If Billie’s heartbreak looks so real, it’s only because it is. 

I know for a fact that her voice is soothing, meant to sing all types of lullabies. She’s charming, too. White, fair, blue eyes, tall, and always kindly cheerful. Her words, however, can cut through anything if she wants them to. An unerring power of destruction seems to take over her delicate façade when she’s angry.

That’s exactly what Matt and the people at the restaurant can see  —Charlie and me included— as she walks away: her anger shattering the room, crushing it all as she leaves. There is nothing else but the crack in her glass-shaped fragile heart.

If I was Anna Archivald, I couldn’t bear to break her heart in person either. I can’t blame her for that phone call in the middle of the night.

Days ago, as we were taking off, sitting in her jet seats, I took a moment to consider everything that had happened up until that point. While she texted her mother, who was unable to come along, she seemed distant enough for me to gather my thoughts.

I had gotten a job in a career field of my dad’s choice. I had left my boyfriend in his own flat, refused to move in with him for the past four months even when it would’ve saved me a lot of money. I had gotten to set my foot in Billie’s house, one of the most famous girls in the country. I was definitely an easy target for the envy of her army of fans by then, as I had spent more time with her than most of them would ever have. 

Feeling a little bit numb, I had to admit I kept going over her confession one and many times; pictured her body on the floor, her eyes on the other side of the window. I had seen a few of her different faces, but I probably will never see them all, right? Then, why, out of all the people who surrounded her, did she have to choose me?

I couldn’t take it out of my head. Why me? What did she see in me, to trust me like that? I could’ve hurt her. I could’ve told so many people by now. But I guess she knew what she was doing, because I’m not going to break that promise. And I have no intention of ever doing so.

As if she heard her name being played in my mind, she looked up and smiled, then offered me a pillow. I thanked her but, as I said, I had my own. Before she pulled Dickinson out of her bag, she asked me if it was okay.

She asked me for permission in her own private jet.

As we got to London, and we hid and waited in long corridors for security to tell us we could walk down them to our rooms, I had a closer picture to what her life actually looked like.

We were exhausted but she kept on granting smiles, even when we got to our doors.

“Can you…?” She hesitated. “Can I ask you to spend the night in my room? I don’t really want to be alone. You can book yours tomorrow, if you want.”

I blinked. I wasn’t planning on that. I thought I smelt terribly and that I wanted to sleep and worry about showering the next morning. But she looked at me, her eyes begging me to, and I had to let her have it her way. Because I knew how terribly sad she was, and how hard it must have been for her to keep up with the whole play.

“Okay, but you don’t get to complain in the morning,” I groaned, letting her open the door for me.

“Oh, you’re about to discover my night singing, darling.”

“You snore?” I laughed.

“I sing in my sleep,” she said, as she closed the door.

For two consecutive days, Billie and I worked on her social media. I posted pictures I had taken, as she rarely posted pictures of her face. We checked her friends’ accounts and talked about the things she did while away from home. Hotels, bars, restaurants. It was as if she was trying to teach me all about her crazy life, opening up.

And, laying on the floor, with my glass of wine, I listened.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “You’re nicer than Lilah.”

“Thank you?” I laughed, rolling on my belly and looking up. “I’m glad you asked me to come. Although I expected to see a little bit more of London...”

“I’ve only seen Buckingham palace from afar,” she admitted. “I haven’t even been close to Big Ben. They kindly asked me not to visit, just in case.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. But I have a really long list of great other places to visit while in London. Anna and I used to go anywhere we wanted.”

A broken smile showed up in her face. I tried to comfort her, but it didn’t work. As much as Billie wanted me to listen, she hated it when she realized I was paying attention.

“We should go out,” I said. “I’m sure there are thousands of lesbians in London, waiting to be swept off their feets.”

Just as I intended, Billie let out a big laugh. And she laughed, and laughed, and laughed. She laughed until her soothing voice cracked. And then, she started weeping, her eyes pouring acid rain.

The girl who is now leaving the bar is heartbroken to say the least, but this is her job. Lying, getting everyone’s attention. I’m pretty sure she once thought this was an extra part, a particular side gig that would have everyone listening to her songs. But it wasn’t like that at all, right?

And now she’s just in too deep.

I can’t stop asking myself why she hasn't stopped. Of course, there is a contract and she belongs to the label. But she certainly has enough money to pay that off and then live a fulfilling life. If she wished to disappear, she just would. Why wouldn’t she? What is keeping her there, suffering for love, reaching for unattainable but mundane things? And what exactly is there in that question that is driving me insane? 

Billie Grace dances and the whole world watches her. And that’s what I’ve been doing, instead of my actual job. I’m looking at her and I have absolutely no idea of what I see, but I can’t look away.

At least until I put down the camera and look at Charlie. 

The girl has surprised me for the better. She’s small and dressed in black, as if she wanted to be invisible. She wears her hair short in a way that makes me want to cut mine. I want to try and run my hands in it, like I usually do with Tori or like I did with Billie, but I know it would be completely inappropriate.

The dinner was nice. Even when I thought her dinner choice was too sweet, I’m glad I have finished it by the time the big finale comes, and, before I know what I’m doing, I’m texting my boss. 

