Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
There’d been hardly anyone around to listen to my soundcheck, and those few people who were in the arena had been too busy working to pay much attention to me.
Other than Erika.
She’d been out in the front row because she’d wanted to see what I’d look like up on the stage and give me some feedback. I was glad she’d done it, because it meant she was here in the wings with me now, right before I was set to go on. It also meant she’d be the first one to congratulate me when I was done.
Would she sugarcoat things and tell me I’d done a good job, even if I bombed? Hopefully, I wouldn’t find out. The clock was ticking down to showtime, and my stomach was lined with lead. It was a strange fucking feeling to want something so bad, yet also dread it.
I reminded myself how she’d said she was all in with me. No matter what, I’d walk away from tonight with her, so wasn’t everything else just a bonus? Didn’t I already have exactly what I wanted?
The clock continued to tick.
“Where the hell did the last ninety minutes go?” I grumbled, mostly to myself as I stared at the vacant stage ahead of us.
I thought time had flown by, but Erika had an expression like it had dragged. It probably had for her. There were sections of ‘hurry up and wait,’ plus, after we’d returned from the soundcheck, my parents were in the suite, and it’d been fucking awkward.
My mom pretended not to notice the tension. She spent twenty minutes FaceTiming with my grandmother, the first five minutes of which made it clear Mimi had no clue how to use FaceTime.
I could tell Erika was still embarrassed my parents had overheard our conversation earlier, but she tried not to show it. She was nothing but a professional, ready to answer any question I had, and focus on helping me prepare. She’d seen both sides as a performer and a manager, and I couldn’t imagine anyone being better than her.
Thirty minutes before the show, things got a little easier because there was more to do. She had me practice putting in and taking out my in-ear monitor while playing.
“In case it comes out,” she said, “or the sound’s too flat.”
I pushed the earpiece in, which felt weird and unnatural, and went back to strumming. “Too flat?”
“It cancels everything out, so all you’ll hear is your guitar. It might sound like you’re performing in an empty room, and if you don’t like that, then dump one side.”
Even though it’d be dark and the stage lights would be bright, there was no way I’d feel like I was performing to an empty room when I was onstage—because no matter what, she was there. I’d picture Erika in front of me and everything would be okay.
She had me warm up my voice and then I put on the plaid shirt and leather cuff that was my signature look.
During all of this, my parents sat quietly off to the side.
They didn’t approve of our relationship, but they understood she was my stand-in manager tonight because Ardy was with Stella, so my parents let Erika do her thing. Fifteen minutes ago, they’d hugged me and left the suite to go find their seats at the front of the house, giving Erika and me a few seconds alone.
If she’d planned to deliver a pep talk to me, I derailed it because I spent our final private moments together kissing her. It was what I wanted, and when I claimed it was the best way to distract me from my nerves, she allowed it.
It worked too.
As soon as I had my mouth on hers, she was all I could think about.
Then, we’d climbed aboard the cart, were transported down the tunnel, and unloaded into the backstage area.
Shit got real as I climbed the short staircase onto the side of the stage.
“Erika,” my voice filled with panic, “I don’t remember the lyrics.”
She paused. “For which song?”
My heart was pounding. “Any of them.”
But rather than look alarmed, she smiled. Her warm hands grabbed mine and she pulled me close enough to set her forehead against mine.
“I have climbed,” she sang softly, “the highest mountains.”
Hearing the opening line in her amazing voice was all I needed, and the rest of the lyrics flooded back in a wave of relief. “Okay,” I whispered. “I got it.”
The guy in charge of equipment appeared and handed me my acoustic guitar, but I kept one hand tangled with Erika’s. I wasn’t ready to let go of her just yet. The guy’s gaze dropped to our linked hands, but his expression didn’t change. He didn’t care, and disappeared back to his seat beside the guitar bay.
We didn’t have to wait long for the stage manager to show up. He was an older, grizzled-looking guy, and had been the one to explain where my marks were during my soundchecks.