“Actually,” Mara’s voice was sickly-sweet. “I’m paying you, so get on stage right now or you won’t see a dime.”

Francis threw a look at Willow, of all people, as if to say ‘Ladies, amiright?’

Willow stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Get moving, fuckhead.”

With a shrug, Francis walked away, his entourage following like ducklings. Eden watched him go, all the energy draining out of her body. She just wanted to lie down.

Beth glared after Francis. “Fucking men. Nice job, M.”

“Thanks.”

To Eden’s surprise, Mara pulled her into a sidelong hug. “Don’t be sad. None of this was your fault.”

She smelled nice, like berries. Eden hugged her back, tears burning in her eyes. “I’m sorry it’s been such a crazy night.”

“Well, what’s a party without drama? Do you want me to get you a ride home? You could take one of the limos?”

Eden shook her head. Behind them, she could see Willow hovering like a nervous waiter. “We should talk.”

Mara shot them a worried look. “Maybe you should stay here? Hang out? Dance?”

It was tempting, but it wouldn’t solve anything. She smiled at Mara, pulling out of their hug. “Thanks for fixing everything. I’ll be back soon.”

She took Willow’s hand. “Outside?”

“Sure.”

On their way to the exit, Willow grabbed two glasses of champagne from a circling waiter.  She knew it wouldn’t help, but she took the glass and sipped anyway. The night air was cool, popcorn scented and full of smoke from cigars and fireworks. As they made their way through the crowd, Eden pulled out her phone and opened the email app. There it was. The contract. She opened the PDF and scanned the document. Twenty-one weeks as Francis’ opener. A career maker.

Cheryl was going to lose her mind. Andy was going to lose his mind. Kieran was going to lose their mind. And Willow… Willow might already be losing his mind.

At the edge of the fair was an empty field and without speaking they settled themselves on the damp grass. For a few minutes, they sat drinking in silence. Eden wondered if he felt the same sense of impending sense of doom, the awareness they were walking toward a cliff-face.

She picked up her phone, wanting to see the contract again, but her home button was stiff, and the screen stayed blank. Her phone had died. A huge cheer rang from the warehouse as the opening bars of ‘Manic’ pounded through the air. Francis had taken the stage. Her co-worker for six months. She gave a small moan.

“Are you okay, pretty girl? Can I make it better?”

Eden tried to smile and found she couldn’t. “Everything’s just too hard, you know?”

Willow nodded. “I’m sorry about the fight. He came up to me talking shit and I just lost it. I shouldn’t have.”