Page 4 of Blue Moon

I had three boxes of artisan chocolates from people whose names I didn’t recognise, plus another of Turkish delight from Kory’s assistant, and a bottle of fancy rosé courtesy of my agent. I dropped the wine into the trash. If Julius thought he could ever buy himself back into my good books, he had another think coming. The only reason I hadn’t fired him along with my mom was that he had a watertight contract, while she’d been lax with the paperwork. I was stuck with him until renewal in two more years. Until then, he could speak with me via my new lawyer.

Bags contained spa certificates, jewellery, a designer watch, shoes, several purses, beauty products, basically anything people thought I might use so they could get free advertising. I pushed a bunch of goodies toward Venus and Aisha.

“Help yourselves. There’s way too much stuff for me.”

“Are you sure?” Aisha asked, but Venus was already rooting through the bags.

Someone had collected the fan mail into a folder, drawings of me and a bunch of letters that I would have given to Jubilee to answer if she still worked for me. Maybe I could borrow one of the interns who always seemed to be hanging around? Writing back myself was something I’d never attempted before—my handwriting was no better than a child’s, and I didn’t have a printer. Hmm… I quickly checked the rest of the packages, but there was no printer, only a new smartphone and some kind of fitness tracker.

“We couldn’t light the candles on the cake,” a girl I didn’t recognise apologised. “Fire hazard.”

What cake?

“And the pyrotechnics on the stage aren’t?”

I meant it as a joke, but she backed away. “Uh, sorry, I think there’s a different fire system or… I’ll go ask.”

I opened my mouth to tell her not to bother, but she was gone.

There were several cards, and I couldn’t help smiling as I recognised the writing on the top one. Caro. We’d started out as sworn enemies before salvaging a friendship from the ashes of our time in San Gallicano, and we’d kept in touch after we both returned to the US, me to Vegas and her to Virginia. She had a new job in accounting at a charity foundation, but she was helping me to unravel my finances in her spare time. I’d offered to pay her, but she refused to take any money.

More pity.

I opened the card and read.

Congrats on surviving opening night! We can’t wait to see the show ourselves—you’re a born performer.

Caro & Knox.

I’d sent them front-row tickets for the finale. It was the least I could do.

The next card came from Kory, but I knew he hadn’t sent it himself. He just wasn’t that organised. One of his staff would have slid the card and a pen in front of him, told him to sign his name, and then visited the mailbox. Kory was probably drunk in a club on the French Riviera, blissfully oblivious to the fact that it was a big day for me.

Officially, he was one of my friends—one of my few friends—but we had more of a symbiotic relationship. Symbiotic. I’d had to learn that word because a judge at Miss American Radiance had asked the same question in the last three contests: In a world where cooperation and harmony are essential, can you give an example of a symbiotic relationship that inspires you and explain how it relates to your personal journey? I’d memorised a long answer about bees and flowers, but in reality, my friendship with Kory wasn’t that beautiful. He let me hang out on his daddy’s yacht and in various vacation homes around the world, while I pretended to be his girlfriend when necessary and gained him column inches that boosted his career as a DJ. I wasn’t yet sure how things would change now that I could no longer offer the column inches, but I’d promised to provide guest vocals for a track on his upcoming album, so I guess that counted for something.

The next card wiped the smile right off my face. A cartoon sea turtle told me “You’re turtle-y awesome,” and when I opened it to read the message, a gift card fell out, a gift card for…Arby’s? But it was the handwriting that made my heart lurch.

Moon,

Sing from your heart and hold your head high. Don’t let the haters get you down.

I’ll always be sorry,

R

One night on the beach in San Gallicano, I’d confessed to Ryder that I loved the curly fries from Arby’s, but Mom wouldn’t let me eat them. And he’d remembered. He’d remembered a dumb comment I made because he listened to me. Really listened. I quickly shoved both cards into my purse and pasted on a smile that was fake, fake, fake.

“Are we ready to go?”

Luis spun around, holding a pair of dangly earrings up to his ears, swirly gold with red-orange stones. “Did you see these? So fancy.”

“Who sent them?”

“Mark.”

“Mark who?”

“You don’t know? The note said he was looking forward to seeing you again.”

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