Page 1 of Not My Fault

ONE

Emily

Someone tosses a pink bra at my head that I manage to duck at the last second.

“Hey! If you hit me, we might have to stop the concert. Be careful with your aim.” I laugh. It’s not the first time this has happened to me.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?!” I shout into the bedazzled, pink microphone.

The crowd goes wild like it always does, and I smile. It’s a bigger crowd than usual, but my agent said we sold out tonight. That is starting to happen more and more. I glance among the crowd, looking at the room filled with mostly women and non-binaries and a few token men. It makes sense; I have a habit of taking my top off for the ladies, and I do sing about loving women. It makes me feel more relaxed knowing who is out there.As the lights change throughout the night, it’s harder to see exactly who’s who, but in the beginning, I always get a vibe for the crowd.

“I think I’m going to start with an old favorite!” I announce and the crowd cheers as the band behind me plays the music to my number one hit.

I turn around, shaking my ass at the crowd, and start singing. I’ve practiced this all week, so I know it like the back of my hand. This song is always a crowd pleaser and the perfect way to pump them up for the night. I dance around the stage, shaking my ass and grinding on my backup dancers like we practiced. I lean in during the chorus to almost kiss one of them, then pull away at the last second, making the fans scream even louder.

It's addictive; it makes my heart flutter in anticipation of more. I can never get enough of an adoring crowd. I’m an attention whore and I love it, but only like this. I can do without the crazy fans trying to break into my apartment or the paparazzi tracking me down. But the crowd going wild and cheering my name? That is what makes all that other stuff worth it.

I drop low and shake my ass one last time before the song ends and eat up the crowd. People are throwing stuff onto the stage, and I laugh as I dodge another bra. The music behind me starts and I kick into the next song. I need to stay on track with timing or Viv, my agent/manager, will have my ass. It costs way too much to go overtime with everything. Stage right, my bestie Georgiana (Georgie) is singing along with the song and I smile. She’s supported me from the beginning, when I was writing songs in my journal and kissing straight girls who only wanted to experiment. She is my ride or die and spends most nights watching the concert live, when she isn’t at her own job.

The band behind me hasn’t been with me from the start, but I’d fight if Viv or anyone tried to switch them out on me. They’re all a part of the Alphabet Mafia, each of them being talented on their instruments. Ella is on the drums, the baby of the band. Chrissy and Dana play guitar, along with Ty, who plays keyboard. I love having such a diverse group on stage with me. It makes being up here more fun than when it was just strangers in the beginning. It took a while of swapping out a person here or there to finally make the band what it is today.

I stop during one of Chrissy and Dana’s guitar solos to grab some water. Someone backstage hands it to me, and I take a large chug then dump the rest of it on me. I am sweating. With the lights and all the dancing, it is impossible not to be. Just as they’re finishing, I jump back on stage with my now wet white T-shirt.

“Who wants me to take it off?!” I shout as the crowd starts to cheer my stage name, LULY.

I put the mic between my thighs and seductively take off my T-shirt. I’m wearing a bright pink bralette under just for this reason. I love taking my clothes off on stage; something about it is invigorating and powerful. It is one of Viv’s least favorite things I do, but she isn’t always in charge. I can feel her scowl on me from stage left. The crowd goes wild. I lift my top to flash them, and they go even crazier. I laugh, fix my bralette, toss my T-shirt into the crowd, and watch the fans go rabid for it. I have to admit, it’s pretty hot.

“I have one last song for tonight: how do we feel New York City?!” I shout, giving them a hint to singing an old favorite. It is my least favorite to sing but it is a crowd favorite and a crowd pleaser, so I always lose this debate.

I start singing, dancing with the band and touching the hands of the crowd in the front. People are touching my boots, and I eat it up. It is wild how far we’ve come since I started. I want to soak up every last second of this. As the song ends, I take a bow and then give the band a chance to have their own moment in the spotlight. I’m not some diva who can’t give everyone a second in the light. I run off stage right to meet Georgina, who greets me with a hug and a bottle of water.

“You’re all sweaty!” She giggles.

“Don’t act like you don’t love it!” I laugh.

We’re both escorted further backstage, where Viv and other people on the team are waiting for me. Every night afterthe concerts, Viv tells me what I need to fix for the next performance. But tonight is bigger than that; we’ve been waiting to see who will be headlining Coachella this year. I’m supposedly a shoo-in, but I’m still nervous. I’ve had sold out shows for weeks, but this isCoachella. It’s a huge honor.

“Emily, darling.” Viv smiles. “Georgie, why don’t you grab yourself a snack while we chat?” She’s always trying to drive a wedge between us, but I don’t budge.

“Georgie stays, Viv. Just tell me.” I hold Georgie’s hand tighter.

“Unfortunately, Coachella decided to go a different way this year.” Her mouth forms a straight line. My shoulders slump and I sigh; I knew I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.

“Okay.”

“But great show! I’ll give you my notes later. Have fun and get some rest before tomorrow.” Viv squeezes my shoulder gently before leaving Georgie and I alone.

“I’m so sorry.” Georgie frowns.

I slump into the couch and kick off my shoes. “I just thought this was my year.”

“I know, but it’s not like you’ll never get it. It’s just not your time yet.”

I nod, unsure of what else to say.

“Why don’t we head home and grab some gluten-free pizza from that place you love on Smith Street? I can have it delivered by the time we get to our apartment,” she suggests.

“Only if you also get some buffalo wings and the gluten-free Mac,” I tell her.

---