51. Luna

51

"You were sensational!"

Luis swung me around, and my feet hit Romeo Serafini square in the chest. Shit!

"Be careful," I squeaked.

"He should have stepped back faster."

Venus and Aisha squished me in a double hug next, and my eyes began to prickle.

"You guys were awesome too."

Tuesday night, and it was my first time back on stage since the kidnapping. I'd missed just over a week of shows, partly because the police wouldn't stop asking me questions. I'd told them literally everything I knew. Yes, I'd slept through the entire abduction. No, I hadn't been physically harmed. Yes, I'd gotten lost on a mountain when I tried to escape. The worst part was having to talk about Julius, because they had questions on that too. The snake that killed him had gone to live at the Las Vegas Zoo, and now that I had my money back, I'd used some of it to sponsor Karma's new enclosure. Honestly, it was the least I could do. The rest of the snakes from the cabin had also been given new homes, all except for the boomslang. Mark Antony—I still struggled to think of him as anything else—had told us he had one of those, but it hadn't been in the snake room, and nobody could find it in the house.

Mark Antony had held on to life by his fingertips, but he wasn't so lucky when it came to his toes. Most of his right leg had been amputated to stop the spread of the infection. Really, the whole thing was a tragedy. Until my encounter with him, I hadn't realised just how little provision there was for mental healthcare in the United States, and he'd slipped between the cracks. Kept to himself, stopped taking his meds, and acted upon a story his mind had created. The person who could have helped him the most—Julia Strand—had fed the fantasy rather than grounding him in reality.

As Emmy had said, it was a total fuckup.

And I had a lot to process.

A jumbo jet full of baggage to unload.

Spending time with Ryder made me realise just how much I'd neglected my own mental health over the years. Mom had always told me to be strong, to ignore the haters and put on a brave face. But there was only so much I could bottle up inside. When I landed back in Vegas, at a big white house on the edge of the desert, the place they called the Cathouse, I'd hugged Caro for a long minute, eaten a piece of cake, and then cried in Ryder's arms for two hours straight. I'd been a real freaking mess. Then I'd ended up on the phone to his therapist for half the night, trying to work out how to deal with feelings I'd been suppressing for years, and I'd spoken with her every day since.

I'd be speaking with her for a long time yet.

Who wouldn't I be speaking with? My mom. She'd been on every TV show telling the world how grateful she was to have me home, that I'd survived an ordeal, but the family would get through it together. Together? Pah. We hadn't spoken at all since I got back. Not one word. I'd sent Jubilee a text to let her know I was okay, and she'd told me Mom was worried and "being a bit weird," whatever that meant. Weirder than normal?

Anyhow, I had the one person I needed, and that was Ryder. He'd watched the whole of tonight's show from the wings, and now he was leaning against a table, watching me with a faint smile on his face. Damn, I loved that man. Plus I now knew how hot he looked in his commando outfit. Getting kidnapped again had never been so tempting.

"Good news," Romeo said. "We've managed to reschedule the missed shows, but they'll be at the Nebula. We did a deal with Braxton Vale."

"When?"

"At the end of your run here."

Thank goodness. The missed shows had been preying on my mind because fans had purchased tickets, and I didn't want to let them down. But Kalinda de Leon's show at the Nile Palace was already sold out, and they couldn't cancel the start of her run to accommodate new dates for the end of mine. A different venue was a compromise, but one I could work with.

"Thank you."

"Brax also agreed to donate five percent of the revenue to State of Mind."

Which would match the Serafinis' gesture. The donation had been Romeo's idea, a suggestion he made during a tear-filled meeting the day after I got back. My tears, not his. A meeting he'd shown up to with fresh scratches on his face. I was pretty sure he'd gotten into a fight with Tulsa because I'd seen them leaving a room at the Cathouse five minutes before, and she'd looked furious.

