Page 148 of Haze of Obedience
I don't know their situations or their payment for success, but it's clear who runs the show. It's not any of the talent.
For hours, I get anything possible done—a normal woman would be in heaven. For me, it only feels like hell. Every inch of my body is perfected, and when the hairdresser comments on how horrible my orange hair is and asks me if I'm dying to get rid of it, I tell her to touch up my roots and cry.
Of course, they don't.
When I walk out the door, I'm wearing a designer outfit that cost thousands. My hair is caramel brown with blond streaks perfectly positioned. And my makeup and nails are photoshoot ready.
In the car, Mateo hands me a statement to read at the press conference.
The closer we get to the scheduled event, the more my chest tightens.
Maybe Dirk will see it. He'll know how to find me now.
He's dead.
I tear up again and quickly wipe my face, so my makeup doesn't streak. Anything but perfection will make my life worse.
The car stops. Hundreds of reporters swarm the building. Security clears a path, but it doesn't help my nerves.
I keep my head down and my sunglasses on. People scream my name and try to reach for me. Several cross the line. When we get to the top of the steps where the microphones are waiting, Mateo picks it up.
"Many of you have been concerned about Zoe Diego's whereabouts in the last fifteen months. Ms. Diego needed a break and has been at a luxury resort during this time, creating new songs and is eager to get back to work. We felt it was best to keep it private for her to rest and get her creative juices flowing. She will resume her tour in Mexico in two weeks."
My heart drops. Two weeks. A tour? New songs? Oh God.
"Ms. Diego will make a statement now." Mateo hands me the microphone, and with shaking hands, I take it.
Just get this over with.
Dirk, please tell me you're watching.
I clear my throat and force myself to smile. "Thank you so much for being here today. I'm sorry for disappointing any of my fans over the last fifteen months, but I needed to take a step back to give you more of what you love. I'm excited to be back and am looking forward to taking the stage soon. I prefer not to discuss anything regarding my personal life over the last fifteen months or going forward. And I ask for the media to please respect my privacy. Thank you." I hand the microphone back to Mateo, and the guards whisk us back to the car.
When the car pulls away, I ask Mateo, "How many shows are booked?"
He calmly says, as if it's not a big deal, "One hundred shows in one hundred days."
My hand covers my throat. I'll have no voice left.
"You said two weeks?"
"Yes, it's all scheduled."
"What am I doing those two weeks?"
He crosses his arms and sits further back in the seat. "Writing another album. And every song better be good enough to be a number one hit."
