My teeth dig into the dryness of my bottom lip. I’ve consumed an inadequate amount of water on purpose, and well, because I always forget to drink enough water. However, this time I didn’t want to end up having to pee when I was held hostage on the stage by the eyes of hundreds of people.
“Did you say we are sold out?” I ask, finally realizing the entirety of what Melanie just said.
“This actually isn’t our original venue.” Melanie beams, proud of her marketing. “There are about twelve hundred in the crowd today. I imagine most of them are your fans out there, Rachel.Once people heard that you would reveal your identity, tickets sold out in minutes. The website froze. I had to get IT on it to give us a larger bandwidth to accommodate the rush. Isn’t that amazing?”
I feel my stomach rumble in a more uncomfortable way than hunger. Suddenly, a stiff hand is on my shoulder. It’s cold, rigid, and when I glance over, I notice a polished, seemingly manicured, large hand. Even his cuticles seem to obey his command of perfection.
“Are you happy with your outfit choice now, Pumpkin?” Evan whispers in my ear.
I want to reply to the insult. I really, really do. But what he says has some truth. I suddenly do feel like a very large puffy pumpkin in my frilly, outlandish orange dress.
I’m about to be announced as the famed BarrettBeyondTheBadge.
What will my fans think? Am I what they expect?
I’ve been so obsessed with making sure I dug myself into Evan’s flesh like an irritating thorn that I forgot that people would be buying ticketsjust to see me.I thought a few would show up, but the fact that the website was bogged down because I am on this book tour is too much information to digest.
Before I can think of a reply for Evan, new hands that I don’t recognize are copping a feel beneath my dress.
“Excuse me!” I shriek.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the woman the hands belong to apologizes. “I’ve got to get your microphone fitted.”
Oh, right. The microphone. Because I’m about to be on stage in front of twelve hundred people in a sold-out venue.
After what feels like way too long of someone else pulling wires through my dress and around my body, I’m finally left alone. At least for a few seconds.
“Rachel!”
The scream bounces off the walls backstage and in a loud, boisterous, perfectly wonderful matching suit of lime green is Lily. Lily being Lily. A little over the top, a little too much, and like a hug you didn’t know you needed, or a pep talk that you most definitely did.
“Your dress!” Lily continues to scream. “I love it! What size do you wear? I mean, not because size matters, but because I totally want to borrow it!”
“You don’t think it’s a little…foolish? For the forum that is?” I ask honestly, turning my back to Evan so he hopefully can’t hear me. “Your brother thinks I look like a pumpkin.”
“I didnotsay that,” Evan amends swiftly. “I called you Pumpkin. There’s a difference.”
“You do not look like a pumpkin, and even if you did, it’s one of those cute pie pumpkins that everyone loves, just like everyone is going to love you. And remember, Evan is just bitter like the way he takes his coffee. If he truly believes you look like a pumpkin then he’s dressed up as the Grim Reaper,” Lily says before sticking her tongue out at her brother, revealing the sheen of a small piercing.
I don’t know whether Evan responds to his sister or not. I’m not looking at him and plan to ignore him until the stage. I need to breathe, to remember why I’m here, and that there are people here to see BarrettBeyondTheBadge. I don’t want to disappoint them. I am the romance. I’m the swoon. I’m all the frills, according to Evan. The stuff his stories doesn’t need, but that his readers obviously crave.
So, maybe, just maybe, I’m exactly who they expect after all.
“Five minutes!” Melanie announces.
Something is jumping on a trampoline inside of me, making me feel queasy. I wish I had one of those barf bags from the plane.
“Do you mind?” Lily questions, but I’m not sure what she’s asking.
“Mind what?” I ask.
Lily is holding a lip gloss that appears to have a peach shimmer and a clear elastic band in her hands. “A swipe of some color and if I pull your hair into a half-up hairdo?’
I shake my head. I really don’t mind at all. Mal does my hair and makeup all the time, and Lily seems more stylish than I’ve ever been, even when I believed I was the icon of fashion in Oklahoma in eighth grade when I finally saved up enough money to purchase jeans from Buckle.
Three minutes later, Lily has somewhat transformed me with only two items. She’s magic.
“You look amazing, Rachel,” Lily compliments before looking over at her brother. “What do you think, Evan?”
