In Development

by Rachel Spangler

  “You’re really good, Addie,” she said softly. “Obviously you’re an accomplished artist already, but more than that, I like your vision, your ability to see things as they are and reconstruct them as something deeper.”

  The girl’s face flushed.

  “Did you know I design clothes?”

  “Nothing I’d wear.”

  Lila’s laugh echoed off the linoleum. “I respect you for saying so.”

  “Really?” Her eyes brightened.

  “Yes, because it was honest. I don’t get a lot of that.” Her memory flashed to Cobie looking so sweet and earnest, and she quickly blinked away the image. She focused back on the drawing and turned it so Addie could see too. “I also like this ensemble quite a bit.”

  Addie’s eyes narrowed again suspiciously. “I’m not sure it’s your style.”

  “No, probably not, but I know someone it might suit better. I’d like to use this as a concept piece if you’d let me.”

  The corners of her mouth twitched, but she merely shrugged again. “Sure. Go ahead.”

  “No,” Lila said slowly. “That’s not how it works. I need you to sell it to me.”

  “Oh.” Addie’s eyes went wide once more. “How much?”

  “Well, normally for a fully finished piece I could pay well over twenty thousand dollars.”

  All the air rushed out of Addie’s lungs in an audible exhale.

  “But this isn’t a fully finished piece,” Lila quickly added. “Still, if the person I have in mind uses it to her advantage, it could stand to generate money for her down the road. I’m sure she’d see it as a business investment as well. What would you say to ten thousand up front, followed by another ten if she wears the finished product once, with a plan for residuals if it gets used in any formal business capacity?”

  Addie’s chalky skin had grown flush, and she bit her already pale lip while she stared at the ceiling.

  “You don’t have to answer now,” Lila said. “In fact, you shouldn’t. Talk to a lawyer if you want or, at the very least, your parents. Actually, I probably should too since you’re a minor. Are they around?”

  Addie shook her head.

  “Will they be in after work?”

  She shook her head again, and this time Lila noticed tears in her eyes. Leaning forward, she took Addie’s hand in her own, feeling the girl’s fragility for the first time in the form of thinly covered bone and raised veins. She squeezed gently and whispered, “We can figure it out.”

  “I’m going through the emancipation process.” Addie’s voice had grown thick with emotion. “My parents want to send me to conversion therapy after I get out of here.”

  “Conversion therapy? For, like, an emotional transition?” Lila asked, confused.

  Addie shook her head again. “For my soul.”

  The comment didn’t make sense. She would have thought soul therapy might include some sort of meditation or maybe a spa weekend, but Addie’ demeanor spoke of something much more sinister.

  “They think the cancer was a warning or a wake-up call.” The girl grimaced as she swallowed, as if trying to force down something painful. “Or a punishment for being gay.”

  Lila’s jaw tightened as her back teeth ground together. “Can they do that? Do people still do that as, like, a practice?”

  The girl nodded. “The facility is full at the moment, so apparently, yeah.”

  Anger burned hot along the back of her neck, but she stayed deadly still as her mind processed not just the information, but also her options. There were always options when you had money and power. Sadly, people like Addie didn’t have enough of either. Memories of that type of helplessness tried to settle across her muscles, freezing her to inaction, but she shook them off. She wouldn’t go back. Pain and anger were only productive when properly harnessed. Thankfully, she had a good bit of experience doing so.

  “First of all, your work is your creative property. Even as a minor you can secure trademarks and copyrights. No one understands that process better than me. I went through it all when I was your age. I promise your parents will not see a penny of your earnings,” she said evenly, choosing to deal with the easier issue first. “A lawyer will visit you in the coming days. She will work for you, on retainer from me. She’ll help with the copyright for this design. She will also help with the emancipation filings.”

  “But I, I couldn’t pay you back. I don’t even . . .” her voice faded as she hung her head and sobbed one word. “Why?”

