Six weeks later, Maggie stood in a maelstrom of barely organized chaos. Even though it always looked like a mess backstage at a Down Sugar Road concert, it was actually a well-oiled machine. There were film crews and catering crews, setup crews and cleanup crews, lighting crews and sound crews, wardrobe crews and merchandise crews, and on and on and on. During road tours, Maggie usually got to know who was who, no matter how big of a tour it was. The largest tour she could remember took nearly three hundred roadies to run each concert. A standalone home concert was significantly smaller.
But this concert was different from the others, and that put Maggie on edge. Since it had been unscheduled, Maggie could feel restlessness in the air. These outside crews hadn’t been on the road together for weeks and weeks. They hadn’t had time to bond and learn what worked for Down Sugar Road. They didn’t know the routines her parents expected. There were mix-ups in the stage assembly and problems with the equipment. She’d seen it all go wrong before, but somehow things always pulled together at the last minute. She prayed that would be the case this time.
There was still an hour to go before the preshow would begin. Maggie knew her parents had no idea things were so hectic. They never did. Right now, they were in their dressing rooms getting ready at a leisurely pace—exactly where she should be since she was performing tonight. So far, she was trying to avoid all that and get into the groove of what she was used to at shows. She knew how to wander around and observe and help where needed instead of standing on the sidelines and feeling useless. Her parents had never completely approved of her backstage involvement, but feeling helpful was what she had always wanted, and right now she needed it. Desperately. Too bad it was getting too late to be helpful anywhere. She’d only get in the way.
Sitting on an abandoned amplifier in a corner, she watched everything swirl around her. People talked into their headsets as they rushed by. More people ran around with clipboards and electronic tablets, sweat glistening on their brows as they felt the pressure piling up. More people carried equipment away and brought other equipment in. A small news crew whisked by. It was a big machine, just like she’d told Cole so many months ago. Where did she belong? She was scheduled to take her mom’s place for the debut of “Sunrise,” but she wasn’t sure if that meant she had a part to play or if she was simply borrowing her mom’s part for three minutes.
“Sunrise” was ready, and so was her voice. She and Nathan had practiced long, long hours to get it down. She’d spent time in the studio with her dad and the band. She felt confident and excited because it was something she was doing for Cole, not herself.
Finally, she stood and walked through the maze of crews and equipment. “All right if I take a peek at the stage?” she asked an armed security guard near the entrance.
He looked at her, confusion on his face until he recognized her a moment later. He swept an arm toward the entrance. “Of course, Miss Roads.”
Rounding the corner, she rested her eyes on the stage and felt her stomach plummet to the ground. Aside from the setup crews finishing the last touches for the preshow, the place was empty and silent. The stage was massive. The arena was big enough to seat twenty thousand people. Was she insane to think she could do this?
Yes, Maggie, you are insane.
But it was for Cole, whether he wanted it or not. She couldn’t just stand by and let him throw everything away when there was an obvious solution. She’d already discussed with her parents over and over how he could keep playing for them. He could take longer breaks if needed. Accommodations would be made for Andy during tours, including hired professional care. She asked herself how insensitive she was for even trying to get him to change his mind, but it wasn’t like it mattered. As far as she was aware, he wasn’t planning on coming to the concert, anyway. She had been taking regular trips to the rehab center to visit him and Andy, but that was the extent of their relationship now. He’d grown more and more withdrawn from her, to the point that she’d given up on getting her driver’s license altogether. For some reason, she wanted Cole to be a part of that. She found herself aching for that moment he’d taken her hand in Nathan’s apartment. She’d been so confused then, but now it was clear how much he had truly cared for her. No matter how much she fell in love with Nathan, no matter how many times she slept with him, it never seemed to be enough to fill the hole Cole had left . . . and she knew Nathan suspected that more and more.
“Maggie! There you are!” Martin’s frantic voice and familiar English accent called out. She spun around to find her parents’ manager rushing past several people to get to her. He was in tan slacks and a white shirt, a headset practically falling onto his forehead and a clipboard clutched to his chest. “Where have you been?” he asked when he reached her. “You need to be getting ready.”
“I’m sorry,” she replied as he took her by the arm and led her to the dressing rooms.
“You can be sorry when everything’s over,” he said quickly as he knocked on a door before opening it. “Jenny, I found her. She’s all yours.” Practically throwing her into the room, he left and the door clicked shut behind him.
Jenny, one of her parents’ wardrobe managers, turned around from a rack filled with dresses. She was tall and blonde with fake eyelashes and cheap knockoff clothes. Not that Maggie cared what she wore.
“So glad Martin found you,” she blew out in one breath. “Let’s get you ready. Now, since this entire show seems to be falling apart around us as we speak, I have to make it clear that I didn’t know you’d be performing tonight.” She put both hands up and shook her head. “Don’t blame me for anything, please. There’s no wardrobe set for you. I had them bring in a bunch of choices in your size.” She swept her arm toward the rack. “At least, I think you’re a size four. Am I right?”
