King Kylie on Top

Ch 3: Interview Magazine, Part 2

"What the hell is going on? And what did my mom approve?!" Kylie twirled angrily toward me, frustrated and confused at the situation. "It's too early for this! I can't be a sex doll on the cover of a magazine. Can you just think what people are going to say about me? The whole interview is about being the real me – and then there's this."

Kylie's venti coffee sloshed out of the to-go container as she gestured angrily with her arms. I noticed a few people glancing her way out of the corner of my eye, and the last thing we wanted was a "bratty starlet goes crazy on set" article to appear in OK Magazine.

"I know, I know babe, it's super annoying. Let's just talk about it in your change room – with less people around," I replied as soothingly as possible. Knowing that erratic actions in public could have dire consequences, Kylie nodded begrudgingly and followed me past the robotic costume racks to her dressing room in the back. I closed the door gently behind me as Kylie flopped onto the couch in the relatively small room, pulling her iPhone in front of her, texting away.

I try to think of something to take her mind off of the impending shoot.

"Is T coming today?" I ask, referring to Tyga, her long time boyfriend and biggest supporter.

Her frown deepens, and she doesn't say anything. I know her well enough by now to feel the tension building in the room – I said something wrong. Or rather, there was something wrong with T.

"Is he busy?" I try again, a little more gently.

"I don't know. He hasn't replied to my calls," she says as a final statement, letting her phone fall to her side. She let out a large sigh, and before I can say anything else, we hear a rap at the door.

"Come in," I call. Kylie doesn't bother to sit up from her position. One of the headset girls has wheeled in a rack of costumes for Kylie to try, or rather, sex doll options.

She stands awkwardly at the front with the rack – not really sure what to do. She was clearly new.

"You can just put it over there. In the corner for the clothes rack," I offer.

"Ok will do!" she chirps brightly.

She sneaks a hurried glance at Kylie out of the corner of her eye, trying to be conspicuous, but clearly failing to be. The problem with acting out of line at all on the shoots was people tend to spread rumours – which travelled fast. In her nearly passed out, clearly frustrated position, Kylie did not look like the peppy confident pop-star image she always projected. She looked like a toddler passed out from a temper tantrum.

After the girl left, I turned to Kylie.

"Well we're here now. We might as well try on the least offensive ones. We got thiss," I say to her, and she smiles slightly. She sits up, her eyes looking weary, and her hair disheveled.

I let out a theatrical sharp inhale.

"Hmm, I'd be more worried about what hair and make up is going to say about awlllll this," I mock tease her, waving my hand in her direction.

She laughs, gets up off the couch, and takes a few steps over the rack. Still dressed in her all black sweat suit, she does not look like a girl ready to be near naked. But we were going to try.

She pulls the first suit off the rack, and I let out an uncontrollable gasp.

"Yech," I say. Kylie looks at hem, and we start laughing uncontrollably, the kind where tears come into your eyes and your belly hurts.

"What the helllll," Kylie says in despair, looking up at the sky, and sinking down onto the floor with the costume in her, sinking with her.

"What is my lifeee," she laments. "Like look at this! What IS this?!?!"