The house lights blink, alerting everyone to take their seats, and the black curtain begins to rise within a couple of minutes. Andi’s beautiful voice fills the arena with her soulful and heartfelt lyrics before I actually see her. When she makes her appearance in the stage lights, she looks even more breathtaking than I remembered.
She’s also dressed to the nines in a spaghetti-strapped evening gown. It’s light pink with a colorful mixture of rhinestones covering her entire breast area. The stones sparkle in the spotlight, but not nearly as brightly as she shines. The pink in the dress matches the pink stripes in her blond hair. It’s styled in long, flowing curls tonight, making her look even more gorgeous than I’ve ever seen her.
The first couple of songs she sings are the ones the label gave her. At the end of the second song, she stops to speak to the audience. Engaging them, telling everyone about herself and how she was lucky enough to join this tour, I know the very second she sees me in the crowd. Her eyes lock on mine, she loses her voice, and she stops breathing. She’s not simply surprised to see me—she actually looksrelieved.
I don’t think I’m breathing either, to be honest. I’m not sure, though, because I can’t feel my body. My eyes refuse to leave hers, even when she breaks contact and looks down at something else. Then her face completely changes right in front of me, morphing into a look I’ve only seen once on my sweet Andi. The look in her eyes is the same look that was in those pictures from the mental health facility.
Hatred. Pure, unfiltered hatred.
Looking down to see what has changed her so quickly, I immediately regret what she sees. I’m holding hands with Syndi. My eyes fly back to Andi, pleading with her for understanding, but she’s no longer looking at me.
“This next song is a cover song that most of you will be familiar with, though I’ve made it my own by adding a couple of extra verses at the end. Sing along with me as I perform ‘Lovin’, Touchin’, Squeezin’ by Journey,” she encourages her fans.
She changed the lyrics around so it would be accurate for a girl to sing to a guy. As she sings the song about a love lost because the guy cheated and then was cheated on by his new lover, she makes it a point to sing directly to me. At certain parts, she stops directly in front of us, looks Syndi in the eye, and then cuts her eyes to me.
Instead of ending the song the way Journey ended it, she lets the band play softly in the background while she re-energizes the audience.
“You know, I love this song just the way it was written. It’s really very poetic, isn’t it? That a man would cheat on you, leave you for that woman, and then she leaves him for someone new,” she walks slowly across the stage, back directly in front of me.
“But it got me to thinking. I had to ask myself this question. ‘Self, if I had written that song, would I have ended it that way?’ And my self answered me with this. ‘Hell no, Andi. You wouldn’t have ended it like that at all.’
“So, here’s the extra part that my self said I’d add. Hope you enjoy it,” she adds, her eyes throwing daggers at me.
You left me alone when I needed you
You chose her, now baby, we’re through
Lyin’, cheatin’, whorin’ deceiver
And on that day when you finally see
She’s long gone, baby, you don’t have me
’Cause I’m lovin’, and I’m touchin’,
I’m pleasin’ my lover
As she finishesthe song with a repeat of the chorus, the anger starts building up inside me. She’s accusing me of cheating on her? When she cheated on me? And she’s rubbing her sexual escapades with Travis in my face? She’s emphasizing that she’s pleasing her new lover with pride. I’m about to explode out of my seat and up on the stage with her when Syndi grabs my hand.
I look over at her, and she shakes her head no, imperceptible to anyone else but me. There are cameras everywhere, and any outburst could damage my reputation before I even get started. Tomorrow night is a big deal because I’m fighting someone who already has a solid record. If I beat him, orwhenI beat him, I’ll be seen as a serious contender and can get my own sponsors.
If I’m seen as an impetuous hothead before I even get in the ring, I could throw everything away.
Andi sings a few more songs and then another cover song. When she dedicates the song to “the love of my life,” I just about come unglued. I can’t believe I’m being forced to sit here and listen to her call another man the love of her life and dedicate a song to him.
When the music for Madonna’s “Crazy for You” starts, I’m on my feet before I even realize what I’m doing. Syndi is instantly beside me, standing like we both meant to stand in praise of Andi’s singing. Many others quickly join us, using the flash from their cell phones as their tribute, and the white lights sway along with the song.
All I can see is red. Murderous, red rage.
When she finishes and the spotlight is back solely on her, I notice that she brushes a tear away from the corner of her eye, and the light glints off the charm bracelet I gave her at Christmas. Confusion sets in, and I’m aggravated because I don’t understand what’s going on. She’s wearing the symbolic gift. She looked happy to see me at first. My heart jumped for joy. One look at her and all was forgiven. All I wanted was one more chance to make up for all the times I took her for granted, when I fucked up and she should’ve left me, and when I didn’t appreciate what I had in her.
Then she dedicated that song tohim. My mind immediately went to hunting him down and putting him in the hospital for splitting us up. I don’t know what to feel now. I don’t know what to think.
The cheering and clapping die down, and Syndi pulls on my hand, urging me to take my seat again. I do as she asks, but my mind is anywhere but on the four girls who’ve taken the stage now. What their band’s name is, I couldn’t say, wasn’t even listening. I keep straining to see behind the curtains. Is Andi back there watching me? Or is she back there pleasing her new lover, Travis?
Pure jealousy eats me alive from the inside out. The pain in my heart is as real as it comes. It feels like my heart is being ripped out one chunk at a time. By the time these girls finish singing, my hands have become permanently clenched into fists and they’re ready to pound someone in the ground.
Then Travis steps on the stage. Brandon must have been watching me very closely this time because he reaches across me at the exact moment to break my concentration.
