12. Hailey
CHAPTER 12
HAILEY
I sat with Rashida in the orchestra pit, frowning up at the stage with its pulleys and wires. “I don’t want to be a diva, but that was messed up.”
Rashida laughed. “Isn’t ‘diva’ your literal job description?”
I elbowed her. “You know what I mean.”
She took a bite of her sandwich and brushed crumbs off her lips. “You’re not being a Karen if you just say what’s wrong. Like, don’t go up there and scream at the stage crew, but if something’s off, tell them. That doesn’t make you a diva.”
I set down my own sandwich, my appetite gone. I sucked at confrontation. I always had. My palms got all sweaty and my pulse went haywire, and if I wasn’t careful, I’d start to cry. But if I didn’t step up, Mina would have to, and she’d already been busting her ass.
“If you don’t want to yell at them, I’ll do it for you,” Rashida said. “It was my foot you stomped on when you tripped on that step.”
I was tempted to let her, but this wasn’t her problem. So I finished my water and went up myself, and cast about trying to suss out who was in charge. I settled on a big woman in blue overalls, checking off tasks on her beat-up clipboard.
“Um, excuse me?”
She didn’t look up. I cleared my throat.
“Excuse me, ma’am?”
She glanced at me, then past me, then did a double take. “Wait, are you her? You are, aren’t you? You’re Hailey Frye. Oh, my God, my kids love you.”
“Thank you,” I said, feeling like an ass. “I’m sorry to bother you, but, uh, what’s your name?”
“I’m Gloria.” She stuck out her hand. “I heard you had an incident with a prop out of place?”
Okay, so maybe she was going to make this easy. “The steps for ‘Night Dancing.’ They need to be cleared out before ‘Stars on Fire,’ but somehow they weren’t, and yeah. I tripped.”
Gloria’s eyes narrowed. “Were you hurt?”
“No, no, don’t worry. Everything’s fine. It’s just, there’s a few things — it’s not just the steps. The lighting was running a little behind, and when I did my entrance, I ran off the tracks.”
“What, on your dirt bike?”
“It’s not a big deal.” My armpits prickled as Gloria’s tone turned sharp, and my own voice jumped up an octave. I breathed deep to calm myself and tried again. “I mean, it’s not like I was going that fast. But there’s dancers right there, and that thing is heavy. If I hit someone, they could get hurt. So I wanted to ask, could you talk to your crew?”
Gloria’s lips tightened, and I couldn’t tell if she was angry, or if she was considering what I’d just said. Had I been too pushy? I didn’t think so.
“Sorry,” I said. “But I thought I should?—”
“Make up a list of everything wrong, and I’ll make sure it’s set right for you. My guarantee.” Gloria’s smile was back, and I sagged with relief.
“Thank you. I’ll do that. Thank you so much.”
I shook as I sat and wrote my short list, the AC freezing the sweat on my neck. Today had been a disaster right from the start, from my missed wakeup call to Constance out sick. Mina was off dealing with our next venue, and as for Jackson, he’d been weird for days. He’d been off with me since my show in Seattle, since I’d asked for his help with my new song. Which, fair enough. It was kind of about him. And we had almost kissed before Mina barged in. But we were both adults, and both off the clock. What was so wrong about one little kiss?
I squinted into the shadows where I’d last seen him, up at the back of the hall, near the door. But he wasn’t there now. Nobody was. Even Rashida had gone back to her crew. What I needed right now was someone to vent to. Someone to soak up my burgeoning nerves. But the dance and stage crews lived for their gossip, and Mina was busy. And Jackson was… ugh. Half my frustration was thanks to him.
I finished my list and went looking for Gloria, but she’d gone to lunch, so I left it with her assistant. We ran one more time through our trickiest steps, then Jackson came to escort me back to my suite. I’d hoped it’d be the two of us in the back of the limo, but two of his men got in. Had he brought a buffer? Technically, I knew they’d all signed NDAs. I could say or do anything, and they couldn’t talk. But Mina had drilled into me, don’t trust NDAs. People talk anyway, and then it’s too late. So I sat with my lips zipped, frustration building, all the way through the city to our hotel.
