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Chapter 19
Ali
Inervouslypeereddownthe hallway that led to the celebrity dressing rooms. I didn’t always see Trenton before we met backstage for our performances, but he’d also never been so late before.
The backstage manager pressed on her earpiece. “Can someone check on Trenton Mazer? He’s not here yet.” She glared at me as she spoke, as if it was my fault he was running late.
“He’ll be here,” I said confidently. Trenton had never let me down before, and I didn’t believe he would start now.
The backstage manager breathed a sigh of relief when Trenton walked up, wearing his usual jeans and T-shirt. His guitar was slung on his back. I hadn’t thought it was possible, but the addition of his instrument made him look even sexier than normal. He was in full-on rock star mode.
“You’re making my blood pressure rise, Trenton,” she told him.
“Sorry.” He did indeed sound contrite, but he didn’t offer an explanation.
“They’re about to announce you,” she told us both. “Go to your places.”
Damn.He really had cut it close. That wasn’t like him. I wondered if he was still rattled over our conversation. I felt bad about it, but I didn’t see any other solution. I exhaled. I shouldn’t have been worrying about stuff like this in the moments before I went live on national television. It was proof that I was doing the right thing by putting our relationship on pause.Just pause, not stop.
Trenton lifted my hand to his lips, and the familiar gesture settled me. “Good luck,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. “Always remember, I want the best for you.”
That was new. I didn’t have time to ponder it, because Evan announced us, and it was time to walk out onstage. Just as we always did, we walked out hand-in-hand. I took my place in front of the standing mic that was positioned for my height, and Trenton did the same. He started playing, his solo guitar starkly different from our usual music. I closed my eyes for a moment and let his beautiful melody wash over me.
My verse came first, and I nailed it. I smiled at Trenton, hoping I’d made him proud. Every time I got to sing with him was special, but this one was even more special because he’d written this song.
Just before he was supposed to sing, he stepped up to the mic. “I hope you don’t mind, but Ali is going to sing this one by herself.”
I gaped at him, wondering if I’d heard him correctly. When he missed his cue, I knew I hadn’t misheard. Panic set in. What in the hell was he doing? We hadn’t talked about this.
He circled back and replayed the intro to the verse he was supposed to sing. “Go on, Ali. You sing it better than I do, anyway.” Then he stepped back, several yards away from the microphone, making it very clear he wasn’t planning to sing.
Not knowing what else to do, I did as he’d instructed and sang his part. When the chorus came and he still didn’t join in, my stomach clenched. He wasn’t going to sing at all. I was flying solo.
Closing my eyes, I poured everything I had into the song, trying to make up for the fact that the arrangement called for two voices. When I sang the final note as the final guitar chord rang into silence, the audience clapped and cheered. I put my fingers to my lips and blew kisses of appreciation, feigning confidence, as if it was just another performance. As soon as I got the signal that we were off air, I whirled to confront Trenton and demand some answers.
But the stage was empty, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’d left me in every way he could.
Though I was exhausted by the time I got back to the hotel, I packed my bags and booked the first flight out of LA. Even though my flight wasn’t until the next day, I hightailed it to the airport, hoping I could fly standby.
Evan had found me after the show and informed me that since Trenton didn’t sing, we broke the rules, which meant our pair would be disqualified. He was visibly distraught, and I discerned that he wasn’t in on the stunt Trenton had pulled. It was silly to think he would be—he loved the show.
Apparently, it had been obvious by my reaction to Trenton’s little announcement that I, too, hadn’t been in on it. It seemed that even theSing Battleexecs realized I was a shitty actress, so they weren’t going to hold me in breach of contract and wouldn’t require me to appear on the results show just to be disqualified. I supposed it was a small blessing.
At least luck was a little on my side—I was able to get on a red-eye. It wasn’t until I was crammed in the middle seat between a man with a manspreading problem and a woman who smelled like she smoked several packs a day that I realized what a shit friend I was. I should have stayed long enough to say goodbye to Georgia. I’d quit my job before going to LA. I could have stayed to continue to support her.
Except despite how big LA was, I couldn’t stay another minute in the same city as Trenton. His actions hurt me more than I could express, so much that my entire body had become numb to protect me from the pain. The worst part was that he had to have realized exactly what he was doing, which meant he’d purposely gotten me disqualified. He was also probably in breach of his contract with the network and would face repercussions. I couldn’t bring myself to care. We’d worked together for months, and foolish me had believed he cared about my success—cared aboutme.
I closed my eyes and leaned my head back on the headrest, trying to ignore the man’s knee crowding my space. Trenton’s actions had to have been the result of our conversation about those pictures of us. Obviously, I’d pissed him off, and his response was a passive-aggressive temper tantrum. But that didn’t jibe with his calm demeanor or his words: “Always remember, I want the best for you.”
That was bullshit, though, because getting me kicked offSing Battlewas not best for me. The only positive that had come from it was that I’d gotten my first feedback from the judges—they’d been impressed by my poise and ability not only to sing Trenton’s part but to sing it well.The show must go on,I thought bitterly.
Only from now on, the show would go on without me.
“You have to answer every call before the second ring,” the woman informed me in a nasally voice.
I’d understood the expectation the first time she’d told me earlier this morning. “Yes, but what if I’m already on another call?”
“Ask them to hold.”