Maggie nodded and tried to keep calm. “We had a dress picked out already. It was sent in for alterations three days ago. You didn’t get it?”
Jenny looked at the ceiling and let out a string of curse words. “No, I did not.”
Maggie thought about the delicate yellow dress she’d picked out for “Sunrise” and decided it wasn’t worth getting upset over. She took a step backward. “I’m sorry. I’ve been working like crazy with my parents to get everything together, but I guess a bunch of stuff was overlooked.”
“Oh, it’s not your place to apologize,” Jenny said seriously, as if such a thing was unheard of. “What we gotta do now is focus on getting you ready in time for you to relax and prep yourself for your performance. That’s my job and I’m sticking to it.”
Maggie nodded matter-of-factly and stepped over to the rack to help pick out a dress. Thirty minutes later, she was seated in front of a vanity with two women working on her face and hair at the same time. The dress she had picked was cocktail-style, royal blue, and studded with rhinestones at the low neckline, with flowing chiffon over the knee-length skirt. Not exactly what she’d had in mind, but it would do. She already looked fabulous as the hair and makeup artists fussed over her. By the time they finished, she could honestly describe herself as glamorous, polished, and sparkly. She stared at her face, at her dress, at her shiny, perfectly styled hair. She had dressed up before, but she’d never felt so . . . fake.
“No! I told you, I know her!” a muffled voice came from outside. There was a thump against the door, and then some more arguing.
Turning in her chair, Maggie motioned for someone to open the door. Her mouth dropped open when Grace, pinned by two burly security guards, tried to rush forward.
“Maggie! Tell them you know me,” she gasped, looking desperately at the guard on her left. “She’s my best friend.”
“Everyone uses that line,” he snapped. “It’s time to leave. Come on.”
“Wait, no!” Maggie leaped out of her chair and ran across the room. “It’s true—she’s my best friend. Let her go, please.”
The security guards, genuinely surprised, let Grace go. “Please,” the one on the right urged Maggie, “put your guests on the list in the future.”
“I didn’t know she was coming, I’m sorry.” She waved them off and pulled Grace into the room. They embraced, and Maggie grinned at her jet-black hair with one blood-red stripe. The nose ring was gone. She was dressed in full country garb, including a black cowboy hat on her head.
“You’re in the middle of a semester,” Maggie said, gaping. “What are you doing here?”
Grace grinned with gritted teeth. “You’re singing on stage in front of thousands of people, you idiot! I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Trent’s out in the front row, right next to Nathan. Cole sent us tickets.”
Maggie had to sort her thoughts. “Cole . . . Cole sent you tickets? I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either. You told me he was against this whole thing, but yeah, he sent us tickets.” She shrugged. “He didn’t explain.”
“Okay, so you have tickets, but how did you get back here? It can’t be easy to sneak—”
“I didn’t sneak. Cole told me I could come see you before the show. He was going to bring me to you, but his son needed him and Cole didn’t want to wheel him through the madness. He sent me with one of the stage managers and then that guy got called away on some emergency, so I was left to fend for myself.”
“Oh, sheesh, what a mess.” Maggie pulled Grace farther into the room and tried to calm herself down over the fact that Cole had actually come to the show. With Andy.
“Wow, wow, wow,” Grace said as she stopped by the vanity next to Maggie and looked her up and down. “You look amazing.”
Maggie forced a smile. “I feel . . . plastic. I keep wondering if this is how my mom feels during a show. I mean, she looks great, but she’s never told me this is how it feels.”
“It’s not really the makeup or the clothes, dear,” one of the makeup artists said as she gathered up her supplies and organized them in a big tote. “It’s the fact that deep down you know everything you’ll do up there will be recorded, watched, judged, and envied. But you’ll get used to it. All the stars do.”
Grace let out a soft squeal of delight. “Stars!” she gasped. “Oh, Maggie, you’re really doing it—you’re living your dream. I had no idea you’d be able to do it this fast.”
“Or at all, right?” Maggie joked with a wink. “Admit it, you’ve never been too confident about my singing.”
“Well, sure, but Nathan is the freaking Wizard of Oz, isn’t he?”
Rolling her eyes, Maggie shifted her weight in the too-small boots Jenny had insisted were the only ones that matched the blue dress. “Nathan is fabulous, yes, but it also might help that my parents are, you know, stars. I have a leg up, Grace. A huge leg up. It’s not like I’ve earned all this like my parents did. If I get anywhere after tonight, I owe most of it to what they’ve built underneath me while I was trying to find my voice. Besides, I wouldn’t even be going out there if it weren’t for how much I want to show Cole that I’m supporting him and not just trying to give him a handout. I’m not ready for all of this . . . glamour and performing and . . . and . . . I’m not sure . . .”
Maggie let her words fizzle out as she realized how powerfully her heart was banging in her chest. She reached up to touch the necklace at her throat at the same time Grace stepped forward and placed two hands lightly around her face.