  “Because you’re a fighter, and a lover, and an artist. Because people like us have to stand up for each other. Because you should never apologize for who you are, and anyone who says otherwise doesn’t deserve to have any power over you.”

  “I don’t believe them.”

  Lila raised her eyebrows questioningly.

  “About the cancer being a punishment. I don’t buy it. Most of the time anyway.” She shrugged again, and Lila could read between the lines of doubt. “I just, I’d like to be able to rub it in their faces, you know? Like, if I could be successful, I could prove them wrong. You know?”

  She did know, and she smiled at the shot of bravado. She wouldn’t undercut it, because Addie would need that mentality to get her through the long road ahead. She wouldn’t become a success overnight. She would need support and role models, which Lila finally realized was why she’d been sent in here.

  “I get the sense you don’t really follow my career.”

  Addie managed to look chagrined.

  “It’s okay,” Lila said with a hint of laughter. “I don’t expect you to start, but it didn’t come easy or without its costs. I made choices and sacrifices along the way, but I got to where I am because I never listened to the people who tried to tell me I wasn’t good enough or strong enough or pure enough or talented enough, and believe me, I heard those things a lot. I still do. If I listened to them, I’d be waiting tables in Jennings, Florida, right now.”

  She squeezed Addie’s hand again. “There’s always going to be someone who tries to make you feel small. And they’ll always find their reasons: the way you look, the way you draw, the way you love. They’ll lie and cheat and steal if you let them, and sometimes even if you don’t, but no one can ever take away who you are, not unless you give them that power. Promise me you won’t.”

  “Okay,” Addie said.

  “I need more than that, Addie,” Lila said, struggling to hold the pleading in her voice to an acceptable level. “I need you to understand that the minute you let someone else tell you who you are or how you should feel is the minute you start to lose the best parts of yourself. Promise me you will fight for your right to define yourself.”

  She drew in a shaky breath. “I promise.”

  “Good.” Lila released her and smiled. “Then I need to go see to some things, but you and I will talk again soon. Also, if you don’t think it will hurt your image too badly to be caught caring about a bubblegum pop star, you might want to have one of the nurses bring you a paper tomorrow, okay?”

  “Sure.” She shrugged again, but this time she smiled. “Maybe I’ll tell them I want to read the obituaries.”

  Lila laughed. “A woman who knows how to stay in character. You’re going to do just fine.”

  She exited the room to find Felipe leaning against the wall. “Did you catch any of that?”

  “Enough that I already got her contact information from the nurse who sent you in there.”

  “Good. Then make two calls, one to my legal team at Levy and Levy to get her adequate representation.”

  “On it.” He tapped a few notes on his phone. “And the other?”

  “Have the press corps outside my house at three o’clock. I’m going to make a statement.”

  He pressed his lips together and cocked an eyebrow as he tapped the phone a few more times. “Should I have Mimi draft something?”

  She shook her head and stared purposefully down the hallway. “No. This one’s all me.”

&n
bsp; • • •

  Cobie’s phone buzzed so much it nearly rattled off the glass-top coffee table.

  Janna caught it just before it leapt to its death. “I know you’re famous and all, but this is excessive.”

  “That’s not my famous phone. That’s my personal number,” Cobie said from plank position on the floor.

  “Sounds important,” Janna said. “How about you give me one more minute of ab-crushing glory, and I’ll let you have a break to check it?”

  As sweat beaded her forehead and pain seared through her midsection, she cared nothing about the text messages, but she would have sold a piece of her soul for a break. “Deal.”

  “All right, you’re at four minutes and fifteen seconds now. Let’s get you to five.”

  She tried to take deep, even breaths as the phone buzzed again, and she fantasized about the person on the other line offering the rights to make Vigilant with her in the role of Vale. She no longer had a time when some body part didn’t ache. Still, the exercises themselves got easier after each session. At least she knew she could do them all now. A few weeks ago, the idea of a five-minute plank would have been laughable. Today it was merely something else to endure.

