“I thought you might need coffee,” he says. I reach for it hesitantly as though maybe I’m being punked. He nods toward it.

  “I hope I got it right. Soy caramel latte, two shots of espresso?”

  I tilt my head to the side as I grab the coffee. “Yep.”

  “Did you have a good night?” he asks, breaking what is now becoming awkward silence.

  “Uh, yeah. It was fun. How was your night?” I ask as I sip the coffee which tastes like perfection in a cup.

  “Nothing exciting,” he says. “You ready to sing with Hank and the boys at the festival?”

  I haven’t thought much about that for the past few days. But suddenly my nerves kick up a notch. “Uh, yeah,” I mutter. “I should probably get showered and ready. It’s gonna be a long day.”

  “Right, yeah…we have sound check at eleven,” he says. He starts to open his mouth again, and then promptly shuts it. “I’ll see you at sound check, then?”

  “Of course,” I say, trying to sound cheery, but really just sounding confused instead.

  I close the door and lean against it, taking a deep breath. I can do this. Tonight, and the festival, and another few days till we play in LA. Then, I’m officially done, if I want to be done. I groan because I don’t fucking know what I want.

  Lincoln

  We’re on the bus again. I’m freshly showered and the adrenaline from being on stage is still pulsing through my body. I watch Lark talking with Amelia and Savannah on the far side of the bus. I grin like a fool. She talks with her hands and right now she’s waving them around as she tells them some story about a crazy fan who hopped on stage tonight.

  Kade waves a hand in front of my face.

  “What?” I grumble as my gaze shifts across the table to him.

  “You better not fuck this up,” he states.

  “Fuck up what?”

  He glances back over at the girls. “You know what,” he adds as he gets a goofy grin on his face. “She’s fucking beautiful, isn’t she?”

  I almost launch myself across the small table. Kade whips his head back to face me. He laughs, the motherfucker laughs.

  “Not cool,” I snarl.

  “Dude, you do have it bad. I mean Savannah, you, asshat.”

  “Oh,” I say, and I do feel like a bit of an asshat. I focus back on my lyrics. I tap my pencil against the notepad. I always write in one of those notebooks you use in school. That’s how I started writing, and now it’s my only way to write. I also only use pencils, the kind you have to sharpen. The guys tried getting me fancy journals and fancy pens, but those things just don’t do it for me. I look down at the page. It has some words, some scribbles, some doodling. I doodle a lot when I write. For just an instant, I remember Carrie and the way she used to doodle. She was much better at drawing than I was, but she never rubbed it in. Instead, she would encourage me and show me different drawing techniques. I can’t help wondering what she would have become, what she would have done with her life.

  “Hey.” Lark’s voice breaks through my thoughts.

  I look up, and I can see her brows are knit together.

  “Are you OK?” she asks me.

  I nod. “Yep, just thinking.”

  “Do you want to go over tomorrow’s schedule?” she asks. “I mean, we can do it later, if you’re busy.”

  I hold up a hand and motion for her to take a seat next to me. She complies, and I have to admit that I love the way her bare thigh brushes against my leg. She’s wearing shorts that, in my opinion, are way too short. Of course, that doesn’t stop me from looking down at her silky skin and wishing I could touch it.

  She clears her throat, and I look back up at her eyes. Once she knows she has my attention, she launches into all the details for the remainder of the tour. We have a press tomorrow, followed by our show, followed by a meet and greet arranged by a local radio station. Then we have some more press the following morning before we catch a flight back to LA. We have some more press and then the last concert we added back in LA. It’s a lot, and I want to bitch about it, but I know that Gwen likely arranged it all, so there’s no point in arguing with Lark about it.

  “OK?” she says once she finishes.

  “I guess so.”

  “Good, then I’ll confirm things with Gwen and Gary and coordinate with Ellie. Magnolia Tear goes on about two hours before you, so I’ll just make sure you are settled before I head off to warm up with the guys,” she adds. I can hear a mixture of excitement and nerves in her voice. I place my hand on hers.

  “You’ll be great,” I say reassuringly.