Anyhow, the scratches were healing now, and so was my soul. My public image? That would take a bit more rehabilitation. Half the world, the half that didn't much like me, was convinced I'd faked my own abduction in an endless quest for ratings, never mind that Luna at the Palace was sold out already. Even some of the cops who questioned me had sounded sceptical.

"There are gifts," Kacie announced. "I put them in your dressing room, and the letters too."

"Did you read through the letters?"

She nodded. "I put the weird ones in a different folder. Those go to Ryder?"

"Yes, and you need to send signed pictures to the nice ones. Jubilee used to batch them up and do that once a week."

"Okay, sure, I can do that."

When we got back to Vegas, Michelle had climbed into her cousin's truck without so much as a goodbye, but Kacie had accepted the offer of a ride back to her apartment. Only to find that someone else was living there. The landlord had thrown out all her stuff when she didn't pay the rent, and her boss had fired her when she didn't call in. Apparently, being kidnapped wasn't a valid excuse for missing a shift.

Anyhow, I needed an assistant, and Kacie needed a job, so here she was. This was her first assistanting gig, so she constantly asked questions and made the occasional mistake as she worked out how to do things, but at least she wasn't reporting my every move back to my manipulative half-sister. We'd found her a one-bedroom apartment in the same building as mine, and she didn't mind moving to Richmond in a few months.

In short, life wasn't perfect, but it was definitely heading in that direction.

"I can't believe she sold the freaking story! Most of this isn't even true. I did not ‘embrace my new life as queen to a madman.'"

The celebgossip exclusive was titled "Captive: My Days Imprisoned with Luna Maara," and rumour said that Michelle had been paid six figures for dishing the dirt. She claimed she'd been "locked in a cell and forced to become a slave." Never mind that the cell had been bigger than her apartment and Kacie had done most of the work. Oh, oh, and of course she'd mentioned Stockholm syndrome. I'd have been surprised if she hadn't. Yes, Mark Antony had done wrong, I knew that, but it didn't mean Michelle wasn't obnoxious.

Ryder slid a plate of croissants in front of me. "I know, moon."

I gasped at the next sentence. "And Rocky is not vicious!" At the sound of his name, he nudged my thigh, and I tore off a tiny piece of croissant. "Who's the cutest? You're the cutest."

"Do I have to be jealous of the dog?" Ryder asked, sitting down with coffee for both of us.

"You're the hottest." I allowed myself to stare for a moment and smiled dreamily. "You could totally get your own T-shirt line."

He glanced down at the tight tank top he was wearing. "Ribbed, for her pleasure?"

"Something like that. And please never wear anything but grey sweatpants."

"Could get awkward at all those fancy award shows I'll have to escort you to."

"I suppose I could make an exception. I wouldn't want your cock to become a TikTok sensation."

"Hell no."

The truth was, I couldn't even see myself going to any award shows in the near future. My dream evening involved Ryder, his fingers, and zero interruptions from other people. And sex, eventually. I thought things would have taken a setback after the kidnapping, but the opposite was true. The first night of freedom, when we'd stayed in a light, airy room at the Cathouse, all I'd wanted was his hands all over me. And some of Michelle's words had a kernel of truth in them—I did like to get my own way.

This was actually my second breakfast today. The first thing I'd feasted on was Ryder.

My phone buzzed, and I checked the message.

Jubilee

Just thought I should warn you—Mom's on her way to your apartment with doctors. I think she wants you to go to rehab again. She says you're having a breakdown.

"You have to be kidding me," I muttered.

"What happened?"

"Mom thinks I'm having a breakdown."

"Just ignore her."

"I can't—Jubilee says she's on her way over with doctors."

"Doctors? What's she gonna do? Go for an involuntary psych hold?"

"Who knows? Probably."

"Want me to have her removed?"

"Only if you want whoever is removing her to be on every gossip blog in the world."

"You think she'll film them?"

