Chapter Twenty-Eight. Luna #3
“You’re not going to lose it. You’re going to come out of this stronger than ever because the songs you’re writing are smashing, as the Brits say.” Riley breaks into a horrible British accent on the last few words, and I can’t help but crack a smile.
“They are brill, aren’t they?” I say, attempting my own British accent.
Riley snorts. “As long as you don’t do that, then yes, they absolutely are.”
Ten minutes later I walk onstage, my heart pounding, sweating through my sequined bodysuit.
And am greeted by a round of applause so momentous, I take my earpiece out for a moment to listen to it as I stride to the front of the stage.
There’s not one empty seat in sight, and I think Riley was right: I think the crowd is more excited to see me than usual.
I wave, and people scream even louder. I read a few of the signs as I wait for the applause to die down, and relief courses through me.
All the normal ones are here. But I also spot several referencing the past week, and instead of calling me a home-wrecker or a slut or something horrible, they’re actually nice.
A lot of them incorporate pride flags, at least two have pictures of U-Hauls, and one says WELCOME TO THE TEAM and has a jersey that reads THE GIRLS AND THE GAYS.
I put my earpiece back in and lift my mic to my mouth. “Thank you all for being here tonight. I’m not going to lie to you: I was a little nervous this evening. But the love you all bring is absolutely overwhelming. You’re the best. And as a thank-you, I maaaaay just have some new music for you.”
The crowd absolutely loses it. I go into my regular sets, and everything goes as smoothly as ever.
I’m hitting my marks, the energy is amazing, and I’m riding the high of performing.
When it’s finally time for the surprise songs, I run backstage to get my guitar and change.
For this new song, I’m wearing a new outfit, and instead of a sparkly jumpsuit or a sweeping ball gown, it’s a slightly elevated version of what I wore on my last tour and the outfits that girls in the audience are wearing.
It’s a flowy white skirt, with cowboy boots—albeit bedazzled cowboy boots—and a tank top.
I’m going back to my roots with this song, my distinctive folk-pop sound instead of the pop tones of my recent singles, and I wanted the costume to feel like a homecoming too.
I flag Ashley over to the huddle of dancers helping dress me as I sip water. “I want to play two songs,” I say quickly. “The planned one and the demo.”
Ashley’s eyes narrow. “Once you sing it, it’s harder to make edits.”
“They’re so supportive. I don’t want to just give them that. I want to be proud so that they know they can be too.”
I wait for Ashley’s response. I want her approval, I want her to tell me I’m right.
I want to start going with my gut, but when I see the doubt written all over her face, I start to second-guess my own instincts.
“It’s up to you, Luna,” she says. “I support whatever you want to do. I don’t know if it’s a good idea or not.
I didn’t game this one out.” She purses her lips. “But the crowd … the response is good.”
“It is,” I agree. I don’t want to let them down when they’re supporting me every step of the way here.
I take my guitar and walk back out there, still not knowing what I’m going to do.
As soon as my outfit comes into view, the girls scream, and it gives me chills.
“Looks like a few of us are matching,” I joke, and the crowd cheers.
I look out at this sea of girls that see me, the real me right now, and I can’t believe I’m here.
I want to be brave and bold and stand up proudly and scream my feelings for Riley from the rooftops.
To claim making my music the way I want to.
I want to do what would make my mom proud.
But at the same time, I’ve made it this far by following all of our carefully laid plans.
I look at the VIP tent and see Riley standing there, watching me.
When I look at her, she leans out and blows me a kiss. I don’t know what to do. So I sing.
I sing “Were You Ever Really Here?” live for the first time ever, and it’s so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.
I pour everything into the song and let it be a slightly more emotional version than what I released yesterday.
When I finish, it’s like there’s a collective intake of breath from the crowd.
And then all these women start cheering.
I take the mic off the stand and hold it to my mouth. “Thank you all. I—It’s been a tough few days. But thank you for believing in me, even before I’ve said my piece. But I’ll tell you what actually matters. I’ve found someone who really, most definitely is here. And she’s incredible.”
From the way the audience reacts, you would have thought I just gave them each a million dollars. I don’t sing “I Kissed Her First.” I’m torn and afraid of making a mistake when all of this is so new. But I’m glad that I said something.