“I’m glad she had a lawyer look it over. It shows she’s smart and doesn’t want to get taken advantage of.” Bristol handed Lizzy the iPad. “Sign it. Accept the changes. We already told her she could film.”
Lizzy nodded and shot off an email to her lawyers. “I’m meeting with her before the set to go over some ground rules for being on the road.”
“Do you need me there?” Bristol hoped she didn’t sound desperate. Annie was cute and fun, and Bristol missed talking to new people.
“No. You rest up for tonight’s concert. We’re leaving as soon as possible. We have a long drive ahead of us,” Lizzy said.
“Do you ever sleep?”
Lizzy stopped typing and looked at Bristol. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead. Right now, I need to make sure you eat, rest, and save your voice for tonight. Another sold-out show ahead.”
Bristol hid the disappointment of not being invited but didn’t press. She’d have time with Annie over the rest of the tour, and Lizzy always knew what was best. From finding her as a kid to protecting her from slimeball producers like Denny Briggs, Lizzy had never steered her wrong. “Okay. Let me know if anything comes up.” Bristol sprawled out on the couch when Lizzy closed the door to her dressing room. She needed comfort so did the one thing she did when the world got heavy. She FaceTimed her mom.
“Hi, Mom.” Seeing her mom’s face on her screen melted away the stress.
“Hey, baby girl. How are you? Where are you?”
“We’re in Denver again tonight. We have tomorrow off, then New Mexico and Arizona for a few shows.”
“Are you resting enough?”
“It’s hard to sleep when the schedule is so grueling. I can’t wait until Labor Day. Then I’ll be home for good.”
“I can’t wait to see you. We’ll be at your concert here. And Reece is already making plans for the last one.”
“I got out for a bit yesterday. Lizzy found a new opening act since Ali had to bolt,” Bristol said.
“What happened to Ali?” Concern pinched her mother’s features. She’d met Ali several times over the years and even shared family recipes.
“Bethany went into labor early. She’s fine. Ali sent a message and a photo of the baby. She’s beautiful. Remind me to send it to you.” Bristol’s stomach dropped when she thought how perfect the Harts were. Ali had everything. A music career, a beautiful wife, and three daughters. She could walk down the street without people rushing her to get a photo or a piece of her clothing. She must have frowned.
“Honey, I know it’s been a long tour.”
Bristol rubbed her face. “I feel like I’ve aged so much the last eighteen months.”
“It’ll be over soon. Now tell me about your outing. It sounds like it went well.”
“Lizzy went to the hospital to get a hydration IV and somehow started talking to a nurse from the children’s wing whose sister was there performing for sick kids.”
“Well, that’s a coincidence.”
“Get this. She was playing one of my songs.”
“Stop it. Really?”
“Yeah, so Lizzy recorded it, showed me, and the rest is history. She’s really good. You should look her up. Her name is Annie Foster.”
“Oh, is she the one you did a duet with last night? I saw something on Instagram, but it was only a flash. I’ll look her up now. Meanwhile, try to get some rest before you go onstage. You look really tired, baby.”
Bristol knew that when her mother told her she looked tired, she was being kind. Annette, her makeup artist, would have her hands full tonight getting her ready for the show. At least she could sleep on the bus tomorrow. This was routine for her. She’d push herself hard until she hit a wall and then slept for twelve hours straight. “I promise to rest after tonight.”
“Be safe, and we’ll see you soon. Just be strong and know that you’ll be done soon, and then you can take off as much time as you want.”
Bristol had it in her mind that this was the last tour but hadn’t shared that idea with anybody other than Lizzy. She also knew that she talked a lot of shit when she was burned out, but this was different. She felt like she was drowning, and it wasn’t getting any better. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll see you soon.”
“Let me know if you need me. I’ll be on the first plane out.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Talking to her mother always got her in a good mood. Her father wasn’t as soft as her mother and couldn’t understand why Bristol wasted her time on pop music and love songs. He called her a sellout but didn’t say no when she offered to buy him a loft in downtown Los Angeles with her pop-star money. He refused to see that his artwork was selling only because he was Bristol Baines’s father. Nobody had cared about his overpriced abstract paintings before she made it big.
They never had a normal father-daughter conversation, and Bristol craved it. She just wanted her father to ask how she was doing and be invested in the conversation. Thinking about him was exhausting. She curled up on the couch, slipped her AirPods in, and meditated enough to relax. She fell into a deep sleep for about an hour and woke with a start when somebody knocked on the door.
“Bristol. Annie’s taking the stage in about ten minutes. Your duet will be in about thirty,” Lizzy called through the door.
Bristol sat up fast, completely confused by her rapid heartbeat when Lizzy mentioned Annie’s name. Maybe the knocking had startled her, and her heart was catching up. “Okay. I’ll be out in fifteen.” She switched her yoga pants for torn-up jeans and grabbed a black V-neck to throw on over her cami. She had a minimal amount of makeup on, knowing full well that Annette was going to do magical things with her brushes and pencils in about an hour. She was hungry and grabbed a few carrot sticks from the tray. Another knock. This time Bristol opened the door. “I’m starving.”