  She sucks in a deep breath. “I hope so.”

  “I know so,” I reply, giving her hand a squeeze.

  “Thanks,” she murmurs as she gets on her phone and begins to make arrangements. I pretend to work on my latest song, but mostly I listen to her. When it comes to being my PA, she’s confident and strong. I wonder why she can’t seem to muster that same confidence about her singing. There are still so many things I want to know about her, and it’s scaring the shit out of me.

  Lark

  It’s Mimi I see first.

  “Come here, baby girl,” she calls out, her arms open wide. I run to her and throw my arms around her. She squeezes me and kisses my cheek. “You’ve lost weight.”

  I grin. “I’ve been working out at the hotels while we are on tour,” I say to her.

  “Good for you. Let’s see them muscles?” I flex, and she squeezes my bicep.

  “Nice job,” she praises. “Now, let’s go get some breakfast and catch up.”

  I glance at my phone. “OK, but it’ll have to be quick. I only have about forty-five minutes before we need to be ready for the first press interview,” I say to her. She nods, and we link arms as we walk toward the small café in the hotel lobby.

  We aren’t seated for five minutes before Mimi cuts to the chase.

  “So, you tell that fine boy you love him, yet?” she says as she takes a sip of coffee.

  I nearly spit my tea all over the table.

  “Child, do not mess with me. I know you still love that boy, no matter what fucked-up shit he pulled,” she says. I can’t help laughing.

  “No, I haven’t talked to him. I don’t know what to say, Mimi. The band is on fire right now. He doesn’t need me pulling him down. I mean shit, he’s been seeing Celia,” I remind her.

  Mimi tosses her hand in the air. “If you think he’s in love with Celia, I’ll eat my hat.”

  I roll my eyes. “Mimi, be serious. The man dates supermodels, not PAs.”

  Mimi sets her coffee down and pats my hand. “You are not just a PA. You are a bright and talented young woman. Your voice…well, you have a gift. If you are too pigheaded to see that, then…well, you have some serious soul-searching to do.”

  I sigh. “I…I…,” I stammer and then pause. Mimi has a point. I’m more than just a PA, or I was when I lived in New Orleans. This makes me ponder whether I should be heading back there next week. I had been building a life there.

  “No…nope,” she says.

  I look up at her, confused.

  “You can do better than singing with some old guys in a jazz club,” she states as though she read my mind.

  “But that’s the thing, I don’t think there’s a future for me in LA. I love singing with Magnolia Tear. I’m good at it. I’m someone…I’m me when I’m with them. Maybe I never make it big. Maybe I only sing in jazz clubs, but you know what? I think I’m OK with that. It’s enough,” I say to her.

  Now, Mimi sighs and shakes her head. “No, my dear, you are so much more than that. Don’t sell yourself short. Hank and the boys had their time in the spotlight, and now playing at those local jazz clubs and a few festivals a year, is all they do, and they are happy with that. But they’ve lived whole lives, seen the world, played in jazz clubs in Paris, New York, and even Tokyo. It’s your turn now. Don’t give up on that dream that brought you to LA. Just because a few pompous record label guys didn’t see the star power shining through you, doesn’t mean your dream is over.”

  My phone buzzes, and I see it’s time to get to work. I fish my wallet out of my purse, but Mimi swats my hand away.

  “I got this. You go do what you need to do,” she says. I stand up and so does she, pulling me into a hug. I wrap my arms around her, and she squeezes me.

  “Lark, you aren’t just named after a songbird, you are one,” she whispers in my ear. I smile. I needed a good Mimi talk. She always makes me feel better.

  The press events fly by, and before I know it, I’m at the festival. I get Lincoln settled.

  “OK, I need to go get ready,” I say to him.

  “Lark, I want to go with you. I’ll watch you,” he says.

  I shake my head. “No way. I prefer no one I know in my audience.”

  “But—”

  I hold up a hand. “I’m going to go now. You stay here and get ready for your show,” I say to him as I head out to a nearby dressing room to change. I turn as I reach the door. “Thanks though, it means a lot that you support me,” I say to him without looking into his eyes. Then, I scurry off to get ready.

