Sure enough, Austin’s on fire, and it’s contagious. Kelly, Rose, and I give it our all, and the crowd feels it. The exhilaration has my skin tingling and my chest full to bursting when the crowd chants the name of the song Austin and I sang together in Paris.
He turns to me, a question in his eyes.
I smile, and he motions for me to come join him. Thirty seconds later, Paul runs onstage with a guitar for Austin while Bobby sets things up.
Deep down, I’m aware of a feeling of bittersweetness as we sing together again. It’s hard to believe the tour is already ending. For a few short days, I had the prospect of a Noah Hayes tour to look forward to, but not anymore. I doubt Noah is still planning on having me do backup vocals for him—the man’s ego is clearly made of stern stuff—but if he is, he’s in for a shock.
This could be my last big show ever, my last time singing with Austin in concert. I hope it’s not, but there are no guarantees in life. What if Austin’s experience isn’t out of the ordinary? I don’t want to end up hating music because I get locked into a contract with a label that doesn’t really care about me and my vision. Maybe it’s better to keep music as a hobby I love than to risk that.
Maybe if I bust my butt for a few years, busking and playing at small venues, Icouldcrowdfund an album.
The crowd goes wild as we finish our song, and I head to my place by Kelly and Rose for the final song of the entire tour. I watch Austin with a tight feeling in my chest. He’s meant to be on stage. I wish he could do it the way he wants to. He deserves better than he’s gotten from Fusion.
The crowd noise threatens our hearing as I follow Rose andKelly toward the edge of the stage. Before I get there, Austin runs up beside me and grabs my hand.
My eyes widen, and I look toward the audience. Austin smiles, brings my hand up to his mouth, and kisses it just before we pass the curtain to conceal us from the audience, who are now losing their minds.
My heart races. For some reason, holding my hand and kissing it feels like a bigger deal than if he’d pulled me into his arms and kissed me, center-stage.
In the dim offstage light, Rose glances at our hands, then cocks an eyebrow. She links her arm with Kelly’s. “We’ll catch up with you two later.”
“Thanks, Rose,” Austin says. I’ve never seen him look so energized and happy.
“What’s gotten into you?” I ask.
He just smiles. “I need to make a quick call.”
“Okay.” I try to let go of his hand, but he tightens his hold.
“Stay with me while I do it?”
I search his face, looking for any hint of what’s going on in that beautiful head. “Yeah. Of course.”
I follow him, still bewildered, while we get his phone in his dressing room. I study his face as he scrolls, then brings the phone to his ear. Faint ringing sounds, and our gazes meet as he waits. He leans toward me and presses a kiss to my lips just as someone answers.
“Hey, John,” Austin says.
There’s a pause as the man responds.
“Yeah. Just finished actually,” Austin says. “I’m calling to let you know I quit. Effective immediately.”
My eyebrows shoot up.
Austin’s looking down at our hands as he fiddles with the edge of my thumbnail. He’s still smiling. “I know.” Pause. “Yeah. Final decision. I’ll have Paul set up a meeting next weekto hammer out the details. I’ve got to go kiss a beautiful woman senseless right now, so we’ll talk later.” He drops the phone from his ear and slips it into his back pocket, then pulls me in for a kiss.
I resist, reluctantly. “Whoa whoa whoa. Hold on a second. Did you seriously just quit?”
He grins. “Yeah.”
“As in, quit your label?”
More grinning. “Yeah.”
I stare at him for a few seconds. “Austin… are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“What about your contract? What happens if you quit mid-contract?”
