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“Good luck,” Schuman said as he and Tanner set off for the front of the building.
“They’ll need it,” Vance shot back, cheeks flushed ruby-red from getting called out for being a class A weenie with a tiny peenie.
“Bye-bye,” Barbie called, blissfully clueless as she teetered on her heels a few steps behind her fuming husband.
He watched the pair disappear when Harper giggled.
“I know, I know,” she uttered.
“Who are you talking to, bonbon?”
She grinned. “It’s Joyce. She agreed with my comment about the size of Vance’s—”
“Let’s forget about that,” he blurted, taking her hand.
She laced her fingers with his. And just like the first time he’d held her hand in Las Vegas, the urge to never let go tore through him. He stared into her chameleon eyes, enamored with her spirit, when another production assistant appeared and took the cookies from the headset lady.
“Follow me, please,” the PA said as the other assistant hoofed it into the building with the tubs of baked goods.
He glanced at the PA striding a few feet ahead of them, then turned to his wife. “Are you all right?” he asked, lowering his voice. “You put up a killer front, but it couldn’t have been easy to see Vance.”
“Why would you say that?” she asked. “My eyes are working just fine. Better than fine. Things have never been so clear or so translucent. I can read people, Landon. I can see into them and hear their thoughts.”
It was safe to say the hallucinogenic effects of the shroom-pops hadn’t diminished.
“This way, Mr. and Mrs. Paige,” the PA said, interrupting their brief interaction. She led them down a hall to a small exercise studio with mirrored walls. “Wait here. Another PA will return when it’s time to go onstage.”
She turned to leave, but he stopped her.
“Can you tell us the format of the contest? The emails didn’t mention how it would go once we were at the venue.”
“You read the emails in your new fancy font, and it wasn’t scary, was it?” Harper remarked.
The breath caught in his throat. While the font had been a game changer, he couldn’t have her telling the world about his…issues. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Let’s focus on the contest.”
The PA’s gaze danced between them. “Donna and Damien Diamond are hosting.”
He frowned. “I’ve never heard of them.”
“I believe they’re friends of Mr. and Mrs. Luxe. They’ll make sure everything runs smoothly. First, they’ll introduce the choir, then the members will do a taste test and choose the winner.”
He was pretty sure he knew who would win, but he had to stay positive.
“After the winner is chosen, the choir will perform a rendition of one of the winning team’s songs—a Vance Vibe song or one of yours, Mr. Paige,” the woman continued. “There’s an issue with the choir’s pianist, but that’s not your concern. We’re working on it. Any other questions?”
“I have a question about the ceiling,” Harper replied.
Oh, no.
“The ceiling?” the woman repeated.
His wife nodded. “Is it made of cake?”
Damn those lollipops.
He parted his lips, unsure of how to respond, when the PA laughed.
“You’re hilarious! And by the way, your wedding was so romantic. I must have watched the clip on LookyLoo a hundred times,” she replied, then sailed out of the room.
