Protein Shake

by Alexis Angel

  I spread my arms out, gesturing to where I stand on the stage.

  Naked in front of a crowd.

  “For me, being naked used to mean being terrified. But now? Now I don’t even know what it’s supposed to mean. Should it mean feeling sexy? Feeling approved of? Feeling like I’m wanted or loved—or even just liked?”

  I gave a low chuckle, looking at the silenced crowd.

  “Should it mean feeling comfortable in my own skin? Or should it mean that I’m the best candidate to sell fitness products to people who are just as scared and sad and lonely as I used to be?

  “The answer is different for everyone—and I think, more than anything, what being naked means to you...should be up to you to decide.”

  My hands have stopped shaking, and my shoulders are pulled back. I know I look fucking fierce right now, but being naked has nothing to do with it.

  “I’ve learned a lot on this journey. Of course, I have regrets. But my biggest regret of all is that I spent so much time agonizing over how good I looked when I was naked—when I could have been focusing on liking myself and not worrying so much about what everyone else thinks about me.

  “But by all means,” I say, shrugging and staring my audience down, “let me keep baring my tits out for you all so you can jerk off to this footage while you decide how good I’ll be at convincing other women to buy into a fitness routine.”

  The audience is silent. I swear, if someone were to drop a pin right now, I’d hear it. The calm that had settled over me during my talk is gone. I’ve blown it.

  It was a lecture, I know, but I felt it needed to be said.

  Will Eric and Chase be mad because I blew my chance at the crown with the speech?

  They fucking helped me write the one I didn’t give. Of course, they’ll be mad.

  I get off the stage and start looking for my men. I brace for the tongue-lashing they’re going to serve me when they find me.

  I probably deserve it, but fuck it. I said what I said—and I meant it.

  Chapter 40

  Kara

  Okay, this shit fucking ran away from me—and fast.

  Walking off the stage and away from the cameras, it doesn’t feel fast enough, though. It feels like a continuation of the slow-motion horror show that my trip keeps turning into.

  The whole world wasn’t there to see me climbing like a badass to new heights, but the whole world’s now reeling from watching me stumble and tumble down at the last fucking second.

  I stand by what I said. That speech, probably still playing on closed captioning in a hundred different fucking languages around the globe, is the result of a hot mess of my own oversized baggage.

  I’m talking about some monstrously heavy fucking shit that I knew I was carrying but didn’t think about. Before my widely broadcasted speech, I couldn’t even put it into words.

  Of course, I ended up dropping it, spilling my shit all over the place. And, really, it’s no goddamn surprise that it happened in front of the entire world.

  The hot, blinding lights and the amplified sounds of the pageant winding down are thankfully growing distant as I plod away from the stage.

  Production assistants, stage crew, prop wranglers, and a whole bunch of random fucking people are milling around the backstage. After sweating under those lights for an eternity, I can’t really see shit just off-stage.

  I can tell everyone’s ignoring me, acting like I’m an invisible naked specter. Really, what does anyone have to say to me at this fucking point?

  Congratulations?

  That would just be mean, and I’ll give most of the people here some credit—they’re not going to be that fucking brutal.

  Most of them, anyway. Including my fellow contestants—most of them will be professional and not fucking cunts, even after that display.

  My eyes are adjusting to the light, and I don’t see any of them traipsing around. It’s not like I’m too worried about running into them, anyway.

  Chase and Eric, on the other hand…

  I’ll have to try to explain, and they’ll have to try and understand. I know they’ll be disappointed, but fuck, so am I.

  I’m not disappointed at myself for that speech. In a way, it’s probably the best speech I could’ve given. But I’m still disappointed at the way things are going to turn out because of it, because I didn’t stick with the plan.

  I’m confident I’ll get through an entire widely broadcasted pageant with literally nothing to hide, and I’m just as fucking confident that Eric and Chase are concerned with me not sticking to the plan.

  That’s probably all they’re concerned with right now...wherever the fuck they are.

  All the effort and time we put into this...just for me to stand there and intentionally throw away any chances I have of winning.

  To me, it’s more complex than that, but to them, surely...

  “Kara!”

  Fuck, how far am I walking? I turn around at the sound of my name, only because I recognize that booming voice. It’s a voice that I still fucking love hearing say my name, even when it’s because of disappointment.

  “Kara!” Chase calls again, even though he has my attention. He and Eric are standing way behind me, just off the side of the stage.

  That’s why Chase is smiling: because even though he’s disappointed, he’s still tickled that I would just fucking walk right past them on my way off stage.

  I traipse back to where they’re standing, looking at the ground, trying to think of what to say for myself, but...fuck it, I said what I wanted to in my speech. They can think whatever the hell they want.

  “Kara!”

  I’m still looking at the ground when I hear Chase’s voice rumbling my name like two inches away. I look up, startled, to see Chase and Eric smiling.

  “Is this the way you guys are going to deal with this?” I ask quietly.

  “What?” Chase asks with a little laugh.

  “By fucking laughing at me? Well, I guess that’s...”

  “I just thought it was funny that you didn’t see us.” Chase’s eyes are on me, and they’re still filled with genuine laughter.

