After Shorty and Doofus left she turned around and grabbed Clayton’s arm, and they exploded in laughter. They were laughing so hard that people were staring, but they couldn’t help themselves. It was the funniest thing ever.
“I’ll have to give it another listen.” Jamie mimicked his voice. “Fuck off already.”
“How did he not know? He’s the label’s president.”
“I don’t care.” She took a sip of her drink. “I’m just glad it’s on my album.”
The stage manager approached them with a clipboard and said, “I’m bringing you backstage. There’s a presenter on before you, then a performance.”
Clayton downed his whiskey and Jamie took her drink with her as they followed him through the crowd, where they met Shorty and Ruth in the waiting area.
From where they stood the back of the stage was in clear view as Old Dominion set the tone, igniting the audience into a frenzy. Strangely no one sported a cowboy hat—instead, they resembled a rock band with a country soul. She paused, trying to recall why that name was familiar, until a flash of memory brought her back to the T-shirt worn by the Bluebird bartender.
After finishing their song the band hurried down the steps. The guys exchanged warm hugs with Clayton, a familiar face, and soon it was time for the next presentation: New Female Artist of the Year.
The pre-taped announcement blared over the speakers, “Please welcome our next presenter, the star of Tactical Pursuit: Revenge, Matilda Graham.”
Jamie dropped her glass and it smashed on the ground. Her mind raced as she stared at the scattered shards of glass.I must be hearing things. There’s no way Derrick’s girlfriend is here.The internal debate churned as she struggled to reconcile her assumptions with the startling reality.
Ruth knelt to gather the scattered shards of glass while Matilda, draped in a nearly transparent gold dress, gracefully ascended the steps.
“Are you okay?” Ruth asked, now standing, as an attendant cleaned up the mess.
“I’m . . . I’m speechless.” She darted her eyes toward Shorty. “Did you know about this?”
“I sent you the run of show,” he said, sounding confused. “I thought that’s why you didn’t want to come.”
“I didn’t want to come because of my dad.” She grabbed her hair with both fists. “I can’t fucking believe this.”
“You didn’t send it to me.” Ruth raised the phone in her hand.
“Yes, I did,” Shorty said, pulling out his phone. “I sent you an email on March 21.”
Ruth scrolled through her phone, her head drooping as she murmured, “Oh my God.” Her eyes widened in shock. “I missed it,” she admitted softly. Tears welled as she continued, “It was the day after the puppies were born and I wasn’t paying attention. I’m so sorry, James. This is all my fault.”
After the presentation Jamie quickly composed herself, determined not to show Matilda any sign of defeat. She’d already endured enough humiliation for one day.
Matilda descended the steps in her gleaming four-inch strappy gold stilettos, each step a confident display of her poise. Meanwhile Jamie crossed her fingers, secretly hoping the actress might stumble—a minor mishap, nothing severe, a small misfortune that was well deserved.
“Hi, Jamie!” Matilda said, walking toward them.
“Hi, Matilda.” Jamie smiled with all her teeth. She’d see who the better actress was.
Matilda extended her hand and Jamie greeted it with a gentle shake. Matilda placed her left hand over Jamie’s, allowing the sparkle of the diamond on her ring to catch the singer’s eye. Noticing her gaze lingered a moment too long, Matilda withdrew her hand.
“Are you engaged?” Jamie asked, flabbergasted. Engaged? How could they be engaged? They’d only been together for a couple of months.
Matilda flashed her left hand in front of her face. “It happened yesterday.” She giggled, admiring her ring. “I wasn’t even expecting it.”
Jamie recalled the infamous 1997 Holyfield-Tyson bout had taken place in this very arena. AJ, who had attended the match, vividly recounted how Iron Mike had bitten off part of Holyfield’s ear. Jamie struggled to restrain herself from inflicting an even harsher consequence on Matilda.
“Is Derrick here?” Jamie’s voice came out sharper than she intended, her pulse spiking. A cold dread coiled in her stomach—she wasn’t sure if she wanted to run or fight if he was in the building.
“No,” she replied with a sulk. “He had to stay in LA.” With a shrug she added, “Some work thing.” Her bright blue eyes sparkled as she continued, “He said to say hi to you and Clayton.”
“Is that right?” Clayton interjected as Jamie was left speechless.
“Yeah, he said he’s happy for you. But . . .” Matilda hesitated.
