They returned to the bus, exhausted. After three hours of walking, the thin mountain air had drained them, leaving everyone gulping down water.
Buddy boarded the bus—and he was pissed.
“Where the hell have y’all been? You’re already late for soundcheck!”
Jamie barely had time to catch her breath before their tour manager was herding her right back out. He looked more furious than she’d ever seen him, so she kept her mouth shut and followed him.
After soundcheck they ate pasta for dinner—something about carbs stabilizing blood sugar at high altitudes. Clayton launched into a full-on TED Talk about it, but Jamie stopped listening somewhere around the phrase “glycogen stores.” Still, once her food settled she had to admit that, annoyingly, he might have been right.
When it was showtime Jamie took the stage, letting the music carry her. The energy of the crowd was electric, their excitement feeding herperformance—until she noticed them pointing behind her. At first she assumed they were admiring the view, but something felt off. A strange knot tightened in her stomach.
Glancing at the massive video screens, her breath caught. Footage fromStar Factorrolled behind her, playing clips of her younger self in miniskirts and crop tops. She wasn’t ashamed of the show that launched her career, but the outfits? A whole different story.
Her pulse spiked as she scanned the side of the stage. Clayton stood there, shaking with laughter, clearly enjoying every second of her humiliation.
Burying the rush of embarrassment she kept her composure, channeling the crowd’s energy back into the performance. If anything they seemed to love the unexpected blast from the past. Still, the rest of her set blurred together as her mind spun through ways to get even.
As the final notes faded and she waved to the audience, her smile stayed firmly in place. But the second she stepped offstage the heat of her irritation flared, and she marched toward the one person she knew was responsible.
The twins moved away from Clayton, which was a good thing, because Jamie was ready to let him have it. She handed her guitar to Deaner and stormed toward them.
“That was amazing, Miss Jamie!” Charlotte ran up to hug her with Emily close behind.
“Great show,” Clayton said, half-covering his smirk with his hand.
Jamie narrowed her eyes. “Nice prank.” Her voice was even but her jaw tightened.
The girls exchanged glances before turning to their father.
“What happened?” Emily asked.
“Your dad thought it’d be funny to play clips from when I was on Star Factor,” Jamie said.
“That wasn’t planned?” Emily looked up at Clayton.
“I planned it myself,” he admitted.
“No, he tried to prank me,” Jamie corrected. “But the audience loved it.”
Charlotte studied her face. “Are you mad?”
Jamie smiled slowly. “I don’t get mad. I get even.”
She winked at the girls and their eyes lit up with understanding.
When the girls joined Clayton on stage during “Drag Racing My Heart,” Jamie sensed trouble. He’d just finished introducing the band when the twins ambushed him with Silly String, coating him from head to toe in sticky pink plastic.
Jamie hadn’t seen it coming, but the moment she did she lost it. Laughter burst out before she could stop it, spilling out in uncontrollable waves.
Clayton tugged at the string but it clung stubbornly to his clothes, his guitar—even his hat. Jamie watched for a moment then made a split-second decision: she wasn’t going back on stage for the last song. Let him stand there and deal with it on his own.
With a resigned huff Clayton adjusted the microphone and launched into “More Bad Days Than Good,” looking utterly ridiculous as he crooned his ballad tangled in the mess.
The song ended and he walked backstage, his face red and his scowl landing squarely on Jamie. Strands of pink clung to his arms and boots as he pointed an accusing finger at her.
“Did you put them up to this?” he demanded.
Jamie shook her head, still grinning. “This one was all them.”