"Trust me, she never goes anywhere without perfect make-up and her phone. She'll sweet-talk a neighbour into letting her into the building, and then she'll yell at me through the door until I give in. That's the way she works."

And in the past, I had given in because she never gave up. Every victory had made her stronger, I realised that now.

"You really think she's going to yell?" Ryder asked.

"Yup." Hmm. "You think we could put in a noise complaint?"

"We could, but I have a better idea."

"Really?"

Instead of answering, Ryder rose and headed to the bedroom. I heard him rummaging for a moment, and when he came back, he handed me a black silicone wristband. The letters "WWED" were stamped on it in white.

"What's this?"

"A lucky charm. We got them in our stockings at last year's work Christmas party."

"What Would Esus Do?"

"I've worked with Emmy Black for a while now. Her favourite author is Sun Tzu, and she's the sneakiest bitch I ever met. So in a situation like this, we need to ask ourselves What Would Emmy Do?"

"And?"

"‘Attack where your enemies are not prepared; go to where they do not expect.' That's a quote from The Art of War. Amethyst wants a fight? Let's give her one."

Eleven minutes later, the yelling started. By then, I also had perfect make-up, although mine was more subtle than Mom's would be. Foundation, a little blush, a sweep of mascara, plain lip gloss. The "just gotten out of bed, but prettily" look. I'd put on a cute silk camisole and shorts instead of one of Ryder's T-shirts, and I'd flossed my teeth to get rid of the pieces of croissant.

Game on, Mom. Game on.

"Luna, it's Mom. I'm so worried about you." No, she was just worried about her bank balance. "We should talk."

"I'm eating breakfast," I called through the door, which Ryder assured me he'd replaced with a reinforced version, so she'd break a shoulder if she got any stupid ideas.

"Perfect. Let's go to Tableau for brunch—you know it's your favourite."

"No, I'm having croissants here."

"You shouldn't be all alone in your apartment."

"Rocky's with me."

"That vicious mongrel?"

"No, he's not vicious."

"He bit a man, Luna. The man almost died."

"Of sepsis. He nearly died of sepsis. It wasn't as if Rocky tore out his jugular."

"Dr. Adamson thinks it would be beneficial for you to talk about your ordeal. You can't keep bottling things up."

"I am talking about it. My boyfriend's here with me, and I'm talking with him."

Oh, that delicious moment of silence.

"Boyfriend? What boyfriend? Are you letting a gold-digger take advantage of you?"

It was time. Mom might have been recording this, but I was going to live-stream it. And guess which one of us had more followers? I checked my hair one last time and hit the button.

"No, he's not taking advantage of me," I called. "He's making me coffee."

"And who is this boyfriend? Not that talentless DJ? You know he's only with you because of your fame. Agreeing to sing on one of his tracks was a gross error in judgment, but I'm sure he'll understand you dropping out once he knows how sick you are."

I spoke softly, loud enough for my own mic to pick up my words, but not loud enough that Mom would realise what I was doing.

"For the record, I'm not sick. I'm totally fine, and I'm sitting here in my apartment with my boyfriend and my dog, eating a croissant. Since I was four years old, my life hasn't been my own. I spent my childhood on a mission to please my mother, and it was only this year that I finally understood it was an endless quest. No matter how many times you see my face, no matter how much money I make, no matter how many awards I win, she'll never be happy. It took a stay at a turtle sanctuary in the Caribbean—which I'm sure everyone heard about—for me to finally get the space to see how manipulative she was." Thousands of people were watching already. Good. "So I walked away. I walked away to make a new life. Luna at the Palace was the first step in that journey, but she just won't leave me alone."

"Luna! You can't hide away from this. Stockholm syndrome? You're having a breakdown. You might not be able to see it, but that doesn't change the truth. Dr. Adamson will help you. He's right here, and he cares. We all care."

