“Ariel!  I found her,” Mason calls out.

A partially open door to my left opens further. It’s a bathroom, and Ariel is sitting on the floor in front of the toilet. “Hey.” She gives me a weak smile. “Did you know morning sickness doesn’t only hit in the morning?”

My eyes consume my face, and I glance at Mason. “Yeah, I just found out,” he says, crossing his arms and setting his jaw. “She’s been puking for the last hour.”

I look at my guitar and then Ariel. Does she want me to play her a song?  I walk toward her and kneel down. “What can I do?”

“I need you to stall,” she says. “I can’t go on yet. I’m feeling better, but not one hundred percent. I still need to get dressed and fix my face.”

“Stall how?” My brow furrows. “Do you want me to get the guys and go back on?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I mean, you can, but you already played your set. Does the band have anything else?”

“Not that we’ve rehearsed.”

“Then you go,” she says. “Sing “Fairytale.” Sing “I Choose You.” Sing –” Suddenly, she leans forward and dry heaves. “Sing whatever the hell you want,” she says into the toilet.

She’s lost her mind. “Are you insane?  The people out there don’t want to see me.” I can hear the booing and catcalls now. My music isn’t what they paid for.

“I’m asking a favor,” she groans. She looks over her shoulder at Mason. “Where are my Saltines?”

He looks like he’s losing his patience. Either that or he’s so far out of his comfort zone he doesn’t know what to do. He holds up his hands. “I put in a call.”

My eyes bounce between the two of them. Couldn’t my favor be to deliver the crackers?

“Please,” Ariel pleads. “I just need some extra time.”

My mind races. Going out on stage alone violates my cardinal rule. The idea doesn’t make me happy. In fact, it scares the shit out of me. I’m not prepared.

“Jen. Think of it as a career opportunity,” Mason says.

“You’re on board with this?”

“I’m on board with anything that prevents a hostile audience.” He looks at his watch. “And we’re supposed to start the show in a few minutes.”

I take a deep breath. Nothing like a little pressure to force you into a decision. “Okay.” I stand up and look at Ariel. She wears a grateful expression.

“Thank you,” she says before pushing her body off the floor and turning on the sink.

Don’t thank me just yet, I think. She may still wind up with angry fans.

“Let’s go,” Mason says and opens the door. As soon as he does, he’s bombarded with questions.

“Is the show canceled?”

“Is Ariel sick?”

“What does she have?”

“The show is not canceled,” he says, raising his voice and his hands to push back the people. “Ariel had a migraine, but she’s feeling better. We’re running about twenty minutes behind. Go get ready.” He grabs one of the arena personnel. “I need a mic at the front of the stage. Tell the crew there’s been a slight change, we have an extra act.”

The guy nods and starts talking into his headset.

“C’mon,” Mason says and starts to lead me through the fray.

“Jen!”

I hear Dean and look behind me. He catches up to my side as we walk. “What’s going on?”

“Ariel needs extra time. She wants me to stall.” I give him a panicked look. “She wants me to play.”

His eyes grow wide. “Are you okay with that?”

“Do I have a choice?”

The three of us make it backstage where I’m hooked up with everything I just took off. “Just go out there, introduce yourself, and play,” Mason says as Roxanne comes running up.

“What in the hell is going on here?” Her eyes shoot daggers.

“Don’t worry, Roxy. I’m not stealing your talent.” Mason looks me over, making sure I have everything. “Last minute schedule change, that’s all.”

“Why?”

“Ariel’s not feeling great. She needs a few more minutes.” Mason looks me in the eye. “You’re all set. I’ll tell you when it’s time to come off through your ear piece.” He gives me a little nudge toward the stage. “Please don’t suck,” I hear him mutter.

Oh my God. Am I really doing this?

“I’m going with you.” Dean grabs my hand, and I relax a little. He leads me toward the stage. “You’ve never performed alone before. What they’re asking isn’t fair. I’ll introduce you and stay close.”

“Thanks.” I squeeze his hand.

We walk out on to the darkened stage and the lights come up a bit. Dean lets go of me and waves as he makes his way to the mic. I stare out into the arena as I follow him and notice every seat looks filled. They’re waiting for Ariel.

Not me.

“Hello again, New Orleans,” Dean’s voice echoes. “Remember me?” He laughs and the crowd cheers. “I’m Dean McCarthy, in case you forgot.” He jerks his head, telling me to move closer. “This here is Jen Elliott. You saw her earlier, too, when she wailed on rhythm guitar with me and the boys.”

The people actually make noise for me, so I nod and smile.

“Ariel –”

The crowd erupts at the mention of her name. It’s deafening. Dean grins and claps with them, then gestures for them to calm down.

“Ariel will be out in just a few minutes,” he continues over the whistles and applause. “While you wait, she sent you someone special. She asked my friend Jen to entertain you. I promise you’re going to love her.”

He steps back, giving me the mic, and my head feels heavy. A low buzz sounds in my ears, and I start to feel nauseous. My heart pounds in my chest like it’s trapped in a cage. Don’t faint. Don’t faint. Don’t faint.

I manage to step up to the mic without keeling over. “Thanks, Dean. Hello, Louisiana.” My voice sounds thick and tense. I force a smile even though my legs feel weak. “I’m Jen, and this is ‘Fairytale’.”

The people continue to cheer. Not like they did for Ariel, but at least the majority sound polite. Adrenaline feeds my nervous energy, so I close my eyes and strum my guitar. I feel like heaving. I cannot throw up!

The sound of the instrument centers me, and the buzzing starts to fade. My heart continues to race, so I concentrate on the feel of the guitar in my hands. It gives me confidence, and I let the first notes flow through my fingers and onto my strings. I open my eyes, then I open my mouth and …

Sing.

Chapter Twenty Four

“Check this out.” Dean extends his hand to show me his phone. He taps the screen and a video of me starts to play.

“You taped me singing?” I try to steal his cell from him, but he’s too fast.

“Yep,” he says and holds it close to his chest. He starts typing. “I’m sending it to everyone we know riiiiiiiight …”  He draws out the word as his thumbs fly over the screen. “Now.” He sets his phone down with a smirk.

I roll my eyes.

“Here we are.” Our smiling waitress appears. We’re seated at a high top table at a loud bar near the arena. She sets down four shots of Fireball, then hands out our other drinks. “I’ll be back to check on y’all in a few minutes.”

Drew and Paul waste no time reaching for the shots and passing them out. “To Jen!” Drew announces with his glass in the air. “On her first solo performance!”

“Hear, hear!” Dean and Paul chime in.

“You guys are dorks,” I say, but raise my glass just the same. We down the shots and slam the glasses on the table.

“I think we should add your song to our set. At least in Detroit,” Dean says. “Isn’t your family coming to that show?”

I nod. “I’m not sure if that makes me more or less nervous. I almost passed out tonight.” I’ve never felt a mixture of fear and excitement so strongly before.

“The more you do it the easier it will be,” Dean rationalizes. “You did great. Even the audience thought so.”

“They were being nice.”

“They didn’t have to be,” Paul says. “I’ve played for a few evil crowds. Those motherfuckers can turn on you like that.” He snaps his fingers.

I’m so glad that didn’t happen.