Page 32 of Not My Fault

“Isla and Rae are supposed to be here…” Gus starts and looks at River for more information.

“They’re running late but they did say they should be here by now.” River frowns and looks for her phone. Aspen takes it out of her pocket and hands it to her.

“We’re here!” a blonde with pink strips of hair says, rushing through to Gus and me.

“Sorry, someone didn’t realize that the 1 train isn’t running,” Says a redhead with gorgeous strawberry curls as she comes up behind her.

“Hey, you could’ve looked it up!” the blonde argues.

“You said you were handling the transportation,” the redhead grumbles.

“Em, this is Isla and Rae. They’re the other owners of RARE’s tattoos and my friends. Ignore their fighting, that’s how they flirt,” Gus teases.

“We are not flirting,” Rae, the redhead mumbles.

“It’s so amazing to meet you. You’ve made this one smile and that’s an accomplishment in itself,” Isla says.

“Do you mean Gus is grumpy? I can’t imagine.” Gus always gives off golden retriever positive energy, so it’s hard to see them as someone who could be grumpy.

“Yes, I’m constantly seeing them smiling at their phone like an idiot lately. That has to be you,” River adds.

I notice Cari angrily furrows her eyebrows for a moment before catching herself. I wonder if Gus caught that. Is it possible she’s jealous of Gus and I like Gus hoped?

“Any hints on the setlist tonight?” Aspen asks, changing the subject.

“Definitely some crowd favorites, and one or two originals,” I say. “But don’t tell anyone.”

“You know, I can find backstage with my eyes closed, but I had to ask for help to find the VIP lounge,” Georgie says with an exasperated sigh.

“Everyone, this is my best friend, Georgie. She’s being a showoff because she usually watches from backstage. This is her first time in the VIP seats,” I say, smiling at my bestie. A collective hello falls from everyone, and I relax a bit.

I’m glad everyone made it. I only wish Georgie would be able to keep an eye on Gus and Cari for me. But it isn’t like I can tell her to. I mean, not without telling her I have a crush on Gus. And that is ridiculous, I don’t. I know I don’t, I just don’t want them flirting or being with anyone else. Yup, I sound nuts, so no way can I say it to anyone, even G.

“Am I totally lame if I ask for some pics with you?” River asks.

“Oh my gosh, of course not! Get over here!” I wave her over and Gus takes the camera.

I take turns taking photos with everyone one by one. Even Cari pops in for a quick photo, and I force a smile. Gus looks like they’re going to shit their pants. I don’t want to make it a big deal, so I put on my show face. I have a few things to dobefore the show, so I head backstage with security. I promise to meet up with everyone after the show and after meeting with the fans who actually paid for the other VIP seats. I don’t see Viv backstage, but that gives me a second to relax.

Before my makeup artist comes in to work her magic—making me look like I’m not washed out on stage— I look in the mirror. Even though I waxed yesterday and plucked this morning, I have at least four stubborn dark hairs already growing back on my chin. It’s one of my least favorite parts of having PCOS. Like, it’s bad enough that I have extra body hair everywhere, but these obnoxious and very obvious hairs always appear. I pluck them at home and by the time I’m outside, they are already growing back. Why can’t the hair on my head grow that fast? I know, I know, it has something to do with the hormones and having extra testosterone, but it’s a pain in my ass.

My makeup team is used to it, and they plucked any I don’t see, but I like to make their job easier. So I grab the tweezers and shine my phone light on my face to see if I missed any. The paparazzi are bad enough at blowing them up for the tabloids. I try not to give them any reason to print things about me. Unless it’s about Gus and me.

“Lu, are you ready for me?” my makeup artist, AJ, calls through the door.

“Yes!” I call back.

He walks in and sets down his makeup chest on the table in front of me. I take a sip of my water, knowing I’ll have to be still until he’s done. He always says I can get up if I need to, but I insist on staying still. I don’t want to be difficult or hold anyone up. When he is almost done, the hair team will come in and start styling it with way too much gel and hairspray to keep it from falling down. I hate it, but it’s better than the alternative of loosehairs falling over my face throughout the entire performance. I usually do the show with a variety of hairdos.

Closing my eyes, I relax into the chair. It’s been a long day, and it’s only going to get longer. In fifteen minutes, my opening act, a small lesbian band, will be going on. They are still new, but I love their sound. I can see them going the long haul if they stopped hooking up with each other. What is it with lesbians hooking up with everyone and their exes?

“I saw your partner out there tonight; they looked so cute with your face on them,” Aj says as he finishes up.

“They always look cute,” I say without thinking about it.

“Oh, you’ve got it baaaaaad.” They laugh.

“What can I say?” I deflect. I don’t want to deny it, but it’s true.

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