  “Five, four, three, two, one, and down,” Janna cued, and Cobie flopped onto the yoga mat.

  “How you feeling?” Janna asked.

  “Not dead, so I guess I’m ahead of the game.”

  “You really are, you know? You’re keeping an intense pace and holding your own. You earned your phone break.”

  Cobie flopped over onto her back and extended her hand. Janna placed the phone in her outstretched fingers.

  “I’ll go grab you some water.”

  “Thanks,” Cobie muttered as she swiped open to her notifications and sat up. Twenty-seven texts during her five-minute plank? She didn’t even know twenty-seven people who had this number.

  She scrolled through them with one quick swipe and noticed the names of family and friends, including her mom and sister, as well as Stan and Lila, but the one on top happened to be from Talia. It simply read, “Turn on your TV.”

  She typed back, “Which channel?” while getting up to search for the remote.

  A reply pinged before she even found it. “Any of them.”

  Despite her job, Talia wasn’t one to manufacture dramatics, so Cobie decided to forgo the remote and just turn on the TV by hand. The first thing she saw was a CNN feed of Lila atop the stairs to her brownstone, with a bevy of reporters standing silently except for the whir of camera shutters clicking. She wore a red and black plaid coat that went down to her knees, black leggings, and a very serious expression.

  Cobie turned up the volume in time to hear Lila say, “I shouldn’t have to defend my sexuality to anyone, and I won’t, but neither will I hide any part of who I am. Doing so would suggest I’m ashamed when the opposite is true. I’m proud to be a bisexual woman. I’m proud that my capacity to love is not limited by gender. I’m proud that I can recognize beauty in all its forms. I’m proud of who God made me to be. I’m a woman, an artist, a friend, and a girlfriend. I also happen to be queer. I have my own set of talents, quirks, and passions. Without any one piece, the puzzle wouldn’t be complete. We all have qualities that set us apart and make us unique. I believe those are the parts of ourselves most worthy of celebration. I love all of who I am, and I believe that in loving myself, I am more open to loving others.”

  “Are you doing this for Cobie Galloway?” a reporter yelled.

  Lila held up a hand. “I’m speaking my mind for every young person who’s been taught to hide who they are or told they aren’t good enough or that they don’t deserve love. I’m doing this for every person who’s been made to feel ashamed of something they can’t control and should never have been asked to. I’m speaking out to show the world that you can love who you love and love yourself, and no one has any right to try to convince you otherwise.”

  Cobie’s phone buzzed the long, low hum of a call instead of a text. She accepted the call and lifted the phone to hear ear without saying a word.

  “Is she doing this off the cuff?” Janna whispered from behind her.

  Cobie scanned the TV screen for notes or a teleprompter but found none. “I guess so.”

  “Is this your official coming out?” another reporter called on screen.

  “I think of it more as an affirmation, but you can certainly call it a coming out statement, because I’m also coming out in opposition to the damaging practice of conversion therapy, especially when used on minors. I’m joining with the Center for Lesbian Rights in their hashtag bornperfect campaign to ban conversion therapy in all fifty states. Please visit their website and stay tuned to my social media outlets for further information on how you can help me prove to all our young people we’re born perfect and love is never wrong. Thank you.”

  Then Lila turned and went back inside, leaving Malik to hold back the crowd as he silently faced a barrage of questions.

  “Was that planned?” Janna finally asked.

  “If it was, I wasn’t privy to it.”

  “Wow,” Janna said, then shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other as Cobie’s phone started to buzz again. “I think I’m going to head out now. You can go through your cool down when you’re ready.”

  She should argue. She should drop the phone and get back to work. That’s what Lila had done, kept on working. She didn’t give any thought to what Cobie had planned for the day or what she might feel about learning of an announcement like that on television with the rest of the viewing public. Why should Cobie give a second thought to someone who clearly didn’t give the same to her?

  Instead she nodded and mumbled, “Thank you,” while pressing the little call icon next to Lila’s contact information.

