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Letting go, I look him in the eyes to make my point clear. “I believe in you, Jax. I’m going to do what I can to check in on you in a bit. But I gotta run, or this show won’t start on time.”
To pass the time, I put on headphones and find a quiet corner in the contestant area where I do my best to relax. My phone has been blowing up all day with people wishing me luck, and I just need to silence everything and unwind. My family is watching the show, and we’re meeting soon in the VIP area to grab something to eat—though with the way my stomach feels, I doubt I’ll eat much of anything.
I haven’t spoken to Sloane, but I’ve seen her now and again as she checks in with various people throughout the day. Not that I’m a creeper but watching her float around the room, just knowing she’s near, puts some of my nerves at ease.
Closing my eyes, I lean against the wall behind me, willing time to pass faster. I’d give just about anything to get this over with. I’ve listened to a few acts. Some were really good, and my nerves can’t handle comparing myself to each and every one of them to see how I measure up. It’s just not healthy for me in this moment.
No, I just need to go out there, get on that stage, and play the songs I’ve been working my ass off for these past few weeks. I need to forget everything about this competition and just lay my heart on the line. If I don’t leave it all on the stage, then what’s the point of even doing this?
When a hand lands on my shoulder, my body jolts in a fight or flight response. My eyes spring open to find my dad smiling down at me apologetically. “I didn’t mean to scare ya—but you didn’t respond when I said your name.”
Standing to my feet, I dust off my jeans. “Yeah, just tuning the world out… if ya know what I mean.” Looking around I ask, “Where’s Mom and Emily?”
“They wanted to give you some space. They’ll be here in a minute but thought you may need our support in smaller doses to start out. It was your mom’s idea. She caught a glimpse of you pacing earlier and thought we should check in.”
Of course, she did. She always knows just what I need. “So did you draw the short straw?” I tease, trying to make light of the situation.
Chuckling, Dad shakes his head. “Naw. Selfishly, I had to see for myself that you’re doing okay.”
“Well… I’m hanging on by a thread,” I admit. No sense in feeding my dad any line of BS. He’ll know it just by looking at my face. He always has.
“Let’s grab a table and get something to eat,” he offers, pointing to the area where others are eating. “I’d bet my last paycheck you haven’t eaten a bite today. I’d hate to have you get up on that big ole stage and pass out on us.”
“Dad… I’m fine,” I protest. “If I pass out, it certainly won’t be from lack of food.”
I follow Dad through the line while he grabs a roast beef sandwich from the tray and puts it on a plate. Then he adds a bunch of red grapes and a Cherry Coke from the cooler, all of which are my favorites. Then we make our way to a table that’ll give us some privacy to talk.
When we sit down, he pushes his plate in front of me and demands, “Eat.”
“I’m not really hungry,” I admit as I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Well, I’m not either. But I’ll tell you what. You take the first bite, eat what you can, and I’ll finish the rest. I know you’re not hungry, but you need food.”
“Dad, you know I’m not six, right?” Why is he really doing this?
“Oh, don’t I ever. When you were six, my biggest worry for you was whether or not you could make it all the way over to Jimmy Anderson’s house on your bike.” Chuckling, he adds, “Did I ever tell you that your mom made me follow you from a distance to make sure you got there safely?”
Well, that’s a trip down memory lane I wasn’t expecting.
“No… but what does this have to do with anything? Why are you bringing that up now?”
Shrugging, he opens the Coke. “Well, this is my way of checking on you. You and I both know you’re nervous about tonight. Hell, I’d bet everyone in this room is, in some way or another. But it’smyjob to worry about you.”
Sliding the can toward me, he asks, “What’s your biggest fear in this moment?”
Okay. We’re doing this—apparently. There’s no more skating around the truth of why he’s here.
Circling my finger around the rim of the can, I admit, “That I’ll make an ass of myself.”
He nods once, then asks, “How would you feel if you walked away right this moment?”
“I guess I would wonder if I was ever good enough to begin with.”
“There’s only one way of knowing. Do you believe you have a shot at moving to the next level?”
“Sloane seems to think I do,” I counter, not really answering his question. “But if I make it to the final five, what will I do about the tour they’ve got planned?”
Dad cocks a brow as if I should know the answer to that, then deadpans, “You work on computers, right?”
