In Development

by Rachel Spangler

  “What?” Talia asked, hopping up again. “God, all the color just drained out of your face.”

  “She’s the one,” Cobie mumbled.

  “The designer?”

  “No. I mean yes, but also,” Cobie shook her head, “she might be the kid who set Lila off about conversion therapy.”

  “Slow down. That’s a major leap to make.”

  “It’s not.” She thumbed back up and read only enough to notice the shift in Addie’s writings and in the drawings she shared over the next few weeks. “There’s all this talk about parents and conversion therapy, and then there’s not. All of a sudden, she has a lawyer and money and a design contract. Where does a kid come into those kinds of resources without support from her family?”

  “Fairy Godmother?”

  “Yeah,” Cobie said, “or fairy pop star.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “One week the kid is living in a hospital under threat of anti-gay torture, and the next she’s supporting herself and Lila Wilder is hand-producing her concepts?” Cobie’s mind spun. “That’s why Lila was so adamant I give Addie all the credit. She’s trying to set the kid up quietly. She doesn’t want to overshadow her. She wants her to make it on her merits, not because she’s Lila’s pet project.”

  “You’re inferring a lot.”

  “And what about Lila’s sudden interest in conversion therapy? That just happens to pop up right around the time she buys the Vale design from a kid who’s about to be shipped off to religious zealot camp?”

  Talia finally shrugged. “Yeah, I guess that’d be a pretty big coincidence.”

  “It also means they go back months, even before Lila and I lived together,” Cobie said as the full gravity of that statement hit her. “The costume, the kid, she took care of me and Addie at the same time and never asked for credit even when I accused her of being selfish and an attention-hog and flighty. She pulled this kid out of hell all by herself without so much as dropping an anonymous tip to the press about what a saint she was, and I called her self-centered.”

  “Hey, don’t beat yourself up. You know what they say about broken clocks being right twice a day.”

  “Don’t. I know you want to make her the bad guy here, but she’s clearly not a villain. I was unfair to her. At the end, I was even kind of terrible.” She dropped her head into her hands as echoes of their last fight roared around her skull. “I said she’d never done a selfless thing in her whole life and she’d never lifted a finger for anything that didn’t serve her own interests. What kind of asshole says that to someone who went on a personal crusade to save gay kids?”

  “Stop,” Talia commanded. “You didn’t know. You couldn’t have known because she didn’t want you to. It’s not like you didn’t ever give her a chance to open up to you. I know you would have crawled across hot coals for this woman if she’d asked nicely. She chose not to.”

  “Maybe if I’d given her more credit.”

  “No,” Talia snapped. “You did everything but beg her to level with you. Even now she could pick up the phone and explain everything to you, but words don’t mean anything until she starts making different choices.”

  “Maybe she would have if I’d put a little more trust in her instead of always assuming the worst.”

  “That’s not how trust works. You can’t keep giving it and giving it in the hopes that someday someone will be worthy of it.” Talia put her hand on Cobie’s shoulder and squeezed. “You had every right to question your trust in someone who consistently proved herself to be untrustworthy.”

  “Maybe,” Cobie said, though she wasn’t sure anymore. “I guess it doesn’t really matter whether I should trust Lila or not. The bigger issue right now is that I don’t trust myself.”

  “Cobe, you’re one of the best, most honest, most caring people I’ve ever met.”

  “And yet, I made the same choices as Lila over the last few months and gave a lot less back. I lied. I cheated the system. I pretended to be someone I wasn’t, and not for the greater good, for a movie deal.”

  “It wasn’t just for a movie deal,” Talia said quietly. “You did it for me. You weren’t chasing your own fame. You were trying to put yourself in a position to right a wrong.”

  “Sure, I had my reasons, but apparently, Lila has hers too. Why do I get a pass and she gets condemnation? At least some of her motivations seem to justify her actions, right? At least some good can come of hers. Can the same be said for me? Or did I just sell my name and image to score a blockbuster for me and my best friend?”

  “Do you regret it?”

  “What does that matter?”

  “It matters to me,” Talia said sadly.

  Cobie thought about her answer. She thought about all the frustration and the anger and the hurt feelings and the loss of her sense of right and wrong. “No. I don’t regret it. And maybe that’s what scares me the most. Even knowing what I know now about what I’d lose and what I’d gain, I’d make the same choice again.”

  “Because of me?” Talia asked.

  Cobie shook her head. It would be easier to say yes, but it wouldn’t be the truth, and she’d had enough of the lies.

  “Then why?”

  “Because of Lila.”

  • • •

  “But you’re gonna miss me, baby, you know,” Lila sang soulfully into the studio mic, her voice lower and huskier than her usual register, but she was almost done, so she closed her eyes and sang-whispered one last time. “You’re gonna miss me after I go.”

  The music faded slowly, and she exhaled some of the sadness she’d held at bay before opening her eyes. When she did, she met the astonished expressions of everyone on the other side of the recording booth window. Felipe’s dark eyes were wide, and Mimi’s jaw had gone slack. The producer looked from one tech to another before finally shrugging and turning back to Lila. “I got nothing. No notes.”

