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The minutes ticked by, and I grew more nervous by the second. I hadn’t realized how much I depended on having Trenton by my side before our performances. I didn’t like it one bit.
Being split up like that was a good thing, I decided. When it was all over, Trenton and I wouldn’t be performing together. It was a reminder that I needed to be self-reliant.
“It’s time,” the tech told me, and I walked onto the darkened stage and to my mark.
The iconic organ riffs played as the curtain raised, and over the music, I could hear the gleeful reaction of the audience. If part of the performance wasn’t maintaining a serious expression, I would have smiled. There were very few people who weren’t affected by the opening of that song.
I was onstage for a full minute, singing my part, before Trenton walked on. He wore a black tuxedo and yes, the mask. It was the first time I’d seen him in it, and I nearly broke character. It was comical but at the same time hot, for some odd reason. As I finished my part, he lifted my hand with a flourish and brought my knuckles to his lips. Then he opened his mouth and belted out his lines.
My knees went weak, and between that and the weight of the dress, I felt shaky. It was as if he’d known what I’d been thinking earlier, that I missed our preperformance ritual. And though it wasn’t quite the same, it was exactly what I needed.
That man was exactly what I needed.
Trenton
Even though I’d heard Ali sing her part hundreds of times, when she opened her mouth and belted out her lines while wearing that dress, I almost missed my cue to walk onstage. She was breathtaking.
We continued with the song, and I played my creepy part to perfection, if I did say so myself.In your face, Ben.Broadway had never been my thing, but I had to admit that it was fun. Maybe I should have gone full out with an opera cloak. Nah—with my luck, that would be the photo they’d use in my obituary one day.
The end of the song finally arrived, and I stood back to watch in awe with the rest of America as Ali hit those unbelievable sustained notes. The craziest part about it was that she could go higher. One time in rehearsal, she’d hit the final note too high. Of course, she’d beat herself up over it.
As soon as our song ended and the audience started clapping, we were rushed off stage so they could set it for the next performance. This live television shit was for the birds. It came with a touch of excitement but mostly a lot of stress, at least for me. Evan probably felt the opposite. He thrived on the craziness.
Once we were firmly out of the way of the next pair, I pulled Ali to me. “You were amazing,” I told her. “When you hit those notes at the end, the entire audience held their breath.”
She chuckled. “You couldn’t see them.”
I pulled away from her, took her hands in mine, and brought them to my lips. “I didn’t need to see them. I felt the air in the auditorium shift.”
Wearing a contemplative expression, she peeled the mask off my face. I’d forgotten I still had the thing on. “You…” She trailed off, and I would have given anything to know what thought had caused those wrinkles to form between her eyes. “You were very handsome in that mask. The perfect Phantom to my Christine.”
“I’m glad you approve. Are you ready to get out of that dress?”
She smiled coyly. “Are you offering to help?”
I drew her against me again. “My help is always on the table when it comes to getting you naked.”
She pressed her lips to mine. “You’re such a giver.” Suddenly, her eyes widened. “Shit! Georgia is waiting for me in the dressing room. Gotta go!”
She grasped the sides of the dress and took off in a run down the hallway.
“My offer still stands!” I called after her.
She paused long enough to cast a sly glance over her shoulder. “Don’t you worry. I’ll take you up on it another time.” The she dashed off again.
I grinned. I was a lucky man. I headed back to my own dressing room to de-Broadway myself. It had been fun, but I much preferred my T-shirt and rock star jeans—at least that was what Ali called them.
In my dressing room, I pulled up our performance, which I’d had set to record. She and I were of the same mind when it came to watching our own segments on the live shows—we steered clear. But this one had been special, and I wanted to see if the cameras had captured the magic of it.
I was shocked to see that right before our performance, they showed a clip of Lindsey.What the fuck?She smiled at the camera with her lips plumped in the pout that I’d once found alluring. “Trenton, babe, I wanted to wish you good luck, not that you need it. You’re going to win this thing. And my message to you, Ali—you’resooolucky to have my man as your partner.”
I rewound it and rewatched. I didn’t understand why they had a random clip of my ex-girlfriend wishing me luck. Hell, I didn’t think anyone even knew we’d dated. I forwarded the show to real time and watched as a supermodel wished Linus, Carlita’s partner, luck. Ten minutes later, a celebrity chef whose show aired on the same network asSing Battleput in his support for Jessica, another female contestant.
I exhaled. The producers had obviously decided that having celebrities paired with the contestants wasn’t bringing in enough star power, so they’d taken to interviewing other celebrities. But fuck, at least the model and chef had had enough sense to focus on positive messages for the contestants. Lindsey had used the opportunity to send me a personal message, probably because I wasn’t returning her texts. The only thing she’d accomplished was pissing me off.
I could only hope Ali would stick to routine and not watch the performance show, at least not that night. The last thing she needed was to stress out over something my stupid ex had said when she should be riding on the high of slaying “Phantom.”
