Page 91 of Dirty Zone

I take Mav’s arm to hoist myself up into the barstool-esque chair. No wonder they seat us before the segment. A vision of face-planting from the chair on camera creates a bubble of hysteria in my throat. “A billboard was a better idea.”

“I’m quoting you on that.” Mav easily slides into his smooth leather chair.

We meet the anchor, and as a gay man, I’m tongue-tied by her beauty.

Time hits warp speed, and I’m almost above myself watching instead of sitting in the chair. She introduces us and gives the viewers some background, smiling brightly.

Then her face morphs into serious mode as she leans in. “What brought you here today, Skylar? Or should I call you Lark?”

Next to me, Mav straightens, ready to defend me, but I offer him my hand and he relaxes.

“That’s a complicated question, Andrea, one I’ve asked myself lately. Skylar is on my birth certificate, but I legally changed it to Lark when I moved to New York City. My friends call me Skylar, but I’ll keep Lark as my professional dance name.” My smile is firmly painted on my face, and Mav’s hand in mine helps me stick to the plan. I steer her toward my narrative and begin with the facts of my relationship with Maverick, starting in high school.

I keep my story of moving to New York short and to the point.

“Let’s return to something you said.” Andrea leans in and I freeze so I don’t recoil. The studio smells of disinfectant, and her floral scent is too sticky sweet. “You mentioned Lark is your professional dance name?”

“Yes. My off-Broadway production and my dance studio are under Lark Angel, and it would be confusing to explain my credentials if I change my name.” I plow ahead without taking a breath, otherwise I might not reveal all the truths that could be used against me. “I felt lucky to land a part as a dancer in a new production. Being fired from that job changed the direction of my life, but I’m actually grateful.” My cheeks flame under the hot lights, and Mav laces our fingers together.

“Grateful isn’t the word that usually comes to mind when you’ve been fired,” Andrea prompts.

“It wasn’t immediate for sure. I went through a lot before I came to that realization.” A bead of sweat forms at my nape.

“Are you open to discussing it?” There’s a gleam in her eyes, and I can’t tell if she’s baiting me or if it’s the lighting.

“I have nothing to hide, and I’m hoping to be part of a positive change for my current career.” The lights burn my face, but Mav’s body warmth is soothing. “Disastrous things tend to happen all at once. My roommates stole a significant amount of cash from me and kicked me out when I couldn’t pay rent. I was homeless with no job, living in my car until it was towed away. As you can imagine, I met a lot of people who wanted to ‘help’ me.” I use air quotes.

“That must have been a traumatic time,” Andrea says into the camera, instead of to me.

I fight the urge to downplay my experience. I’m proud of who I’ve become.

“Chance meetings led me toward positive changes. I met a social worker from The Q Solutions who helped me find temporary work and housing. The organization focuses mainly on at-risk queer youth but helps the community as a whole. They saved my life, and they rely on grants and donations. If you need help or want to make a contribution, search ‘theQSolutions.org.’ ” This time I stare into the camera, hoping to boost their income.

“How hard is it to get a job after you’re homeless?” she presses.

Her perfume causes my eyes to water, but I blow out a breath and continue. “Extremely. There are short-term obstacles like having clean clothes and showers before an interview and enormous obstacles such as not having an address or phone number.” Mav shifts closer, leaning on my chair. I couldn’t do this without him.

“I understood that anyone I met on the street was more liable to harm me than help me. Luckily, I happened to be in the center when a pay-for-play content creator came in hoping to find an assistant. I introduced myself and got the job.”

“Did you worry for your safety or if the job was real?” Andrea’s face scrunches with fake confusion.

“Searching an online creator is easy, and then verifying their metrics on their page decreases the likelihood of falling for a scam if you meet the person or do a video call. The creator I worked for encouraged me to make my own content.

“I love the control my job affords me. I can dance and connect with people without the fear of physical danger. My mentor introduced me to people and helped me start my online business.” A trickle of sweat runs the length of my spine.

“The fear of physical danger must have been very real for you after being homeless.” Andrea glances at the large clock indicating how much time we have left until the commercial break.

“No, I was sexually assaulted on a dance production. That’s where I met Lance Perkins.” There’s a gasp of recognition from the studio.

Andrea covers her surprise, and says, “For those of you who are unaware”— she stares into the camera—“Lance Perkins was a promising young dancer who is serving time in prison for manslaughter.”

I power on, ignoring the lightheadedness. “I won’t rehash the sordid details, but the director of the production forced himself on me and promised me a lead part. A part he later gave to Lance, after which he fired me.” My voice quivers at the end as I release the burden of my past and hope for a better future.

“For the record, Lance tried to get help but was denied a restraining order against the director,” Mav says sharply.

“We’ve received some backlash pertaining to your interview today, with critics claiming you’re only here to distract from the fact that your career is national news. Comments?” she grills me, and my brain registers her smile as baring her teeth.

“I’m here to shed light on people like Lance who played by the rules but were let down by the justice system because the man he rightfully accused had more power. We think we’ve made great strides since the Me Too movement and the women’s gymnastics scandal, but the truth is that innocent people are still being hurt and held accountable for their abuser’s actions. I intentionally chose my profession because I have a creative outlet, I make great money, but most importantly, I feel safe.”