“Shy?” This place has to hold over two thousand people.
“I guess when you’re the best you can get away with only doing a few shows. That doesn’t mean she’s not shy. Something you know nothing about.” She gives me a playful hit with her elbow to my side. I don’t have a shy bone in my body. If I want to say something, I say it. If I want to do something, I do it. I really don’t give a shit what anyone thinks of me. It’s why being successful is so important to me. There’s no one to answer to but myself.
I did okay in life before I stumbled upon oil on my land. I struck black gold without even looking for it. I went from a cowboy to a billionaire in the blink of an eye. It doesn’t matter how much money I have, I’ll never stop being a cowboy. I still favor getting dirty out in the fields more than a boardroom.
“She dances?”
My mom takes her seat. I follow suit, thinking their chairs are too damn small. It is still hard to believe that someone pays this much to see someone dance. Whether it’s with her clothes on or off, I’m still not interested. I don’t see the appeal but I know saying that out loud will only get me a scolding from my mom so I keep that thought to myself.
“You can call it dance if you like. You just have to see her. She’s a violinist too. She is truly gifted.” Lovely. There is going to be music too. I feel a headache coming on already. “You better smile. We’re in the front row. Don’t you dare give this girl that look of yours. Change your face to make it look accepting and open. I know it's hard for you.” My ribs should hurt from all the little jabs my mom has been giving me tonight.
“What look?”
My mom rolls her eyes at me trying to feign innocence. “I’ll whoop you in front of all these people. I don’t care.” I know she doesn't. She is better at the whole being social thing than I am. She could run in the inner circles when and if she wanted to.
“I know exactly who I got the attitude from.” I chuckle, making her laugh with me. A woman in all black works her way down to the front row, stopping to talk with each group of people. The lights overhead blink again but less this time, letting everyone know it's the final warning to take your seat. A few excited squeals ring out in the room from women in the audience.
“It’s almost time.”
“I can’t believe we got tickets.”
“She is breathtaking.” This time it’s a man I hear. I sit up a little straighter, feeling irritated. The woman in all black moves to stand in front of my mom and me. She shifts and I see a badge on her hip but my eyes flick to the gun she has mostly hidden within her suit coat.
“We request that you not get up during the show. That you wait for intermission.”
“Why?”
“That’s fine.” My mom elbows me again. “I read the note on the tickets.” The woman stops glaring at me to give my mom a warm smile.
“Thank you, ma’am.” She moves on to the next set of people.
“She stopped touring last year because someone jumped on stage and tried to grab her. It terrified her and now they take extra precautions at each show. It was the only way they could get her to come back.”
“What the hell?” No wonder that woman had a gun. Not that it’s uncommon here. It is Texas, after all.
Mom leans over closer to me. “Yeah, she cancelled the rest of her tour, it scared her so badly. Now she only has five shows this year. This is the last. People are saying she might not come back. That’s why the tickets are so hard to get.” More irritation that I can’t explain seeps into me. I lean back in my chair as the lights start to dim. My mom's face turns into a giant smile as the curtains pull back.
As always she is right. I am going to eat my words.2BunnyI stand backstage wringing my hands. I always get nervous before a show. I should be used to them. But I'll never get used to the people staring. Everyone’s eyes on me, watching my every move. Hanging on every note I produce with the bow on my violin. I always get lost up there once I begin but it’s the anticipation of it all and the silent parts that make me nervous. Even more so now after everything that went down.
“It’s fine, Bunny.” PJ moves to stand next to me. I wish I had a quarter of her moxie. She doesn't care who is watching her. In fact, she’ll often draw attention off me and on to her when she sees I’m growing uncomfortable. When I’m onstage is one of the only times she couldn't do that. “You’ll get on stage and everything else will melt away.” She pulls me into one of her tight hugs. “I’ve got your back. You’re going to kick ass. I promise.”