Chapter Three
janae
March 8
After a successful showing at the gala last night, I was feeling myself. I’d stayed until the event was almost over because fans wanted to talk, take selfies, and tell me they still loved and supported me. My decision to attend was the best I had made in a very long time. The most important part was that no one, except for the stage production crew, knew that I was slated to perform. The reception at the gala eased my nerves on what to expect tonight.
I’d slept in and had a fantastic breakfast with my new team and the two cameramen following me on my journey back to the top. Del was the executive producer of the reality series that would begin airing a month after my last show, which would be in L.A., where I’d lived for the past seven years.
We’d finally made it to the dressing room of the smaller arena where rehearsal would take place. Tonight, we would be at the much larger stadium. The cameras were on and would remain filming until I needed privacy to change or when I had any personal time with people who hadn’t approved of being recorded.
GloRilla blasted while I readied for the rehearsal. Her similar brand of bravado and femininity always pumped me up.
“Thank God for a traveling glam squad.” I smiled as Frankie, the hair and makeup artist, applied my face, and Jeri, my stylist, reviewed my attire for the day. Three very different fits. A cropped hoodie and camouflage cargo pants for the rehearsal. A sparkly red pantsuit that fit like a second skin with a pearl-white Stetson for the show. A flowy, thin, yellow-strapped dress that barely draped my thighs for the after-party. And I’d be rocking a long red wig for rehearsal and the performance. I would be more subdued and sexy, slicking my hair back for the after-party.
“Are you sure you don’t want a variation on the red wig for the after-party? Maybe a short cut or a bob?” Frankie asked. She was a thirty-year-old, no-nonsense woman whom I’d clicked with during our interview via Zoom. She was professional yet friendly. I secretly hoped that we could be friends, too. Dr. K had told me I had to stop seeing women as the enemy if I wanted to develop stronger relationships with others. “I’ll probably wear the hat again, which is hot enough without a wig.” I checked my face in the mirror. “Girl, you’re talented. I almost don’t recognize myself.”
Del rushed into the staging area, dressed in his customary tailored suit with a cell permanently attached to his ear. He constantly frowned as if he expected only trouble, though he usually believed in the best of his clients. “Janae, we have little time to do the rehearsal. You were supposed to be on stage an hour ago.”
“Cash is the only guest for The Hollow Bones, and I don’t come on until forty minutes into the show.” I closed my eyes as Frankie added a gold, sparkly shadow. “They can’t possibly be ready for me yet.”
“Janae, they need you there for the entire rehearsal. I sent you the schedule. You’ve never rehearsed with Cash or The Hollow Bones.” His worried gaze traveled up and down. “You’re not even dressed?”
“I am literally on stage for ten minutes. I sing the hook for his latest hit, and then I go straight into ‘A Lonely Woman.’ Besides, no one told me I needed to be there the whole time.”
“If you read your actual schedule, then you would know,” he pointed out.
“Where did you send my schedule, Del? If it was my email, you know I never check it.” I stared at him in the reflection of the mirror.
“I also texted it to you.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t see it.”
My twenty-three-year-old stylist, Jeri, who already had one hundred thousand followers on IG, squealed as she passed me my first outfit. “You’re singing ‘A Lonely Woman’? That’s my jam. It was my anthem after my boyfriend cheated on me. That song got me through it.”
I dapped her hand. “Good way to kiss up to the boss.”
Del warned me, “Five minutes, Janae. That’s it.”
I winked at the cameraman who observed unobtrusively in the back of the small room. “Did you get that? I guarantee I will walk out there and stand around for the next two hours waiting for my spot. These things always take much longer than they plan for.”
I was so very wrong. When I approached the stage with Del and the cameraman, I heard raised, angry voices. I scanned the small area, and all the band members were in place, rehearsing. Landon held his electric guitar, Charles — I’d learned all their names after my unfortunate run-in with Landon the night before — played with the keys on his sax, Brian sat behind the drums, and Santiago tightened the strings on his acoustic guitar while everyone watched Cash and Cedrick argue.
Cedrick explained, “It’s not that big of a deal that she’s not here yet. Her part is so small and we need to practice after Janae leaves the stage anyway.”
“Small? This is motherfucking MILA, the kind of artist who turns a stage into a damn spectacle.”
Cedrick rubbed his temples. “Del swears this stripped-down set will work for her comeback. No dancers, no background vocals. Just her and the music.”
“She’s not even bringing background singers? Or dancers? This is a stadium show, not open mic night. She better hope her little comeback moment is enough.” Cash pointed at Cedrick. “It’s ridiculous that you can’t keep her in line.”
Cedrick slapped his hand. “It wasn’t my idea to ask her to perform. This is what she does. That’s all you and Del, bruh.”
Cash took a step back. “I didn’t think the bitch would be almost two hours late.”
Cedrick’s head jerked. “Wait…”
The camera captured their words and my reaction — hurt and embarrassment that quickly turned to anger. I stepped forward from the shadows. “Who the fuck you calling a bitch?”
Cash looked me up and down with disdain. “You.”
“The fuck.” I walked right up to him. “Don’t call me that.”
Cedrick growled. “Everyone chill. He shouldn’t have called you out of your name, but we don’t have time for your attitude when you’re wrong. Can we please run through the show?”
