Chapter 36 Taevin
Now
I’ve never had to battle stage fright, it’s just not something I’ve ever had to deal with. Being on stage has always felt like a second home to me, a place that fills my cup and soothes my soul.
Tonight that feeling of nostalgia has been robbed from me.
Nothing feels right.
Every little thing down to the last detail feels off.
For starters, I shouldn’t even be performing in front of a live audience while secretly battling cancer and going through chemotherapy.
Then there’s the fact that I’m wearing a wig that is supposed to be an exact replica of my pre-cancer hairstyle, long, inky black waves that come down to just above my waist.
But that wig won’t grow back my eyebrows.
My makeup artist, Elsie, had to draw them back in, and while it might not be obvious to others, I can’t stop staring at the difference.
Nor will it magically make my once-long eyelashes suddenly reappear.
I’ve never had to wear fake eyelashes, but with the sparse amount I have left, Elsie suggested I add that to my makeup routine for tonight’s performance so I’ll look somewhat like my normal self.
Well, she didn’t say that, Elsie would never, but I sure as hell don’t look like myself.
Throughout treatments, I’ve not only lost nearly every hair on my body and scalp, but I’ve also lost nearly twenty pounds I didn’t have to lose in the first place. I’m a shell of the woman I once was.
And what Kyle doesn’t understand, what he refused to listen to me on, was that this performance won’t curb the media’s interest, it’ll only fuel their assumptions that I was in a rehab facility.
I look like I’m clearly unwell. But it’s not like the media will assume it’s because I have cancer. No, they’re going to spin every headline to make it look like I’m an addict spiraling out of control.
And even though I know the truth, as do the people closest to me, it’s the young girls and women who look up to me that I’m most upset about.
The news stories ultimately don’t affect me, but the way I’m perceived by those little girls who idolize me, girls like Cadence and Gemma, yeah, that’s the shitty part that keeps me up at night.
I stand from the chair in my dressing room and bend over the vanity table to take a closer look in the mirror. Adjusting my wig ever so slightly, I sigh in defeat at the reflection staring back at me before grabbing my signature deep berry lipstain and coating my lips with it.
My armor for the night.
If I try to look like my old self, maybe I’ll start feeling some semblance of the woman I once was before cancer robbed nearly everything from her.
There’s a quick knock before my dressing room door opens and Kyle steps inside with a far too enthusiastic smile on his face.
“There’s my superstar! God, I think this is the longest we’ve gone without seeing each other since we first met.”
That is oddly surprising, even though it shouldn’t be.
I guess I hadn’t realized how deeply he’d been ingrained in my life.
The past several months of distance between the two of us has been good for me.
I haven’t been constantly badgered for more songs or berated for what I chose to wear.
In short, I guess I hadn’t realized how badly things had spiraled between us until I got away from Kyle on a daily basis.
“Sure, come right in I guess,” I murmur under my breath, unfortunately not quiet enough for Kyle not to overhear.
“Oh, come on. It’s not like I haven’t pretty much seen it all over the years.”
Well, that’s . . . unsettling. No, he hasn’t pretty much seen it all. At least, not that I can recall.
The unsettled feeling mixes with the already churning doubt I’ve been feeling about Kyle more and more as of late.
Now that we’ve had time apart, the small things I used to think he did to be protective or were just part of him “doing his job,” I’m seeing them through a different lens.
Instead of looking out for me, I’m pretty sure he was just trying to control my every move.
They say hindsight is 20/20, and things are definitely coming into focus that were a blur early on in my career.
My first record deal, for one—the label had full creative control over my first three albums, and I was expected to produce and release them at an unreasonable speed.
Especially considering the fact that I was touring for eleven months at a time with only two months off between, in which time I was expected to be writing, recording, and performing smaller gigs.
And behind the scenes, Kyle was my puppeteer pulling the strings and stretching me in all directions. I was a candle burning at both ends until this diagnosis forced me to slow down.
Now that I have, everything I thought about my career and aspirations has changed.
I’ve decided that if and when I win this fight, I’m going to live my life differently. My priorities have shifted, and I want nothing more than to soak in my time on this earth with those I love most.
Jackson. Ryan. My father, who I’ve thankfully reconnected with. My newfound friends. And hopefully one day, a family of our own.