  I saw the dress on the way out from dinner with Amelia and Savannah. The small boutique clothing store was just closing for the night, but Savannah talked them into staying open so that I could try on the dress. The two of them insisted I buy it. I do have to say, it was perfect. Most of my dresses were longer and flowy, hiding all the flaws my body had. But this dress was short, red, and screamed “look at me.” It was flattering though and hugged me in all the right places.

  I do my makeup and hair and give myself a good look in the mirror. I don’t look half bad. It’s one thing to sing a song or two with the band at a festival, it’s another to be on stage as a full-fledged member for their entire set. The small groups of fans hanging out at local jazz clubs in Nola pale in comparison to the thousands of people at this festival.

  And with that thought, I make my way to the side stage where Hank, Joe, and Leo are waiting for me. Mimi is there too.

  “You ready?” Hank asks me after I get hugs from everyone. “There’s quite the crowd here today.”

  I nod. My mouth is suddenly dry as we head up on stage.

  I have never been so scared in my entire life. The festival has one main stage and three smaller stages. We are on a smaller stage, but it’s the biggest crowd I’ve ever sung for, and I’m starting to let the fear grip me.

  I feel a strong hand on my shoulder. Just before I reach the top step.

  I turn, and it’s Hank.

  “You got this. Today, the set is all about you and your vocals,” he says to me. We’d gone over everything early. Our play list was comprised of all the songs I loved the most. Some of their originals and some old songs that they love to cover, and I love to sing.

  “I’m ready,” I say to him, pulling my confidence out of my ass.

  “Good, let’s get our songbird up on that stage then,” he says as we walk out and to find a crowd waiting for us.

  It’s a little unreal to walk out onto a stage like this. To be greeted by so many people that are there to hear you sing. It’s a humbling experience, to say the least. It’s not like when I’ve joined them on stage in the past, this time the energy of the crowd has my body electrified.

  I take a deep breath and walk up to the microphone. I glance over at Hank and he winks at me, and suddenly, I’m just Lark, singing with my friends. I hear Joe and Leo start playing music, and I close my eyes as I let it soak through my body, through my soul. I feel my hips move slightly as I tap my thigh along with the beat, and then I sing.

  I swear the roar of the crowd dies down, but I’m partly too afraid to open my eyes to see and partly I’m so in my zone that I’m fairly certain I’m imagining things. I belt out the lyrics until I get to the chorus and hear Hank join in. I open my eyes as I turn to him, and he’s grinning ear to ear. I sing to him, and he sings back to me. I can’t help smiling. This feels right. I’m home.

  Lincoln

  Like fuck that I’m not going to see Lark perform. My little songbird is having her first big stage appearance as a headliner, and I will see it. I pull my hoodie up and walk around the back of the stage. I hear her before I see her. Her voice is…she’s amazing. When I finally see her, I’m blown away.

  I’m mesmerized. I don’t even realize that I’m holding my breath until I let it out. Lark. Is. Beautiful. And I don’t just mean physically attractive. Yes, she is sexy as fuck up on that stage in that ridiculously little red dress with the killer heels, but she looks alive, so fucking alive, and the crowd is vibing. Her voice is the perfect combination of sultry and deep but also soulful and airy. The words seem to float out of her.

  I’m momentarily distracted as Kade and Harry bump into me. I groan because with the three of us standing together, it’s way harder to stay incognito.

  “Shit, Lark is amazing,” Kade says, his mouth gaping.

  “She’s a motherfucking rock star,” Harry yells. Kade and I both give him side-eye. “What? She is.”

  “Can you maybe not draw all the attention to us?” Kade scolds. Harry rolls his eyes and turns back to Lark who draws out the last note of the song.

  There’s silence for a nanosecond before the crowd erupts into applause. The smile on Lark’s face is wider than I’ve ever seen it as she turns back to the crowd.

