In the Heat of the Spotlight
Aurelie stood to the side of the makeshift stage in Bryant’s lobby and tried not to hyperventilate. A thousand people mingled in the soaring space, all modern chrome and glass, so different from the historic and genteel feeling of the New York store.
She’d spent the morning with Lia, touring all ten floors of the store on Ayala Avenue and then running through sound checks and getting ready. And trying not to think about what lay ahead.
What was happening now, with the crowd waiting for her to walk out and be Aurelie.
Fear washed coldly through her, made her dizzy. At least she’d checked her blood sugar. If she passed out now, it would simply be from nerves.
‘Thirty seconds.’ The guy who was doing the sound nodded towards her, and somehow Aurelie nodded back. She was miked, ready to go—and terrified.
She peeped out at the audience, saw the excited crowd, some of them clutching posters or CDs for her to sign. They were, she knew, expecting her to prance out there and sing Take Me Down or one of the other boppy, salacious numbers that had made her famous. They wanted her to sing and shimmy and be outrageous, and she was going to come out in her jeans, holding her guitar, and give everyone an almighty shock.
What had she been thinking, agreeing to this? What had Luke been thinking, suggesting it? It wasn’t going to work. It was all going to go hideously, horribly wrong, for the store, for her, for everyone, and it was too late to do anything about it.
She closed her eyes, terror racing through her.
I can’t do this. I can’t change.
She wished, suddenly and desperately, that Luke were here. A totally stupid thing to want considering how cold he’d been to her last night, but just the memory of his voice, his tender, gentle look when he’d said her song was amazing gave her a little surge of both longing and courage.
‘You’re on.’
On wobbly, jelly-like legs she walked onto the stage. Considering she’d played sold-out concerts in the biggest arenas in the world, she should not be feeling nervous. At all. This was a tiny stage, a tiny audience. This was nothing.
And yet it was everything.
She felt the ripple of uneasy surprise go through the audience at the sight of her, felt it like a serpent slithering round the room, ready to strike. Already she was not what anybody had expected.
She sat on the stool in the centre of the stage, hooked her feet around the rungs and looked up to stare straight at Luke. He stood at the back of the lobby near the doors, but it was a small enough space she could make out his expression completely.
He looked cold, hard and completely unyielding. Their gazes met and, his mouth thinning, he looked away. Aurelie tensed, felt herself go brittle, shiny.
‘Give us a song,’ someone called out, impatience audible. ‘Give us Aurelie!’
Well, that was easy enough. That was who she was. Drawing a deep breath, she started to play.
* * *
Luke stood in the back of the lobby waiting for Aurelie to come on, battling a disagreeable mix of anxiety and impatience. He’d been deliberately avoiding her since their drink together last night, had convinced himself that it was the best way forward. Yet, standing there alone, he felt an irritating needle of doubt prick his conscience.
Avoidance had never been his style. Avoidance meant letting someone down, and that was something he never intended to do again. He’d worked hard all his adult life to exorcise the ghosts of his past, to earn the trust and respect of those around him.
Even Aurelie’s.
He didn’t like the thought of her getting ready for this performance on her own. He knew this had to be pretty terrifying for her. He should have sought her out, offered her—what? Some encouragement?
He knew where that led.
No, it was better this way. It had to be. And it wasn’t as if Aurelie actually needed him.
Luke heard the ripple of uneasy surprise move through the audience as she walked onto the stage. She looked vibrant and beautiful in a beaded top and jeans, her hair loose about her shoulders. Then she looked at him, her eyes so wide and clear, and a sudden, sharp longing pierced him. He looked away.
Someone called out, and Aurelie started to play. It took him a few stunned seconds to realise she wasn’t singing the song he’d heard in her house back in Vermont. She was singing one of her old hits, the same boppy number she’d sung in New York, but this time to acoustic guitar. She glanced up from her guitar, gave the audience a knowing, dirty smile. A classic Aurelie look, and one Luke already hated. Everyone cheered.