Chapter 4

Delia walkeddown her dark front steps wrapped in the cocoon of a thick, oversized sweater. She never knew what to wear to the airport. She could count on the plane being either the approximate temperature of the sun, with the flight attendants instructing them to please leave the window shades open so they could be roasted and blinded, or a meat locker, where no combination of layers would keep her toes from turning into ice-cubes. She"d settled on a tank top under her chunky sweater, then a puffy jacket rolled up and stowed in her backpack for the half-frozen ham hock scenario.

On top of all that, she had to take recognition into account. It had only been within the past few months that she'd started to make a stir when she left her house. It had been shocking at first, then flattering, and then a little disconcerting. Typically if she could hide her hair, she was golden. Today's accessory would be a flat brimmed Hello Kitty hat with her hair pulled up.

Delia hauled her carry-on and guitar case to the back of the car that waited for her at the curb under the frosted glow of the streetlight. Mary was already in the passenger seat. The rideshare driver got out and loaded her case and bag into the boot. Delia checked the license plate just to make sure Mary hadn"t been hoodwinked, then watched their driver close the trunk. Just in case he forgot to add one of her items and it was left sitting on the curb.

Delia got in the backseat and settled her leather backpack next to her before fastening her seatbelt.

"Early morning flight, eh?" the driver asked.

Delia groaned internally. Please, Uber Gods, don"t let this man be chatty at five thirty in the morning. Thankfully Mary was feeling more chipper than she was. As usual.

"Yep, on our way to Calgary." Mary shot a look to the backseat that said, do you think he"ll recognize you? Delia pointed to the hat, and Mary snorted.

IndieLake had suggested she start using a private driver, but that cost more money than she was willing to pay. Yes, her popularity was growing, but she wasn"t yet a household face. Especially not with the fifty-plus crowd, which this man with his grey hair and lined face seemed to belong to. Until it became a major inconvenience, she was happy to save money and get to the airport like everyone else.

Delia fixed her gaze on the blurring cityscape and breathed in the faint scent of mothballs mixed with sweat as a familiar knot tightened in her stomach. Airports. She hated the noise, the pissed-off travellers, the TSA agents that had long ago been converted to the belief that all humans were, in fact, idiots. And all of that happened before they were crammed into seats that were three-quarters the size of average chairs with backs that couldn't be angled at anything greater than ninety degrees.

She popped in her ear buds and opened the latest message from IndieLake.

What do you think?

X Christian

It was a stupid question because Christian didn't give a damn what she thought about new song concepts. She could write back, "This sounds like a jazzercise back up track, and I couldn't loathe it more," and Christian would respond with, "I forgot all about jazzercise! Super popular in the eighties." Or her personal favourite, "I bet it will grow on you."

Any response from him translated to one sentiment: learn to love it because it's going on your next album.

Delia pressed play on the attachment and, after thirty seconds, determined it wasn't the worst thing he'd sent over. She turned up the volume to drown out her rising panic as the car turned onto the highway.

The warped entrance to the chorus was intriguing. It sounded like someone had their fingers on a transposition slider. Like they thought about changing keys but then changed their mind at the last second. Fun. Almost whimsical.

But she hated the drums. It was trendy in pop songs to drop in a straight up soprano drum pad after the first stanza, but it grated. She had yet to hear a track where it enhanced the overall composition of a song. That track was no exception.

Delia blew out a breath. Hopefully the lyrics would be better than the last few, though it couldn't possibly beat repeating the phrase, "Fool me once, shame on you," twelve times plus in one song (not including the back up vocals fade out in the final measures). Thankfully, Christian had bent on that one, and it was currently sitting in Canada's Pop Top 100. Which Delia made sure to casually mention every time they were together.

"Isn't that in Terminal 1? Or is it Terminal 3?" Mary asked.

Delia blinked. "Sorry, Mares. I wasn't listening."

"Oh, I know, I was talking to Arpit." Mary waved her off and tilted her head toward their driver with an apologetic smile. "She's not a morning person."

That was generous. A more truthful statement would've been, Delia enjoys people in very specific situations only. Summer music festival? Yes. Restaurant week? No. Art in the Park or open mic night? Hell, yes. Maple Leafs game or the grocery store at six o'clock when everyone stops on their way home from work? Hell, no. A piano in an alcove at the airport where someone sits down and starts playing as you're passing by with your carry on? Conflicted.