"I'm not having a breakdown, and I don't have Stockholm syndrome." I mean, not much. "Yes, I was abducted recently, and I'm certain half the world knows that too." I rolled my eyes. "But I wasn't harmed. I'm here, and I'm safe, and the man involved is getting the help he needs."

The comments were flooding in now.

OMG!

Is this for real?

Luna, I love you!

Wow, your mom sounds crazy.

For free bit$coin, click this link.

Your dog is so cute 3

Is it true you got kidnapped by Julius Caesar?

Sing a song! Pleeeeeeease.

Deep fake! Deep fake!

Wow, are you okay?

Mom's voice turned wheedling. "Luna, just come out here and talk to your mommy. I love you, darling, and I know you love me too. I understand how difficult things have been recently, away from your home, away from your family, but I forgive you. We're a team. We'll always be a team."

"Really, I'm not so different from you," I said to my viewers. Fifty thousand, fifty-five, sixty. "I'm just a girl who likes Netflix and junk food and hanging out with her dog. But I happen to sing for a job. And I'm going to use this opportunity to tell you that I'll be stepping back from the stage for a while. I'm not sure how long yet—maybe a few months, maybe a few years—but at this time, I need to prioritise my health and my relationship."

"Luna!" Mom shrieked, hammering on the door. "Do not ignore me, you spoiled child. I made you. You're nothing without me. Come out here and listen to Dr. Adamson. He knows what you need, and that isn't being brainwashed by a man you've barely known for five minutes."

Ryder did the sweetest thing. He walked behind me and squeezed my shoulder. His face was out of shot, but his support was clear for the world to see, as were his skintight T-shirt and grey sweatpants. A tear rolled down my cheek, and I took full advantage of it.

"I'm sorry it's come to this, but I can't pretend any longer. And for the record, I've known my boyfriend for nearly six months; I just never introduced him to my mom." I sniffed and conjured up a smile. "For obvious reasons."

Man, she's gonna break the door down.

I'm making popcorn.

Luna, call the police.

I'm so sorry, babe.

Love your songs!

Noooo, don't quit singing.

*heart eyes* Those abs…

"Luna, this is your last chance, you ungrateful little…" A pause. "Are you streaming this?"

Oh, so she'd finally noticed.

"Yes, I'm streaming."

"You little bitch!" A series of bumps came from the other side of the door. "Let go of me, you stupid prick. No, I do not need professional help."

"Well, folks, I'm gonna finish my breakfast. If you have a ticket to the show tonight, I look forward to seeing you, assuming I can get out of my apartment without being dragged off to rehab." I leaned closer to the camera. "I'll let you into a secret. All those other times I went to rehab? I wasn't sick then either; it was just easier to go than to argue."

Another thump on the door.

"Don't worry, it'll hold," Ryder said, and I thought that was a nice touch.

"Amethyst…" Dr. Adamson started.

"Shut up! Luna's my daughter, and I care very deeply about her, and I'm telling you she needs psychological help."

"What I need is to pick up more dog treats for Rocky," I told the camera, "but it doesn't look as if that's happening any time soon."

Rocky is the best!

Luna, I called the police for you.

What's happening with your cancelled shows? I bought a ticket.

This is wild!!!!!

I'm gonna call the cops too.

"The missed shows will be tagged onto the end of the run," I told the person who'd asked. "The Nile Palace can't accommodate the extra dates, so we'll be at the Nebula instead. I actually have a meeting about that tomorrow to finalise the details, provided I'm not in a group therapy session or a meditation class."

I answered several more questions, gave Rocky some screen time, and drank my coffee. Then Mom got arrested, which turned this into the second-best day of my life. The best day was obviously when Judge Morgan jailed her for contempt. Jubilee messaged a whole row of shocked emojis, and Kacie sent shocked emojis plus a smiley face, then asked if I wanted her to pick up doggy treats.

Rocky always deserved doggy treats.

Long story short, Kacie headed across the city to Bone Appetit, and I ended up naked again.

On second thought, this was the best day ever.