“I used to play, too, before I was told I could only sing.” She gets sarcastic. “It’s all about the image. I should demand some changes in my next contract.”

I’m surprised. I was under the impression she could do whatever she wants. “Do you still practice?”

“Not much anymore.” She tips her head. “I’ve been watching you play. You’re good.”

My cheeks flush. That’s not unusual or anything. “Um … thanks.”

Ariel smiles, then looks down and studies her cuticles. “Look, Jen. I’m going to be honest.” Her eyes meet mine again. “I don’t have many close friends, but I’d like you to be one. When I talked to Latson, he said you’re good people. I’m thinking of making some changes to my style. I’m sick of being a pop princess.”

What?  “How can you be sick of success?  I mean, if it isn’t broke, don’t fix it.”

She pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them. “I’ve been doing this for a long time. It’s getting old; I’m twenty-seven. I need to grow as an artist. Hell, I need to grow as a person.”

I’m silent. Does she think I can help?

Ariel sets her chin on her knees and continues. “I need a fresh perspective. I need to hang around someone normal. Someone who’s still grounded.”

I’m skeptical. “So, the dancer drama was a lie?”

“Oh no.” She turns serious. “It’s true. Some of those girls are straight up bat-shit crazy.”

I snicker as my mind flashes to Heidi. Some of the groupies are, too.

“Anyway, enough about me.” She lowers her legs and crosses them in front of her again. “Let’s talk about you. Let me hear something. Play an original Jen creation.”

Why not?  It’s not every day a pop star asks to hear your work. The song I wrote in Chicago comes to mind, the one about the couple on the beach. “Okay,” I say. “This one’s called “Fairytale”. There might be a few changes, but it goes like this.” I straighten my back, clear my throat, and strum the strings to find my place:

“When the fairytale ends

When it all falls apart

Who will pick up the pieces

Of our shattered hearts?

It can’t be you

And it won’t be me

Because unlike a fairytale

We were never meant to be.”

 I take my time and play the entire song, stopping only once when I get tripped up on the second verse. When I finish, Ariel has a glassy look in her eyes. She blinks to clear it and then quietly says, “Save that one for me.”

“What?” I don’t know what that means.

“I love it,” she says. “If anyone approaches you about that song, tell them it’s taken. Tell them you’re saving it for me.”

My eyes grow wide. “You would sing my song?”

She nods. “In a heartbeat. Show me what else you’ve got.”

Chapter Twenty Two

“You’ll never guess what the record company did for us.” I shut the bedroom door so I can talk to Latson in private. “They upgraded our hotel room to a penthouse. A penthouse!  Can you believe it?”

“That was nice of them.” He sounds doubtful. “I thought the tour was only in Dallas for two nights.”

“We are. Tonight and tomorrow, then it’s off to Houston. But, we found out they upgraded us there, too.”

Obnoxiously loud music starts to play from the interconnected penthouse living and dining rooms. Looks like our guests have arrived.

“What is that?” Latson asks.

“The party just started.” I roll my eyes. “Dean and the guys got excited about the space, so they invited everyone to our room tonight.” To be honest I’d rather curl up in the magnificent bed that’s calling my name. “Did you know penthouses can have six bathrooms?  And three bedrooms?  I still have to share with Roxanne, but whatever. At least the guys get to spread out.”

“I’m not worried about the guys,” Latson mutters.

I won’t let that comment slide. “What’s wrong?” I sink down on to the bed and pull one leg beneath me. “You know, when I found out we’d been upgraded, I thought you did it. I thought maybe you would be waiting to surprise me.”

He doesn’t respond so I add, “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” he says. “I’m working on next month’s schedule for Torque and booking the entertainment. Once everything is confirmed you’ll probably see me.”

“Probably?”

“You’ll definitely see me.”

Suddenly, the bedroom door flies open. Ariel shuts it behind her in a rush and leans against it. “There you are. I need your help.”

I’m confused and my face shows it. Latson asks, “Is someone there?”

“Just Ariel,” I say. Leaning away from the phone I ask, “What’s up?”

She makes a zipper motion across her lips and gestures for me to end the call.

“Uh … I gotta go,” I stutter.

“Why?” Latson asks.

Ariel hurries past me and toward the bathroom. “I’m not sure,” I whisper. “Ariel probably wants to talk.” I told him about last night’s conversation on the bus. “I’ll call you in the morning, okay?” Now that we’re in the same time zone it makes things a little easier.

“Okay,” he says, uncertain. “But, Jen …”

“Hmm?”

“Be careful. I don’t like knowing there’s a bunch of strangers hanging out in your room. Penthouse or no penthouse.”

“Yes, boss,” I say playfully. “Sweet dreams.”

“Only if they’re of you.”

I end the call and walk over to stand in the bathroom doorway. Ariel is leaning against the counter, fidgeting. “Are you all right?”

She shakes her head no, then lifts her shirt. A box is tucked into the waistline of her pants. She pulls it out and shows it to me. “I can’t do this by myself.”

My eyes consume my face. It’s a pregnancy test. “Are you sure?”

“Of course not.” Her expression twists. “That’s kinda the point of taking the test.”

I step toward her. “What I meant was, it’s a possibility?”

She scowls at the box in her hands. “Unfortunately, yes. For the record, Zach, one of my dancers, is not gay.”

I close my eyes for a second and then reopen them. “You had unprotected sex because you thought the guy was gay?”

“No!  I didn’t think we’d end up sleeping together because I thought he was gay!”

She’s flustered, so I walk further into the bathroom and shut the door. “Are you late?”

“Ten days.” She bites her bottom lip. “I’ve also felt off. Emotional and exhausted.”

“You could just be stressed,” I say. “Traveling and performing aren’t easy.” I reach for the box and she hands it over. I read the directions. “You have to pee on the stick and wait three minutes. It doesn’t sound complicated.”

“No,” she says. “The complicated part comes after.”

I give her a resigned smile, and she takes a deep breath. “Okay. Let me do this and then I’ll need you to hold my hand.”

I give her the test. “Good luck.”

Her face falls. “Thanks.”

I leave the bathroom and head to the bed to wait. I can’t believe Ariel might be pregnant. I also can’t believe she feels close enough to share this with me. There’s no way she can jump around on stage and fit into a cat suit with a belly. My mind recalls our conversation from last night; this is probably what she meant when she said she needed to grow as a person. She could potentially be a mother.

Ariel looks pale when she opens the door. “Three minutes?”

I grab my phone. “I’m setting the timer now.”

She makes her way over to me and sits down. “Thank you. I had to tell someone. It was killing me.” I offer her my hand and she takes it. “I couldn’t say anything to my team. Not yet. If I’m …” She hesitates to say the word and sighs. “Changes will have to be made.”

We sit in silence as the music from the party pumps through the walls. I glance at my phone as the timer ticks down slowly. My stomach starts to knot for her and for us. Dean’s put so much stock into playing; he’ll be crushed if he has to cut things short.

Squeezing her hand, I ask, “How does that work?”