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I focus back on the ceiling.
Just be that person?
Just be the confident, accomplished, talented woman I pretend to be when I’m performing?
“It’s easy when you can play a role,” I say.
“Are you playing a role?”
Her question slams into me.
Yes, of course. On stage I’m the confident country star who knows who she is and what she wants. It’s my job, part of the show, it’s…
What? What’s really happening when I’m the professional version of myself?
Paige shifts in the seat beside me, and I look over to find her leaning forward.
“So it’s all fake? Not one part of the Larinda Scott we see on stage is real?”
“It’s all real,” I say defensively. “It’s just a different side of me.”
Whoa.
By her slight smile, I’ve just proved her point—and shattered my own.
Professional Larinda Scott isn’t an act. I’m not pretending to be fearless and confident—I feel it in the moment. I strut around believing I can do anything and don’t have to take crap from anyone. I’ve always loved who I am when I’m performing and interacting with fans. It’s one of the things that’s driven me to the height of my success. But it slips away when I step out of the spotlight and fall under the control of others and their expectations. That’s when I shrink into this meek girl who follows orders and doesn’t know who she is.
But what if I have it all backward? What if I can’t figure out who I am because I already know? What if my “act” isn’t the act, but it’s the rest of me that’s off? I don’t need to discover who I am, just accept what’s been right in front of me all along.
“Do you know what Val told me after he met you in person for the first time?” Paige asks softly.
“The day he and Nash came to my studio to review what he’d done with my songs?”
She nods.
My fingers tighten around an imaginary tattooed hand that should be in mine.
“What?” I ask quietly.
“He said, the world has it wrong about you. He didn’t know why you perpetuated the narrative that you’re some ditzy starlet, but he saw beneath the façade right from day one. And I can tell you with certainty that the woman he met in the studio is the woman we see on stage. I’m also pretty sure he fell in love with you the second he learned the truth.”
I swallow hard and stare at my fist squeezed around a phantom hand.
If she’s trying to make it better that Val’s not here right now, she’s doing a terrible job.
It’s also time to step up and be the woman I want to be, AKA the woman I already am.
24—PITTSBURGH (J-DAWG’S BUDDY’S HOUSE)
LARINDA
“Where are we?” I ask as Travis pulls up in front of a small townhome.
“My buddy’s house,” J-Dawg says from beside me.
Should I be concerned I’ve been kidnapped by my own security detail hours before a show? Probably. But I trust these two more than my own family at times. (Not that my family would ever hurt me on purpose, but their decision-making can be suspect at times.)
“Your buddy is a big fan?” I ask skeptically.