“Take this,” Jackson said, as we pulled up. He held out a bag to me, and my stupid heart leaped. Then I looked inside, and it was a sports drink. Jackson pointed. “Electrolytes.”
“Uh, yeah. Thanks.”
“You should get some sleep too, before tonight.”
I wanted to kick him, but I smiled instead. “Thanks, Johnson. That’s kind of you.”
I’d hoped the wrong name would get some reaction, but all it got was a half-snort from one of his men. Then they were striding out, clearing our way. Jackson hurried me inside and up to my suite. I tried one more time to talk on the way, but he kept his answers short, mostly grunts. He swept my suite for intruders, then waved me inside.
“Good luck tonight.”
“Yeah, thanks. I?—”
“I need to go meet with the venue’s security.”
I wanted to call after him, to have it out, but he had his job to do and I had mine. I’d yell at him later, after the show.
I had a bad feeling, waiting backstage. The halls felt too busy, too noisy, crews running back and forth from the stage. I glanced back at Mina.
“What’s going on?”
Ed turned my face back. “Stop moving around.”
“Something’s not right out there. What’s all that noise?”
Mina set down her phone and came to stand by me. “Relax,” she said, and set her hand on my shoulder. She massaged it a moment, then turned away. “The lighting was off, so the stage crew fixed that. Everything’s fine now, so try and breathe.”
“I need to touch up your lips now.” Ed tilted my chin. “You done eating and drinking?”
I nodded yes.
“Okay, now hold still.”
I tried to hold still as he brushed on thick glitter, but his assistants kept pulling my hair. All I wanted to do was get out onstage. Once I got started, I’d be okay. Once I was out there in my element. I’d lose myself in the music and this feeling would fade, this deep, niggling sense of something not right.
“I said, hold still. ”
I sat like a statue while my nervous guts churned. Ed finished my lips and blotted my face.
“You’re sweating like crazy. It’s too hot back here. Someone get out there and check the AC!”
I heard someone leave, but they didn’t come back. Soon, Mina’s phone buzzed, and she waved Ed away.
“Hailey? You ready?”
“Yeah.”
“Then let’s go.”
I headed back to my dirt bike, parked on its rails. On our run-through, it had slid off the end. What if this time, it flew straight off the stage? Into the audience, those cheering kids? But Gloria had given me her guarantee.
“Just nerves,” I told myself. “Deep breaths. It’s fine.”
Mina touched my arm. “Hey. You okay?”
I couldn’t answer. My throat was too tight. But I swung my leg over the back of my bike. I took a breath, then another, then I flashed the thumbs-up. That was the signal, and the chains slammed taut, propelling the bike down its short track. Smoke and sparks burst from my tailpipe and handlebars. Spotlights lit up, so hot my eyes stung. Fountain flares burst, and then I was safe, Rashida handing me off the back of my bike. Jen slung my guitar strap around my neck. The audience screamed, and I laughed with relief. I waved, and my excitement wasn’t for show. Gloria had come through for me, and we were all safe. I could sing with no worries. I could sing all night. Nothing felt better than singing all night.
I breezed through my performance, through “Smug” and “Night Dancing.” Through “Stars on Fire,” with its complex dance steps. I didn’t trip over anything, and the lights all stayed on. I’d been stressing for nothing.
By the finale, I was floating on air, high on the music and the screaming crowd. It felt great to see them waving their phones. To hear them sing along to the chorus of “Beeline.” Then it was time for my big exit, swept off the stage on a fairy-lit swing. The audience moaned as I swung up and out, stretching up, trying to grasp at my legs. I blew kisses down to them, leaning way out. Then it happened: I felt a jolt. I dipped into the backswing and somebody screamed, and then I was dangling over the stage, flailing one-handed. And then I fell.
