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Dramatic.
But a true statement.
Mr. Bodyguard followed me into the car, getting into the front seat with the driver while I slid into the back.
“Yes. We’re in the car. Security is in place at the hotel,” he said into his phone, and I could hear the soft murmurings of Jolette on the other end. Even the whisper of her voice was like a bucket of nails being thrown on my good mood.
I pulled up the itinerary, glancing through it. There was an engagement party tonight, followed by the bachelor/bachelorette parties. Tomorrow was a spa day for the girls, a small shower for Maddie, and then the rehearsal dinner. Sunday was the big day.
I wasn’t going to know anyone this weekend but Maddie and Harley, and I wasn’t expecting to see them very much under the circumstances. Hopefully there would be at least a few people to hang out with. I’d never had much luck with that—meeting new people who were actually interested inmeand not the Olivia Darling part.
Harley had told me that cameras and phones were banned for the event, but someone always managed to sneak one in. So I couldn’t everreallyrelax.
Hopefully the person I would be paired with for things wasn’t a complete tool. Maddie had seemed so smug on the phone this week when she’d mentioned it, but she’d refused to tell me who it was. It’s not like I would know them. I hadn’t ever met any of Harley’s teammates on any of his teams, college or NHL.
Driving down the Dallas streets was a rip to the heart—an excruciating trip through the past. It was amazing all the memories you could create in a small amount of time. The way they could burn inside you with an ever present ache that never quite healed…even after years.
We turned down a street and my gaze widened as I saw a bar where I’d done one of my first performances. Obviously it had been way against the rules for a kid to be in a bar, but somehow Jolette had gotten me in for open mic night.
I had felt like I was flying that night…
I’d clutched my guitar with trembling hands, ready to pee my pants as I stepped onto that dimly lit stage—I’d been so fucking nervous. But then…the soft, warm glow of the stage lights had brushed against my skin, and it was easier all of a sudden…like I was in my own little world.
The hushed chatter of the audience had gradually faded as I strummed my guitar, and then, as I started to sing, everything else had melted away. It was just me and the music, and the words and melodies I’d created that were a piece of me, pouring out like I was gifting the people watching a part of my soul.
I could still remember their applause. It was different than it had been at the end, when I was supposedly at the top of my game. And people loved the idea of me more than anything that was coming out of my mouth.
I didn’t know why…but it had meant more to me, the applause that tiny crowd had given an unknown stranger.
It had felt more real.
Maybe I’d been wearing rose colored glasses back then. Or maybe it was just that my world was now gray-tinged, everything sullied by the last few years. The neon sign hanging above the entrance seemed to flicker with a tired looking glow now. The wooden facade of the outside looked weathered and worn…like it had been forgotten like the dreams of countless aspiring musicians who had crossed its threshold, hoping to make it big. I wondered how many of those people had succeeded, or if they, too, now felt like they’d left behind echoes of their songs and broken dreams in that bar.
I tried to push the dread away, but something about seeing that bar stayed with me for the rest of the drive. And by the time we arrived at the Rosewood Mansion, I wasnotin the headspace I would have liked for my weekend away.
We passed the entrance since I needed to go in the back if I was going to keep any anonymity this weekend. The hotel stood tall and elegant, exuding an air of timeless luxury with its ivy-covered walls, and the row of towering oak trees, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. The wrought-iron gates opened to reveal a cobblestone courtyard and the soft glow of lantern-style lights.
“Good job, Maddie,” I whispered, since everything looked like a dream. I could already tell the wedding was going to be perfection.
Someone had checked me in, per Jolette’s protocol, so I walked into my hotel suite, glancing around at the softly elegant furnishings as the door closed behind me and I was finally out from under the eye of Jolette’s guard dog.
A big grin creeped on my face.
Because weirdly…this place already felt much more like home than my L.A. penthouse ever did.
I threw myself onto the bed, squeezing the pillows around my head. And I screamed into the fabric, muffling the sound of my complete and utter relief.
Hopefully this was alright for an engagement party. Maddie had said it was a dress to impress kind of event—whatever the hell that really meant.
But standing in front of the mirror, staring at myself in my black cocktail dress…I felt a little naked.
It covered way more than my old concert outfits ever did. But without my ball cap and sunglasses…or a wig…it felt like I was a poor, distressed mallard, about to fly out in the middle of hunting season.
Just breathe, Olivia, I murmured to myself, wondering how I’d gotten to the point of my life where it felt more natural to talk to myself…than it did to talk to other people.
My phone buzzed.
Behave.
