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Me: I do.
Ash: Hope you have a great night.
Me: You too.
Glancing up, I realize the car has gone silent and everyone is watching me.
“What?” I can’t help but ask with a grin on my face.
“Who are you texting?” Emma eyes me suspiciously.
My grin turns into a full megawatt smile.
Emma gasps, “I knew it! Oh my God, this is huge! You’re going to see him tomorrow, aren’t you?” She claps her hands together and then leans over to squeeze my leg.
“Yep.”
She squeals and bounces up and down in her seat.
“Who? Who is she going to see tomorrow?” Mona’s looking at me a little panicked.
“Ash,” Cora chimes in, excitedly.
Mona’s eyes narrow as she locks in on me. The wheels are turning in her head, and it’s all business related. I’ve always been the perfect client to her. Never has she had to deal with my publicist, or clean up any messes that usually come with being in the entertainment industry. I don’t go out, I don’t drink very much, I don’t use recreational or prescribed drugs, and I don’t date.
“Have you talked to Clay?” I ask Emma.
She shakes her head. “No. I mean, I have, but no, I didn’t tell him we were in town.” She looks away from me and out the window. I thought she liked him . . . hmm.
“Who’s Clay?” Mona’s eyes dart back and forth between the two of us. Poor Mona.
“Oh, Clay’s his best friend,” Cora volunteers, grinning.
“Girls, I don’t like surprises. Av, I’m surprised at this little tidbit, but excited for you. Please keep me in the loop.” She gives me the mom voice.
My phones buzzes and I look down.
Ash: I’m really excited to see you tomorrow.
Me: Me too. :)
The limo finally comes to a stop at a red welcome carpet for incoming guests. More photographers have lined the steps and street looking to see who will be at tonight’s event.
“Wow, they went all out,” says Emma as she climbs out of the limo.
“Yeah, I think it’s nice.” I stare up at the six large columns that grace the entrance. Flashes erupt against the night sky, momentarily blinding me, and I drop my head.
Together, the three of us walk up the front steps of the Schermerhorn Symphony Center, home to the Nashville Symphony. It feels very surreal to me. Emma and I once came to a performance here years ago, right after we started at Julliard, but neither of us has been back since. Not even when we were on tour. It’s a shame too, it’s known for its acoustics, stunning architecture, and recognized as one of the best concert halls in America.
Right and left, people are calling our names. I hate it. Why they think that’s actually going to work in gaining someone’s attention, I’ll never know. But each of us plays our part, ignoring what we can.
“Don’t forget to smile,” Mona sings out from behind us.
At the top of the steps, we are ushered over to a photographer standing in front of a NO MORE backdrop. The three of us pose and then head inside.
The main lobby is just as grand as I remember it. My eyes soak in the massive white marble columns and the chandeliers. Blue accents have been placed throughout the space, to represent the NO MORE logo, and everyone is dressed elegantly for the black-tie affair.
“Ladies,” a voice comes from our right. Mr. Lang, the lead organizer for tonight’s event, is walking our way. “I’m so happy to see you again. You’ll never know what it means to have each of you here tonight to perform for us.” His hands land on my upper arms and he leans in to kiss my cheek. I freeze, suck in a deep breath, and he pulls back. The greeting is over. I hate how this makes me feel. Allowing someone into your personal space should be asked first, not assumed.
