Revolt (Legends and Love)

Dal got exactly what I needed. I don’t ask how because part of me doesn’t want to know. There’s something unhinged in Dal’s eyes, and it’s clear I have no idea just what he is capable of. Raffiel basically implied he’s loyal to me now and I can use him as a weapon, so I need to be careful how I wield him. It doesn’t mean I’m scared of him—no, not the man who snuck into my bed and held me tight all night as if he couldn’t bear to be away from me or listened to my lyrics and helped me work through the issues today. Dal is much more than a killer, but from the confusion in his eyes, it’s clear he didn’t know that.

Until now.

I stand in the wings, waiting for my turn. I’ve dressed the part of a villain in a low-cut, revealing black dress with slits up both sides. My makeup is dark and bold, and my piercings and tattoos are on display. I’m everything he will pick apart, which is just what I want. I want his focus on me. I want him to take the first shot. I’m ready this time. I still remember the first time I stood here, nervously chewing my nails. I was so young, so naïve, as my manager told me to smile more, to laugh at the jokes, and that this could make my career so play nice. Well, fuck him. It’s clear he regrets it now. I see the panic on his face as he strides toward me.

“Play nice,” he hisses. “Remember who he is.”

“Oh, I do.” I grin, and he groans.

“Why do I regret this?” he mutters.

“You should,” I retort as I turn back to the stage as he lands another jab. I spent the whole day preparing while writing a new song. The release of my new single is coming next week. I understand the need for marketing and media, but this? This isn’t it.

“Now let us welcome Reign Harrow to the stage!” he calls as the crowd goes mad. “The disgraced rock star recently made a reappearance, and I’m sure we’re all dying to ask the dirty questions.”

It’s my cue, and his line sets the tone for the interview. He wants to make me out to be the villain. I can play that well. Smiling widely, I saunter onto the stage, winking and blowing kisses at the crowd. The others sitting on the sofa have already been interviewed, and they slide down to make room for me. There’s a very famous, middle-aged male, an older female filmmaker, and a new pop singer. I nod at them in greeting, even though we met backstage before this. They expect me to sit and joke and smile. I sit smoothly, crossing my legs, and Gerald, the interviewer, frowns at me for not shaking his hand, but he sits behind the wooden desk as the crowd quiets down so he can talk.

“Welcome, Reign. It’s nice to see you back, and with some clothes on this time!” he jokes, and the crowd laughs nervously with him. No doubt he’s referring to those nude pictures that were leaked last year right after I came on this show.

“Well, I was told I could be arrested if I were naked on the show.”

He laughs, as do those next to me.

“I don’t know. It would be more comfortable than this tux,” the middle-aged actor—James, I think his name is—jokes, and I grin at him as I lean back.

“Tell me about it. You don’t have to wear a bra and Spanx,” I reply, and he chuckles with me.

“Oh really? With the sort of dresses you wear, I always assumed you went nude underneath.” Gerald smirks. “What about the one we saw the other day? How do you even wear underwear with that?” He displays a picture from the paparazzi the other day when I wore a tiny dress.

“You don’t.” I blink innocently as he leers and the others laugh.

“Okay, okay, Reign, we have some very important questions to ask you tonight.” He becomes serious.

I’ll give him one chance. If he asks about my music like he should, then I might let him off. It’s his choice. I almost hope he takes it.

“Tucker . . . Is he good in bed? Did you get bored? Is that why you left? Rumors are he cheated on you. Can you tell us with whom?” When I don’t respond, he carries on. “Or maybe there’s a new romance? Planning to settle down and have kids, are we?”

Settle. Down.

As if a man will tame me. He made his choice.

He made me out to be nothing more than a vessel for a man’s pleasure. He doesn’t care about me as a person, just what I can give others.

I have a choice. I could bite my tongue, play nice, and be the old Reign Harrow, but fuck that. No one likes a revolutionary, at least not until they are dead.

It would be easy to go with the program, and I could play it safe, but safe is boring and overrated. I want to live big. I want to live so big that they never forget the woman they tried to destroy. He wants a reaction, so he’ll get one. It’s time someone took him down a peg, and I’m in the position to do so. I have an audience, and I can either use that for good or bad. I choose good, so no other girls who come after me have to go through the same shit. No more baby models, artists, and singers will have to suffer his degradation.

Dal called me an anarchist. Maybe he isn’t wrong, but an anarchist isn’t a villain.

No, they are fighters who are given no other choice.

I came back with the plan to do what I wanted, and I will do just that, starting here. This is about more than my fame and making money. This is about who I want to be as a person.

