I sit down in the passenger seat, where Eric usually co-piolets for Ash while we’re driving. It’s turned around right now, facing the length of the bus.
“What if her asking you to sing is her way of trying to help you out?” he asks gently.
“Then she should say that outright, but still, it feels,” I struggle for the right wording, “like a trap.”
His eyebrows shoot up.
“Not like that,” I say. “I just mean a trap on the cosmic scale. Lilli would never hurt me on purpose. I haven’t performed since the finals at the Arts Fest.”
“Five years ago?” He gives me an incredulous look. “That’s insane! You were so good.”
“Well, the judges told us Lilli had great stage presence, and while my performance sounded great, it was visually lacking.”
“Really?” I nod, and Eric thinks for a minute. “You sang from a really vulnerable place that day. I heard it, the whole audience heard it, and you stopped because one person prefers spectacle over message?”
“You sound like Lilli,” I mumble.
“Do you trust me?”
“That’s a complicated question.” His face is unamused, so I continue. “I do.”
“Sing for me,” he commands.
“What?”
“Right now, sing for me.”
“I can’t.”
“Stardust, I have had your voice in my head since I first heard you sing. You have the kind of voice that inspires and moves people. Silencing yourself serves no one and deprives everyone.”
Nerves ripple through me. My mouth feels dry, my heart constricts, and my knees are locked. I shake my head, but he grabs my hand and gives it an encouraging squeeze.
“You told me it’s always scarier to perform to small, intimate groups rather than a huge crowd. You can do this. Shake it off.” He shakes his whole body, and I copy him before I take a deep breath and start singing.
I sing some of Airborne, but I feel awkward singing acapella. I wince when my voice croaks on the first note.
“You’ve got this.” Eric grins wide.
Deep breath in, and I start again. It feels better this time, but I can’t look at him, so I sing to the empty space next to him. When I’m done, he claps.
“See, you did great! If you can perform to me, you can perform to a massive crowd. They’ll be so lucky to hear you.”
“Maybe.” There are three more performances next weekend, which means I have three opportunities. “We’ll see what happens.”
28 - Connie - Now
I send Lilli a message that I want to talk, and she calls me immediately. “Come inside. Ash will open the door.”
The hallway looks like any other office hallway, slightly dystopian and bland. I guess I understand why businesses have abstract art on their walls: it’s just something to break up the monotony to keep it from looking like a cell. Or like this hallway.
Ash opens a door with a small plaque on it that reads “Studio 5”.
Two people sit at the sound boards, and neither of them acknowledge me with more than a glance when I enter.
“Alright, Lillian, let’s take a little break and we’ll come back to this track,” one of them says, their voice soft and light.
The two stand and grab a pack of cigarettes before walking out of the door.