“I thought you might be.” Lizzy held a bag up under her nose. “Butternut squash with fried sage and steamed vegetables. All vegetarian. It’s from a restaurant Annie recommended.”
Okay, this time the kick-start she felt in her chest when Lizzy said Annie’s name couldn’t have been a coincidence. There was something about her. “Yum. Do I have enough time to eat it now?”
“No. You don’t want to sing with this stuff in your throat. Eat more vegetables. I’ll keep this warm until the set with Annie is over.”
“It smells delicious.” The thought of food made her smile. The fact that it was Annie’s recommendation made it special.
“Since we’re leaving tonight, there’s a twenty-four-hour diner just outside of Denver that we might be able to commandeer for a bit,” Lizzy said.
Bristol had to remind herself that Lizzy was trying to make things easier on her. Maybe this time she could sit in a booth somewhere and eat a meal with people who didn’t know who she was. At least in the winter she could hide under puffy coats and beanies. It was harder in the summer, especially when three giant tour buses and several SUVs pulled into a parking lot. They drew a lot of attention.
“We can try that. Or do a drive-through somewhere in one of the cars.” Grabbing a fat cucumber slice and a bottle of water, Bristol followed Lizzy out of the dressing room. Her security detail fell into place and escorted her backstage. Annie had switched up her set and added a faster song to her lineup.
“Maybe you’ve heard this song before, and maybe you were here last night. This is my last song. Fast Cars is up next. I’m Annie Foster, and thank you for being so welcoming. I love my hometown of Denver!”
Annie started strumming, and Bristol walked onstage with only a microphone. She touched Annie’s lower back and smiled at her before jumping in on the chorus. They had great musical chemistry and harmonized better than any singer Bristol had sung with before. Annie’s comfort level singing in front of thousands of people made Bristol proud of her for some unknown reason. More people were in their seats during Annie’s set than last night. Maybe word had gotten out about Annie and how talented she was, or that Bristol joined her on the last song and they were hoping for that little extra concert experience. They finished to whistles and loud applause. Bristol waved as she left the stage for Annie to say good-bye to the crowd and end her livestream.
Her entourage of personal security, Lizzy, the assistants, and her stylist walked with her back to her dressing room. Lizzy warmed the dish and handed it to Bristol. She was used to eating while Phoebe worked on her hair. Makeup would happen after she brushed her teeth and gargled to clear her throat.
“Don’t eat too much. You’re going to be moving a lot onstage,” she said.
It was a catch-22. She needed the carbs for energy, but performing with a full stomach wasn’t smart. She had a team of eight dancers that jumped out onstage during six songs. She mixed up her lineup so she could rest between intense dancing.
“I’m getting too old for this,” Bristol said. It was a lie. She was in the best shape possible. She should have said she was getting bored with this. She could power through the twenty remaining shows, especially with Annie in the mix.
“Look at these photos.” Dom, Bristol’s social media manager, was a part of Bristol’s entourage. She didn’t post a single thing unless Bristol approved.
Bristol scrolled through the eight photos, smiled at the clever caption, nodded, and handed the phone back to Dom. “Thank you.”
She sat up straight and allowed everyone who hustled and bustled around her to get their job done. Since the venue was outdoors, Bristol decided on a yellow summer dress with a slight flare at the waist to start the concert. Halfway through, when it changed to the devil portion of the show, she would slip into a high-waist, textured plum skirt, black camisole, and a silver and purple jacket with black swirls. The outfit was flashy but fun.
The first song of the concert was always a fast one to get people excited. Then she slowed it down and played most of her love songs like “My Dreams” and “The Open Road” and “Red Heart.” Half of her Grammy wins were sweet love songs that had hope and positive messages.
The second half of her concert was a whole different vibe. Bristol got to show her sexy side. She played faster songs that were about bad breakups, strong women, and finding your true self. She angrily sang the songs when she thought of the injustice that queer people faced daily. She ended it with her song “Forever” a cappella style again. She walked offstage after saying “good night” and waited. The crowd was deafening. Lizzy gave her the thumbs-up from the other side of the stage. Waiting this long was a gamble, but one Bristol knew would pay off. She would end the encore with a rousing rendition of her party anthem “Turn It Up,” but right now she wanted to soak up the reaction. She drank water and waited until her band nodded, and they all took the stage together. Two more songs and then she could rest on the bus.
“We love you, Bristol!” a group of fans near the front yelled in the slip of time before she started the final song. It made her smile.
“I love you all, too!” She meant it. It wasn’t like her to be overly emotional, but lately the shouts from the crowd were settling heavily on her heart. Maybe because she knew this was her last tour or maybe because she was stretched too thin and her emotions were struggling to stay firm on the taut line of her existence. She finished her final song. “Thank you, Denver, for being one of my favorite places!” She didn’t think about what she said. She just blurted it out. “And you gave us one of your own, Annie Foster, who’s going to be on the road with us for the remainder of the Angel/Devil Tour. Good night and stay safe!”
