6

Hailey

My head pounded as though it would crack through my skull. I groaned when someone turned the light on in the green room.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" my mother consoled me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

"I feel horrible," I mumbled with my head down on the table. "My throat burns, my nose is stuffed, and my head won't stop pounding."

My mother rubbed my back, her knee bounced beside me. Her nervous energy radiated off of her like an electrical current.

"Here, take these." Christian passed me two pills. "They'll help with the headache and maybe even the stuffed-up nose. They're non-drowsy." Then he set a hot mug on the table. "It's ginger tea with lemon and honey. It'll make your throat feel better." I inhaled the beverage, and the steam unplugged my nose momentarily.

"Thank you," I croaked and then groaned at the sound. "I sound awful. I can't go on."

Just then, Frankie walked in. "What's shaking, doll?" he shimmied over to the table. "I love that sparkly black dress."

"Frankie, you have to tell the producers that I can't go on. I'm too sick."

"You were fine yesterday. This isn't performance anxiety, is it? I can make a quick call and get you a prescription for that if you need something."

I tried shaking my head, but the movement hurt too much. "No, I'm actually sick."

He pursed his lips. "I don't think we can cancel at the last minute, but let me talk to the producers and see what we can do. Maybe we just skip the singing part for today and do only the interview."

Relief washed over me. "Thank you, that'd be great."

"Smile!" someone called from the other side of the room and a phone camera shuttered.

I narrowed my eyes at Ingrid. "This isn't the best time to take a photo of me."

"Oh, sorry. But I'm doing a whole post about your appearance today, and I need backstage pics for your stories." Ingrid didn't sound sorry at all. Her smile only made me frown deeper. I turned away from her camera and sipped my tea.

Not bad. The hot tea warmed up my chest, and I sighed at the feeling. Christian was god-sent .

He shook me awake this morning when I slept through the alarm. He made me a warm breakfast and now stepped up with the cold medication and tea.

Trey was still snoring when I left. Nothing but a bucket of water would wake him up after a night of drinking.

I didn't want to see him, anyway. He was the one who got me sick. I was sure of it.

A few minutes later, Frankie walked in with a woman wearing jeans and a black button-up shirt. "Hailey, this is Maria, one of the producers. I told her about your predicament."

Maria smiled warmly at me. "Don't worry about it, Hailey. This stuff happens. We'll just play your track in the background with your mic turned off, and you can dance and still do your thing. Sounds good?"

My head was foggy, but I was pretty sure I understood what Maria had said. "You want me to lip-sync to my song?"

"Well, yeah."

I shook my sore head. "No. I won't do that. I sing all my songs live."

"Hailey, we do this all the time. The network prefers it as there are no surprises and so does the audience. People are expecting to hear what's on the radio. If the voice is off, they'll be disappointed. Trust me."

My gut was shouting ‘No! Don't do it!' but my pounding migraine just wanted everyone to shut up and go away. "Fine. I'll do it. But only because I'm not feeling well."

Frankie clapped his hands. "That's my girl."

My attempt at a smile probably resembled a grimace.

"All right, let's get you set up. You're up in ten minutes," announced the producer just before exiting the room.

Ten minutes? That wasn't much time.

I pushed away from the table and walked to the bathroom. I blew my nose, washed my hands, and stared into the mirror. Despite my makeup artist's best efforts, I had bags under my eyes and the tip of my nose was red. It would have to do.

Come on, Hailey. You've worked too hard for this moment. Go out there and own it!

I inhaled deeply, taking fortifying breaths. Then three quick breaths. Adrenaline raced through my veins as I pumped myself up. And just like that, I no longer felt tired. I knew the rush of performing would take over. I just hoped it lasted for the entire performance.

"Are you ready?" Christian asked behind me. I looked up into the mirror. He stood waiting for me. There was concern in his eyes. I wasn't sure if he was worried that some fan would run out from the audience, or he was worried about the performance. But somehow it was comforting.

I nodded. "Yes, I'm ready."

Walking through the hallway, the audience's cheers reached us and I smiled. I'd dreamed of this moment since I was a little girl and watched Harriet King on my tablet. I practiced a few breathing exercises as the band set up on the studio floor.

Ingrid snapped pictures beside me, and I smiled.

"I'm going to go live on Insta when you perform," she said, and I nodded.

Despite my nerves, I soaked it all in. The humming anticipation of the audience, the backstage crew, and my mother's beaming face. I was living my dream. Nothing could ruin this for me, especially not a cold.

Maria walked up beside me with a clipboard in hand. "The music will start as soon as you get on the floor. Ready?"

"Yes," I said confidently.

"Great. Harriet will call you out in just a few minutes." She said something into her headset and then pointed to the stage director next to the curtains.

"And now," Harriet's booming voice roared through the mic. "Help me welcome this year's America's Fresh New Artist winner to the stage." The crowd went wild and my heart leaped out of my chest. "Here to perform her hit song live is… Hailey!"

