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“I’m upset for my son. No parent can stand their child suffering, but I’m also seeing red on your behalf. I thought I could protect him from this type of situation. But I went about it the wrong way. Maverick loves you. And that Paul man doesn’t seem to have all his knives in the drawer, and it’s despicable to take advantage of him.”
I eye my bed, tempted to curl up and soak in her acceptance, but retreating and licking my wounds accomplishes nothing.
“Thank you.” I swallow and raise my head, so tears don’t fall. “I’ll call the PR director and see what advice he has.”
Mav yells my name from outside the brownstone, getting louder as he gets closer.
“Someone needs a candy bar to find their zen,” Finn drawls.
“Yeah, I’ll talk to him and we’ll call you.” We hang up, and I intercept Mav in the hallway to bring him into the living room.
“Sky.” He’s out of breath and wheezing like he sprinted home. “I’m so sorry. I ruined everything. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut, and now it’s everywhere, going viral.” His pupils are wide and fearful.
“I saw it, and Finn thinks it’s a good thing. Sit.” Patting the cushion next to me, I reassure him. “Seriously. It’ll be fine. Believe me, I spiraled down the doom and gloom rabbit hole, but there’s a plan, if you agree.”
Mav sits on the edge of the couch, bouncing his knee. “What do you mean you saw?”
“The clip of you saying ‘it’s safer than being an off-Broadway dancer’ has gone viral.” I straddle him, caging him in so I’ll have his full attention. “Yes, it’s out there, everywhere, that I’m a camboy.” He tries to stand, but I won’t let him. “My biggest fear is hurting you. But Finn had another idea. You can say no and I’ll do it myself, or we can do it together.”
“Together.” His fingertips dig into my waist, and his hazel eyes are curious and wary.
“There’s no pressure, and you can change your mind. I love what I do, and it took a lot of soul-searching to rid myself of shame. Denying my job is a little like hiding in the closet, a big step backward.”
“I agree,” Mav cuts in, which eases my tension.
“The best defense is a strong offense—”
“Did Finn teach you that?” he says, and I arch an eyebrow. “Go on.”
“Instead of reacting or doing damage control, Finn booked a spot on a national morning show to tell my story. All of it, and why I chose camboy work over other options. What do you think?”
Mav stands with me in his arms and spins us around. “Does that mean I can take out a billboard in Times Square to announce you’re my boyfriend?”
“No.” I swat his shoulder, and his face scrunches in disappointment. “Maybe as an anniversary gift in a few years.”
“Years!” Mav shouts with mock horror.
“Are you saying yes to the morning show with me? They need to prep us both if you’re coming.”
“Where you go, I go.” Mav kisses my forehead and sets me down. “Are you sure you want to do this? You don’t have to. The headlines will blow over in a few weeks, and a new scandal will take its place.”
“You stole my lines.”
“Wave when the camera pans to you in three…two…one.” Mav and I smile and tilt our heads toward each other. His hair is crunchy with product, and I have enough spray in mine that if a tornado blew through, it wouldn’t budge.
“I’ve changed my mind. How do we escape?” I swipe a stiff strand of hair from my brow and notice the makeup on my hand. “Shit.”
“You’ve got this. Getting up before the sun was the hardest part,” he whispers.
“Promise?” I whine, and Mav reaches for me.
“Don’t touch each other.” The makeup artist appears out of nowhere. “You’ll ruin my hard work,” he teases, and swishes the makeup brush over my forehead.
“Finn undersold this idea. We’re being interviewed by the most beloved TV anchor in America, and I’ve got swamp balls,” I grumble.
“If you think that’s a turnoff, you’re wrong.” Mav readjusts himself.
A producer comes over to guide us to the interview chairs, and we’ll meet the host during the next commercial break.
