I scrolled through my small contact list and call my manager. It rings and rings until it goes to voicemail. I call two, three, four times and by the fifth time I call it goes straight to voicemail.
“Is that how you do damage control? How much he paid you and LuxeMuse Entertainment to cover his back and throw me under the bus?” I yell into his voicemail.
I try to call one more time and now it says that his phone is out of service. I frown and stop myself from breaking the phone. If I break the company’s property, it would come off my ‘paycheck’.
Ginny’s heavy sigh catches my attention.
“Girls, let’s pack. We are going home. The rest of the tour got cancel. They will tell fans is a momentary pause and will refund everyone since there’s not a date to restart the tour. They instructed us to get back to our place in Maxwell and disappear.”
I get a text message from my mom with a short video. LuxeMuse’s publicist comes in with a statement that leaves us in shock. The five-minute speech pretty much blame me forcausing this and for not being more careful with the men I go into romantic relationships with. They announce the rest of the tour is on a hiatus as I apparently reflect on my actions. They promise VERA will comeback more mature and even more grateful to our devoted fans. They also promise refunds to anyone who will like them since there is not a comeback date to share.
I feel rage like I’ve never felt before. A ball of hot liquid lava bubbles in the pit of my stomach. I reach out for my phone and open X just to find out that my credentials were changed, and I got a pop up saying I’m logged out of all of my devices. I got the same message from Instagram and TikTok. The only place I’m not logging out is the WE-Veritas. A message platform between us and our fans. I know they will monitor it, so I write the message on my notes app before copying pasting it.
I sent the same message to the open forum, where all our fans with a free and paid account have access. I sent it to the membership main forum, and I sent it to the private message group I have with fans who paid a monthly fee for it. It was a brief message.
You, of all people, know me the best. I trust you know the truth, especially when is crystal clear. I’m sorry for making you worry now and in the future. I’ll come back to you all, please wait for me.
I quickly reply to my mom to not believe what LuxeMuse Entertainment says. I remind them to not talk to the press and to refuse any attempts from the company to handle their statements. I promise them I will call soon.
We make it back to Maxwell amid camera flashes, screaming reporters and disappointed fans. The second they dropped us in the apartment, security got cut in half. The first days we spend it pushing paparazzi off our front door and wondering if whoever rings the bell is really a delivery person or someone trying to get a candid photo.
After a week, we watched as Ginny had another fight with her manager demanding them to provide us with groceries because food delivery was turning dangerous. “If you can’t be bothered to protect us, at least don’t starve us with the money we have made for all of you.” I smirk and silently clap at our leader. Ginny is the level-headed person between us four, but don’t mess up with her. She can go from zero to a hundred as fast as Maggie when she deems it necessary.
I occupied myself with scrolling through my secret Instagram on my secret phone. The phone provided by LuxeMuse Entertainment had no access to any of my social medias and they limited the service plan after the message I left in the WE-Veritas forums. I sneaked out one night to visit my parents and assure them I’m okay and that I will fix this. I took the chance to get a copy of the contract they had when they sign it up since I was a minor. I pour over it and search on the internet to better understand it.
I know it isn’t a fair contract, but it was I’m surprise to find it’s a slave contract. One of the many things that caught my attention is the money. The contract says we should earn an amount, but we are nowhere near that. I put several tabs and sticky notes over it. This could be a way for us to get out of this if we all have the same contract.
On our third week of being inside of our apartment, I could feel myself and my members going stir crazy. We got into silly little fights over things we never fought before. The news aboutmy fake relationship stopped after Richard got caught twice in a row with two different women in compromising positions. The Royal Family had to release a statement. That’s how bad it was.
A few news outlets dare to question if the actions of LuxeMuse Entertainment and the statement they released blaming me and pausing the tour with no future dates were the right move. They got silence within minutes and it left my fans to make videos, long and short, questioning their decisions and coming with conspiracy theories. One night we were near another nervous breakdown thanks to the isolation. Maggie shows us a video discussing ties LuxeMuse Entertainment allegedly has with unsavory people from a group called Los Cuervos de Plata or The Silver Crows.
The video shared crazy ideas and I feel like I reached my breaking point.
“This is it. We are done. We are leaving. They want us to disappear. It doesn’t mean we have to do it here, where everyone knows where we live.” I sit up and say.
“Where else we can go? Is not like half of the world doesn’t know our face,” Vivi says.
“I bet any small town, you know, the ones that seem to be stuck in the 50s, 60s or 70s, wouldn’t know us,” Maggie comments.
“I think this is the perfect moment for us to take a road trip. Have an adventure and maybe find a summer love. We tour so much in and out of the country. We haven’t lived much.” I say.
“We don’t have a car,” Ginny says.
“I can get us a car.” I smile as I scroll through my contact list. “Hi Sadie. You are on speaker.”
Sadie’s rich chuckle fills their living room. “I’m surprised they haven’t found your secret phone.”
“They never will, and I hope you can help me keep it that way.”
“Of course. I can tell this is not a catch up call. What do you want?”
I like my aunt’s straightforwardness. Sadie Delgado used to be a celebrity photographer. She did all our photos, from album to promotional pictures, during our debut year. She left photography, moved to New York and open a moody coffee shop in Brooklyn. She used to be someone who was always out and about. She worked long hours and produce stunning pictures. She got tired of it. Now you only find her in her apartment or her coffee shop.
“Does uncle Dalio still have your van?”
“He does and you are going to ask me to call him and lend it to you. Where are you going?”
“Anywhere but here. Somewhere not too crowded. We are inches away from clawing at each other.”
