Belly Literary Universe (part 2)

Veera's Spectacle Part 9: Follow Up

Veera doodled words into bubbles on the page then drew lines connecting them where she thought it flowed. Fragments of lyrics filled the page next to snippets of melodies. Her headphones buzzed with a new playlist - inspiration fodder for the new album she was dreaming up. Rock. Classical. Electronic.

Stymied for the moment, she set the notebook and music aside and picked up her phone. "I don't really feel any different. I figured genetic modification would make me feel different." She texted her friend, the Secret Advisor.

"Hah, well, that's good. If you did feel different it would be cause for alarm. That being said it will feel different if you decide to go along with your plan to gain weight. Of course if that happens you need to contact your doctors."

"Well duh." She texted back. "Actually I lied, heh. I am like so damned hungry all the time from stretching my stomach. I'm going to beat someone up. The time to activate this implant can't come soon enough. Ugh."

"From the sound of it you've done well with the cravings."

"You don't get to be a superstar without having some kind of self control. But it's taking its toll, SA. I yelled at a cleaning lady the other day for no reason, then spent an hour crying before I got the courage to apologize. The hunger is real, Sa, it's real."

"Well, just hang in there, Veera."

"And then I'm always in and out of the bathroom with all the water I drink to stretch my stomach. Ugghhhhh. I just want to put a lot of food in there, not just water. But I know I can't, not till the time is right. Oh. Speaking of timing. Did you set me up to meet Camilla in the Hospital?"

"No. Not like you're suggesting anyway. Schedules happened to line up, and I gave a nudge."

"Well I'm glad. I talked to her, and she has ideas for costumes once I get huge."

"She is good at her job, I'm told. She's already made outfits for Cozca's use."

"Really? You've already got her making things for people? Like Miranda?" Veera blushed remembering the huge woman's belly. The longer she waited to gain the bigger she wanted to get. At the moment, mostly relaxing before her next tour, she wouldn't mind being so wonderfully burdened.

"For Miranda, yes. And for others. We hired her to make patterns for clothes fitted for women with bellies."

"For what? Members?"

"No. Consider it a media blitz. A flood of bellies into the world. That includes you 'coming out', new clothes hitting the market, and other things."

"Oh. Wow. What else is going to happen then. Tell me!"

"That would be running the fun."

Veera's door slammed open, and her manager Dwight stormed in.

Veera stood and shouted "Why are you in my house? Who gave you a key?"

"I'm your manager, I get copies of everything you do. Like when you go to the hospital. What the hell are you doing?" He scowled, slapping a rolled up newspaper in his hand.

"What?" Veera asked half indignantly. "I never went to the hospital."

"Don't lie. How many dark skinned Indian women with silver hair are in this city?" She unfurled the newspaper and slapped it on the table. Sure enough, there was a picture of her trying to stealthily get from a car into the hospital.

Veera squirmed and groaned. "Fine. I was there. But it's really none of your business. Or the public's business."

"That has nothing to do with whether or not it affects your business. People are speculating! 'Veera Deva spotted with another fat fan' and 'Veera Deva photographed in a neighborhood for wealthy elites'."

"Am I not allowed to be seen with fans? And I'm rich, why can't I be seen with rich people?"

"Because people are going to latch on to whatever bullshit they can find and construct these elaborate conspiracies."

"Let them! It doesn't hurt me."

"You insist you know the music? Fine. I know business. And having all this baseless speculation doesn't help your image. You're growing up. Your image has always been clean. Tidy. Family friendly. If people start thinking there is something going on behind the scenes? Then you lose that family audience. And I don't see you attracting new, older fans. You do pop music."

"Oh fuck off Dwight. I do pop music because that's what you suggested when I signed on. I can do any genre. And I can have whatever image I want. I was in the hospital for a lady thing. A minor one. I'm, not about to put off my healthcare needs because you think it might lower sales by 1 percent or whatever the fuck."

"Ticket sales are how you make money. Big crowds equals big tickets equals sold cds equals more tickets sold. You lose one part of that and the equation breaks down."

"You suck at math, Dwight. I think what you're worried about is if I don't do what you want, then it makes you look bad. It makes your numbers look bad. And it makes you look bad because you can't control a small girl. No more. You can't control me. Without me, you're nothing. Go ahead. Get out there and sing. I'm an adult and it's about time I made changes. And you'll either get on board or face destitution. Got it?"

Dwight seethed. He opened his mouth to say something, but swallowed it. He left with a grumble.