Sing For Me

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Yoko's on You

Author's Note: I'm trying to get the final chapters of SFM drafted and posted by the end of the month! Once they're up, I'll do a full editing pass. My apologies for any spelling, grammar & continuity errors in the meantime <3

It's a mission to get back to our apartment. The whole time, I feel like I'm wading through a sea of people. By the time I get back and close the front door, I'm exhausted.

Trix is in the living room, pacing back and forth on the phone. She runs her fingers through her pixie haircut. "Yes, I understand. I get that. But—"

Trix looks exhausted, and whoever's on the other end of the line isn't happy.

I tip-toe past her, not wanting to interrupt, change my clothes and wipe off some of my slushy stickiness with a facecloth, and proceed to tap on Abbey's door.

Abbey's curled up on her bed half asleep. She yawns and stretches like a kitten. "Did you make it to work?"

"Yep." I replied. "And I promptly got fired. So... yay." I reply.

Abbey's lips curl downward. "I'm sorry, Meg," she says, patting my arm as I sit on the bed beside her. "As much of a weirdo as Rob was, I know you kinda liked your job."

I think about it for a moment. The dull ache in my chest confirms Abbey's suspicions. "Yeah," I say, thoughtfully. "I mean, I guess I did like it."

Who knew? Maybe once I crawled my way out of this mess I could think about upskilling. Taking a barista course, or learning how to bake, even.

Abbey's nose crinkled. "You smell like a crusty rainbow."

I snorted. "Hmm. Having seven different flavours of slushy thrown in your face will do that to a gal."

Abbey's eyes widened. "Babblers?"

I nodded.

Abbey frowned. "I can't believe my people would do that to someone! It's... it's sick!"

I shrugged. " I mean, in a weird way, I kind of get it. No one wants to see their idols fall—let alone see their idols admit that they don't really want to be idols in the first place."

"Hm," Abs pondered, a faraway look in her eyes.

I could almost feel the gravity around her shifting, her world tilting on its axis.

"Um, ladies?"

Abs and I turned to see a stressed-out, panda-eyed Trix standing in the doorjamb.

"I have some bad news, and some worse news," she sighed. "Which would you like to hear first?"

Trix, Abs and I sat down in the living room, closing the windows and pulling the curtains so the ever-present drones couldn't spy on our conversation.

"Okay," I sigh. "Let's go with the worse news first—that way, afterwards at least we have something to look forward to." I smile grimly.

Trix straightens in her chair. "Well, as you know, I'm a personal assistant. Part of my job has become managing the brand and reputation of my boss." Trix said.

"Sure," Abbey nodded.

"We have this software that we use to project the impact of public perception. Basically, it scrapes mentions from social media sites, news articles and blogs and gives us a rough estimate of how long something is likely to stay in the public consciousness."

"Ooooh-kay?" I say. "So it's basically a popularity predictor."

Trix nodded. "A complex data-driven one that makes accurate predictions about the future, but yeah."