I ran onto the studio floor, passed the drummer and my guitarist, and grabbed the microphone waiting for me at center stage. The music started, and I moved along with it. The dance steps took over my body just as they had in rehearsal.

I spotted Christian and my mother standing in front, and Ingrid was there too, recording with her phone.

I took a deep breath and sang the first line. Popping my wrist up in the air, I belted out the second line, nearly forgetting that there was a track playing over my voice until that track skipped. The words were garbled and then repeated.

I tripped over my feet for a second and resumed singing. But there was tension in the air. The audience had noticed. Some covered their mouths with their hands while others turned to their neighbor, whispering in their ear.

My mother waved her hand for me to continue, and I did. The show must go on. I picked up the lyrics and sang them aloud. I danced and danced until the very last note when I stood perfectly still, except for my chest that rose and fell with each labored breath.

The applause startled me, but I felt better. It was over. I had survived, and maybe only the studio audience had noticed that tiny blip in the beginning. Either way, I was going to take this up with the producer as soon as I saw her.

"And we're off the air for commercial," the stage director shouted. I waved goodbye to the audience, pointing to those who stood up, acknowledging how much their support meant to me, and then I walked off the floor toward the hallway in search of the producer.

"Maria," I called when I saw her speaking to two other people in a circle. She turned around and tucked her hair behind her ear. "What happened?" I asked.

"I'm so sorry, Hailey. That's never happened before. I'm looking into it, but I don't have an answer for you right now."

Really? The only time the track messes up and it happens to me? I blew out a frustrated breath, but nodded. "All right. I'll just go out there and explain to Harriet and the audience that I'm not feeling a hundred percent, but I'd love to come back again when I've kicked this cold. I'm sure they'll understand."

Maria tapped her pen against the clipboard. "Um… about that," she smiled awkwardly. "We have this new segment that's a big hit with the audience. It's like an interactive game. We scheduled it right after the commercial. So, we won't have time for a sit-down with you and Harriet. Not today. But you can come back another time. I'll work it out with Frankie."

Someone called her name, and she held up her hand. "I'll be right there. Sorry, Hailey. Got to go. Great job out there!" And then she turned and walked away.

I closed my eyes, breathing through a surge of frustration. Let it go, Hailey. It wasn't a big deal. It's not the end of the world.

Frankie rushed over to me and hugged me. "How are you doing, baby?"

"I'm a little upset I won't be sitting down with Harriet," I said.

"I know. I just heard, too. That's bullshit and I'm going to fix it. They're going to edit that part out before the episode airs or we'll never do the show again."

I nodded. "I just want to go home, get some rest, and forget about this."

Frankie patted my back just as my mother raced through the hallway. "Oh sweetie, you looked great out there."

I smiled weakly. "Thanks, Mom."

I turned to find Christian standing behind my mother. His face was blank, but his eyes searched mine. "You all right?"

I nodded. Drained from the performance, I could hardly get another word out.

He nodded once, reading the exhaustion on my face. "Ok, let's get you out of here."

But just as I was about to put my coat on, the expression on Ingrid's face stopped me. She pressed her lips together and typed furiously on her phone. She flipped her hair, smiled, and then bit her lip after a new message pinged back.

"What's happening?" I asked, zipping up my jacket.

"Nothing. Nothing for you to worry about," she said quickly, and I narrowed my eyes.

"Ingrid, are you working on my social media right now?"

"Yes," she answered, still not looking up from her phone.

"Well, then I want to know. What are they talking about?"

"Um… your performance."

"But that hasn't aired yet. We just taped it."

"I went live for your performance."

I closed my eyes. I'd forgotten about that. " Shit, " I muttered under my breath. "Delete the post. Now."

"I'm trying," said Ingrid.

"What are they saying?"

Ingrid pressed her lips together again. "They're calling you a fraud, saying your whole album must be fake."

I inhaled sharply and squeezed my fists. I'd worked so hard for this break and because of some technical blip and some stupid cold, one of the biggest opportunities of my career just got flushed down the toilet.

This day couldn't get any worse.

I stormed out of the studio and toward my car. "Sweetheart, wait!" my mother called, but I didn't stop. If I did, I would lose it if she tried to put her arms around me and comfort me. I would break down in her arms like a child. And then what would people think? That I wasn't mature enough? That I couldn't handle this business? No. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

A heavy footfall followed me outside and when he reached my side, Christian passed me the keys to my car. I inhaled and smiled. That was exactly what I needed. The roar of the engine under my seat and my foot on the gas pedal. "Let's go," I said, and Christian climbed into the passenger seat next to me.

I peeled out of the studio lot and took the back roads to the hills. Concentrating on the road helped me forget who I was for precious minutes. Long enough to control my pulse and anger. I'd overcome terrible recitals, bullies at school, and rejection after rejection. I would overcome this, too.

I pulled into my garage and raced into my house, throwing my jacket onto the floor. "Trey!" I shouted, kicking off my heels. "Trey, where are you?"

I needed comforting. Despite my tough attitude at the studio with my mom, in the safety of my home, I wanted to finally break down and be comforted in the arms of someone who loved me.