They pulled up to the curb at Toronto Pearson International Airport at six fifteen in the morning, and it was already bustling. They walked into the terminal to travellers draped over their luggage and Delia's mind jumped to panic over flights being canceled. In the line to check their bags, she scoured the signs and couldn't find any delays. At least none that would affect their route to Calgary.

After checking in, Delia led Mary to the Tim Horton's where they each grabbed a coffee.

"You getting anything to eat?" Mary asked.

Delia shook her head. "I had a bagel at home."

Mary grinned and ordered a muffin. "You know, now that you're doing more shows away from home, you're going to have to learn to eat in front of people."

Delia rolled her eyes and moved to the other end of the counter. It was sticky with spilled coffee, and she was careful to keep her sleeves hovering as she grabbed a napkin. "It's not that I don't like eating in front of people?—"

"It's kind of that."

"Only kind of. It's more that I don't like how my teeth feel."

Mary held her receipt like a ticket to an amusement park. "You know there are solutions to that, right? Portable toothbrushes?"

"Yeah, but then you have to carry a gross toothbrush in your purse."

"There are disposable ones?—"

"They don't work! They accomplish the same thing as spreading mint gum on the end of your finger and rubbing it around your mouth."

Mary joined her against the wall as they waited. "So you're saying that on top of everything else I do for you, I have to invent a travelling toothbrush that self-cleans?"

"Or a disposable with actual brushes—ooh! And built-in toothpaste. And it has to be affordable because I don't want to pay a dollar each time I use one."

"Simple. I don't know why it doesn't exist yet." Their numbers were called, and Mary retrieved both their coffees from the counter. She handed one to Delia, then turned back to grab the paper sack with her muffin.

They made their way to the gate, where Tony and his assistant Kels were already waiting. Kels groaned and handed a ten dollar bill to Tony.

Delia frowned. "What was that for?"

Tony folded the bill and tucked it into his wallet. "Kels didn"t think you"d get here on time. But I knew Mary was picking you up."

Kels rolled his eyes. "He had to cough up a hundred last weekend when he bet me on the nationality of the pig during the Pig War."

Delia grimaced, though they likely couldn"t see much of her expression under the shadow of her hat.

"It was American," Mary stated.

Kels pointed. "See? She paid attention in Social Studies."

Tony shoved his wallet back into his pocket. "I still think it"s up for debate since Confederation hadn"t happened yet, but whatever."

The flight attendant made the announcement for priority boarding, and Tony and Kels stood up. "See you in there, ladies."

"Enjoy the legroom," Mary muttered, and Tony flashed a cheeky grin as they walked up to the gate attendant.

"Why is Kels still working for him?" Delia shifted to the side so the rest of the VIP passengers could line up. A woman in a Nine Inch Nails sweatshirt and fleece pants did a double take, and Delia turned her back to the line.

Mary shrugged. "Because the pay is good, I assume."

"Yeah, but he has to be at Tony's beck and call. The guy"s married, isn"t he?"

"Maybe he"s not happily married. Like Dion."

Delia groaned. "Ugh. Please don"t remind me."

"How long did it take you to figure out that one? Three dates?"

"Four, and it wasn"t my fault. He was lying through his teeth."

Mary scoffed. "Shouldn"t it have been a red flag that he showed up with a bald spot when his profile picture flaunted hair like Justin Trudeau?"

"Hey, you know how bleak it is out there." Both of them had been on and off dating apps for the past couple of years, and neither had much to show for their swipes.

They moved into line as their boarding group was called, then joined the herd in the tunnel and boarded. Tony winked as they passed his seat, but Kels was already resting with a donut pillow around his neck.

"Don" mind us, govenah, just makin" our way back to steerage!" Mary announced, and Tony nearly choked on his coffee. Delia started laughing and couldn"t stop since Mary had been loud enough to attract the attention of half the plane. Thankfully, her blotchy cheeks and squinched expression only did more to obscure her face, and by the time she"d taken her seat, nobody besides Fleece Pants Lady had come close to recognizing her.

"And this is why we travel at five in the morning," Mary whispered as she dropped down into her seat. At least IndieLake always purchased the whole row so they wouldn"t have to sit next to a stranger. That was worth the extra cost.

Delia leaned in. "Why, so we can be obnoxious while nobody has the energy to speak up?"

"That and . . ." Mary motioned at the passengers in the opposite row. Two out of the three already had their blackout masks on.

"Speaking of which." Delia grabbed her mask from her bag and fished the Xanax she"d stowed in the pocket of her joggers.

Mary stroked her hair. "Go righ" t" sleep, love. I"ll wake ye if the ship goes down!"

