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I flatten her hand over my heart, like I have several times before, only this time I hope that she feels how hard my heart is pounding. She’s doing this to me.
“Do you feel that?” I push her hand harder against me. “It’s for you, all of it, it’s all yours.” Every word and every moment we’ve shared, it has to have amounted to something. I have to erase the doubt that so easily slipped in.
“Avery,” a female voice comes from beside us. Pulling apart, I glare at her manager for interrupting us. The expression on her face is a mixture of astonishment and suspicion. Dismissing me, she directly faces Avery with a thousand questions flying out of her eyes. “We really do need to get going now.”
“Okay.” She glances back to me and gives me a polite “Hollywood” smile. I hate that smile. It’s the kind that looks perfect, but only touches the surface; there’s no connection to it. That just won’t do. My fingers squeeze hers—I won’t release her like this—and the warmth returns to her eyes.
“Nice hat, by the way,” she says softly.
Taking a step away from me, her hand drops and an emptiness rushes up my arm and settles into my chest. I feel the separation instantly, and I’m frozen to this spot, watching as she heads toward a door leading them to a private hallway, not glancing back once. Mona leans over and says something to the guy following them around, and he sprints off to the back.
“Most of the time, these tabloids airbrush so much one can never be sure as to what someone really looks like, but she’s just as beautiful in person as she is in the magazines, don’t you think?” Juliet has stepped up next to me.
There are more questions than just this one lingering in her voice, but I’m not ready to answer them and my hands sink into my pockets seeking the warmth they had found with Ava—I mean, Avery.
“Hmm, yes, she’s very beautiful.” How did I not put two and two together? All that time I kept thinking she looked familiar, and this is why. Stupidly, I had thought it was more than an exterior recognition, but I was wrong. Everyone knows Avery Layne—it’s a household name—and I feel like an idiot.
“I’m so excited to see her perform this evening. Word on the street is she canceled some of her recent shows and hasn’t performed in weeks.”
“She did cancel them. She broke her wrist,” I volunteer without thinking.
Juliet stiffens and turns to face me. I don’t want to look at her and see the confusion in her eyes, so I remain focused on the door that Avery walked through.
“How do you know that? Do you know her?” There’s a wariness in her voice. She’s not going to like the answer, or maybe she will. I’m probably blowing this out of proportion for nothing.
Clay walks over with three glasses of champagne and his gaze bounces back and forth between the two of us. He feels the tension and his eyebrows furrow. Looking at my best friend, he raises an eyebrow at me, but all I can do is shake my head no. Having this conversation with him or Juliet right now just isn’t going to happen. Without saying a word, I take one of the glasses, walk out of the hall into the lobby, and climb the stairs that will lead me to the balcony level. No one tries to stop me, maybe it’s the look on my face, but I’m grateful.
Looking around, there are only a few people up here, and I’m relieved. Wandering over to a cocktail table next to the railing, I peer down towards the stage and see Clay and Juliet deep in discussion. My heart aches; I should have told her on Thanksgiving.
I hate that I feel lied to somehow, even though we agreed to keep our regular lives out of it. She did exactly what I did, and I should understand why better than anyone. “Pull yourself together, Ash. Process quick and lock it down,” I mutter to myself.
The side door to the stage opens, Emma and Cora walk in, and wow, they too look just as amazing tonight. I had been so focused on Avery, I never even really saw them standing right next to her. Three seconds after, Avery follows behind. The random guy tries to usher them along, and none of them spares him a glance. As he reaches Avery, he grabs her arm to push her along, and she jerks backward out of his grasp. I see red and heat floods my face. No one touches her. Emma, who’s standing closest to her, sees this interaction and storms toward them. Leaning into his personal space, she fires something at him and I realize I’m white-knuckling the railing. I would’ve loved to hear what she said.
Why is that guy even with them? He’s too small to be a bodyguard, he’s not talking to the press so he isn’t a publicist, and he’s not their agent—that woman Mona is. It makes no sense to me. And why did he put his hands on her? Is he stupid enough not to realize she doesn’t like it? He has to have been warned.
Emma takes Avery’s elbow and the three girls walk to the middle of the stage. Avery takes a seat at the piano, fluffs out her skirt, and my heart starts pounding in my chest. Emma picks up a violin, and Cora takes up a cello. I am certain by now Clay is filling Juliet in on our summer.
Avery, Emma, and Cora are even more well-known than I am. The three of them can create any genre imaginable and are sought after by everyone. From opera to pop music, they are incredible. Their signature sound is classical pop, think Taylor Swift mashed with Mozart. Most recently, I saw them in a commercial performing a flashmob for the #ShareaCoke campaign in Times Square. Little girls love them and so does every red-blooded male out there—including me.
“Good evening, ladies and gentleman.” She’s leaning forward into the microphone and out toward the audience. “I’m Avery Layne and these are my two very dear friends, Emma White and Cora Rhodes. We’d like to thank you for coming out tonight on behalf of NO MORE. NO MORE is a symbol. It is a symbol that is used to increase visibility of the reality of domestic violence and sexual assault. Every dollar raised is directed to one of hundreds of partner organizations in hopes to create more awareness and provide resources that will touch the lives of individuals affected. I personally hold this symbol very dear to my heart. I have a friend who could have benefited from what these amazing people do every day, and I wonder if just maybe her life would have turned out differently had she seen the symbol or felt the strength behind what it stands for.”
She looks over at Emma and the two share a knowing look. My heart aches because although she’s never told me any specifics, I know she’s talking about herself.
“To learn more about NO MORE, please visit their website or make sure you stop by and speak to any of the many volunteers who are here tonight. They’d love to hear from you.”
Racing her fingers across the keys, she looks back out over the audience and smiles. “We hope you enjoy the music tonight . . . most of it you will recognize, but we’ve thrown in a few new songs too. Thank you.”
With her hands on the keys, she glances over to the girls, and the three of them begin to play. Her hands move so swiftly, and the music is beguiling. As she closes her eyes and begins to sing, I’m spellbound. I knew I was falling for her before, but it’s in this moment I know I am completely in love with this girl. She owns every part of me and I’m hit with the realization that I know exactly what to do next. My life has always been about the music, but listening to her beautiful voice, it’s as if all the unknown pieces have found their way together, becoming complete.
Time passes. I’m not sure how long I’ve been standing up here, or how many songs she’s played, but I feel someone come up next to me. Glancing over, Clay leans against the edge, his eyes are focused on the stage. His arms are crossed over his chest; he’s closing himself off and I’m not sure why, but it’s easy to see he’s just as mesmerized as I am.
“I don’t even know what to say right now.” He runs a hand through his hair and lets out a sigh.
“Yeah, that makes two of us.” Silence falls between us as Emma takes two steps forward and solos on her violin. The sound of the strings is piercing and alluring.
“Did you know?” he asks, his eyes drinking her in.
“No, did you?”
