I refuse to glance over, but I hear his exasperated sigh to his sister before saying, “You are like the Fairy Godmother that turned a pumpkin into a carriage.”
Great. Now, Evan thinks I look like a carriage, whatever the heck that means.
I don’t have time to think about it or decide if I want to ask because my heart and stomach drop simultaneously when I hear Melanie doing a mic check out on the stage. I look around the curtain. It’s hard to see the audience from the lights that hang above, highlighting the stage. The stage I’m about to be on. The stage where I’m expected to smile and giggle in all the right places while delivering answers with grace and ease.
“Welcome, everyone! Wow! This is such an incredible turnout. We are at record attendance for an Evan Michaels book tour, and I can’t express enough gratitude for the excitement you have for his fourteenth novel coming out in October,Death Before Daybreak. I know we typically do these book tours when the book is released, but I promise the wait will be worth it. This mystery just needs a little more time to solve. You’ll be able to preorder today. Now, I also know that Evan Michaels is not the only reason you are here. This is the first time you’ll be meeting the adored and infamousfanfiction writer, BarrettBeyondTheBadge. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised bywhohas been penning Barrett’s love life for you to enjoy. Now, without any more unnecessary comments from me…give a warm welcome to your favorite mystery author, Evan Michaels!”
Melanie’s voice is calm, collected, and exciting, but I’m not able to lasso any of those desperately needed emotions. I’m going to be sick. I bend over, my palms pressing heavily into my knees.
I watch Evan’s boring polished black loafers stride by me, as if walking is an easy feat to accomplish at this moment. As if he’s done this a million times before, and well, hehasdone it a million times before. At least a few dozen.
Then, before the loafers carrying the feet, limbs, flesh, and annoyance of the body that is Evan Michaels make it out onto the stage, they pause, turn around, and stop in front of me.
ThentheEvan Michaels that I have sworn to hate, and who has seemingly sworn to hate me, crouches down in front of me, and using his hand that seems unnaturally warm, pulls my chin up to look into his brown eyes.
“You’re going to be okay, Rachel. Breathe through your nose. It’s just a stage. Anyone can walk on it.”
Then he stands back up, turns around, and walks effortlessly onto that stage, waving at the crowd as the applause roars.
Did Evan justencourageme? Did I imagine what had just happened? Was I so sick with nerves that I’ve become delusional?
“And now, the moment many of you have been waiting for…” Melanie pauses for dramatic effect. “Introducing BarrettBeyondTheBadge, also known as Rachel Perry!”
This is my moment. I’m supposed to walk out there, owning up to the fact that I write fanfiction for fans, who are indeed in the crowd according to the clapping that has increased in volume.
I am a writer. A poorly paid writer. A writer that takes Evan Michaels’ characters and creates a different world for them, but a writer. A good writer.
Evan, or at least the imaginary Evan that had been conjured up in my mind, told me that this is just a stage. Anyone can walk on it. Even me. The me that is all sunshine and smiles, even though doubts trickle through my veins daily. The me that has big dreams but also feels like an imposter when good things do happen. The me that feels like I’m just trying to pretend to belong in a world where I don’t really belong.
I pull myself up from my knees, swallowing the bile that has accumulated in my throat, and take a deep breath through my nose. With my bare feet, I follow the path Evan had taken seconds before me.
When the curtains no longer can hide me and I appear in all my orange glory, I pause and look up at the audience. I can’t see much, but from what I can see, some people are even standing while the applause echoes like thunder in the large room.
All for me.
I feel…
Everything. And the weight of it all makes my knees begin to wobble. I fortunately make it to the dark green velvet chair that is designated as mine before my legs buckle beneath me.
“Wow! That was quite the response to your reveal, Rachel!” Melanie starts right away. “What do you have to say about that?”
I’m…speechless, which is unfortunate timing when I should be full of words right now. Expressing gratitude. Or surprise. Or anything other than absolutely nothing.
“I think she’s a bit stunned at the moment,” Evan interjects. “I mean, I can understand why. This is an incredible crowd, and it makes sense when they’ve read her fantastic writing, giving Barrett a double life.”
Who is this man, and where is the real Evan Michaels? Did he just compliment me by calling my writing fantastic?
I gulp. My throat feels parched, as if I just swallowed sand from the Sahara Desert.
“That’s so true, Evan,” Melanie replies. “And what do you think about that double life that Barrett now leads thanks to the fanfiction writing of Rachel and many others?”
Okay, so we’re just going to do this entire forum without me, and that is perfectly fine. Preferable, even. I can just sit here and hope that all the focus is on Evan and not on me. He’s done this before. His words are smooth, like his fresh shave featuring his chiseled jaw.Not that I noticed.
“Romance isn’t my genre. I don’t read it, I don’t write it, and I, much to the dismay of my sister, don’t live it.” He pauses for the laughter in the crowd, and I feel a twitch of a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “I think it’s a great creative outlet for many to take the character I’ve created and dream about who Barrett could be.”
Another smooth response, but this one feels more like a blade of a knife being unsheathed, as if he is preparing to make some sharp comments. A creative outlet? Dream about who Barrett could be? Are these well-polished insults, or am I reading too much into his words?
“Rachel, have you recovered from the shock of having this many fans?” Melanie laughs.