Delia laughed and shook her head. "I appreciate your commitment to this bit, but can we not talk about "going down" right now?"

"Sorry, I thought ocean liners were safe for fodder."

Delia yawned. "Kate Winslet would say otherwise."

"Whatever, she lived. Leo"s the one who should be complaining."

Delia arranged her blanket and travel pillow and settled in against the window. She pushed in her earbuds and closed her eyes, then pressed play on the meditation track she always turned to when she flew.

As waves crashing on a beach drowned out the hiss of air in the airplane cabin, Delia drew a deep, cleansing breath. She gripped her armrests during takeoff, but by then, the medication was kicking in. Delia slept and didn't wake until they were two hours into the flight, which was better than she could"ve hoped. Now she only had to survive the descent and landing, which was formidable but not nearly as nerve-wracking as takeoff. She hated any turbulence, but at least if it happened at the end of the flight, she knew they were getting closer to the ground, which was where she wanted to exist.

She was about to distract herself with the Ryan Reynolds movie where he lived inside of a video game when Kels appeared in the aisle next to them. Mary"s head leaned straight back, her mouth open wide enough that Delia could"ve peered in and spotted her epiglottis.

"I don"t know how flight attendants resist the urge to drop a sandwich in there."

Delia sighed. "Probably the fear of jail time."

Kels handed her a tablet. "Tony wanted you to look over the contract."

Delia frowned. She stared at the white screen filled with text, and suddenly it clicked. She lowered her voice. "For the thing. With Jack Harrison." Since Tony had put the guy on her radar, she was seeing him everywhere. On the front pages of newspapers, reels and stories in her social media feeds. His name was even popping up in conversations between announcers on the radio.

Kels raised an eyebrow. "The thing. Correct."

Delia rolled her eyes and took the tablet, and Kels returned to his seat. Her head was still blurry, and it took her a minute to fully focus on the words in front of her. She scrolled past the introduction, then tried to read through paragraphs outlining terms regarding public appearances and social media posts but kept losing her place. Then something made her pause.

Public Displays of Affection:

The Parties hereby consent to engage in a mutually agreed-upon level of public displays of affection (PDAs) to portray their status as a romantic couple to onlookers convincingly. Such displays shall include, but not be limited to, the holding of hands, the exchange of brief, non-prolonged embraces, and the occasional kiss if both parties consent beforehand. These acts of affection shall be performed in good faith during public appearances, social events, and any outings where the legitimacy of their partnership might be subject to scrutiny or question, all in an effort to fortify the perceived authenticity of their bond.

She imagined Jack reading through that and wanted to shrivel up and die. Was she really doing this? Forcing someone to hold her in a "brief, non-prolonged embrace?" Delia dropped the tablet in her lap and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

She thought of her mom. Her incessant cough. Her late work hours. Dr. Kemp's insistence that the only way for her to have a longer, better life was to slow down.

This was what she needed, wasn"t it? But what had Tony offered Jack to make this worth his while? She could get Dion, serial philanderer, to go out with her, but Jack? He was Canada's golden boy. He had to have a million prospects.

Thoughts about the meeting that night and her impending humiliation eclipsed any anxiety over the plane landing. It helped that it was the smoothest landing she"d ever experienced. By the time she'd noticed her ears were popping in their final descent, their wheels were touching down on the runway.

_____

Delia and Mary showed up to the Jukebox, and there were already a handful of people waiting outside on the street for the box office to open. As their car pulled around to the back of the theatre, Delia shifted in her seat. She didn"t have to say anything for Mary to know precisely what she was thinking.

"You want to go out and do selfies?"

Delia nodded with childlike excitement. Those were the moments she loved. She would never forget going to an Avril Lavigne concert when she was in middle school and standing outside afterward praying she'd get an autograph. Avril had walked out and connected with as many fans as possible on her way to her tour bus. Delia still had that signed poster.

That was the role music played in her life. Not only transporting her beyond the current reality, but driving her closer to someone else. Filling gaps and soothing aches.

Since it had just been the two of them for so long, music had been a balm on both of their hearts after her father passed. Every morning, when her mom got home from her night shift, she'd start up one of her favourite songs in place of Delia"s alarm clock. It was her cue to wake up and their neighbour Tenille"s cue to vacate her mother"s bed.

Tenille was in her fifties at the time with no living relatives that Delia knew of. She slept overnight at their apartment so that her mother could work and not worry about Delia waking up in the middle of the night to an empty house. Delia never noticed the exhaustion in her mother"s face because, by the time she dragged herself out of bed into the hall, she was already dancing.