“Look at me, Maggie.”
Maggie held perfectly still, not wanting to smudge her makeup, and locked eyes with Grace. “I’m okay,” she whispered, noticing for the first time how pretty and green Grace’s eyes were. There were gold flecks scattered in the irises. “Really, I’m not freaking out.”
“I know you’re not freaking out, but I want you to understand something.” Grace took a long, deep breath, then another, and another, in an attempt to coax Maggie to slow down and focus. “Cole is here, and he brought Andy with him. That says so much, and no matter what happens, no matter how you feel up there on stage, Cole already knows how much you care. This entire show proves it. He might not accept the money for Andy, and he might not admit how much he appreciates what you’re trying to do for him, but none of that matters. What you’ve done . . . what you’re doing . . . makes a difference, okay? A positive difference to you, to me, to everyone around you.”
Before Maggie could even open her mouth to respond, Martin rushed into the room and swept her away for photos with her parents and an interview with the local news station. Then, before she knew it, she was in another room warming up with her parents’ voice coaches, and then she was taken to the green room to wait for her turn on stage. She sipped at a glass of warm water Martin had shoved into her hand to calm her down. But she wasn’t the nervous one. She couldn’t help but notice that whenever he came into the room, he seemed to be pacing more than usual. At one point, he was biting his fingernails.
“Um . . . are you worried I’m going to mess up?” she asked him two minutes before she was scheduled to go on.
He darted his eyes to hers, pausing for a long moment before glancing down at his clipboard and forcing a weak smile. “Just a little,” he finally admitted. “You’ve only been on a stage in front of a live audience once before. It’s not your sound I’m worried about, but your performance . . . you can’t burst into tears and run off stage. We’ve been over this before.”
“Only ’bout fifty times,” she muttered as she glanced at the television set displaying her parents up on stage, singing and smiling at a roaring crowd. Over the past six weeks, Martin had been the most adamant in making sure Maggie didn’t come into the public eye and negatively alter Down Sugar Road’s brand, even for a small moment. Unfortunately, he’d been unable to control most of the little details, and she could tell he was about to explode under the pressure of wondering if she would single-handedly create a catastrophe he’d have to clean up. The panicked look on his face was enough to make her regret the whole show altogether. Then she remembered Grace’s words about making a difference, and relaxed.
“Don’t worry, Martin,” she said proudly. “I won’t let you down.”
He looked up from his clipboard, a drop of sweat rolling down his temple. “I believe you.”
A few minutes later, she was rushed out of the green room and to the stage entrance, where her mother gave her a huge, sweaty hug. “Go out there and kill ’em, darlin’,” she whispered into Maggie’s ear. “I love you.”
Maggie took two deep breaths as her guitar was thrust into her arms and another person helped her move the strap over her head and around her neck. Then she was told to walk out, smile, and wave. She did.
* * *
Everything was a blur. The stage seemed a lot smaller than it had earlier, probably because it was dark with only certain lights on overhead. The audience was deafening, and for a moment Maggie fought the urge to cover her ears. She had practiced what to do with her parents’ stage manager. Walk straight, then turn right and look for her dad, who would be introducing her as she entered. Smile. Wave. Move around as she sang. Be energetic like her parents. Focus on her voice, and if she felt herself going out of tune, stop singing and start lip-syncing. That was the last thing she wanted to do. She would feel like a total hack.
Enjoy this, Maggie. Enjoy this. Enjoy this. Enjoy this.
She tried to concentrate on the words coming out of her dad’s mouth, but it was next to impossible. He was saying something about her, explaining who she was and that she had written “Digging Home” and “Sunrise” was her next song. The applause swelled as he introduced the song and the band started up the music. The lights grew brighter and got more yellow, and out of the corner of her eye she saw video footage of mountains and a sunrise playing on huge screens. If she squinted enough, she could see Grace and Trent in the front row, then Cole and Andy over on the end near the aisle, and right in front of her was Gordon. She tried not to look at him at all.
Closing her eyes for a moment, she centered herself. Grace’s necklace felt heavy around her neck. Her guitar felt heavy in her arms. Her voice felt heavy in her throat, waiting to be released. She knew this song inside and out. She knew what she had to do, but as she opened her eyes and kept a smile on her face while her voice rose up and out and into the microphone, she knew something felt off.
Her voice was perfect, so that wasn’t it.
Her timing was perfect.
The band was perfect.
Her dad was perfect.
Finally, when she looked over at him during his solo verse, she understood how much he lived for this very moment. He loved being on stage with every fiber of his being. He didn’t just sing. He performed. He fed the audience exactly what they wanted, and they gave it right back to him in spades. He moved around and interacted with not only her, but the band too. He connected to everyone in the entire arena, while she could only feel herself in her own little bubble. Not afraid. Not intimidated. But next to her dad’s energy, she felt almost apathetic.
Finally, the song ended and the crowd went wild. Her three minutes were up, and she thanked the audience and left the stage.