I ran into the bedroom. The sheets were messed up, the duvet was on the floor, and his clothes were gone. "Trey?"

I jogged into the kitchen, but he wasn't there. I peeked through the windows at the pool. The water sat as still as a lake and there was nobody in any of the lounge chairs.

"He left?" I asked no one in particular, but Christian answered.

"Call him. He should know what you're going through. He'll want to be here for you."

I nodded and dialed Trey's number. It rang several times, and I nearly hung up when he finally answered.

"Trey, hey, it's me."

"Hi, Hailey." His voice sounded off. Distant.

"Where are you?"

There was noise in the background, the clinking of metal. "I'm at the gym with the boys."

"Oh. Um… do you mind cutting your workout short? I need you right now." I ran a hand through my hair. "The taping didn't go so well—"

"I know. It's blowing up all over the internet. People are commenting on my page. My publicist is freaking out."

"Shit, Trey. I'm sorry about that. Why don't you come over and we can figure this out together?"

Someone was talking beside Trey but I couldn't make out the voice. "Yeah, yeah. I know," Trey whispered harshly.

My eyes caught Christian's and although I knew he shouldn't be listening to this conversation, I couldn't turn away. "Trey? You still there?"

"Yeah. I'm here," then a sigh. "Look, Hailey. We should take a break for a little while. I can't be seen with you right now."

"What?" My heart stopped. "What are you talking about?"

"There's a lot of heat coming your way and until it cools off a bit, I should stay away from it. My career's just taking off and it won't be a good look if I get associated with any lip-syncing scandal."

I squeezed my fists, my long fingernails nearly breaking through the skin. I wanted to inflict the pain on him, not on me.

"I didn't lip-sync on my album. It was just this one time because I got this stupid cold. And I got it from you, you jerk."

"Hey," he shot back. "Don't blame this on me. You're just upset right now. I get it, so I won't take this personally. We'll talk soon, babe. Got to go. Bye." The line went dead, and I stared at the black screen. What the hell just happened? Was that a break-up? Or a break?

"Fuck him."

I blinked, shocked by the frustration in Christian's voice. I'd nearly forgotten he was standing not three feet away from me and had heard everything.

I paced my living room and stared up at the ceiling, wishing the tears wouldn't fall. How could one mistake cost this much? This couldn't be happening.

I fell onto the couch and dropped my head into my hands.

Christian stood in front of me. I saw his Italian leather shoes before I heard his voice. "Let's go for a ride. Get out of here for a bit." He tossed me the keys. "You drive."

I closed my eyes and wanted to just stay home and pretend this day never happened. Wake up from a nap and think it was all just a bad dream. But there was no use. And staying here feeling sorry for myself wasn't working.

I nodded and pushed myself off the couch. "Let's go."

Not bothering to find other shoes, I slipped on my three-inch gold heels and climbed back into my car. I pulled out of the driveway and turned down the winding roads. "Where should we go?"

He looked out the window and down the hill. "Let's go to Malibu. I haven't been there in a while."

I smiled. I loved driving along the coast. It was the perfect plan.

My foot pressed down on the gas pedal and I shifted gears, the movement pressed my back against the leather seat. My heart soared.

The adrenaline boost made me smile, and I grabbed my sunglasses and put them on. Pressing a button, I opened the convertible roof and shook out my hair. Christian tossed me a rare smile, one filled with pride. I'd never seen the look on him before. It made me feel warm inside.

We didn't speak, just let the wind take over any conversation. It soothed me, invigorated me, and helped me forget. Miraculously, there wasn't any traffic along the coast, just a few campers parked along the side of the road.

"Have you ever just wanted to travel the country in an RV?" I asked.

"My father did that with us one summer. We camped in parks across the country from the east coast to the west. It's one of my happiest memories. It was the summer before he left for Iraq. Then we saw a lot less of him."

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be," he chuckled. "I was glad of it at the time. My father was a drill sergeant. And I mean that in every way. He inspected my room, made sure I washed my hands, and excused myself from the table. I had chores that had to be done by a specific date and time and don't get me started on homework. That was a constant argument between the two of us."

I found a parking spot just off the highway and pulled over. "Mind if we walk the beach for a bit? I haven't done that since I got to L.A. three years ago."

"Really? That's a long time not to go to the beach when you live right by it."

I pulled off my heels and threw them in the backseat of my car, but before I could take a step onto the hot pavement, Christian was there. "Whoa, you could cut or burn your skin. You can't walk barefoot."

"I can't walk in the sand in those heels either," I said.

He rubbed his lips and then nodded. "All right." He bent his knees and grabbed me by the waist, lifting me off the ground. I yelped, but held onto his shoulders as he walked us toward the rocks by the highway. He set me down on one of the rocks. "Wait here." Then he jumped down onto the beach, picked me up from the waist, turned, and settled me down onto the brown sand. "There. That's better."

I wiggled my toes in the sand and smiled. "Yes," I sighed. "Much better."