Page 4 of The Wiener Across the Way

KELSEY

Denver was beautiful. Rust Rocks amphitheater amazed me, and I loved the sound. What I didn’t like was how fast the paparazzi had found me. It was like they had tracking chips implanted in my freaking brain or something.

Our sound check wasn’t supposed to be until this afternoon, but I’d offered a little bonus to the crew if they’d sneak up here with me. I didn’t want to believe that someone on my own team had tipped them off, but the thought had snaked its way into my mind. Ooph. I sure hated the idea though.

I gave Wiener the Pooh a quick kiss on the top of her head right in that super soft spot behind her ear. There were some days I was fairly sure she was the only one who actually cared about me.

No. Ridiculous. Silly. According to the entertainment publications, FlipFlop, FaceSpace, and that other one that the electric car guy bought, the entire world loved me. And I was grateful for it. They hadn’t always. To be fair, there were a lotof unhappy little men who still liked to tell me to eat a salad on every single picture.

Penelope wouldn’t let me reply that they should eat a bag of dicks. No matter how badly I wanted to. Luckily I had fans that did that for me.

“Kelsey, the cars are ready. Do you want to do the bait and switch or walk tall?” Pen looked at me expectantly. As if I had a choice. I did what she told me to, because most of the time, she was the only person standing between me and death by a thousand flashes.

“Whatever you think. But I’ll be honest, I’m already exhausted so I doubt I’m going to be able to give them my best face.” I liked the idea of walking tall, and it gave me an idea for a lyric. I pulled my phone out and quickly made a note. I needed every shred of inspiration if I was going to get the songs for this next album written.

One long, assessing stare later, and she must have agreed the no makeup, awake before of dawn look wasn’t good enough for the press. “Bait and switch it is.”

She lifted the ever-present headset up and clicked on her phone. “Grab the wig and head toward the east entrance.”

Okay, good. It wasn’t that I minded the press. They were an important key to my success. When they were kind. So many of them had been great to me over the years. Well, once I’d proven I was not a one-hit wonder and none of them could hurt me by reporting about what I looked like. But these days it seemed like the only thing they cared about was who I was dating, or rather, who I’d broken up with.

It was hard to find love when your every move was documented. Not that I thought I knew what real love meant anyway. I knew plenty of heartbreak though, and that made for great songs. Grammy winning songs. Multi-platinum record sales songs.

If I couldn’t use my own pain to create art, what was it all for anyway?

Penelope and two women on my security team hustled me and Pooh toward the east entrance, and the weight of getting up so early tugged at my steps. I forced myself to be a morning person, but deep down, if I could sleep in until eleven, have brunch in bed, watch a movie or read a book until two in the afternoon, and then start my day, I would.

Every single day.

But that wasn’t going to happen in this life.

I slipped on the wig, a simple, chestnut-colored bob that made me look like an entirely different person. It was funny how a slight change in appearance could give me a sliver of freedom. The wig was my invisibility cloak, a brief respite from the eyes always seeking me out. Especially in colder climates where bulky coats hide body shapes.

Because my dog and my thick tushy gave me away every time. Although it helped when I’d finally convinced everyone that we needed to hire more women with bodies like mine to be backup singers and dancers. That had been a harder fought battle than the finale ofThe Choicest Voice.

We navigated through the backstage area, toward the waiting cars, and my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from my agent and manager, no doubt a reminder about some interview or photo shoot. But for a moment, I ignored it.

I glanced back at the amphitheater, the sun casting a golden hue over the rust-colored rocks. It was a place of pure magic, a natural cathedral that had seen the highs and lows of countless artists. I wanted to soak in that energy, to let it infuse me and my music with something raw and real.

I’d always wanted to play here. I’d had to twist the arms of some flies with honey to get the show added to my schedule, andeven then, it took the promise to do this music festival gig in Aspen.

“The cars are pulling up now. I’ve got your decoys heading to their exits too. Be ready to make that mad dash,” Pen said, forcing me to give up the peaceful moment.

“Let’s do this,” I said, more to myself than to her. I nodded, adjusting the wig, and took in a couple of deep lungfuls of air, blowing them out like I was about to run a sprint. Or up the steps like the hunky rescuer of dachshunds. Just thinking about it had my legs feeling like Jell-O.

The steps. Not the hunk.

Or maybe.

No.

I was not looking forward to spotting him in the VIP section of the show later. Nope. Not me. Pooh squirmed in my arms and wiggled her little butt like she knew who I was thinking about. “Woof, woof.”

“You’re the one with the crush, aren’t you, poo poos?” I gave her a little boop on the nose, and then wrapped the oversize shacket around her to hide her presence. She knew the drill and snuggled up right under my arm.

Penelope touched her earpiece and gave me the you’re-not-gonna-like-this look. “Ah, shizznit. The bastards figured us out, Kels. Might as well face them now. We’ve got too much on the schedule today to camp out here for much longer.”

Well, didn’t that suck a bunch of ducks. “Yep. Fine.”

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