“What do you want me to do?” he asked.

He pushed open the heavy control room door and walked into the dressing room. The air smelled of hairspray, sweat, and expensive roses. Up close, Kira was smaller than she looked on screen, and more fragile. The foundation couldn’t hide the dark circles. The fringe couldn’t hide the tremor.

“They love the fire,” Kira whispered, her voice raw. She didn’t drink. She just held the bottle, using the cold to ground herself. “They don’t know I’m burning.”