  Lila blinked a few times. “So again?”

  He shook his head. “I think your first take was flawless, but if you want to go again—”

  “I don’t,” Lila interrupted, quickly pulling her headphones off and throwing open the door of that stifling, little box of a room.

  “Lila, girl, where did you, I mean, I could just . . . wow.” Mimi pulled her into a hug. “I mean, you keep getting better with every release, but that was something else entirely.”

  She didn’t feel like she was getting better. She should have by now. It had been almost a month since Cobie had left. Lila should have bounced back in half that time. She should be on someone else’s arm by now. She shouldn’t have any trouble getting through that song.

  “It’s going to be a hit,” the producer agreed, giddily. “This song is going to make us all so much money.”

  “It’s your first single, right?” one of the techs asked. “I can work through the night and have it layered and packaged by the end of the week.”

  “Yes,” the producer answered for her. “God, the twenty-five to thirty-four market will eat this with a spoon. So much power, so much remorse.”

  Mimi squeezed her hand. “You’ve been so good at the young girl anthems and the independent woman rock-your-face-off thing, but this is so raw. It’s so introspective. There’s real depth to the pain of those lyrics. “Miss Me” is the kind of song to stay with you forever. You’ll still be singing it every night twenty years from now.”

  Lila winced. “Can you excuse me? I need to find the ladies room.”

  “Go, go, go.” Mimi shooed her away. “We’ll work on getting the nitty-gritty done quickly.”

  Lila fled down the hall and ducked into the bathroom. She locked the door behind her and nearly doubled over from grief. Her chest felt painfully tight and her throat too narrow for the amount of air she required. She hated feeling this way, but she wasn’t surprised. Sadness had become a constant companion. It clung to her in all sorts of subtle ways. She rarely slept through the night, she hadn’t had the desire to shop in weeks, and l
ittle things like Hallmark commercials and romantic comedy trailers made her eyes water. She’d learned to live with the little reminders, like a dull ache, but recording Cobie’s song had felt closer to a stab wound.

  She braced both hands on the cold porcelain sink and stared in the mirror. Why was this still happening? Because of the song? Did it keep dredging everything back up again? She couldn’t avoid releasing it forever. She’d already waited weeks too long. She was losing momentum in the press. She really couldn’t wait if she wanted to stay fresh, and yet fresh was exactly what the wound felt like every time she sang those lyrics. Each word served as a living reminder of the fact she’d worked so hard to ignore.

  She missed Cobie.

  She missed working with her, she missed sparring with her, she missed the feel of her strong arms and the brush of her lips. Most of all, she missed the quiet comfort of having her nearby.

  Of course, none of those things mattered. It didn’t matter what Lila felt. It didn’t matter that Cobie was strong or good or kind while they’d been together. Lila had read the papers. She’d seen the reports of Cobie’s big movie deal. It had happened fast and seemingly easy. And why shouldn’t it? Cobie was a star. She’d gotten what she came for, and then she’d left, just like every other person in Lila’s life. And she’d said her peace on the way out too. She thought Lila was cold and shallow and selfish. And Lila couldn’t honestly argue with her. She’d pushed her away at every turn— she knew that. But she should have at least felt vindicated in knowing she was right, that no one was going to fight for her but her. Instead, she only felt sad, a bone-chilling, head-throbbing kind of sad.

  “Knock knock,” Felipe called, not daring to actually rap his soft hands and perfectly filed nails against the metal door.

  “Just a minute,” Lila called. “I’ll be right out.”

  “No, pull up your pants ’cause I’m coming in.”

  She rolled her eyes as she unlocked the door and found him standing there with his hand over his eyes.

  “Felipe, I’m fully dressed.”

  “Promise?” he squeaked in his highest vocal register.

  “I promise.”

  He slowly lowered his hand and peeked through one eye. “Oh good. Now we can talk.”

  “We can talk at home.”

  “Nope.” He flipped the lock on the door behind him. “This ends here.”

  “Felipe,” she said, sternly, “I have appointments.”

  “Then your options are to talk fast or be late. I don’t care.”

  “Mimi will come looking for me.”

  “I told her you had to take a very important phone call and not to interrupt. Also, Malik is standing guard at the end of the hall. This is happening now.”

  She tried to scoot past him and reach for the door, but he caught her wrist and held tight.

  “Girl, do not try me. It’s been a lot of time since I’ve had to fight for something, but you do not grow up a Latino queer in north Florida without having those lessons burned into you.”

  “I know. I was there,” she snapped back.

  “That’s right. Every mumbled curse, every boy who played me and then punched me, every time a teacher looked the other way, you were there. You took care of me.”

  “And I can take care of myself too.”

  “I know, but just because you can doesn’t mean you have to.”

  The comment tripped one of those invisible triggers that sent water rushing to her eyes, but before she had time to even process the breakdown, he had her wrapped in his arms. He smelled of coffee and lavender, and she sank into his soothing embrace.

  “What did Selena say?” he whispered as he held her.

  “She said she remembered that little gay kid I was always running around with.”

