Page 5 of Sing Sweet Nightingale

After a good half hour, we finally reach the limo, and I get in, followed closely by Luna. I flop back into the seat and relax every muscle in my body, releasing every ounce of tension and anxiety I can.

My head lulls back onto the leather seat, and my long blonde ponytail pokes at the back of my head. I growl and shift my head from side to side until I’m comfortable enough not to rip my hair out of my skull.

“We’ll be back to the hotel in twenty and back in your suite in no more than thirty. By tomorrow morning you’ll be well on your way.”

She doesn’t say to where , just in case someone is listening. They wouldn’t know what specifically we’re talking about or where I’m on my way to. Could be to vacation, home, relaxing, whatever.

I smile up at the limo ceiling, imagining being in nature, in the forest with the trees and open sky, with absolutely no one around, especially no momager.

The daydream puts me at ease as it has over the past six months, and the last bits of anxiety drift away on the heated Nevada breeze.

“Almost there,” I whisper to myself. Luna’s keen hearing picks up on it; she always hears no matter how softly I whisper.

“Don’t worry, Lottie. I’ve got you. Everything’s set and nothing will get in the way. I have everything in line to ensure no one will even consider bothering you for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”

“I think I may have gone insane without you, Luna. What can I ever do to repay you?” I ask, swiveling to look at her sitting at my side. She turns to me and gives me a serious look.

“Nothing. I want nothing from you other than for you to be happy and live your life as you see fit. No one should have another controlling their life. You deserve so much more, and I just hope you find it.” She speaks in low, hushed words. Her voice laced with hopeful determination.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

As promised, I’m back at the door to my suite in the Bellagio in no more than thirty minutes. My anxiety and nerves all but replaced with relief and anticipation for tomorrow. It can’t come any sooner.

Opening the door to the penthouse suite, I feel like I’m walking on air, that is until I notice a shock of platinum blonde hair sitting at the bar, sipping a glass of amber liquid. My light-as-air high becomes a rapid freefall without a parachute.

Fuck.

I took so long signing autographs and being seen by the fans that my mother had time to sneak into my room. I was hoping she wouldn’t do this, considering everything we did to make sure she stayed far away from my room and me after the show.

“Mom. What are you doing here?” I can’t keep the shock of surprise out of my voice, and I don’t try.

“Alexandria. What took you so long? I thought you were heading right back to start yourweekend of relaxation?” Utter derision drips from her tone.

She doesn’t approve of me taking time off. She doesn’t like when the workhorse needs a break. In her mind, I should be working nonstop to create more award-winning records and bring in more money. That’s all she’s cared about for the last decade. Money and how much of it I can make for her.

“I thought I would give the fans a little something special to end the tour with. What’s it to you? I thought you would be at the tables by now. Or on your way to wherever the hell it is, you go when you’re not micromanaging every second of my life.”

I can’t help but be snarky with her. I have to get one last dig in because after tomorrow, I hope not to speak with her for many moons.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Alexandria.”

I’d argue with her about calling me Alexandria and instead Lottie like Dad used to when I was younger before he died, but there’s no point. I think that’s why she doesn’t call me by the nickname; It reminds her too much of our lives before his death and before all the fame and fortune. She doesn’t want to remember the before. Not like I do. If she could, she wouldpermanently wipe the memories from her mind, whereas I just want to return to those times. Playing guitar with my dad while singing along and dancing around the living room, enjoying the music. Enjoying life.

That’s where my love of music came from, my father. It’s because of him that I was drawn to music. He nurtured my natural talent, showing me what music can do and how much happiness it can create. How music can affect others and allow them to feel what I’m feeling through my words.

After he died, I made sure to continue playing, writing, and singing because I knew that’s what he would have wanted me to do.

Unfortunately, after he died, something in my mom changed. The free, fun spirit she used to be with my father disappeared, and the stress of being a single parent and supporting us got to her. That’s when she became the money-hungry, greedy, controlling, unfeeling person she is today.

I sigh and clench my teeth, biting back all the cruel things I want to say to her. They would only make things worse, and even though I despise her at this moment, she is still my mother, and I don’t want to say something I can’t take back.

“Why are you here, mother?” I ask again, hoping to get whatever the hell this is over with so she’ll leave and I can prepare for tomorrow.

“I just don’t understand why you need to stay here and take a few days off. Why can’t we go home, and you can relax there?”

She stands and flips her long platinum hair over her shoulder. I think she makes me keep mine long so we can match, and people can easily associate her with me. Since she has no talent, the most fame she’s ever going to get is being known as my mother and manager.

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