Lizzy hugged her on her way offstage. “Brilliant as always.”
“It felt good.”
“It showed. Now, let’s get on the bus and get out of here,” Lizzy said.
Bristol knew it would be at least an hour before they left. As much as she enjoyed plush five-star-hotel life, her tour bus was her haven. It was big enough for Lizzy and others to gather and brainstorm about the business, and for Bristol to slip away and get much needed sleep.
Security waited for her to gather the personal items she wanted for the bus and escorted her to the back, where they were parked. She saw the signs her fans held up from behind the barricades and waved to them, but she didn’t stop to sign autographs or take selfies. A lot of her signed memorabilia wound up on eBay, and she didn’t like that. She dropped her bag and fell on her bed, relieved the concert was over.
* * *
“This is the diner?” Bristol split the closed blinds with two fingers to look at the restaurant off I-25. The red neon lights that spelled Betty’s Diner reflected brightly against the pale building. It was almost three a.m., and the parking lot was empty. Bristol saw two waitresses and a cook leaning against the counter laughing at something one of them said. She envied the organic exchange. They straightened when they noticed the caravan pulling into the parking lot. “Do you think they’ll know me?”
“Well, the buses certainly got their attention,” Lizzy said. They watched as security from one of the SUVs jumped out to survey the diner. One of the men spoke into his walkie, and within ten seconds, one of Lizzy’s assistants was knocking on the bus door.
“Bruce says it’s clear.”
This didn’t happen often. Bristol, Lizzy, and Lizzy’s assistants were ushered into the diner and sat near the back and away from windows. The waitress who took their order didn’t appear to know who Bristol was but could tell they were somebody important.
“I’m Suzy. What can I get you all to drink?”
“Waters and coffee,” Lizzy said.
“I’ll have an orange juice,” Bristol said. After a brief glance at the large, laminated menu, she decided on the oatmeal. That would help her sleep until they got to Santa Fe. One night there and one night in Albuquerque. Then a day off until the Salt Lake City concerts.
“Where are y’all from?”
Suzy returned with a steaming pot of coffee and a large orange juice. She poured four black coffees effortlessly.
“California,” Bristol said.
“Those are big buses out front. Are you with a politician?”
Bristol bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. That’s her first thought? A politician? She kept her head down as Lizzy took charge.
“Something like that. I think we’re ready to order now.” Lizzy didn’t give Suzy time to ask any more questions. Bristol watched as she scribbled down everyone’s order, asking the bare minimum and nodding the entire time.
“Toast or biscuit? Side of bacon or sausage?”
“Toast, no butter, and I’ll pass on the side,” Bristol said.
“It comes with it.”
“I’m fine.” She handed Suzy the colorful oversize menu and waited while everyone else ordered. Security in the booth diagonally across from them ordered black coffees. Bristol listened to the table discuss the concert and what they were looking forward to the most on the tour. She tuned them out. While she appreciated Lizzy’s attempt at providing for her a normal environment, it was hard to ignore the booth of four men dressed in black saying very little to one another or how Suzy and the other waitress spoke in low volumes. Even the rest of the crew outside was wandering aimlessly but close enough to swoop in and get everyone back on the road.
Lizzy held up her hand. “Please don’t take our picture,” she said to the other waitress, who was cleaning an already immaculate counter across from the booth. Bristol had never seen color explode on someone’s face before that quickly. Red blotches fanned out across her cheeks and crept up from the collar of her shirt. The waitress mumbled something and turned on her heel, obviously desperate to be anywhere but here.
“Sorry about that. We don’t get a lot of famous folks in our diner,” Suzy said as she swooped to the booth with everyone’s order. She set Lizzy’s plate in front of her and quickly dealt the remaining plates stacked across her outstretched arm. It was an impressive talent. “Let’s see. You’ll need maple syrup. What else?”
“Extra napkins,” Lizzy said.
Bristol ate a few bites of her steel-cut oats and a piece of dry toast. It didn’t take long for people outside of their circle to starting filing in and giving them curious looks. “It’s starting to get crowded.” Several people were taking photos of the buses and of them.
“At least you got a little taste of the normal world.” Lizzy linked her arm with Bristol’s and escorted her out the back door while one of the assistants paid the bill.
Bristol gave her a weak smile. “Thanks for trying.”
Lizzy didn’t understand. She tried to, but she couldn’t see past the money they were making when they toured. It was a grueling twenty-four-hour seven-days-a-week job, and they were all getting paid very well.
“Go to sleep.” Lizzy patted her arm. “I’ll wake you up when we’re checked into the hotel.”
The adrenaline rush from the concert and the warm food in her belly made every part of her feel heavy. She crawled onto her bed in the back of her bus and fell asleep without even pulling up the covers.