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Taya swings her hair behind her back, except it’s all up in her turban. It doesn’t matter, though. The invisible hair flip is still impactful.
Everyone is frozen, mouths hanging open. Not just us, either. Taya was reading Jazmyn loud enough that even the backstage crew has stopped to stare, especially given that Taya’s voice is quite recognizable.
Captain moves closer to Taya’s side, and she pats his chest. “It’s all good. We’re not gonna have a problem.” She looks around, meeting the eyes of everyone staring at her in a challenge. “Because nobody saw nothing and they ain’t heard nothing either. Right? We’re all just out to have a good time tonight with zero drama.”
People nod their heads, hearing the threat in her words. Some even scamper back to work.
“Wow,” Jazmyn sighs. “You’re . . .”
“Yes, I am. But that doesn’t matter.” She clicks her nails together in Jazmyn’s face. “Who are you? You think I recommended you for this shit because I thought you’d fail? No, I did not. I thought it was your time. Don’t make me be wrong.” Her head is swiveling so much that I worry her turban might unwind, but it seems to be secure . . . for now.
I step forward, worried for Taya. I’ll need to pre-emptively spin a story on this little stunt of hers because there’s no way all these people are going to keep their mouths shut. But I also deeply appreciate her willingness to help, not only me, but Jazmyn. “That’s true, Jazmyn. When we came up with this idea, Taya is who suggested you. She’s why we reached out.”
If I’d told Jazmyn that God herself had recommended her, I think she’d be less surprised. But it doesn’t matter if she doesn’t go out on the stage.
It takes a minute, but slowly, we can see Jazmyn’s confidence returning, her eyes brightening and back going straighter. “Let’s do this!”
She gives a few hops, somehow not breaking an ankle in those boots. Maybe she’s got steel ankles or something?
Taya claps her hands. “There ya go, bitch. You better show up, show off, and show out because I’m here for it!”
She claps her hands, emphasizing each word. Energy building, Jazmyn shakes her whole body like she’s spasming. It’s similar to what Taya does before she goes onstage, except she’ll usually give her cheeks a fierce pat. Both sets of cheeks—one for a little color and one to start the jiggle, she says.
Steve rushes up, looking harried. “I found it!” he shouts, shoving a black and red rabbit foot toward Jazmyn.
Jazmyn meets Taya’s eyes and then tells Steve, “It’s okay. I don’t need it.”
With that, she runs on stage to grab the microphone. “Helloooo, Starr-lights!”
CHAPTER 20
CARSON
From backstage, we can see the faces of all the guests light up when Jazmyn hits the stage. The scream of joy is so loud it’s a literal, palpable thing I can feel along the tiny hairs on my arms.
“Helloooo, Starr-lights!” Jazmyn yells. With a crash of electronic music following that declaration, the show starts. She rolls straight into one of her lesser-known songs, but the crowd sings along with every word. Jazmyn is surprised a bit at first, but by the end of the song, I think she’s near tears.
She takes the microphone from the stand and walks back and forth across the stage. “Starr-lights, I was so nervous coming out here tonight. I’m just a girl who likes to sing in her bedroom and started posting stuff online. I got a few followers—”
“I love you, Jazmyn!” a voice calls out from the crowd, and she blushes.
I swear, she actually turns pink above that red lipstick. I don’t think it’s a trick of the lighting.
“I love you too,” she calls back, laughing. “And then a few more people followed me. But I never dreamed that there were so many of you who felt like I do—like this whole world is so big and there was no way that one person could be that important. That’s where I was when I wrote this next song, staring up at the stars and feeling small. But I want you to know . . . each and every one of you is important. To me.”
She sings a song called Constellations, which reminds me of the tattooed stars on her face that I mistook for freckles. It starts out a little slower, and I watch as the crowd locks arms around each other, swaying back and forth in waves. I hope the videographer is getting this and the live streaming is working because this is magic in action.
Magic that Jayme helped start.
I catch her eye and then subtly step closer, touching her hand with mine. It’s a question. I want to hold her hand, right here in front of everyone, but I know it’s a big risk, for me and for her. I don’t want to be seen as similar to my dad, who had a workplace romance. And Jayme told me that client relationships are strongly frowned upon, especially mid-assignment.
