When I head to my dressing room for wardrobe and makeup, I stop on the threshold at the sight before me.
Noah glances over his shoulder at me and smiles. How does he do that? Make a simple, universally recognized facial expression look so cocky and condescending?
“You hungry?” he asks, indicating a to-go box on the counter by the mirrors. “Feel free. I took Mia to lunch, but we didn’t spend much time eating.”
Where’s that metal mop handle when I need it?
“Thanks,” I say, “but I’m good.”
Victor points me to my wardrobe rack, and there’s no conversation between Noah and me for a short but blissful twenty minutes as the two of them discuss what he’ll wear.
“This one will match better with Mia’s,” Victor says.
Whatnow? I whip my head around and see him holding up a shirt in front of Noah.
“You planning on joining my backup vocalists?” I wink at Noah, doing my best to match his annoying vibe.
He chuckles as he starts taking off his shirt. Suddenly, I get why Mia has been so quick to mock that part of my show. Who does that?
Noah pulls the shirt over his head. “Sorry, Sheppard. Not this time. Did Paul not tell you? Mia’s singing with me.”
My smile flickers. “Singing with you?”
He nods. “Stars Align.The girl’s got pipes.”
I say nothing.Stars Alignis one of Noah’s most popular songs, a duet he did with Ayva Peters. And tonight he’s singing it with Mia. At the concert I’m headlining.
No wonder he didn’t answer at rehearsal earlier when they asked what he’d be singing. And no wonder he looked at Mia right then.
Was it already planned? Or was this something they discussed over lunch? Either way, I should’ve been told.
“Did it occur to you I might not want my backup vocalist tiring out her voice before my show?” I ask.
Noah’s gaze takes on a steelier quality, but his smile stays intact. “I think she can handle it.”
She can. I know she can. It’s me who’s struggling here, and Noah knows it. But I’m not going to play into his hands.
“You’re right,” I say. “Mia can definitely handle it. Next time, just clear it with me before you use one of my team.”
Not that there’ll be a next time.
Normally,I spend the time before it’s my turn on stage in my dressing room. I like to head out at the last second, or my nerves get to me. It’s better if I can jump right into performing.
But tonight is different. I’ll be just offstage, watching Mia and Noah. Not just because my curiosity is a bottomless pit and I’m a glutton for punishment. This is big for Mia, and I want to see her in the limelight.
I put on the headphones that connect to the electric keyboard backstage, playing the tune of the latest song I’ve been working on. I have about twenty of these unfinished songs. I leave them that way purposely because then I don’t have to give Fusion first right of refusal. For some reason, they never refuse, despite the fact that they also never produce them.
This way, the songs are still mine, even if they’re just bits and pieces.
Someone taps my shoulder, and I turn to find Mia staring at me like a deer in the headlights. Before I even take off the noise-canceling headphones, I see the problem.
She’s got the hiccups. Of course she does. She’s got to be out-of-her-mind nervous right now. Which doesn’t make me particularly happy.
“I need your—hic!—help.”
I set down the headphones. There are a couple people from the venue out and about, so I grab Mia’s hand and lead her away until we reach a door on our right.
I look down the hallway, then open it and pull her inside. It’s some sort of storage room, with plenty of cords and sound equipment and odds and ends.
