Victor puts a hand on his hip. “These are the costumes, Miss Sawyer. Wearing them is part of your contract. Please tell me we didn’t hire a diva.”
Kelly widens her eyes. I can’t tell if it’s sympathy or a warning.
“Of course not,” I say. “I’m just going to run to the bathroom real quick.” I turn, my gaze on the floor, and my heart racing as I make my way out of the room. I need a minute to breathe. And think. And possibly cry? Who knew the prospect of wearing a beautiful sequin dress could elicit tears?
Maybe this was all a bad idea. Why did I think this tour was a good fit for me? Austin Sheppard is known for capitalizing on his amazing body to market his music. It should have occurred to me that as one of his backup vocalists, something similar would be expected of me.
“Whoa, whoa.”
A hand on my arm stops me at the edge of the room, and I glance at Austin, who looks at me with a furrowed brow over brown eyes. I’m genuinely worried those eyes might have had something to do with my decision to come on this tour. Which is more evidence that it was a bad idea.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
I don’t want to wear the clothes your label paid to have made specifically for me because I like to dress in my imaginary older brother’s big, comfy clothes.
“Miss Sawyer seems to have an issue with the costumes,” Victor says in the tone he might use with a five-year-old refusing to eat vegetables.
“Yeah, I got that part,” Austin says, his eyes still on me.
Oh gosh. He was listening. He’s regretting asking me to join this tour. Or if he’s not now, he will be soon.
He takes the sequin dress I’m holding, then looks at me. “You don’t want to wear this?”
I swallow, willing the tears to resorb into wherever they came from. Who cries over a sexy dress? “Maybe I’m not the best fit for this dress,” I say around the lump in my throat. “Or this tour.”
Part of me believes that, but the other part wants to be reassured I do belong here, that my value doesn’t hinge on what clothes I wear.
Austin’s response is just as quiet. “It’s just a dress, Mia.”
My brows pull together. He thinks I’m being ridiculous. Granted, so did I until five seconds ago, but having him confirm it is different, and it makes my pride flare.
He tosses the dress toward the designer. “Let’s find her something else to wear, Victor.” He looks at me again. “I want you to be comfortable.”
Victor holds the dress in his hands like a sacred offering. “But, but?—”
“I know,” Austin says. “But you’re a master at this. I know you’ll figure something out. I’ll make sure you’re compensated accordingly, okay?”
Victor nods, but the man is crushed.
“Austin,” I say, without really knowing how to continue. I hate that I’m causing problems.
He puts a hand on my shoulder. “You’re more important than a dress, Mia.”
The woman with the clipboard brings him a hanger with his clothes on it, and he takes it and walks away.
6
AUSTIN
“We scheduledthis first part really tight,” Paul says, looking through the itinerary as we walk off the plane in Prague. “We’ve really only got time to put our stuff at the hotel before we head to the venue for dress rehearsal.”
“That’s fine,” I say, watching Mia, Rose, and Kelly walking in front of us. The three of them get along well. Even though Mia and I ended up with seats together on the plane, she traded Paul to take the one next to them.
Pouring acid on my ego, basically.
Mia’s an enigma to me. I’ve come to think of her like those Warhead candies—sour on the surface, but sweet to the core. Notably, her sour side is mostly present with me. I can’t help but say and do things that bring out that sassy side of her. I prefer it to the apathy I get from her most of the time.
It shouldn’t bug me she doesn’t seem to like me all that much. It’s not like I’m hurting for attention or admiration. It can be overwhelming how desperate some of my fans are for a piece of me.