Billie will not check her phone until she’s out of sight, but I feel the need to do so.

It’s Charlie’s phone that vibrates instead. I look at her, waiting to hear her read the text to me if it’s anything I need to know.

“The Garden?” I ask. And I know exactly where it is and what it means, and I think Charlie understands my concerns. 

Uneasy, I’m looking for a way out, asking for the check. I’m glad we exchanged numbers, now. Charlie has that typically-bullied-in-school attitude I really don’t know how to deal with, but I’ve been trying to ignore that part and focus on the fact that we are meant to be working together. That she cannot see me as any sort of threat, right? She wants this to work as much as I want it. 

Whatever tension exists, I am willing to overlook it.

“What’s wrong with The Garden?” she asks.

“I have to go with her.” I’m trying not to give her any details she may not need. “It’s not that important but, if I let her go astray, Lilah will kill me.”

“Oh, okay,” she shrugs. “Want me to take care of Matt myself?”

Her question amuses me.

“Well, that’s what they pay you for, right?” I lightly joke, leaving my card on the table. “Keep this, and you give it to me tomorrow. Billie is paying for us. The password is on the post-it, here. I will text you the details when I have her, okay?”

“Of course.”

My lie seems to work, because she lets me go. As I stand up and grab my bag, I catch a glimpse of Matt. He looks troubled, which makes me feel uneasy again.

 I don’t think much about it when I let my hand fall on Charlie’s shoulder and say:

“Tell him he did great. And that Billie is okay.”

Before I get to overthink the reason why I just caressed Charlie’s chin as a goodbye, I’m walking out of the restaurant and getting myself a taxi.

Hours later, I regret choosing heels, and the dress, but I can’t stop laughing. Billie is holding onto me and the security guard we hired a few days ago is professional enough to help us through the small mess we just made. 

I knew The Garden was a beautiful night bar, with an olive tree in the center and an open mic. I was drunk enough to let her get on stage and sing a song on the piano. The lyrics are still scratching my skull, sad and melancholic but just as angry and powerful as she was while leaving Matt behind.

“Everyone was amazed by you,” I laugh.

“They always are, Amber, get a hint! I’m Billie fucking Grace!” she says, as I push her into the room. “Billie, fucking, Grace!”

She thought it was a good idea to drink something to celebrate our mutual success. I thought it was too soon to celebrate, but she convinced me again. She said everyone will know she was drunk and singing sad songs, going out with a friend, after she had been seen with Matt. She argued it would add to the story, and I let her write it down; one lie after the other, all of them knitted into a blanket to cover the furniture of a house she isn’t building anymore.

Or that’s what she wants everyone to think, but I know better.

I am aware that The Garden is the first venue Anna Archivald ever performed at. Her going there was sending a message, letting her friends tell her about the songs and the drinks, her sudden appearance in the middle of London even before she publicly announces her engagement.

The truth is in plain sight, but no one is looking.

Something is bugging me from inside my purse. Annoyed by the vibrating sound, I decide to take out my phone and I accept the video call before I can even begin to understand what’s going on.

“Are you…” Charlie is wearing her jammies, which consist of a sweater and patterned hairy sweatpants. I check her out and smile. I nod a little, kind of ashamed of myself. “Are you drunk, too?”

“I got carried away, yeah. Why? What’s wrong?”

I lean on the door, holding the phone while looking at myself. Is my make-up still game? Oh, dear. It is! I’m very good at it.

“We are not supposed to drink with them.”

“Relax, it’s fine.” I eye Billie, as she mumbles something and gets to bed. “I knew the place, she has been there many other times before. There will be no pictures whatsoever, just rumours, so it will have never happened for real. And it adds to the heartbreak narrative. I got it. You’re not the only one who gets paid for this...”

Charlie is judging me, and I’m pulling down my dress. I’m not drunk enough to consider her round shaped face as adorable when pissed off, but I could. If she had looked threatening before, she definitely doesn’t look any sort of scary now.

“Why are you up, anyway?” I scoff, amused by the fact that she is keeping me.

“You didn’t text me back with information.” Her shoulders are tense, and she’s holding her phone from a different angle now.

I take my time to check my phone.

“Oh. I turned off the notifications, sorry!” I laugh. “Apparently, my boyfriend is cheating on me. All of my friends have been calling me to see how I’m doing because it must have broken my heart, you know? They thought he was the one and all.”

She says nothing, and I don’t feel sorry for saying it because saying it out loud feels funny. It’s like admitting to a crime I haven’t committed.

I don’t really like Brandon.

I actually don’t care if he’s really cheating on me or not, but it feels like the perfect excuse to get rid of him.

“Oh my god. He is cheating on me,” I laugh as I remember the presents and the words. My dad used to do that as well. How did I not see it coming? “Sorry.” I cover my mouth.

“You should… You should probably go to sleep.”

“Amber, I’m hungry!” Billie is yelling from inside the room. I’m trying to see what’s keeping Charlie on the line. And then I’m confused again. Shouldn’t I be sadder than this? “I’m calling for dinner. Do you think they can get me some nuts?”

“You can’t call for dinner, Billie, it’s two am.”

I cut the call once I realized I’m supposed to be working and then proceed to try to stop my client from calling room service.