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“Thanks for getting us out of there.” I throw my backpack over my shoulder.
I take in my surroundings and then pull out my pass and phone to look at my instructions for where I’m supposed to meet Miranda. I follow the directions that will hopefully take me to wherever the lower-level conference rooms are. I wind through the painted cinder block hallways and what feels like down into the bowels of the stadium.
I have to be headed in the right direction when I start seeing more people, including cameras and reporters. I spot a couple of people in business suits and ask if they know where I can find my contact. They kindly point out a woman in a navy blue power suit with perfectly styled short blond hair, makeup, and poise. She appears to be in her early forties and has a welcoming smile as I approach.
“Ms. Parks.” She takes a step towards me, extending her hand.
Knowing I’m this much closer to singing, my stomach flips. I push the nerves aside and extend my hand in return, trying to muster up a believing smile. “Yes. I assume you are Miranda. It’s nice to meet you.”
She smiles warmly. “I understand you’ve already had quite the adventure this morning. I’m so sorry. At least you were stuck with someone as collected as Sean. He’s a great guy and so cool under pressure.”
I nod and smile but wonder if the Sean she is talking about is the same guy I was stuck with. Maybe she heard wrong.
“Ok.” She jumps in. “Let’s get you to your dressing room, and then we’ll talk specifics.” She starts walking, and I follow. “We’ll end up back out here where you’ll be taken out onto the field, but for now, we’ll get you all set up with whatever you need.”
“Great.” I suck in a deep breath wanting to believe I can do this.
After a short walk, Miranda opens the door to a bright room with a large lit mirror, a loveseat, and a table with a basket of snacks and bottles of water. I set my backpack down on the counter, turning to Miranda.
She must sense my nerves because she asks, “Are you doing ok? I know this is all a lot if you’re not used to it.”
“Yeah, I just need to get out of my head. I’ll get there.” I try to smile, but it’ll take a miracle for me to make it through this emotionally intact.
“Ok. Sound check is in thirty, and then you’ll have time to dress and get ready. We’re really hoping you can stay after the game. We invite some families into a conference room to meet some of the players. They sign autographs and talk with the fans for a bit. If we have guests like yourself, we invite you to stay and do the same.”
I laugh. “I don’t think anyone will want my autograph in a room full of football stars.”
Miranda smiles. “You’d be surprised. You’re very talented and have a touching story. The crowd is going to eat you up.” She pats my arm. “Anyway, we have a piano all set for you, so I hope you’ll join us.”
I nod. “Sure.”
“Ok. Well then, I’m going to leave you to get settled. My assistant will come to get you in a bit, and we’ll get that sound check out of the way.”
“Ok. Thanks.”
In a blink, Miranda is gone, and I’m left in another tiny space, only this time, I’m alone with my overly active thoughts, emotions, and fears. I open my backpack and pull out my neatly folded short black dress and fitted leather jacket. I hang them on the rack, then set my shoes underneath. My favorite glittery silver heels.
I set out my makeup, deciding if I’m going to do this, I better get to it. I put in my earbuds, find my song, and this time, since I’m all alone, I dance and sing like nobody's watching.
Chapter 2
SEAN
Twenty minutes. I have twenty minutes to get my ass out on the field if I’m going to have any amount of pregame warm-up. I use my shirt sleeve to wipe the sweat from my brow as I wind through the hallway toward the locker room.
I round a corner, almost plowing over one of my teammates.
“Hey, they finally got you out. Remind me never to take that elevator. I would’ve been scaling the inside of the shaft. Man!”
He shakes his head, and I bump his fist as he passes, knowing if I had sat in the tiny, locked box one second longer, I’m pretty sure I would have completely lost my shit. I inhale another long, deep breath, feeling my lungs expand with freedom.
I’m out. I made it out, and everything is ok.
Now, I have to get my mind and body back under control and ready for the game.
I push into the locker room, trying to get my head in game mode. My calm and quiet pregame ritual got blown to pieces the minute I set foot in that elevator. That needed peace was replaced with two torturous hours of suffocation and incessant sass.
A part of me knew the second I squeezed through those closing doors I’d made a mistake, but it was too little too late. Elevators are a hell no for me, but today, when I was alreadyrunning late and filled with my newly discovered discontent, I convinced myself it’d be fine. I was a damn fool.
