day’s events.