  “What makes you think I didn’t see you?” I’m starting to smile a little, despite myself.

  Chase takes me into his arms, instantly melting away all that dumb angst and worry.

  “That doesn’t answer my question,” I say with a big, unavoidable grin.

  “Does this?” Chase whispers in my ear before setting a leisurely, loving kiss on my cheek.

  “Hey, do you have any questions for me?” Eric interrupts before I can answer.

  I might have some questions, but I hold onto them, letting Eric give me his own cozy hug and tender kiss.

  “Actually,” I begin, sliding slowly from Eric’s arms, “I’m assuming that you guys must be pissed, or I was assuming...”

  “Why would we be pissed?” Eric has an endearing look of earnestness on his face.

  “You guys must be angry because...” I start again, searching for the words while Chase and Eric watch me.

  I start to forget the speech, the pageant, the whole fucking thing.

  “I went off script, way off, and I’ll probably lose now, I guess.”

  “We don’t give a shit about that,” Eric snaps immediately with pure, assured Eric-ness.

  “You don’t give a shit about winning?” I can’t help it. I’m so thrown by their attitude that I need to ask some fucking questions.

  “You came here to compete, and that’s what you did,” Chase says with deep, heartfelt care in his eyes.

  “So? Anyone can compete,” I utter quietly. I still don’t quite understand, but I’m feeling powerless in the face of Eric and Chase’s warm reception.

  “Not like you did,” corrects Eric.

  “What do you mean?” My mouth is dry, my ability to speak is breaking down, I’m still full of adrenaline from performing, and now, I really want to hear Eric explain how awesome I am.

  “Wi
th all your heart,” Eric began, “you showed the world what you’re made of, and you didn’t yield for a fucking second. That’s something to be proud of, no matter what the judges fucking think.”

  “I know I’m proud of you,” Chase interrupts. “You did what you wanted to do, and you just said ‘Fuck the bullshit,’ and went for it. I... I love that. So much.”

  “You were you, Kara—stubborn, no bullshit...You couldn’t have been more you, and I’m in love with that. I’m in love with you.”

  I nod a couple of times, because what can I even say at this point? I might start fucking crying if I say one word.

  “Both of us are,” adds Chase.

  “Okay, I get it.” I smile, yielding the argument.

  “I hope you also get that we would never stop loving you no matter what you did out there.” Eric softly takes my hands into his. “Not that it needs to be said, but...”

  “Just in case there’s ever any doubt,” Chase says, finishing Eric’s thought.

  I nod again, another unstoppable grin taking over.

  “Noted,” I state, feeling myself starting to glow. “I feel the same.”

  I tingle when Eric leans close, then closer, before smoothly planting a kiss on my lips. He takes his sweet—and I do mean sweet—fucking time with it and making sure that I feel his warmth.

  My eyes flit over to Chase, who then does his best to best Eric’s kiss with a lustful, electrifying snog that transports me away from this cold, crowded hallway to someplace warm and wonderful for a few seconds.

  I snap out of it when a garbled announcement blasts through the speakers out by the stage. I’m trying to listen to the announcer in vain when I see several other contestants scurrying over towards the wings of the stage to listen closely.

  I leave Chase and Eric for a minute to join my fellow contestants, but the jumbled announcement ends before I can join the crowd.

  I don’t know if anyone could have heard that announcement, but I might as well ask someone.

  I look to my right, and the closest person to me is Miss Sexy Australia. She’s looking right back at me, too.

  Fuck it, I feel like we’re supposed to be enemies because she hates me or something, but I couldn’t care less right now.

  “Did you get any of that?” I ask Miss Sexy Australia’s glowering face.

  “Uh, did you get any of that?” she repeats mockingly.

  “Look, I just want to know…”

  “Look, you, Miss Sexy Naked Preachy USA, I don’t know how you managed to land not just one, but two blokes who are hotter than snags on the barbie. That is impressive, I reckon.”

  “Okay, thanks. All I wanted to know is…”

  “I mean, with a cunt that’s yeastier than a Vegemite sandwich, I reckon that’s a real accomplishment.”

  I give up.

  “Good luck to you, too.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer is much clearer this time, “the judges have conferred and the results are in.”

  The contestants around me start buzzing like excited bumblebees, and Miss Sexy Australia is glowering nervously at the stage.

  “So, without further ado, it’s my honor to announce the second runner up for Miss Sexy Universe…”

  The buzz is growing to hushed yet excited gasps and murmurs.

  “Miss Sexy Japan!”

  The crowd cheers loudly. A scream peels out from the front of the huddle of contestants. Probably Miss Sexy Japan, I think it’s safe to say. She claps a few times excitedly before striding gracefully onto the stage.

  “And our first runner-up…”

  The announcer allows a dramatic pause here, and Miss Sexy Australia’s leaning forward so far I don’t know how she’s still standing on her feet.

  “Miss Sexy Australia!”

  The crowd is going nuts for her, but after the announcement, Miss Sexy Australia focuses her glare right back at me, like she’s not satisfied with first runner-up, and it’s somehow my fault.

