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He managed to right himself well enough to smile and reply, “I think the stylists know what they’re doing, and I’ll leave it at that.”
Asher swallowed hard. His heart thumped irregularly in his chest.
A genuine, radiant smile brightened Giselle’s face. She looked down at her outfit, then back up at him through a thick veil of glittery lashes.
“Mm. Good answer,” she purred.
Before Asher could find his breath, one of many stage hands came rushing over, tapping her wristwatch with urgency. She barreled between Blaze and Asher to reach the band.
“You’re on in two minutes!” she hissed. “Let’s take our places! Go!”
“Good luck,” Blaze and Asher said, almost in exact unison.
“Don’t need it!” Giselle tossed back lightly.
As she strutted out to the stage, Giselle took on an almost theatrical demeanor. Her personality was already larger than life, but with every step of her platform heels, she seemed to glow brighter and brighter. She fed on the energy of the crowd, who exploded into elated cheers as soon as the rainbow-hued spotlights dazzled around her. She exuded pure confidence as her manicured hands wrapped around the mic stand. The breeze rippled through her glossy black hair and made her flimsy skirt flutter up around her thighs.
She popped the mic off its stand and held it to her lips as she crossed the stage, one arm up in a victorious fist pump. The crowd was deafening before she even spoke. But when she giggled devilishly into the mic and said, “Hello, my little hearts,” they went wild.
Blaze chuckled and shook his head in awe. “Right in the palm of her hand.”
“She has total control of the crowd,” Asher agreed softly.
“How are we feeling tonight?” Giselle asked into the mic, then held it out to the crowd.
They screamed and cheered, many of them jumping up and down.
“Lead us in, Jimmy!” she exclaimed, and did an impressive leaping twirl right as Jimmy’s drumsticks came down on the snare.
Matt strummed passionately, bobbing his head as the song swelled in volume and the crowd began to jump and dance. Giselle sang, “I may not be the kind of girl to wear a white dress, but I promise I’ve got other ways to impress! And once you see the world the way I do, it’s gonna be a lot more fun for you!”
Matt dove in on a powerful riff while Jimmy drummed his heart out. Giselle was a ball of raw energy, bouncing around the stage while she hit every note. The stage was decked out with props, like two large clouds made of some kind of pastel-hued, gauzy material stretched over inflatable structures. Glitter was strewn across the stage, and a gentle but steady stream of biodegradable confetti rained from above and fanned out into the crowd. Asher understood the point of Giselle’s nude-but-bejeweled look now that she was in the strobing spotlights. Her outfit reflected the light like a disco ball while the form-fitting silhouette and nude fabric made her look vulnerable and sexy at the same time. She looked naked, but she wasn’t, and the sheer skirt rippled around her legs like a cascade of water.
Asher was so intrigued by her beauty that it took him several minutes to notice something awry with the scene. One of the few dangling props, a silvery crescent moon, was now hanging at least a few inches lower than it had been before. Asher squinted up at the fake moon, shimmering in the light of the real moon. Yes, he was certain the prop was lower than at the start.
He glanced over at Blaze. But he wasn’t paying any attention to the props. His gaze was firmly locked on Giselle. Understandably. In fact, when Asher looked around the offstage crew, he realized they were all watching her, too. Everyone, from the back of the Theater to the myriad stage hands skittering around, were intent on Giselle’s every move.
Which was why nobody batted an eye when the crescent moon slipped down another six inches. No one but Asher, who gasped softly and nudged Blaze in the ribs.
Blaze turned to him with a look of confusion, and Asher pointed to the moon.
“What? What am I looking at?” Blaze hissed.
“The crescent moon,” Asher said.
“The prop?”
Asher nodded. “Yes. It keeps shifting lower, and I don’t think it’s supposed to.”
“It’s hanging right over center stage,” muttered Blaze.
“Shit,” Asher swore as they both noticed the moon slip another inch or so and start gently swinging, as though it was coming loose in the breeze. “If it falls, it could crush her.”
“We have to run out there!” Blaze growled.
Asher stuck one arm out to stop him, a pained look on his face. “But if it doesn’t fall, and we run out in the middle of her set…”
Blaze sighed heavily. “We’ll be fired.”
