I stacked everything into Zoey's suitcase. Wrapping her costumes up into the dress bags took more time than I thought it would but I got it done. Then I threw one more suitcase on the bed. I didn't bring much to stay at the Citizen Hotel. It was an elegant hotel any other time the skyline views of Sacramento would be stunning. The hotel had so much going for it that it would have me stay for a short trip in the city. But the reality TV cameras made this place never feel safe to me. With Zoey staying here almost all the time using the studio. Plus, she's always hanging out with the other teams. It was a little straining. I barely used the studio but that niggling feeling in the back of my neck would never go away. It kind of pisses me off how right I was and how it bites Zoey in the ass.

A quick knock on the door draws my attention and I open it to the hotel concierge. I move out of the guy's way to get the bags.

"Ya, just put the bags in the back of the car. I left it unlocked, it just closed and it will lock on its own." He nods at me and I tip. "Thank you, Marcus." The man looked up at me with surprise in his expression. Then I checked the shadowed, empty spot where his name badge should have been. He was one of the many people I've only seen just a few times at the hotel. Since many of the employees work around the time when the cameras were not running for the show. When they worked they had no name badges on also for the show. It's almost like Paulie wanted them to be a little more than furniture. I always thought it was very disturbing, so I took a point to learn as many names as I could. It felt more humanizing. Paulie had a habit of de-humanizing anything he could get his hands on. Marcus smiled at me and started moving Zoey's suitcases out the front door.

The duffle bag with my few things was so light. Really, a reminder again of how little time I spent and how little trust I had. For a place, I barely spent time at I was surprised at how much nostalgia I had for it. The hotel room where I first saw Asher up close was down the hall from us. With the elevator ding another memory of simply being in the elevator with Asher and being teased by him. The first time he called me Birdy. Not everything from the hotel was bad, some good mixed with it. Any other reason to be at this hotel would have been an amazing trip.

I spotted those red nails, my hackles went up. Her long nails were the kind of blood-red that could be spotted across the room. I knew her from my YouTube side hustle. When she does her segments on YouTube sometimes, she taps her nails on the desk to make a point. I wasn't a fan of Drama's Kiss but YouTube is a lot like high school. In a way, for the USA and EU creators, almost everyone knew each other. The degree of separation were so thin, it adds to the gossip. I never got the point of gossiping about someone on YouTube. The community of creators is shockingly small. A few people make tons of videos and money. The backbone of YouTube and yes it's a lot of views altogether. But the number of people who have Hollywood levels of fame is very few. Most of YouTube still doesn't go live like the twitch creators. Yes, there are some standouts with millions of active subscribers. But that doesn't apply to most creators. So the reporter of Drama's Kiss gossiping about people the way she does is weird. It's like TMZ Sweet Valley High addiction with a touch of ghoulish to it.

Trisa from Drama's Kiss and in my head I said the name along with her tagline. Your business is my Drama's Kiss. Ew, ghoulish. Trisa licks her lips at the barman putting a drink in front of her. He was a good, casually good-looking guy. Not too young, not too old in that zone where you can't make an easy guess at age. He was dark skin tall and barely making eye contact with her. She swirls the cosmopolitan in the martini glass. Then she took a sip and put the glass down. Her red fingernail tapped against the bar top. The sound was loud in the empty bar without a single cast member from the show or anyone from the backstage crew. A lot of things slid into place in this bar with nobody in it. In a hotel rented out for the show. And a video of my best friend kissing a woman in shadow. Now the woman who leaked it made it into a story. She took something perfectly normal, into something that was shocking. My anger was rising. I felt like the Hulk and was ready to Hulk out. Hulk wanna smash.

"Can I have a Shirley Temple?" I say to the bartender. He gives me a blank expression as if I emptied out his soul. FUCKING WHEELZ again! I wasn't even trying to Wheelz. It was the first thing that came out of my mouth without thought. I try my hardest to avoid the big sigh that I so needed to let out. Then I sat down next to Trisa. She stops drinking her cosmopolitan and gazes at me from the side of her eyes. She swirls her drink with the tip of her fingers at the base of her martini glass and takes another sip. But I knew her game didn't stop her greedy eyes from looking at me. So, I knew she knew exactly who I was.