  “Hello.” The familiar voice answered on the second ring, which suggested Lila had expected this call.

  “So my workout got interrupted by some breaking news, and then my trainer abandoned ship because, apparently, she got the strange idea that my girlfriend just told the world she was bisexual without my help or support, which she seemed to find super awkward, though I can’t imagine where she’d get an idea like that.”

  Lila laughed lightly, and Cobie waited for her to speak, to offer some explanation or even an apology. As silence took over the connection, it became increasingly clear none of the above were forthcoming.

  “Lila?”

  “I thought maybe you were calling to congratulate me.”

  “For what? You just showed me up on national TV.”

  “Don’t be silly. I made a statement, about me, on my own. It had nothing to do with you.”

  “Are you insane? You and I have been on multiple dates. As far as the press is concerned, I brought you out.”

  Lila laughed again. “I think very few people outside the religious right would find that to be a believable storyline.”

  “Then what is the damn storyline, because from where I’m sitting, it seems to keep changing.” Cobie paced around the living room of her expansive suite. “You’re the one who has been adamant about following the script, following the rules, following some master plan for rehabbing my career and—”

  “That’s right,” Lila cut in, a little edge to her voice now. “Your career. The rules are for you. They don’t apply to my time or my business. Do you understand that? The two key words are my and business. I control my storyline at all times, whether it’s intersecting with yours or not, so unless you have something to say right now that’s going to add to my brand or my projects moving forward, I’d rather you stick to our scheduled interactions.”

  “Lila, you can’t just—”

  “I’ve got another call.”

  And with that she was gone. Cobie stared at the “Call Ended” notification until it faded from her screen.

  What the hell had just happened? She could easily replay the sequence over again, but doing so wouldn’t do a damn thing to help her make sense of any of it. />
  Thankfully, she was saved from the prospect of rehashing the basics by another buzz, this one accompanied by the name of the only person she’d even consider trying to hold a conversation with in her current disorientation.

  “Hi, Tal.”

  “Hey, you. What’s new?”

  Cobie snorted. “Oh, you know, my fake girlfriend, who won’t even allow me to have a fucking French fry without asking for her permission, came out, and she didn’t even mention her big gay press conference to me until I saw it on TV.” Cobie sank onto the couch. “And now even my physical trainer thinks I am the worst girlfriend ever because I didn’t go to an event I wasn’t invited to.”

  “And if you were? If she’d told you ahead of time and asked you to support her, what would you have done?” Talia asked. “Gone and held her hand through her touching speech?”

  Cobie hung her head as she mentally replayed Lila’s passionate plea to celebrate queer youth. Somehow those details had gotten lost in her initial shock. “It was a pretty good speech. It will probably help a lot of kids. She’s got a mammoth following with the youth market.”

  “Duh,” Talia said. “She’s their supreme leader. Most of them will no doubt follow her into battle.”

  “I guarantee you hashtag bornperfect is already lighting up Twitter and Instagram.”

  “So this is a good thing then, right?”

  Cobie sighed. “Probably.”

  “Why don’t you sound thrilled?”

  “I don’t know. I mean the words were all right, and she seemed sincere. I think in her own way, she meant it.”

  “What do you mean ‘in her own way’? She said she’s bisexual. That means the same thing in all the ways, doesn’t it?”

  “Lila makes her own meanings, or at least bends them to her own will.”

  “So you don’t think she’s queer? You think that whole thing was just a publicity stunt?” Talia asked, frustration rising in her normally soothing voice. “She just took your essence, a huge part of who you are, and used it to get attention without you?”

  “I don’t think Lila does anything if she didn’t have something to gain. She says she’s bi, which is a legit identity, but in Lila’s case, it’s a damn convenient one. She’s only ever dated men before me, and she’s not really that fond of me. If she was genuinely interested in women, she could have found one she actually liked. I thought dating me would just be a short stunt for her. I didn’t expect her to get political.”