“You’ve corrupted all our mortal souls,” he says, but it’s accompanied by a fleeting smile. I know Connor is the most worried about this situation. He’s the one who’s internalizing all the risks, but we’re in too deep to change things now. Luna’s so happy, and none of us want to change that.
I’m happy too. For the first time in a long time, I feel lighter. Luna presented me with a sketch pad and a box of art pencils in Prague. I have no idea how she got hold of them. Maybe the concierge was drawn into procuring the sweetest gift I’ve ever been given. As she handed them over, she told me to draw whatever inspired me and that she would love to see whatever I sketch.
It’s not like I get much time to sit around drawing when I’m employed to ensure Luna’s safety though. We’re working around the clock and are all as confined to hotel rooms as she is. Even so, I’ve been inspired to sketch a few times. My favorite is a drawing of Luna sitting on Jax’s knee, her arm thrown around his shoulder, laughing at the conversation she’s having with the rest of Steel 7.
She loved it too.
It seems like every sketch I make of Luna fills her with light. Her joy at my creations fills me with a sense of satisfaction that I’ve struggled to find for a long time.
“What are we going to do when we arrive?” Luna asks Connor. I can tell she’s trying to keep the hopefulness out of her voice, but it’s there in the way her sweet voice turns up at the end.
“Crash out, I expect,” Connor says.
“You should sleep,” Angelica pipes up. “The jet lag can be really bad.”
“Sleep is for old people,” Luna says, reminding me of the age gap between us. Ten years ago, I would have been as buzzing as her to get out and explore.
“What do you want to do?” Hudson asks.
“Swim,” she says.
“There’s a pool at the hotel,” Mo says. “It looks awesome.”
“In the ocean,” Luna adds. And then, more quietly, she says, “I’ve never seen the ocean before.”
“You’ve never seen the ocean.” Ben sounds as shocked as I am, but I guess lots of people Luna’s age, who’ve been born into landlocked states, won’t have seen the sea. My parents used to take me to Florida each year, so I can’t even remember the first time I heard the lap of waves against the shore or tasted the cool salty water on my tongue.
To rescue Luna, I jump in with a distraction. “I’ve heard Bondi is the coolest beach.”
“If you like surfer dudes with blond locks and board shorts,” Elijah says.
Luna shoots him a look. “Surfing isn’t just for men.”
“Bondi could be good,” Connor says. He catches my eye, a slightly worried look passing across his face. This is what he was talking about when he worried that our relationship with Luna could put her at risk. If he didn’t feel tenderly for her, would he care if she was disappointed about not going to the beach? No, he wouldn’t. He’d be a professional and put his foot down. He’d do the job he’s getting paid to do.
But we all feel tenderly for Luna. It’s there in every touch and caress. It’s there in the way we all want to please her. There in the way that we take it in turns to cradle her while she’s sleeping. It’s there in the way that Connor will give in and let Luna do something that will make our job so much harder.
Luna blinks her pretty green eyes as though she can’t quite believe the four words that just left Connor’s lips. “Are you serious?”
He shrugs, and Luna erupts into squeals, her hands clapping frantically.
“Does anyone have any sunscreen? Because we’re going to need it.” I catch Ben glancing down at his leg when he says that. Even though he seems okay with Luna seeing it, he’s still not wholly comfortable about baring it in public. With our smart work attire, it’s not as though he’s regularly in shorts, but Australia’s going to be hot, and you can’t exactly wear a suit to the beach.
“You guys are worried about a little sun,” Mo scoffs.
“We can’t all have your Middle- Eastern complexion.” Everyone laughs because I’m the fairest in the group. In the sun, my eyelashes change color until they are almost transparent, and without a high factor sunscreen, my skin turns a shade that looks better on lobsters.
Connor’s lucky. We may share Irish ancestry, but he managed to inherit the dark, swarthy looks that are more practical in the sun.
Even in heat that could cook an egg, Mo somehow manages to stay cool, calm, and collected. The man has a super skill.
“Luna definitely needs sunscreen,” Angelica says. “She can’t get too much of a tan. It will ruin her aesthetic.”
Mo frowns, his face expressing the emotion we are likely all feeling. “A tan will ruin her aesthetic?”
“Yes. Luna has a look, and she needs to maintain it across the whole tour.”
“She has to look the same across forty performances?” Hudson glances at our girl, and I know he’s as frustrated as I am at the rules and regulations she has to live with every day. Being famous sure has its limitations. I always thought that fame would bring freedom, but it’s actually like having a shackle on your ankle. A shackle that’s secured to a giant fucking annoying boulder.
“Yes.” Angelica is firm, and she picks up her phone and starts tapping away to make it clear that the conversation is over.
Luna’s staring at the floor, the corners of her mouth turned down. Just as she thought she was going to have a little piece of freedom, Angelica had to weigh in with something to curtail it. Now, Luna will be worried about being in the sun for too long. Even with sunscreen, she’ll tan. It’s inevitable.
I want to scream at Angelica that all these rules and regulations are out of order. Luna needs to be free to live her life. She can still perform with a tan. Are Blueday seriously worried that her fans won’t like her if she looks even slightly different?
“We’ll find some sunscreen,” I say softly. “And a wide-brimmed hat. I’m sure they’ll sell them at a tourist shop near the beach.”
“Maybe you can get one with the corks hanging from strings,” Jax says. “Will that fit with the aesthetic?”
Angelica scowls at Jax’s facetiousness, but she doesn’t reply.
But Jax’s humor achieved one important thing. He got Luna smiling again, and for that, I want to hug him.
Angelica was right. We are all shattered when we arrive at the hotel in Sydney. The hotel is surrounded by crazy fans, and hotel security who look as though they grew up on a diet of nothing but grass-fed Australian lamb. We’re hustled in through the staff entrance at the hotel and end up making our way through the hallways adjacent to the restaurant kitchens. And even though we’ve eaten like kings on the plane, my stomach rumbles.
It doesn’t take us long to change into our beachwear. Luna braids her hair and wraps it with a patterned silk scarf. Dressed in a white bikini and a lace beach cover-up, she looks like a pin-up girl from another era. In contrast, the rest of us look like extras from that awesome 1980s show about lifeguards.
Ben shifts uncomfortably, taking the weight off his prosthetic. It isn’t obvious that Luna has noticed his discomfort, but she chooses that moment to pay him some special attention, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.