“You’re shaking…” Rust says gently.
I swallow hard. “That was a close call.”
I feel like I’m about to faint. The almost-encounter with my abusive manager has knocked the wind out of me. Fuck, suddenly I’m so damntired.
“I don’t know if I can go out there,” I admit quietly. “Right now, it feels like I ain’t got any fight left in me.”
“It’s the home stretch, Trouble. You’re not alone in this. Caleb, Erin and I, we won’t let you get hurt. Do you believe that?”
“I do. I trust y’all.”
He gives me a feather-light kiss, careful not to smudge my lipstick. “All you gotta focus on is claiming revenge for yourself and the other women Dalton has exploited. Let us handle the rest. And when you walk out of the stagelights, we’ll be right there waitin’ for you.”
I let his strength and courage flow into me and take root, fanning the flame of my determination.
Our future is worth fighting for. The future of other singers is worth fighting for.
My hand finds his cheek and he leans into my palm. “I love you more than anything, Rustin.”
“I love you, too. I’m so glad you committed accidental vehicular manslaughter and brought the corpse to me.”
“You’re such a romantic!” I laugh, pulling back my shoulders. “Okay, I got this. It’s a great day to crush my ex-manager like a gnat.”
52
TALLY
Palms slick and throat dry,I walk through the backstage area. I feel Rust’s hand on my waist, grounding me as we reach the side stage. Roadies hustle through the practiced chaos, murmuring into headsets and walkie-talkies over instrumental country music.
The band’s warming up the crowd. Footage of wild horses plays on the LED video wall behind them and in the center of the stage stands a bedazzled mic, waiting for me.
A staff member gives me my guitar and in-ear monitor. Hidden in the twilight, it’s as if the world holds its breath. There’s a buzz in the air, a storm waiting to be unleashed.
Then the stage manager gives the signal.
The first step feels like walking off a cliff. Bright lights blind me. I’m floating, suspended in the moment. Then the roar of the crowd hits my chest like a surging wave, carrying me higher and higher.
My eyes adjust as I step up to the microphone.
I take in the sea of smiling faces and light-upwristbands glittering like stars. Some fans hold up sparkly handwritten signs, declaring their love for me.
Suddenly I can’t remember why I was nervous. I can’t believe I forgot who I am.
Because I love my fans.
Because I love music.
Because I’m Tally Fucking Creed and I own this stage.
“How are you tonight, LA?” I shout.
Applause thunders around me.
“I love your hair!” a woman shouts from the first row.
My belly flutters. “Thank you kindly. It’s an honor to kick off my tour in your beautiful city. But before we get started, I gotta apologize.”
I let the crowd settle before I continue.
