Chapter 48
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Lucy
My heart’s not in it tonight. I’ve barely heard from Nash in the last two days.
I’m tired. I’m lonely. And, I never thought I’d say it, but Sandro René just isn’t that great.
His music all sounds the same. Don’t get me wrong.
He’s a great performer and when you’re in need of a pick me up, he’s great.
But there’s no depth to his lyrics. It’s just sounds, rhythms, and vague ideas.
Or maybe I’m just grumpy.
“Dancers! We’re at places in ten!”
A ripple of pre-show excitement rolls through my compatriots, skipping over me completely. Not a good sign. I stretch my arms overhead, breathing deeply, then jog in place, shaking my hands. This show’s hard when I’m amped. It’ll be brutal if this is all the energy I can muster.
“Come on, Lu. Dig deep. Humble perseverance,” I murmur, smiling sadly as I think back to the day Nash said that.
Back when I was determined to rehab this damn ankle no matter the cost, so I could be exactly where I am now.
It’s only been a couple months since then, but so much has happened, so much has changed, I can’t believe I’m the same woman in the memory.
Dani McGee, the dancer who sleeps in the bunk across from me, skips by and smacks my hip. “Tonight’s gonna slap. Callin’ it now.”
Her grin is annoyingly infectious. “Yeah?”
“You don’t feel it? The vibes are immaculate.
Something big’s gonna happen.” She tugs at the high-necked, always too tight collar made from the scratchiest material ever invented, a costume choice we all decided was a ploy by Sandro to keep us in our place.
A seam audibly snaps and the entire top sags off her shoulders as Dani’s eyes go wide.
“Okay, well, that’s not gonna work,” she squeaks. “Do I have time to hit wardrobe?”
“Final check,” someone calls. “Five minutes to show. Places, dancers!”
Dani freezes, a deer in the wild catching the hunter’s scent. “I don’t have time.”
“You also don’t have a functioning top. You can’t dance like that.” I motion frantically toward the hallway. “Run, babe, run! Manifest a miracle!”
Dani squeaks again, then scampers off, clutching her costume in place. Hopefully whatever they do will be secure enough to hold until the first costume change. I make my way to the wings and find my place, still lacking enthusiasm. The crowd sounds wound up. Maybe I’ll be able to feed off them.
“Standby for blackout. Sandro to wings. Dancers, standby.”
I close my eyes and picture Nash’s face, sitting in the front row, staring up at me with pride and love and that something that always made me feel seen and understood and wanted.
It’s a ritual I started at my first show, when I was so nervous I didn’t think I could go on.
Somehow, seeing his face helped me find the courage I needed.
Since then, it’s been my calming ritual.
My prayer, if you will. It brings me peace.
And tonight? That peace comes with a glimmer of expectation that grows and grows until I have to open my eyes and remind myself Nash won’t actually be out there. Which is a shame, because the more time I spend on tour, the more I know that wherever he is, that’s where I want to be.
Dani skids to a stop beside me, eyes wide, energy frazzled. “If this seam pops, we’re going viral for the wrong reasons.” She lifts her chin to reveal a franken-stitch holding the torn seam together. “They didn’t even have time to yell at me.”
“Blackout in five, four, three…”
We mentally finish the count and the lights blink out for us, then on for the audience.
Screams erupt as the opening rhythm to Sandro’s latest hit thunders over the speakers, then triple in force when his spotlight flicks on, revealing him coming up from beneath the stage on aerial rigging, singing his heart out.
It’s always a relief to see him pull it off without a hitch.
For one, I’d hate to see him hurt. For two?
I get hooked into the lines during one of the songs at the end of the set.
If he’s safe, I will be too. I have just enough time to finish the thought and then, I step onstage.
Sandro’s in rare form again, though I’m starting to think the man’s just made to perform. The crowd is enthused. I smile out to them as I cross from stage right to center and…
What the hell?
That man looks just like Nash.
So much so that I stutter step, causing Dani to bump into me.
She meets my eyes with a question as we head upstage, backs to the audience.
I grimace quickly, then refresh my smile as we turn to the crowd again.
I’m on the other side of the stage, so I can’t see the man, but wow… that looked just like him.
I’d like to say I shake it off and regain my focus.
That I’m one with the other dancers, with the music, with the heart and soul of the show, but I’m constantly scanning the front row, waiting to cross to the other side of the stage for another glimpse of the doppelganger.
I trip on the damn riser and almost jump ahead four counts in the choreography but manage to recover.
Kind of.
If I wasn’t feeling it before, I’m definitely not feeling it now. Something about making mistake after mistake just ruins the mood.
Finally, the man comes into view again and…
THAT’S NASH.
THAT’S ACTUALLY NASH.
Wearing a concert tee. And ballcap. Standing. Cheering. Singing along??
His eyes are locked on me, filled with pride and longing and wanting, and all the energy I needed zooms through my heart, sizzles through my veins, and meets the music head on. I dance like I never have before, joy winging through me.
“What was that?” Dani asks, panting as we dash offstage for our quick change. “Did your costume rip too?”
I shake my head, breathless. “Boyfriend’s here.”
She grins, but then she’s gone, her dressers ripping through the franken-stitch to get her out of her costume and into another while I rush to get strapped into the flying harness.
The techs check the rigging and cables, then check the lines again before giving the all clear.
I focus on my breathing, doing my best to calm down before I’m hoisted onstage for an aerial kung fu battle with Sandro, complete with the one-kneed superhero landing and a laser light show for effects.
I sell the hell out of it and the crowd loses their minds.
The rest of the show passes in a blur. I catch Nash’s eyes whenever I can, which is easy because he’s never not looking at me.
As soon as the show ends, I race to the dressing room to find my phone.
Tell me I wasn’t hallucinating
Tell me that was you
Tell me you’re here
Nash
WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU KNEW KUNG FU???
My heart soars and I swear, if I smile any harder, my face might break. I can’t believe he’s here. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me. Here I feared his silence meant he was getting tired of me, thinking of breaking up with me. Instead, he’s here!
Let me find security so they can get you backstage
I’m so excited I don’t know what to do with myself
Lucky for you, I know exactly what I want to do with you