“You have no better question than about my ex or if I’m sleeping with someone else?” He blinks, and the crowd goes quiet. “Or when, not if, I will have kids and get married? As if that’s all I am good for?”

“It’s just a question.” He holds up his hands.

I tilt my head mockingly. “Does anyone ever ask you that?”

He shifts uncomfortably. “No, but then again, I don’t have the capacity to have kids,” he jokes, and some laugh nervously.

“So, because I have the capability to produce children, nothing else about me matters? I’m more than my uterus. I owe no one anything, especially not my body or my life. Women are more than their ability to procreate. I’m so tired of women only having to be one thing. You wouldn’t ask this of my male counterparts, so why do you feel comfortable asking me this? Is it because you think I’ll laugh and look pretty? Yeah, fuck that. My life is whatever I want it to be, and I owe nobody, I mean nobody jack shit.”

He laughs nervously. “You seem very angry tonight, Reign. Maybe you do need to get laid,” he jokes, but it falls flat. Everyone is staring at us, wide-eyed.

“It’s not anger. It’s self-respect. It is me standing up for myself against you and every male like you. Call it anger to try and belittle us and make our intellect seem lower. You whittle down our confidence to an instinctive emotion. Too emotional. Too angry. No, Gerald, this is me tired of being treated like a piece of meat. Night after night, you do this to women. You don’t ask them about their thoughts on what’s happening in the world. You don’t ask them about their passion or why they are here. No, you reduce them to a sex object.”

“They do that by coming on here,” he sneers as I see a manager rushing over, making a cutting motion across his throat.

“Let me get this straight. You’re saying women deserve to be reduced to sex symbols and nothing else for simply wanting to succeed? Couldn’t the same be said for you then? You want to succeed, and since you have no clear talent, you use others, dissecting their lives for credit and turning them into a joke. Tell me, Gerald, since you seem to love dirt so much, does your wife know you’re sleeping with your assistant who’s half your age?”

I hear the shocked gasps and whispers.

“I d-don’t know what you’re talking about. Obviously, you aren’t here to enjoy the evening, so I think we’ll move on.” He turns to the cameras, pale and unsure.

“I don’t think we will.” I smile, fluttering my lashes. “I’m here to talk about my new music. It comes out next week for anyone who wants to know, and the very reason I wrote that song, which is filled with female rage, as you so succinctly put it, is because of men like you. You tell us to sit prettily, settle down, and behave.” I peer down at the older actress. “Would you like to discuss the new film you shot that deals with sexual exploitation in Hollywood? I’m assuming he didn’t ask you.”

“He didn’t.” She smiles brightly at me. “I would love to talk about it.”

I stand and move over to Gerald. “How about you sit on the sofa? I’ll do the interview.”

He hesitates before getting to his feet uncertainly. Sitting behind the desk, I lean over to speak with her. “Tell me all about it. What did it take to get the script approved? How did you secure your budget? How did the story come about? Tell me everything about the brilliant women acting in it, shining a light on the dark underbelly of Hollywood.”

She explains it all. She’s intelligent and incredible, and when she’s done, I stand and walk over and shake her hand. “Thank you.” She blinks up at me. “For every woman who came before and after. You are changing things for the better. I want to thank you as a woman who has been through those very same things.”

She stands and hugs me, and when she pulls back, she’s smiling brightly. “Thank you for taking over tonight. I worried I would only be here to fill their demographic.”

James stands and glances at Gerald. “The film sounds incredible, as does your new song, Miss Harrow. I would like to apologize for Gerald’s behavior. He doesn’t speak for all of us. I personally don’t care about your personal life. It’s personal for a reason. You’re right though. I did nothing to stop it. I sat and nodded with him, too scared to speak out. Thank you for calling me out on that.” He glances at the crowd. “This, right here, is important. These women? They are the future, not him, not me. These are the role models you should look up to. Two very powerful, intelligent, and brilliant women, carving a path for others.”

I take his hand and we stand side by side. Even the young artist joins us despite what it might do to his career. “Tonight, I invite you all to thank the wonderful, talented guests who stand at my side.” I wink at the cameras. “Oh, and don’t forget to revolt every once in a while.”

They cut, and I turn to Gerald who’s still standing in shock.

“You might want to call your wife. Oh, and if I ever see you tear down another woman on this show, I’ll come back with worse dirt. Understood?”

He nods, and with a smile and a hug for the others, I head off stage to my men. They clap and whistle, and I see the pride on their faces.

Oh yeah, being a rebel feels good, especially with them at my back.