“I’ll be there,” Colin promised. Then he took Joshua’s hand and led him to the sign-in table.
“Colin Campbell-Abrams,” he informed the young man handing out badges.
“How many numbers do you plan to do, Mr. Campbell-Abrams?”
“How many will youletme do?” Colin asked with a quick grin. “If the audience loves me, you may have to drag me off the stage.”
Joshua leaned toward the young man. “He’s not kidding.”
Flustered, the man found Colin’s badge and handed it to him. “Thank you for volunteering to perform.”
“Joshmademe do it,” Colin replied, pinning the badge to his shirt.
“I—I guess…” the man stammered.
Joshua lowered his head, laughing softly.
“What time am I on?”
“Oh! Here’s a program.”
Colin took the sheet and glanced at it, then took Joshua’s arm and led him toward the stage. “C’mon, bud. I’m on in thirty minutes.” He led them to the side of the stage, where several artists stood in small groups. Most were preparing to perform, tuning instruments, checking their outfits, and talking together. Some were dressed in full-stage regalia, suggesting they might be professional performers. Others, like Colin, were in street dress. The sounds of various instruments being tuned electrified the air, filling it with excited anticipation.
Colin leaned against a nearby wall, fine-tuning the mandolin. Once satisfied, he bounced on his feet, glanced around at the other performers, and blew out a quick breath. Joshua touched his arm. “Are you nervous?”
“Nah,” Colin told him, his eyes sweeping over the crowd of artists milling around the staging area. “I guess I have a bit of performance anxiety. Butnervous?” He looked into Joshua’s eyes, his own eyes wide. “Oh,hell, no!” He swallowed hard, and Joshua burst into laughter.
“Youarenervous!”
Colin shrugged and tightened his grip on the mandolin.
Joshua touched Colin’s cheek and turned his head until their eyes met. “You are the most handsome man at this festival, bar none. And believe me, when you open your mouth and singonenote, everyone here will be at your feet. Your voice would make the angels weep.”
Colin laughed and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You’re biased.”
“Undoubtedly so. But I’m also right.”
“Josh!” a familiar voice called out, and Joshua spun to see David and Nate approaching.
“Please tell me we didn’t miss Colin’s performance!” Nate said, grabbing Joshua’s arm.
“You didn’t,” Joshua said.
“Campbell-Abrams!” a voice called out.
“Here!”
The stage manager pointed to a set of stairs leading to the stage. “You’re up after the current act.”
Colin hugged Joshua, accepted a quick high-five from Nate, and moved to wait at the bottom of the stairs.
“Is he OK?” David asked.
“Let’s go stand in front,” Nate commanded, dragging David toward the front of the stage with Joshua following close behind.
The crowd applauded as the current performers finished their song and left the stage. “And now,” the announcer told the crowd, “Please welcome Colin Campbell-Abrams and his mandolin to sing a few Irish folk songs for you!”
Colin moved to the center of the stage, dragging a tall stool. He sat down and moved the microphone closer. “Good evening,” he said, and Joshua could hear murmurs from the crowd. “Damn!” a male voice behind him muttered. “He’shot as fuck!”