  “Of course she does. I’m fabulous, but you know that’s not what I mean.”

  Lila wasn’t going to get out of this. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to. She’d carried the burden for so long, what difference would acknowledging it make? “She said she didn’t regret leaving me. That it made me who I am.”

  “Wow, glad to see the years haven’t broken that massive ego of hers.”

  “She had some points.”

  “On the toes of her shoes or the top of her black hat?”

  Lila pushed him away. “She said I would’ve never gotten out if I had waited for someone to save me. She said I had to learn to save myself.”

  “What a great way for her to let herself off the hook.”

  “She said I became the poster girl for independent women.”

  “Well.” He lifted a shoulder noncommittally. “Okay, that’s the truth.”

  “And she said that only happened because she taught me to never put my trust in anyone else.”

  “And there’s the bullshit again.”

  “Is it?” Lila asked as she started to pace.

  “Yes,” he said quickly. “No, wait. Let me think about it, um, just kidding, of course it’s bullshit! Selena has been wrong about everything at every turn. She was wrong to abandon you, wrong to live off your money, and wrong to take credit for any part of who you’ve become.”

  “She wasn’t wrong about my needing to trust myself instead of waiting for someone to save me.”

  “Right, but who’s trying to save you?”

  “No one. Now.”

  “Oh no, girl. You didn’t.” He snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “No, please tell me you didn’t kick Cobie to the curb over Selena.”

  “We had run our course. I couldn’t get too attached. She’s got her movie. She was born to play Vale. Or maybe Vale was born to be played by Cobie. You don’t even know, she’s got a history with the screenwriter, and Cobie was flirting with Cordelia.” The words all spilled out of Lila in a rush. “I have to count on me. I can’t look to anyone else to save me.”

  “Save you from what?”

  Lila stopped pacing. “Save me from what?”

  “Yeah. You are railing about not needing someone to save you, but what was Cobie offering to save you from? What did she do to make you think she believed she was rescuing you somehow?”

  “She didn’t want to break up.”

  “So? Where’s the savior complex there?”

  “She got me to talk about Selena.”

  “And did she put on a cape at any point in the conversation?”

  “No, but she said she didn’t want to lie any more. She wanted to be a couple, for real.”

  “What is that supposed to save you from? She wanted to be honest about liking you. She didn’t offer to take you on as a ward or hold a feed-the-children telethon in your honor.”

  “Okay, fine. I get it.”

  “Do you?” he asked. “Because I’m not sure you fully realize that where you are is not where you were. You’re a fancy, gorgeous, white lady rock star gazillionaire who sings to cheering crowds for a living. There’s nothing to save you from, except maybe yourself.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means maybe Cobie just loved you. Maybe she wanted to spend time with you and get to know you and share your life with you, not as a savior, but as a partner.”

  “But Selena said—”

  “Oh, my God. Fuck Selena. She’s never done right by you, not once in fifteen years. Why can’t you just admit she was wrong?”

  Lila covered her eyes as the tears threatened to overtake her again. Cobie didn’t want to leave her. Lila had made her.

  “What?” Felipe asked. “What now?”

  “It’s just, if Selena was wrong about this, then I was wrong about something much worse. Oh God, Felipe, what am I going to do?”

  “Um, well, I . . .” His facial expression was quickly nearing the grimace he’d worn when he worried she didn’t have her pants on earlier. “I didn’t think that far ahead. You’re the independent superstar businesswoman. You’ll figure it out.”

  “Business.” She repeated the phrase, and for the first time noticed
the acidic taste it left in her mouth. She couldn’t stand any more bitterness. Something in her snapped, or maybe it snapped back into place as Cobie’s voice rattled through her memory. Maybe all you’ve got is business because that’s all you ever let matter. “Yeah, business. Let’s take care of that first.”

  She stepped past him and swung open the door, but this time he made no move to block her. Instead, he practically jogged down the hall to keep up with her long, full strides. Malik, for his part, fell in beside her without so much as a questioning glance.

  Mimi met her at the control room door. “Lila, honey, we were just talking about your new single, and—”

  “Pull it,” Lila said.

  “What?” Mimi asked, her smile not faltering.

  “Pull the song off the record.”

  Everyone froze.

  “I mean it. That song is not getting released, not as a single, not on the album, not under my name.”

  “But, but, but,” the producer stammered and turned to Mimi. “Handle her.”

  Mimi’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Excuse me?”

  He took a step back and straightened his tie. “I’m sorry. I meant I want that song. Let’s come to terms on a price.”

  “It’s not for sale,” Lila said firmly.

  “Everything’s for sale,” he said, anger flashing though his voice once more.

  Lila shook her head sadly. “I used to think so too. I was wrong, about so many things, but I think most of them came back to that one idea. Some things aren’t for sale.”

  “Mimi,” the guy pleaded. “Do something.”

  Mimi looked Lila in the eyes for a long, hard minute searching for something, and she must have found it, because her smile grew to wrinkle the corners of her eyes. Then she turned to the technicians. “You heard the woman. Pull the song off the record!”

  “Yes ma’am,” the young guy said with a look of astonishment.