Page 104 of One Wrong Step
“It’s nice to see you again, Franchesca. I hope your parents are well.”
“It’s Frankie.” She shrugs with a nonchalance I know she doesn’t feel. Her parents didn’t want anything to do with her once they realized she wasn’t as straight as they wanted. “And I wouldn’t know or care.”
“I see.” He turns to me, effectively dismissing her. “Vivan. I came to see you perform.”
“You should have waited for the video. It’s probably already out there.”
“You’re making this difficult,” he says curtly.
“Am I?”
“I’m…proud of you. You were spectacular. It’s not my style, of course?—”
Frankie scoffs, and he gives her a withering look. Which she ignores.
“Thank you, Father.” I’m not sure what else to say, but I desperately want this conversation to be over. “I need to get changed.”
He ignores my words, but that’s hardly anything new. “I heard about the job offer. I think it’s perfect for you. I was”—he pauses and tries to school his features—“wrong, Vivian. I admit, I was wrong.”
Huh. “Those words were hard to say, weren’t they?” I cross my arms, never taking my eyes off him. “You’ve been wrong about many things that concern me, Father. So, you might need to be more specific.”
“I’m trying, Vivian.”
I sigh. “I can see that. But after years of being pushed into a mold that didn’t fit and that I didn’t want, admitting once that you were wrong doesn’t cut it.”
He nods. “Fine. I thought you’d make a good lawyer or businessman, but I can see now that your talents lie elsewhere. This fits you better. But the prize money from tonight won’t be enough for you to get started?—”
“Hold on. The winners haven’t even been announced yet.”
His body relaxes, and he smiles. An honest-to-God smile. Is this an alternate universe? The end-of-times? Right when I get a boyfriend? Figures.
“There’s no doubt you’ll win. No one else was even close.” He straightens and pulls on his suit jacket. It’s a hundred degrees out, and he’s wearing a suit jacket. But I know what this is. It’s his let’s-get-down-to-business talk. “You’ll need more than the prize money, so I’m releasing your trust fund.”
I stare at him. After all this time? “No conditions?”
He bristles at this. “I don’t want you to squander it away.”
“Unbelievable. Uncle Henri left me that money.”
“And he put me in charge of disbursing it when you’re ready. And you haven’t been ready. Until now.”
Is he afraid I’ll spend it on a Maserati that can go over two hundred miles per hour or that I’ll blow it skydiving over the Swiss Alps? I say the words I’ve held in for too long. “Uncle Henri’s death was an accident.”
For a moment, the grief he tries so hard to hide peeks through. But he locks it down quickly. “We’re not talking aboutthat, Vivian. You should get changed,” he says as if it were his idea all along. “We can talk after.”
The trailer or makeup shed, as they call it, is cool. It feels amazing. But I’m still frustrated by my father. I pull off my costume and scrub my face. Frankie yanks the microfiber cloth from my hand, and I glare at her.
“Never wash your face in anger,” she says, as if I’ve committed a grave sin. “Your pores deserve better.”
She’s right.
As I gently wash the makeup off, Frankie gives me a knowing smile. “I have something that’s going to make you feel so much better.”
“Is it rum? Please say it’s rum.”
“Sadly, it is not. But rum is definitely in order.”
I rinse my face and pat it dry. “What is it then?”
She does a little dance as she pulls out her phone and hits play. That’s when I realize there might be things better than rum.
My father’s voice plays from the speaker. “I was…wrong, Vivian. I admit, I was wrong.”
She grins, and I bow to her, naming her the bestiest bestie in the entire world.
Later, with Jonah’s arms around me and Mom, Maisy, and Frankie by my side, they announce the winners.
When Roz gets to first place, she holds up the last card and waits for the crowd to go quiet. “And the winner of San Diego’s Pridefest 2026 Talent Show is….” Jonah hugs me tighter as Roz says with perfect pronunciation, “Vivian Beauchesne.”