  “We’re Magnolia Tear. How’s everyone doin’?” she asks the crowd. They go crazy again. “We’re just gonna go right ahead and play another song for you.” There’s another roar from the crowd as the band starts to play again. Then Lark’s voice fills the air, and it’s like church on Sunday. There are more people milling into the area to watch. Hank and the boys can still put on quite a show, but it’s Lark’s voice that’s causing the crowd to double in size. There’s no doubt in my mind. And as they continue their set, the crowd grows and grows as does her confidence.

  “How about one more?” she asks them. The audience erupts into cheers. “I should probably introduce my bandmates.” She walks around and introduces each band member. Her stage presence is off the hook. She’s a goddamn natural. I’m completely shocked. I had no idea she could be like this, that she was this talented. I’m left completely confused as to how multiple record executives turned her down.

  “She’s gonna be more famous than us,” Harry whispers in my ear. I nod but keep my eyes trained on Lark.

  After they finish their set, we sneak back to our stage, somehow avoiding getting spotted. Lark appears shortly before we go on for our set. She’s back in her jeans and t-shirt. Her face is cleaned of makeup and her hair is up in a messy bun. She’s like Superman, and I almost want to ask her if she changed in a phone booth, but I don’t want her to know I saw her sing. I’m not sure why, I just don’t.

  “You ready?” she asks me.

  “As ready as always,” I say.

  “Good. Any last-minute requests?”

  I shake my head. “How was your set?”

  She smiles. “Amazing,” she says softly, looking around as though she doesn’t want anyone to know.

  “Good. I’m glad,” I say to her. I admit I’m confused by her reaction. I mean, shit, with a set of pipes like hers, she should be shouting how great of a singer she is from all the mountain tops. I’m now happy I didn’t tell her I saw her, but I also want to let her know. I want to tell her she’s amazing, that she should follow her dreams and leave the PA position. That she could headline her own tours, not just be a singer in a band that is, if I’m being honest, nearing retirement.

  Lark

  Watching Lincoln on stage has me reminiscing of earlier today, when I was the one on stage. I’m deep in thought when I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. I pull it out and see that Hank is calling me.

  I text him back.

  Me: What’s up?

  Hank: Call me. Now!

  Me: Everything OK?

  Hank: Yes. Better than OK. Call me!

  First, I love that Hank is seventy and can text. My living grandparents don’t have a clue how to use a smartphone let alone text. Hell, they barely understand how to use their house phones.

  I step back into the hallway behind the stage and walk down it until I find Lincoln’s dressing room. I go inside and close the door behind me before calling Hank.

  “What’s up? Voltage Drop is on right now, so I’m trying to stay side stage,” I explain.

  “You did it, kiddo,” he says to me.

  “Did what?” I ask, completely confused and wondering if Hank’s been hitting the bottle since we left the stage, but heavy drinking isn’t really his thing.

  “You know who Roger Shapiro is?” he asks. I swallow because I do know who that is. He was one of the guys who turned me down. He’s a record executive. A friend of a friend I met in LA called in a favor, and I got two minutes, like literally two minutes, with him. He stopped me after one minute and told me that I wasn’t what his label was looking for.

  “He wants to meet you,” Hank continues. “You need to get back to our stage.”

  I sigh. Roger Shapiro isn’t the type of person you turn down meeting. But my pride also wants to tell him to “fuck off.”

  “Hank…I…don’t know,” I stammer.

  Hank is quiet for a moment. “He’s one of them. Isn’t he?”

  “One of who?” I ask.

  “One of the ones that turned you down before,” he states.

  I nod and then realize he can’t see me. “Yes,” I whisper.

  “That was four years ago, Lark. Things change. If he’s willing to give you another chance, maybe you should give him another chance,” Hank says. I want to tell Hank that not all people are good. Not all people do the right thing. Hank always thinks the best of people. It’s something I love about him, but I also think it’s one of his biggest flaws.

  “Lark, at least come hear him out,” he says.

  I sigh again. Hank is right. I should at least hear what he has to say. “Fine, give me five minutes,” I say, shaking my head. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I feel like a sellout.

  I hang up and find Ellie. “El, can you hold down the fort? I need to go talk with someone really fast, OK?” I ask her.

 

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