Chapter 42
TARA
"Tara, I took a peek and guess who's in the audience!" Mindy says, rushing into the dressing room.
“Who?”
“Your boss—the rockstar I met last night. Sitting front and center. I’m getting the sense he’s more than just your boss…”
Shrugging, I flash a smile at Lila. “He’s handsome, all right,” I say, forcing a sigh. “A girl can dream..."
But why would Cameron and Posey be here tonight after all that's happened? Miss Swain must have tipped them off that I was performing.
“And you know who else might be in the audience? Kenneth Kane, the classical music critic from the New York Times.”
My stomach flips. “I heard Mr. Rudin says that with every performance to keep us on our toes.”
“This time it may be true.” She squeezes my hand.
I nod and turn to examine myself in the mirror.
My reflection stops me cold. The elaborate costume makes me look like a stranger.
Someone glamorous, dangerous, alive.
I reach for the locket at my throat.
The metal is warm. Almost hot, like it’s pulsing against my skin.
“Daddy,” I whisper. “I made it.”
I can’t shake the thought that my father, wherever he is, knows his little girl is finally standing in the light.
I swipe at my cheeks, refusing to cry. I won’t let Jason’s poison or the tabloid headlines follow me here.
Not tonight.
Instead, I pull out my phone. Snap a selfie—costume, locket, eyes still shining with adrenaline. I send it to Zaza and Keesha with a simple caption: I've arrived.
I square my shoulders.
The nerves are still there, buzzing like bees under my skin, but they’re nothing compared to the fire in my chest.
The stagehand appears. “Places, everyone.”
The locket burns hotter, like it’s daring me to step back out and sing like my life depends on it.
And maybe it does.
I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.
I exhale, lift my chin.
Time to start the rest of my life.