To that day, whenever she heard a song by Elton John or The Beatles, that invisible thread between her and her mother tugged. Now she had the opportunity to create songs that would pull people together and lift their spirits. Delia didn't take that responsibility lightly.

Which was why she was so anxious to push past that first year with IndieLake. None of the music on her first record or the new one about to be released was written by her, and she was dying to make that a possibility. But artists always had to sacrifice until they proved themselves, and she was grateful for the platform she had already. She just had to hold out a little longer, continue making the label happy, and continue to make herself invaluable to their bottom line. If agreeing to this fake relationship wasn"t signal enough about her level of dedication, she didn"t know what was.

Delia grabbed her guitar out of the trunk as Mary paid the driver. They'd already checked into their hotel for the night, so there weren't any other bags to retrieve. They walked to the back door, and Delia"s stomach churned as they waited for one of the theatre staff to open it for them.

Waiting was never a good thing. It gave her too much time to think, and for the past twenty-four hours, her thoughts had been on a constant, aggravating loop. Jack was going to be there tonight. What did he think about this whole arrangement? What had Tony said to him to make him even willing to consider it? Could it be that he was already interested in her?

Delia mentally swatted at them like flies. Who knew, she didn't want to know, and no, for the love, he was an NHL player. Those guys fell hard for cheerleader types. Models. Perky, happy people who didn"t write songs about the macabre thoughts that ripped them apart in the middle of the night.

Delia sat her guitar in the wings to the stage, then told the tech crew they'd be a moment. She grabbed Mary"s hand and pulled her back to the door they"d entered through and was already giggling when they rounded the corner and strode toward the bundled up fans.

"This will be awkward if they"re here for some totally different reason," Mary muttered. Delia elbowed her and didn"t even have a chance to respond before one of the girls looked up and spotted her auburn waves. The girl screamed, and her friends scattered like someone had just dropped a cannonball in the pool.

"I"m dead!" The girl looked to be in her mid-twenties. Her blonde hair was piled on top of her head in two messy buns, and they bobbed as she swooned into the guy standing next to her.

"I told you it paid off to show up early!" Her friend, wearing a toque over her long, jet-black hair, grabbed the sleeve of her boyfriend's coat like a toddler trying to get her mother"s attention.

Delia stopped next to them and grinned. "I"m always floored when people are willing to wait out in the cold for one of my shows. Just wanted to come say hi."

"Hi!" The blonde girl straightened, then jumped up and down, flapping her arms. "I saw your post last night and couldn"t believe you were coming back to Calgary for an acoustic set. I missed the one you did last summer and was devastated, especially because they wouldn"t shut up about it." She motioned to her friends.

"You were all there?" Delia asked. She searched their faces, trying to figure out if they looked familiar. When she was up on stage, she definitely noticed people and a few faces still stuck with her. A tween girl with tears in her eyes who looked to be there with her older brother singing every single lyric from the fourth row. A group of five women who had to be her mother"s age wearing halter tops and getting sloppy drunk. They laughed maniacally at everything, and it was contagious.

And she especially remembered the weird ones. The guy who kept staring at her and flicking his tongue between his lips whenever her eyes landed on his side of the audience, or the couple she thought looked adorable swaying in each other"s arms until she noticed that the guy"s hand was down the front of his girlfriend"s pants. She needed to get over her fear of making personal videos on her social media channels because stories like that had a good shot of going mini viral.

"I"ve been to two of your live shows. The one here in Calgary and then the one in Victoria," the girl with the toque said.

Delia beamed. "You travelled all the way out there?"

She shook her head. "No, I was visiting my parents. So yes, road tripped, but the show was a happy coincidence."

"Well, I"m honoured regardless." Delia motioned for Mary to pull out her phone. "Should we get some pics?"

The girls squealed with delight as Delia joined their group, and Mary started snapping shots. They passed over their phones and had her take a few more, then they all grabbed a few selfies.

"You"re the literal best!" The blonde girl with messy buns stared at the photos on her phone.

Warmth bubbled up in Delia"s chest. At home or before a show, she"d sit in front of a mirror and worry about whether her hair was too flat or her makeup washed her out. She"d agonize over the right outfit for a show and fret over how her mouth looked when she sang certain vowels. But when she was with her fans, she didn"t think twice about what she looked like in her photos. It was easier not to care when she wasn"t the only one standing in the spotlight.