“Well, I would appreciate it if you knocked moving forward,” I inform Kyle, my tone firm as I narrow my gaze on him to make sure what I’ve said sinks in.
Apparently I hit my mark because Kyle’s hands shoot up in surrender. “Knock. Got it.”
He moves across the small space until he’s standing beside me. “Can I have a hug, or is that too much to ask for?”
I roll my eyes at the condescending edge to his question, and cross my arms in silent reply.
“What’s gotten into you, Taevin? I’m worried about you,” Kyle says, now sounding genuinely concerned.
“Oh, really? That’s rich. You’re all of a sudden worried about me?
Yet, when I was recovering from a major surgery and then had several chemotherapy sessions, where were you?
Where was your concern then? And now, here I am having to perform for a live audience while still receiving treatment after you forced my hand. ”
I’m so pissed at him right now my body quakes with anger and I have to ball my hands into fists to keep him from noticing.
He rears back as if he’s been slapped. Good. I’m glad to see that what I’ve said has affected him. I hope he realizes what he’s done by forcing me to be here.
“Taevin, you should know this decision was out of my hands. As for giving you space while you had surgery and began treatments, I thought that was what you wanted. You ran off to Minnesota with your estranged husband, dismissing both Braidy and myself. Excuse me for misunderstanding what it is you wanted from me.”
I scoff and shake my head. “Is that your backwards way of apologizing?”
“Did it sound like an apology?” he retorts in a harsh tone he’s never used toward me.
“No, it didn’t,” I grit out.
“Good, because it wasn’t one. Now, I’ll leave you to get ready to go on stage.
Hopefully everything goes off without a hitch since you missed your sound check earlier.
Honestly, Taevin”—he shakes his head—“I’m not sure what’s gotten into you but you need to get it together.
I shouldn’t need to remind you how important tonight’s performance is to the label. ”
Without giving me a chance to rebuttal, he turns and leaves the dressing room.
Uncrossing my arms, I attempt to shake out the anger and nerves. I turn around and place my hands on the edge of the vanity counter. Looking up at my reflection, I take one final deep breath before giving myself a pep talk.
“You can do this. It’s one song. Get it together then go out on stage and shine.”
With one final check of my wig, I adjust my necklaces and give myself a once over.
I’m wearing a black dress with a black, long-sleeve overlay that has rhinestones adorning the mesh fabric.
It’s not the same dress Jax picked out for the Summer Stampede, since that one was too big on me now, but it’s close enough.
Even though he can’t be here with me tonight, I wanted to feel him here with me. I’m thankful Walker was able to join me, though I’m regretting sending her to her seats so she could watch the other performers. She would’ve been the perfect shield from Kyle.
What the hell has gotten into him? I hardly recognize him anymore.
Suddenly, a sharp pain in my stomach has me doubling over to grab the counter.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
What am I going to do if this happens while I’m on stage?
It won’t. It’s one song. You’ll be fine.
I try and fail to quiet the doubts swirling in my mind. Because what if I won’t be fine? What if I’m breaking my promise to Jackson?
I’m just so fucking exhausted.
My body already feels like it’s gone ten rounds in a boxing ring. Every chemo session has left me so weak and tired, most days it’s hard for me to even get out of bed and move after.
I can feel my fight dwindling, though I would never dare admit that out loud.
A pounding on my dressing room door echoes off the walls and then a stagehand shouts, “You’re on in ten.”
That leaves me just enough time to get my in-ear monitors set and find Sterling. As much as I’d love to play my guitar myself tonight for my acoustic version of “Amazing Grace,” I just don’t have it in me.
Gripping the counter with all the strength I can muster, I breathe through the pain as I walk out the door that leads me toward the stage.
Just as I’ve finished placing my in-ear monitors, I’m announced by the host.
“And now, Nashville, help me in welcoming one of my favorite artists onstage—Taevin Gray!”
Cheers erupt, but just as I make my way onto the stage, I look back to see if Sterling is beside me and find he’s still backstage. When I give him a what the hell are you doing look, he just shakes his head and points behind me.
I turn slowly, and then from the opposite corner of the stage, Jackson emerges from the shadows. My heart hiccups in my chest at the sight of him in his white T-shirt and denim pants that mold to his thick thighs.
How is he here?