Page 4 of Love on Tour
He leaned into her and said, “Don’t look up. We forgot to check your nose for boogies.”
She broke up laughing, and the cameras cut to someone else.
“You made me laugh on national television. Nobody looks good with their mouth wide open.”
“It looked cute. Chicks dig cute. It’s all about the press, baby.”
The hosts kicked off the show with witty banter, and then it was time for a commercial break. Christine’s phone vibrated inher purse, so she pulled it out. Her friends were texting simultaneously. She visualized them, decked out in their formal wear, sitting high up in the bleachers somewhere. Julianna with her straight blonde hair and legs up to her neck. And Phoebe, who was stunning to look at with her jet-black hair and blue eyes but had a very difficult personality.
Julianna:OMG! Is that you sitting next to Austin Garrett?
Phoebe:How in the hell did you end up sitting next to the country stud?
“What are you doing?” Austin asked.
“Texting. My friends saw me on TV.”
“You don’t text in the second row. You text in row one twenty, not row two.”
“I usually sit in row three-zero-two,” she said, pointing to the back of the arena.
“Not tonight. Gotta shut it off.”
She texted,Long story. Will explain later. Gotta go. Not allowed to text down here.
She shut her phone off and glanced at the people around her—singers and actors sitting within feet of her. This was her Cinderella moment.
“Next commercial break, I have to go backstage. Everyone up for Breakthrough Video gets to sing a minute of their song.”
“A whole minute? Wow, you’ve hit the big time,” Christine said, giving an awkward chuckle before realizing he might not appreciate her sarcasm.
“I like you. You’re funny.” Just then, the commercial break started and a guy with a headpiece gestured for Austin to join him. “I’ve gotta go. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck.” He found her funny. She liked that. Christine had a reputation for being too serious and was often told to lighten up. Tonight, she was funny.
Austin took off, and a college-age kid promptly nabbed his seat.
“Excuse me, that’s Austin Garrett’s seat,” she said.
“I know.”
“Ah, you’re a seat filler. Empty seats do make for bad television.”
The kid grunted a response.
Christine wanted to give herself the proverbial pinch. She was actually sitting next to someone designed to keep floor-level seats from being empty. She usually sat so high up that nobody cared when seats went empty.
“Do you get paid for this? Sweet gig.”
His brow furrowed. He shook his head and turned away.
The commercial break ended and the cameras came back up on Austin. Onstage, he looked even more striking with his long legs, muscular torso, and strong arms. He had some seriously toned arms. He sang an excerpt from “Promises to Me,” stripped down with only an acoustic guitar for accompaniment. It was a song about heartbreak, someone making promises they didn’t keep. The subject wasn’t anything new. But the lyrics had spoken to her: “You promised me, only to lie. What happened to, until we die? Even apart, I’m still not free. I can’t let go of your promises to me.” You’d expect the song to be from a woman to a man, which is why she’d thought of Austin when she first heard it. With his raw-sounding voice and manly exterior, it would be unexpected and heartfelt. Now he was onstage singing it. Her heart skipped and her hands flew to her chest. She’d found this song for him. Without her, he wouldn’t be singing it, right now, for millions of people all over the country. Pride surged through her for both of them.
For only having one minute, he nailed it. He pointed to her from the stage and gave a thumbs-up. The camera panned back to her face and there she was on the giant screens, beaming at him.
Austin stayed backstage while they announced the winner.
Christine held her breath.
