Page 16 of Mending Hearts

At the rear entrance to the hospital, I stood outside the car facing Tyler while Pasha waited patiently behind the wheel as the engine hummed. “Two days,” I said. “Will that be enough?”

“If you told me I needed to come with you today, I’d make it work. Two days is fine. If anything happens and you need me earlier, or if you’re having second thoughts or anything, call me. Doesn’t matter what time. Don’t even look at the time. Just call.”

I slid into the car, and Tyler shut my door. As we pulled out of the parking lot, he waved, and I waved back, feeling like he held a piece of me, one too important to leave behind. Already, I needed him. Panic swirled in my stomach, and I shook my head at the ridiculous thought. I needed his help; I didn’t needhim.

Laura Malone was on a rampage. The venue organizers hadn’t left a single package of orange-flavored gum taped to my dressing room door as stated in the rider, so she was threatening to cancel the show. To be fair, my mother had stolen the trick from Van Halen. She always buried something loopy in the setup section of the venue instructions—for safety reasons, of course. Though, sometimes I wondered if Laura got off on the power trip more than the safety aspect. Nothing ignited her more than the missing item, whatever it happened to be.

The mistake meant I hadn’t had to worry about my mother’s focused attention when I got back from Little Falls. Most of the crew were standing outside the tour buses, waiting for further instructions. From the back parking lot, Mom’s voice boomed out, each word a detonated bomb. Laura assured me that I should be proud to have someone whocared so much.

Sometimes, I did feel that way. But most of the time, Laura’s behavior was embarrassing. Was it the manager or the mother at work? The two were so intertwined I never knew whether to call her Mother, Mom, or Laura around the crew. She was all that and none of it.

Laura’s curvy frame strode toward all of us waiting with my stage manager, Rebecca, trailing behind her. Liposuction and a boob job had created her artificial curves. Unlike me, my mother had no patience for diets.

“Mia, you can get back on the bus. Until I’m sure the safety specs are up to snuff, you’re not stepping foot on this stage for a sound check. No one else does anything until they have the all clear from me, Rebecca, or Taryn. Understood?”

No one dared to grumble, though I suspected a few people were covertly rolling their eyes. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, and with almost three months left in the tour, it wouldn’t be the last.

With a sigh, I climbed onto the bus. Rebecca followed, and Taryn, my road manager, was close on her heels. Two managers, one purpose. Keep me on the track, sliding along the money rails. Plopping down onto the closest couch, I removed one of the lollipops from my pocket and stared at it, twisting it between my fingertips.

Tyler.

The lemon-ginger flavor quelled the tropical storm in my stomach before it became a full-blown hurricane. A miracle. Divine intervention. Never knowing when I might feel the urge to puke on stage had been the worst part of this nightmare so far. When I’d stopped by Tyler’s store on my way to the airport to see if he had more, he’d given me his whole stash. Then, he’d promised to order more to bring with him. Laura would freakout about the sugar content, but at least I wouldn’t be losing my dinner on stage every night.

“Am I really going to sit here until she’s satisfied? I haven’t looked at my schedule.” I slotted the reminder of Tyler into my jacket pocket. I was still wearing the bulky winter coat, and sweat pooled under my arms. We were in Miami, and while it wasn’t exactly hot today, I didn’t need the parka.

Taryn and Rebecca exchanged a glance that only couples could pull off. Silent communication. Who needed words when you knew each other so well you were practically telepathic? Technically, Rebecca was the stage manager and Taryn was the road manager, but they swapped duties all the time depending on who had more patience for me or my mother.

“Radio interview in about an hour.” Taryn checked her watch and pushed her glasses closer to her angular face while Rebecca slipped out the door.

I let my head loll back on the couch cushions and focused on the recessed lights in the ceiling. If I opened more of the curtains on the bus, they wouldn’t need to be on. The windows were heavily tinted, but I didn’t like feeling as though I were in a fishbowl. The curtains were pretty. The windows were a reminder I was on display. Someone was out there watching and waiting for me to screw up.

“You all right? Have a good visit with Sarah?”

“The best.” Most of the time, I didn’t pretend with Taryn or Rebecca. Other people? All of the time. But the two of them had seen through the bullshit too fast to keep it up. Besides, it was exhausting to pretend perfection or indifference or any of the thousands of masks I wore depending on who was at the window looking in. “Does it matter if I fireBonita?” I eyed Taryn, who was leaning against the opposite wall of the bus.

“Fire Bonita?” Taryn frowned and peered at her phone. She shoved her glasses onto the top of her head as she read an incoming message. “Why are we firing Bonita? I thought you liked her.”

“I found someone else. Fresh blood.”

“Did you run this past Laura?”

“Of course not. I’m running it past you so you can get my mom to follow through. Tonight is Bonita’s last. I want her replacement here and up to speed before the next stop.” I ruffled my hair and sat forward. Tiredness blanketed my shoulders, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to fake my way through this radio interview. Every interviewer wanted perky, full of interesting anecdotes, as though I held the world by the tail.

“Okay.” Taryn’s brow puckered. “And who are we bringing on? Feels a bit late for this change.”

“Sarah suggested Tyler Sullivan. Grady Castillo knows him, too. They’ve both worked with him. He fixed one of my costumes at that benefit a few months ago.”

“You want to bring a guy on tour?”

“Yeah.”

“I can see why you’re routing this through me. Laura would lose her fucking mind if she thought you were trying to bring a distraction on the road.”

“It’s not like that.” It was both better and worse than Taryn thought. Once Tyler was here, it would be easy enough to prove I hadn’t brought him on board as a boy-toy. We hardly knew each other. What did I care what he did in his spare time? As long as my costumes fit and no onediscovered I was pregnant, he could look after himself. “He’s supposed to be good. References from two of my favorite people. All I need is for you to make it happen.”

“It’s really not like that?” Taryn pulled a clipboard out of a slot by the door and readjusted her glasses.

“No. I need a change. I’m bored. Sarah said he was amazing.” I might be overselling. Was he amazing? He’d fixed my costume at the fundraiser easily enough. And apparently, his ability to procreate was above average. That counted for something, didn’t it? Fixing costumes and having sex—there were probably worse resumes out there.

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