SCARLET MEETS MILA

13

Scarlet

Power enthralls me as I exit the stage and hand off my earpiece. Everybody cheers, their hands dancing together while their faces exude excitement. It's cheap. Empty of energy besides the pay check I'll drop in a few days time. They eat fame for breakfast, fuelled by its minerals and the richness of its symptoms.

The wealth weaves through them. When I note Fox's teary eyes, I feel accomplished. When I observe Ember's relief, I feel peace. All but one constant is here. A missing element I have relied on for so long. Those brown eyes. They tell me everything.

"Where is Mila?" I tap Fox's wrist. He looks at me and helps search, but all that stares back is the bodies we created to please her. "I need to talk to her."

"Relax." He hands off his drink and smiles, both palms meeting my biceps. "She'll be back here in no time."

I shake my head. "I need to talk to her now." I admit, a slim slither of anxiety works its way into my tone. For all I know, she could have left by now. The risky act all too much for her to deal with.

Fox nods, reading my worried eyes. "Wait in the exclusive lounge. I'll bring her to you."

I trust in him, wondering the expensive room in silence. I hate silence. It eats me alive alongside the guilt in my stomach. I want it to disappear, but as Harlow advised, this moment, with Mila, will be the peak of our decay.

The door snaps behind me.

I turn around desperately, standing stiff when she looks me up and down. "Hey." I stammer, as if engaging with a first date. "You're here."

She widens her eyes and smiles awkwardly. "Well yeah." She chuckles. "Clearly we need to talk?"

I nod, containing myself at the other end of the room in hopes not to spook her. "We do." I clear my throat, flexing my fingers almost painfully. "First, though, what did you think?"

She hesitates, turning to pace gently with eyes looking everywhere but at me. "I'm shocked?" She laughs under her breath. "Given your attitude, it was the last thing I expected to see tonight. I mean, what the fuck were you thinking?" She turns to look at me with a furrowed brow. "You said yourself, the whole stripper thing isn't exactly good for your reputation?"

"I know what I said." I swallow. "I get that this is a lot, but after some heavy conversations and a good slap from Harlow, I realised that my reputation means nothing when it comes to you?"

She huffs gently.

"Mila, I'm serious." I refuse to deny the desperation in my tone. "I will hold my hands up and tell you right here. I have been the world's biggest asshole. There is no denying that, and I'm sorry." She softens her gaze and folds her arms slowly. "I pushed you away and made you feel like shit. I chose to go in on myself rather than talk to you. I know, eight years of marriage, it's embarrassing, but when I tell you that I worked until my fingers bled to create this campaign-

"It's not about the campaign." She interrupts, flailing her arms. "I loved the campaign, and I'm pretty sure the world did too." She hesitates. "This is about us. You! The sudden dislike and disrespect toward me. You hated me?"

"I didn't hate you-

"You did." She states sternly. "I saw it in you. Something dark and strange, twisted in a way I never knew to exist." I gulp. "You turned on me, and I think you owe me an explanation as to why." She wets her lower lip and sighs. "Please, Scarlet."

I nod, leaning back against a table with a slow exhale of air. "I didn't want to tell you, because I didn't want you to think I was comparing you."

She furrows her brow. "Comparing me to who?"

I shake my head and glance toward the wall.

"Scarlet!"

"My mom!" I bark, returning to look her in the eye. "I didn't want you to think I was comparing you to my mom!"

Her feet take a step back. "She was a-

"A stripper." I nod, taking a deep breath in. "She was pretty good at it too." A sarcastic laugh escapes my lips. "I could always tell when she'd had a good night with tips based on how quickly she'd pass out when she got home."

I can feel her eyes glaze as my tone stiffens with spite.

"Some nights she'd never make it home." I look up at the ceiling and calm myself. "She used the money for drugs. Sometimes, she'd take me with her and make me watch."

"Scar, that's terrible?"

"They'd push her around like a piece of meat. Spitting on her for a dollar while I sat under tables." I can feel a lump forming in my throat. "I hated her for choosing to sell herself in return for addiction when I'd go to bed starving. Those clubs are vile, Mila, they're disgusting!"

"Ok, baby!" She raises her palms and swallows. "I get it. But you know, I never did anything like that?" She defends. "I swear?"

"I know." My chest heaves. "I just freaked out, ok? When I saw those headlines my brain went to all kinds of places, and I couldn't even look at you knowing how much shit you must have endured just to make a living when I was out here making money."

"It's not your fault?"

"I don't care!" I snap emotionally, the ache in my chest forcing me to take another breath. "You're my wife, Mila?" A tear swells at my waterline. "You're my wife and you were out there putting yourself in the firing line while I sat in a cushty fucking apartment?"

She walks toward me, her arms wrapping around my shoulders and back. "Baby, stop." She hums into my ear. "It was fine?" She chuckles. "I held my own and the security guard had a soft spot for me. It wasn't great but it wasn't terrible either." She pulls back to look at me. "You don't need to feel guilty for something that happened before you even knew I existed?"

I look deep into her eyes and swallow.

"I love you, so much!" She continues. "Nothing will change that. You take care of me and you make sure the kids have everything they could ever want. I couldn't ask for more if I tried." Her laugh is fragile, but it warms me all the same. "All I ask, is that you talk to me. This whole thing could have been resolved a while ago?"

I shake my head and dab at my cheek. "No." I croak with a sniffle. "I couldn't say it. I couldn't tell you because I was so shaken by the thought of you being taken advantage of and I." I pause, my throat forcing out a sob. "I just couldn't cope with the memories-

"Ok." She strokes the back of my head and pulls me closer. "It's ok, I get it."

"I'm sorry, baby." I mumble. "I know I did wrong by you, I really do." She strokes my back and breathes softly against my neck. "I panicked and wanted to fix it, but I was so blinded by the trauma resurfacing that I neglected us and fell into this weird overdrive."

She smiles, stepping back to grab my fingertips. "I understand." She hums. "How about we press pause and talk at home, after this historical runway show?" She laughs genuinely. "We don't want to ruin our makeup before our appearance."

I look up at her and smile. "So you still love me?"

"Idiot." She pulls me in and kisses me softly. "Nothing can stop me from loving you. Have you seen you?"

"Love you too." I roll my eyes playfully. "Knowing you're not angry anymore makes me feel a little better, I guess?"

She turns back toward me and scoffs. "Oh I'm furious, baby girl." My eyes widen. "You are not getting off that easy."