I closed my eyes, rattled by all the heated emotions warring for control.
“Now, ” Cedrick said before he strode to the keyboard. Once upon a time, I’d had a crush on him. That faded when I heard through the media that he discarded women like trash.
“Cash needs to apologize first,” I demanded. “I thought I had more time to get here. I didn’t know I was expected to be here for the entire rundown of the show. My bad. I still don’t deserve to be called out of my name.”
Cash shook his head. “I don’t apologize. You can get on with all that noise.”
My face burned. All the misogyny that I’d experienced while trying to make it, and then after I’d made it, and I still had to deal with this sexist bullshit.
Del stepped forward. “Please, Cash. She’s here now. Just apologize.”
“No.”
Del pleaded with me, “Can we just rehearse? You don’t have to like each other.”
“But I do deserve respect.” I lifted my chin.
The shimmering sounds of a guitar filled the stage area, and we all looked at Landon, who had his pick in his hand, playing Cash’s song leading into my intro. He looked at me with surprisingly kind eyes. “On you. We practice with or without his apology?”
“Fine. Let’s go.” I grabbed the mic off the stand.
Cash bellowed, “Thank you.”
I stuck up my middle finger at him, and everyone laughed except Cash as I prepared to take the stage.
Unfortunately, the tension returned shortly after. I was more rattled by the confrontation than I’d realized. I couldn’t find my groove. I missed my cue twice, and my voice cracked when I sang Cash’s hook. I even forgot a few lyrics to my own song. “Off my game” was a serious understatement.
“Are you kidding me right now?” Cash asked. “You show up late and can’t get your shit together.”
“Sorry, I got it. I swear I do,” I said, fighting hard not to show any tears. One thing I knew for sure was that these men, especially Cash, would not be moved by crying. They would see it as a sign of weakness, and I couldn’t afford to seem vulnerable.
“I wanted you specifically, and you’re not about to fuck up my show. This is my big moment.” He walked up to my face. “I’m glad I didn’t apologize.”
Although stunned by the contempt, I nodded rapidly. I gripped the mic stand and took calming breaths to avoid lashing out from the deep hurt of being demeaned again. Maybe I deserved to be called out of my name after being so late and giving a weak performance.
“Naw, Cash. We don’t roll like that. I should’ve stopped it earlier. If you don’t apologize to her right now, we’re not going on that stage together.” An angry and frustrated Landon approached with balled fists. My stomach churned. Cedrick jumped in between the two men, trying to push Landon back.
Cash, a hulk of a man compared to Landon, scoffed, “I told you, I don’t apologize.”
“Don’t touch me.” Landon shoved away from Cedrick and took another step toward Cash. “I don’t care what you do outside of here. Tell Janae you’re sorry, or we’re going on that stage without you.”
“You know you need me.”
“Wanna bet?” Landon said, turning to Del, who had been silent, standing next to the filming cameraman at the front of the stage. “Isn’t there a clause in the contract that we can refuse to play for an artist who doesn’t best rep The Hollow Bones?”
Del nodded.
Landon looked back at Cash. “That clause also says that we can replace the artist if we need to do so. We were invited to perform and chose you. We can easily say that Janae is replacing you tonight, and I don’t think Houston, her birth city, will mind at all.”
Cash cursed under his breath. When he looked at the rest of the band, they all stood behind Landon. Even Cedrick looked at Cash with folded arms, as if waiting for his apology.
As Cash stalked past me, he quietly said, “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” I asked, because I knew he wasn’t.
His shoulders drooped slightly. “Calling you a bitch. I was wrong.”
“Apology accepted.” I touched his forearm and softly promised, “And I will smash it tonight. I won’t mess up the show. I know this is your moment.”
Cash grudgingly said, “You better,” then walked away.
I stepped toward Landon to thank him for defending me, but he only shook his head before returning to his stand and packing up. The rest of the band followed his lead without saying another word. I’d disappointed everyone in this room, especially myself. Nausea assailed me, and I clutched my stomach, trying to keep the contents at bay. I couldn’t let them down tonight. I just couldn’t.
Del placed his arm around my shoulders as we left the stage area and whispered, “You better come through tonight like I know you can.”
I looked at the camera that followed me closely and bragged, “Watch me make all these men eat it tonight.”
I fingered my sobriety coin as I walked with my head held high back to my dressing room despite the mental beating I’d just taken. My nerves had gotten the best of me, and I couldn’t afford to mess up. I had to have something just in case I couldn’t calm my mind. I would only use if it were necessary . If I couldn’t walk out on that stage ready to kill it, then and only then would I break three years of a promise to myself. Three years. I’d spent three long years using prescribed instead of recreational drugs to control my moods until I stopped taking meds the day I signed on with Del. I believed I didn’t need anything but my sheer will and talent. I had been good, so good at fighting the darkness. I could and would do it again, even if it wasn’t tonight.
I clenched my hands. I wouldn’t mess this up. I wouldn’t be MILA again.
I paused at the door of my dressing room to put on my happy face, ignoring the weight of guilt that made holding my head up harder. I pretended the sadness that engulfed my heart was determination and grit as I greeted my glam squad with a wide smile. I had to be the best and do whatever I needed to do. My entire comeback depended on it.