  Does Miss Sexy Australia think I’m one of the fucking judges or something? I smile and gesture for her to get the fuck out on stage. Miss Sexy Australia’s face transforms to a practiced, stately expression just before she marches out on the stage.

  Miss Sexy Australia does have her fans—the announcer has to wait a solid minute or so for the cheering to taper off before continuing.

  “Well, let’s just get on with it,” I hear. Yeah, let’s. I’m glad it’s almost over.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the new Miss Sexy Universe…Miss Sexy USA, Kara Gilmore!”

  Everything goes blank for a moment as soon as I hear my name. The announcer and the roaring crowd suddenly sound so distant.

  Honestly, it’s the last fucking thing I was expecting. It wasn’t even a possibility in my mind.

  I should be thrilled, right?

  It’s not like I didn’t work my ass off for this. Still, I don’t really feel very excited right now. I just kind of feel like I don’t even want to go out there anymore.

  I might not want it, but they’re waiting for me. I start walking onto the stage, trying hard to figure out what the fuck I’m supposed to do now.

  Chapter 41

  Kara

  Muddled music is playing, I’m surrounded by bright lights, and the crowd goes from sounding kind of loud to fucking deafening once I’m onstage.

  I would’ve appreciated this deafening applause after my speech, but I guess the audience has come to accept me now that I’m the winner.

  Yep, the winner. Miss Sexy fucking Universe. That’s me, apparently.

  I won’t deny it—I dedicated my life to preparing for this shit, at least for a while. All that time, all that work...I think about my adorably determined past self, grinding away, with the goal of winning a naked beauty pageant.

  I stop halfway across the stage. I try to look at the audience, but there’s a blinding spotlight on me.

  Now that I’m right in the thick of it, in the culmination of all that effort, I consider what goal that the old Kara, working so hard to prepare for a beauty pageant, had in mind.

  Was this it?

  Bright lights, cameras, a whole lot of fucking eyes on me while someone waits for me with a tiara and a fake smile—was this the dream of past Kara?

  More importantly, is this the dream of the present Kara? Because I’m supposed to be fucking living it, and I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but whatever dream I’m living right now, I know for sure it’s not mine.

  Another thing I’m certain of is that I can’t just fucking stand here in the middle of the stage all day, with everyone staring at me.

  I continue my walk to the center of the platform, still not really able to see shit because of the spotlight. I guess they break out the really bright shit for the winner.

  I don’t know where I am on the stage now, but I’m formulating a plan to just keep walking all the way until I’m out of view again.

  Then, I’ll just leave.

  What would happen? It would be pretty fucking funny. At least, I think it would be.

  Right in the middle of my planned walk to the other side of the stage, I’m suddenly handed an enormous bouquet of flowers covered in ribbons. I push away another as someone places the crown on my head.

  The applause goes from a little less deafening to beyond fucking loud. The spotlight dims enough for me to see, though. It looks like the audience is giving me a standing ovation, which I think they would for whoever won.

  I’m gripping the bouquet with one hand. This would be much more comfortable for people wearing clothes. Right now, though, I just want to get rid of it.

  I consider throwing it into the audience, like a bride at a wedding, but it’s kind of heavy for that. I settle for holding it out, away from me, dangling it by one of the decorative ribbons.

  The spotlight ramps back up to its former, blinding brightness, and somebody—it just looks like a disembodied hand and part of a forearm—hands me a portable microphone.


  The music ends, and the audience has fallen dead quiet in anticipation of my words.

  “Could somebody please turn down that spotlight? I can’t see a thing.”

  Whoever’s in charge of that light immediately turns it down a few notches.

  “That’s better,” I continue, “my thanks to the lighting crew. I don’t know if you all can’t see me now, but...whatever. I can see, at least.”

  I can see now. I can see the first few rows of the audience, their faces set on me in anticipation.

  I can also see the runners-up, both watching me with static grins.

  “So,” I begin, holding up the flowers, “I’ve worked really hard for this stuff—these flowers, this crown, the chance to give this speech...At least, that’s what I thought I was working for.”

  I let go of the ribbon, and the bouquet falls with a thump. It seems symbolic, but really, it was just uncomfortable.

  “I don’t think any of this crap, in itself, means anything to, well, anyone. I know that what it symbolizes means something, but, honestly, I couldn’t tell you what. What I can tell you is what this pageant means to me—or meant to me, back when I was still preparing for it.

  “What it meant was a chance to gain confidence in myself. That’s something I struggled with, but not anymore. In that way, it’s been a success story. Those struggles are a thing of the past for me...”

  I’m interrupted by some scattered clapping from the audience.

  “Hold on.” I hold up my hand, stopping the clappers. “Like I was saying, I have overcome those struggles, and I’ve gained more confidence in myself than I’ve ever had.”

  I scan the crowd to see their reactions, but no one is making a sound. “So, it has worked, in that way,” I continue. “But, in another way, all that meaning attached to the crown, now it’s just gone for me.”

  I pause to let the crowd murmur and grumble. It’s the first time anyone’s said anything like that in the history of the pageant, I’m sure.