When they finished, Delia waved and told them to enjoy the show while Mary reminded them to tag Delia"s account in their posts, and the two of them jogged back to the rear entrance. They didn"t waste any time in the green room. It was cramped and smelled faintly of wet cement, but the staff had stocked it with almonds, herbal tea, and freshly sliced lemons. She wasn"t one to eat before a show—her stomach got tied up in knots, and she"d found it was better to stuff herself after a set so as not to Barden Bellas it on the first row. Not that she"d ever actually thrown up, but she"d come too close for comfort after eating a BLTA once. That moment still scarred her.

"Jack"s ticket is waiting at Will Call," Mary started as Delia clipped in her in-ear receiver battery pack on stage.

"Mmhmm." She shielded her eyes from the glare of the lights, peering toward the sound booth to ensure she didn"t miss the thumbs up for their sound check. Stagehands wrangled cords and equipment behind her, clearing out instruments and amps they wouldn"t need.

"Are you nervous?"

Delia shot Mary a look. "If I were, would talking about it help?"

Mary held up a hand. "Hey, I just didn"t want to sweep this whole thing under the rug. You get in your head about these things."

Delia scoffed. "These things? Like meeting a fake boyfriend is a regular occurrence?" The sound guy raised a hand, and she nodded, then began to pluck out a simple G-D-C-G chord progression on her guitar.

Mary planted her hands on her hips. "Don"t pretend you aren"t weird when it comes to guys."

Delia shook her head, then sang her next sentence to the melody of Mary Had a Little Lamb. "This is not a normal guy, normal guy, normal guy, this is not a normal guy, it"s a business transaction."

"Now you just sound like a prostitute."

Delia grinned. "Or maybe he"s the prostitute, prostitute, pros?—"

"That"s going to end up on TikTok, you know that, right?"

Delia laughed, sending her mic into a feedback fit. "Sorry!" She waved to the booth and cleared her throat, then started in on the chorus of Shiny People. She was a professional. She could complete a soundcheck properly.

Mary stepped off to the side so she wouldn"t be a distraction, and after one verse of Dame Tartine, the song her mother always hummed around their apartment, the sound guy gave another thumbs up. Mary swooped in to put her guitar on the stand while she took out her earpiece.

They worked with the stagehands to get the piano placed where she wanted it, then met with the venue owner, who effusively praised her and shared his immense gratitude that she liked the Jukebox enough to return within a calendar year. Delia did like the Jukebox. She was sure that was why Tony had booked it because it definitely wasn"t up to his standard of playability.

The Jukebox didn"t have a website and only sold tickets at the door. They opened two hours before the live music started for the night and sold greasy bar food and craft cocktails. The drinks were good, or so she"d been told, and the food even better, if you were in the mood for heartburn and middle-of-the-night gastrointestinal distress.

Delia remembered the good "ol days when she"d play a show then step off the stage and join her friends at the bar for hours afterward, since they were the only people who showed up to see her play. She"d never complain about her increased popularity, but it was a little anticlimactic going back to the green room with her ears buzzing and eyes mildly blinded to sit with Mary and drink Chamomile tea. Who was she kidding though? She loved that post-show routine.

"Ear pieces, Dels."

"Hmm?"

Mary spun her around and turned the switch to her receivers off. "What were you thinking about this time?"

"How I'm emotionally conflicted about what I do after shows."

Mary laughed. "You didn't take your medication?"

Delia shook her head as she set her guitar on the stand and walked into the wings. "I didn't want to feel more anxious on the plane."

"Understandable."

They descended the stairs and flopped onto the couches. They still had two hours, and Delia was about to suggest they take a nap when the green room door burst open.

Tony waltzed in with Kels on his heels. "I know you were all wondering where we were . . ." He taunted them with a garment bag on a hanger.

Mary smirked. "Tony, we agreed that you were going to pick up Delia"s outfit. Neither of us was wondering."

"But you didn"t know I was also getting a surprise." Tony hung the bag on the clothing rack against the wall and unzipped the protective cover. Delia had brought her burgundy high-waisted, wide-leg trousers that, when she wore them with her leather platform boots, made her look leggy and well beyond her five-foot-seven height. She would"ve just worn them here instead of packing them separately, but they tended to get creases through the crotch when she sat for too long in them.

Tony pulled out a vintage-inspired, flowy blouse with a delicate floral print that coordinated perfectly. That wasn't the surprise. Mary had found it on a local boutique's website, but even though she'd seen it online, it was better in person. Delia stepped forward and fingered the gauzy fabric.

"Voila." Tony pulled out a gorgeous tan suede jacket. "I couldn"t leave this sitting in the window display. It was begging for you to wear it."

