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Welcome to Maywood Heights.
I missed the population size, but the town appeared to be fairly large. It had rolling hills and the city itself had a skyline. It kind of looked like a mini Chicago or LA.
I guess Maywood Heights was about to have one more resident.
Obviously, I was just passing through, but now that I was here, I couldn’t be numb to the distractions of my head or my body. My stomach grumbled, something I’d purposely ignored on the road due to my mom still being in my head. Her constant hounding made me be aware of my body and caused me to feel insecure sometimes. I knew this wasn’t her intention, but it didn’t stop the fact from being true.
A sign for Jax’s Burgers came up while I drove, and I instantly took the exit to the fast-food joint. I loved Jax’s. I’d been to a handful while on the road, and there were a ton on Pembroke’s campus.
I thought about going through the drive-thru to get a salad (yeah, my mom was still dictating my fucking actions), but I decided to go inside instead. I mean, why not? It was in the middle of the day on a Wednesday, and I highly doubted anyone would be looking out for the cellist who played hip-hop and toured with Beyoncé.
Oh, yeah, and she’d been threatened.
I had been threatened, but I didn’t think in the way most people thought.
Just calm down. You’ll feel better.
My mom had been right that I needed to be conscious of my self-care, and lately, I hadn’t really been thinking about all that. I mean, I kept up on my meds. I had an autoimmune disease and that was necessary, but there was certainly no self-care in my life lately. Self-care for me wasn’t getting on that fucking Peloton, though. It was paying attention to my mind.
It was caring about myself.
“How can I help—oh, my fuck. It’s you. What are you doing here? You’re the girl who plays with Beyoncé, right? The cellist?”
So that came from the person who came to my table at Jax’s. Jax’s was a fast-food restaurant, but their tables had a call button for the servers to come by and take your order. I smiled up at the girl in a 1950s-style apron. “Yeah, that’s me.”
I was recognized all the time, so it didn’t surprise me to be spotted. The girl was cool about it, though, and of course, I didn’t mind taking a selfie. She got that, then took my salad order.
I picked at it when it came around, staring off into the open space of the restaurant. I started to fork some in my mouth when I noticed a woman looking at me, an older woman with graying dark hair and, honestly, gorgeous-as-fuck eyes. They were a haunting blue. Like stunning marble.
Her eyes were warm in my direction, and I made sure mine were the same. She probably just knew who I was like that girl.
I thought the woman would peer away eventually, but she didn’t, and she was dressed peculiarly. Her silk gown was nearly as dark as her hair and glittered, sparkled even. This woman was dressed for a night out at the ballet but was here at Jax’s with me.
Of course, that wasn’t my business, and after smiling at her, I glanced away.
“I’m sorry for staring, honey, but I know you, right?” she said, her table directly across from mine. Her head tilted. “You play classical music.”
I did, and there wasn’t a point to eating this salad. I wanted fucking fries not a salad. I wanted anything but a goddamn salad. I placed my fork down. “Uh, yeah.”
“I knew it. It is you.” Her head shook. “I love your music. I have some of it on vinyl actually.”
Okay, so I didn’t hear that one a lot. My smile widened. “Really?”
“Oh, yes. It sounds best that way.” She completely shifted in my direction, sparkling gown and all. It was really unusual, but again, that wasn’t my business. “What brings you here to Maywood Heights? Do you have a concert? I feel like I would have gotten tickets.”
I didn’t have a concert, and the thought of a concert kind of made me sick. I shook my head. “I’m not playing right now. Not anything really.”
I have no idea why I admitted that. Maybe it was because of the woman’s calming nature, but the words just tumbled out of my mouth.
Even still, I thought she’d understand why. It was very public what happened to me, but there was a possibility she didn’t follow social media since she was older.
The woman frowned. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
I chewed my lip. “Maybe I will again soon.”
I said this, but I wasn’t sure. Millions of people saw what happened to me on the night in question between the live audience and the telecast. I was playing Carnegie Hall, the biggest concert of my dreams, my life. I literally had been working toward the venue since I started playing. It should have been the best night of my life.
And it turned out to be the worst.