The bartender slid the drink in front of me. The cute cherry on top bobbing in the bubbles of the light red fluid was innocent. It reminded me of all the times throughout my life I ordered it. I never grew out of them because they tasted good. They always tasted good. A part of me didn't want to take a sip in case the drink was ruined by her but I took a sip anyway. I wasn't one to waste. It tasted as sweet as I remember and a little bubbly. If hopefulness could be expressed in the bubbles it would be this drink. Bright and just a bit cheery. But that wasn't the world for the child actress Shirley Temple. I guess the drink is lying as hard as reality TV does. Shirley has a lot in common with Asher's life. Pretty on the outside ugly on the inside.

"Trisa," I said her name as if I had a baseball bat and could beat her with cold pleasure. The bartender took one look at her then one look at me and then bounced. I guess a black man knew the sound of a black woman about to start something because he was gone super quick. She didn't answer me and took another sip from her drink. The balls on this woman are still a little shocking even at this moment. It's like how can you roll up to the place someone is supposedly staying? Go to the bar where she might run into people. Get a drink, sit down, and take the time to drink it. Then when confronted by a friend of the person she hurt, not have shit to say for herself. Because there are places that do the kind of things she does. TMZ and all kinds of places. They make big business out of doing it for super famous people that the whole world cares about. Yes, the tour is working out and getting good ratings. But reality TV talent shows aren't about the rando people they pluck out with talent of some sort. It's about the judges, the famous people they bring in to say how wonderful the talent is. It's the heart of these shows. That other big show, Hollywood's Next, that's been on for years and has had over a hundred contestants. 12 seasons and a total of 9 famous people you ever heard of came out of that show. It wasn't an accident for a reality TV show called Hollywood's Next. Its supposed goal was to pull out the next talent for fame. Even though it happened to be terrible at picking the next in person. Only 1 person who won the show ever became famous. And the rest of the famous people who came out of that show are all one-offs. Their popularity had nothing to do with them being on that reality TV show. That in a way hurts their careers and helps at the same time. The reason is that those shows aren't about the contestants. They are about the judges. Giving judges a chance to sing on the shows and be seen every week without touring. Hell, didn't Asher say as much when he backed this show and even became a producer on it? To give his brother a chance to perform without being on tour and without risking his sobriety relapse. So, Trisa making a story out of Zoey was fucked up. There were bigger and better targets. That's the point of her show though in a nutshell.

She takes another sip of her drink and then sighs. Does this bitch think I'm wasting her fucking time? She doesn't realize she may be a bitch but I'm that bitch. Rage, built inside me. It was built like it always had a home. That it was waiting for this woman as if my rage always knew someday she would come. I wanted so badly to show it to her. I couldn't tell if the sweetness on my lips was the Shirley Temple, or the rage finding a home in someone. That someone who royally fucked with my family. No one fucks with my family. I spent a lot of time taking it. So many and so many little things. Letting it slide like Paulie's bullshit. I have to let a lot of that slide. But this, I'm not letting it slide.

"I think your anger is a little misplaced." Her words were velvet. Like anything she said was designed to open doors at any moment.

"Do you think I shouldn't be mad?" Is she trying to fool me?

"I didn't steal the video or set up a camera. The clip was given to me." At her words, I was rocked. A part of me thought it was some setup at the party.

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"Well, ask yourself a question. I got that video but who was the other person in the video? Why was that person hidden so well? Why was I given just that small clip of a longer video?" She finished off her cosmopolitan. "If I had the whole thing I would have shown the whole thing. It would have gotten more views." She was right. I know about Search Engine Optimization on YouTube. Two women kissing on YouTube grabs views. A semi-famous woman kissing another woman grabs views. I've been on YouTube long enough to know the golden rule. SEO is King. With the sound of her clicking heels walking away, my brain worked to figure out what the hell was going on.