Delia's eyes lit up. She took the jacket from him, and it practically melted in her hands. So smooth and supple, she wasn"t sure if she should put it on or cuddle up with it. "It's gorgeous. How much did this cost?"

Tony waved her off with a look that said, It doesn"t matter for something that good, but it did matter to Delia. Any show expenses meant less take home, and she wanted to squeeze these shows for all they were worth.

Since she didn"t want to crush Tony"s kind gesture, she put on the jacket and smiled at herself in the mirror. It hit perfectly at her waist, and the sleeves looked like they"d been tailored to hit her wrists. It was stunning. "I'm a little disturbed at how well you know my size."

Tony laughed. "That was Kels. I don't keep track of measurements."

Delia gave them each a quick hug. "Thank you. I love it."

"Hot," Mary agreed.

Delia shrugged off the jacket and handed it back to Tony. It was pretty enough, she was tempted to wear it post-show, but she already had a particular outfit for that. Crew neck, black long-sleeve cotton shirt and straight-leg jeans. Nothing primpy or flirty. Plain. Professional. She couldn't let a pretty blouse and butter jacket knock her off course for the evening.

Delia mentally ran through her pre-show routine. An hour before showtime, she"d put on her blouse and start doing her makeup while Mary curled her hair. Then, thirty minutes before, they"d do a meditation along with stretches and a vocal warm-up. At fifteen minutes to, she"d put on the rest of her outfit, including her show jewelry, a gold locket from her mother and simple gold hoops, then Mary would do a last look, and they"d head to the wings to catch the end of the warm-up band. Tonight, it was a country singer who had gained popularity after performing at the Youth Talent Showdown at the Stampede the previous summer.

Having Tony there was an anomaly but a welcome one. His stories always made the time fly by. This time, he regaled them with a tale about a woman who tried to use a clipped coupon at the register of the boutique. "It wasn"t even for the same store!" Then he showed them pictures of the line down the street and wrapping around the corner for the show. By the time Kels finished with how they didn't know they'd parked in a staff space until a homeless guy yelled at them for taking "Pete"s spot," it was time to get moving.

Delia turned on her playlist, and she and Mary got to work. She applied foundation and bronzer, then blush and a smoky eyeliner. She darkened her eyebrows and applied the only lip stain she"d found that didn"t make her feel like she was wearing a mud mask halfway through her set. For all her normal anxieties, this part was seamless. It felt like being strapped into a roller coaster—she knew the process and the eventual walk on stage was inevitable. The ride was going to start, and she could either be ready for it or get whiplash.

Tony and Kels left before they started their meditation, stating he was going to wait for Jack and make sure he found their reserved table. The Jukebox had a broad dance floor that was standing room only, but raised up around the periphery of the room were high-top tables and chairs. It was first-come first-served, and those spots were coveted. She hoped their selfie friends staking out the box office were smart enough to snag one when the doors opened.

Before Delia knew it, she was standing in her maroon trousers, the floral blouse, and suede jacket in the wings, listening to a woman sing her rendition of I"ve Got Friends in Low Places. She had a decent voice, even if it was a bit twangy for Delia's taste.

As the final chords resolved, her heart picked up speed. No matter how many times she prepared herself for this, her insides flipped like she was about to dive headlong off the edge of a cliff. It was a love-hate relationship. She adored filling any venue with music. Hated that initial step on stage, especially on nights like this when she was walking into the spotlight alone.

Strapped in, Delia reminded herself. She placed her earpiece as Mary flipped up her shirt to ensure the receiver for her in-ear monitors still had full battery strength.

The warm-up act thanked the crowd, then shouted, "Who"s ready to hear Delia Melise?" The cheers and applause were deafening even there in the wings. Mary rubbed Delia's shoulders.

Delia clenched and unclenched her fists, whispered a silent prayer, then took that dreaded first step into the light. She smiled and waved, scanning the shadowed, faceless blobs in the crowd until her eyes adjusted. She pulled her guitar off the stand and slipped her head under the strap, then plugged in the cord connecting it to the amp.

"How are you tonight?" she asked, getting another roar in response. "Can we raise the house lights a bit? I'd love to see your faces before we start." The cheers grew louder as the lighting crew did as she asked. People lifted their drinks into the air, and she spotted the two girls they"d met out front earlier. She winked, and Messy Bun Girl"s face went slack.

Then Delia found Tony and her heart skipped a beat. Kels sat next to him and?—

Nobody.

There was nobody else sitting at the table with them.