I couldn’t have fallen much more than five or six feet. But it was far enough I felt my guts drop. Far enough I heard voices screaming my name. I saw Jen lunge for me, too slow. Too late. I slammed down on my ankle, then on my ass, and the swing spun around and smacked me in the head. Jackson caught it before it could hit me again, and crouched down beside me.
“Don’t move. You’re okay.”
I felt like a kid in that post-wipeout shock, trying to pick whether to laugh or to cry. My ass hurt. My foot hurt. But I was… okay?
“I think I can stand.”
Jackson said something, but the crowd drowned him out. I put my hand on his shoulder and heaved myself up. My right ankle twinged when I tested my weight, but only a small twinge. I was all good.
“I’m good,” I called out, but the crowd was too loud. Someone thrust a microphone into my hand. “ I’m okay, ” I yelled, and the whole room went wild. They were chanting my name, tossing flowers at the stage, holding their arms out to give me mock-hugs. I held mine out in turn, to hug them all back.
“I love you!”
The crowd cheered. I swayed, lightheaded. Jackson caught me and steadied me, but I brushed him off. I was halfway delirious, high on my shock. High beyond pain, like I could go all night. I sailed through my encore, then another encore, and I’d have gone for a third, but my adrenaline quit. Suddenly, I was trembling, about to throw up, tears in my eyes and my whole body throbbing. I dropped to one knee, then staggered upright.
“I think, uh… I think…”
“Let’s get you backstage.” Jackson was there, and he slung his arm around me, half-supporting, half-carrying me down the steps. “That’s right, go easy. Keep your weight off that ankle.”
I was going to cry. My whole chest was hitching. My face was hot, my eyes welling up. I closed my eyes to hold the tears in. Blinked them back hard. Not in front of Jackson, in front of my crew. Not with the cameras lurking around.
“I’ll take her from here.” Mina took my free arm. She hauled me into my dressing room and shut Jackson out. Next thing I knew, she was up in my face. “What were you thinking? I mean, what the hell? ”
Only utter surprise kept me from blubbing. I stared instead, stunned, glassy-eyed. “What are you?—”
“The stage crew? The bike?”
I couldn’t make sense of what she was saying. It was like she was speaking a whole other language.
“Well? Nothing to say?”
“Uh… the bike was fine?”
Mina slapped her own forehead, a loud, sweaty smack . “You had problems with the staging, and you didn’t call me? You went to the stage manager all by yourself?”
“I thought?—”
“You didn’t think! Don’t you know that’s my job? There’s a reason you have me to handle these things, and that reason is, I follow up. I know if there’s one problem, there’s going to be others, and I know how to chase them down and make sure they’re fixed. Do you know how to do that?”
I opened my mouth, but Mina wasn’t done yelling.
“No, no, you don’t , because that’s not your job. And I can’t do mine if I’m not kept in the loop. I have to hear from your dancers after the fact?”
I bit my lip to keep it from trembling. I’d thought I was helping, handling the stage crew myself. Mina tugged at her hair, pulling it out to the sides.
“Do you not understand how bad this could’ve been? What if you’d fallen on someone, or if you’d been hurt? What if you are hurt? Let me see that leg.” She dropped down on her knees and pushed up my legging. My ankle was barely bruised, but my stomach lurched all the same. I closed my eyes, dizzy, as Mina prodded my foot.
“I’m all right,” I croaked. “Could you give me a minute?”
Mina looked like she wanted to yell some more. But she fixed me with a long look, then she stood up. “I’m going to look for the medics. You stay right there.”
I managed to hold on till she slammed the door, and even as her footsteps clicked down the hall. Then my ankle twinged again, and the dam broke, sobs bursting out of me, floods of salt tears. I sat there and ugly-cried till my lashes came off and plopped in my lap like a pair of wet spiders.