Page 24 of Not My Fault

“Is that, like, safe?” Gus looks around and then back at me.

“It’s fine,” I assure them. Honestly, it could go either way, but I’m not someone who likes to live in fear.

Gus takes my hand again, and this time we walk with less worry. We don’t want to be assholes, slow walking through New York City, so we decide to stick to the slower sides of the street and get out of people’s way. The weather is beautiful tonight, and thankfully my heels aren’t killing my feet yet. They might tomorrow, in which case I’ll take a gummy before rehearsal.

“Are you open to some dessert?” Gus asks.

“Yes, always.” I nod.

“Perfect.” Gus looks up at the street signs and then we pivot to turn on the next block.

I don’t ask where we’re going, just happy to be on this adventure. Gus has a good hold on me, and I admire their hand tattoos over mine. They have a lion on this hand with a huge mane and several other smaller tattoos I can’t make out whilewe walk. I wonder how long they’ve had tattoos. It must’ve taken awhile, and it seems like there isn’t much of them that isn’t tattooed. I blush at the thought of finding out if the tattoos continue everywhere.

“I’m assuming you like ice cream?” Gus asks as we stop in front of a small ice cream shop.

“Yes, I’m not a heathen.” I laugh.

Just as we’re in line for ice cream, someone taps my shoulder.

“Are you LULY?” The woman is at least eighteen, with a rainbow pin on her jean jacket.

I smile. “Yes.”

The woman’s eyes widen. “Can I have a picture?”

“Sure.” I nod. This was bound to happen; we were tempting fate being out and about without security.

“I can take it,” Gus offers.

The girl poses next to me, and we both smile. “My girlfriend is never going to believe this! Your music is an inspiration to us. Thank you so much!”

“Thank you.” I smile.

A few more people nearby start to look and realize who I am. Gus shoots me a look and takes my hand. Without speaking, they pull me out of the ice cream shop and we don’t stop until we’re a few blocks away on an empty street.

TWELVE

Gus

Idon’t know what actually came over me, but as soon as I saw the look on Emily’s face, I knew I needed to get her out of there. One fan we could handle, but a bunch of them and people texting friends to come down isn’t something we’re equipped for. I knew she was taking a chance when she ditched her security, but I don’t want it to end badly. I know the neighborhood, so all I have to do is get her away from the crowds. There are other ice cream shops we can try without her being mobbed by fans. Maybe I shouldn’t have listened to her and insisted on security. But I’m not some misogynist who thinks Emily can’t fight her own battles. She knows what she can and cannot handle.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get ice cream; I can see if there’s anywhere nearby,” I say once we’re alone.

“Are you kidding? I’m sorry we couldn’t have any because my fans were around.” She laughs.

“Is it always like this?”

“You mean, going out in public and people wanting to have photos and worrying about being mobbed? Yes.” She sighs. “It’s gotten worse the more famous I’ve gotten. And I’m grateful formy fans, but it’s a lot sometimes. I appreciate you getting me out of there.”

“I don’t mind; I was just worried about more fans showing up.”

“Yeah, it was smart to get me out of there,” she agrees.

“There’s a bodega on the corner. What do you say we stop in there for some pints of ice cream, and we eat it on the way back to your place?” I suggest.

“Sounds good.” She smiles.

We slide in the tiny corner store, stop in front of the two columns of ice cream, and think about which flavors we want. I’m not in the mood for anything crazy, so I grab a plain chocolate while Emily grabs a mint chocolate chip.

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