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“Yeah. It’s great, right?” Josh said, then he played a riff on his fiddle. The man could play anything on that thing. He only had to hear the song a few times, and he had it down cold, and that went for all the Mozart he knew as well.
“Fabulous,” I told him. “Exactly what we’d hoped for.”
But I didn’t look at him as I spoke. I didn’t want him to catch the panic that had to be on my face.
“Are you okay?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.
“I’m fine! Got it totally under control,” I lied through my fake grin.
“Got what under control?” Luke asked me, as if he could read my panicked, swirling mind.
“This,” I said. “This gig. I have everything under control.”
“Where’s your hat?” Rascal asked, sitting in the chair in front of the mirror. He’d turned the chair around to face us, instead of the mirror. “You should be wearing your hat. It might help to center you and remind you of some fun times.”
“I don’t know. At home, I guess. I didn’t bring it,” I told him, somewhat annoyed that he would even ask me about it. Who cared about a damn hat? I sure didn’t.
Josh came over and pulled me into his embrace. My arms bent in front of me, fists closed under my chin. I simply wasn’t in the mood.
Normally, I loved his hugs, loved to be that close to him, to feel the scruff on his chin, to smell his deliciously musky scent, but I didn’t want his hug tonight. “Let me go. You’re wrinkling my outfit.”
He opened his arms, and I took a step back.
“Wrinkling your outfit?” he asked, skeptical about what I’d said. His eyes raked over me. “You’re wearing a leather skirt, and a fringed shirt that wouldn’t possibly show a wrinkle if you balled it up and sat on it. What’s wrong? Are you feeling all right? If you need something, I might be able to get it for you before we go on.”
“Well, you better hurry,” Luke said. “We go on in about ten minutes.”
“That can’t be right,” I said. “We must have more time than that.”
“Just breathe,” Mrs. N instructed. “Relax and breathe. In… out… in… out. It helps.”
“It’s going to be fine,” Bobby said, looking so adorable in that same red-silk fringed shirt he wore at Dusty’s funeral, a black cowboy hat, black jeans, and black cowboy boots. The man sure knew cowboy style, and he wore it well. He’d helped come up with our stage outfits. Black on the bottom, and almost anything Western, in any color on the top. Josh and Rascal chose to wear cowboy hats, while Luke and I decided not to.
In truth, I’d planned on wearing my hat, but then forgot it when I left the ranch. At least I thought I forgot it. Maybe I purposely chose not to bring it. Anything was possible, considering that ever since my eyes popped open early this morning, I’d been living in the constant fog of panic.
Jimmy popped into the room. “Okay, everybody. It’s time! Let’s set this night on fire!”
My stomach immediately clenched.
“This is it,” Rascal said, his voice loud and filled with excitement.
“Let’s do it,” Bobby said, walking out with Mrs. N by his side, and Rascal right behind him.
“You’ve got this,” Josh told me, taking my hand in his.
I nodded but couldn’t speak. My mouth was a desert, and my throat threatened to completely close.
Luke came up behind me. “This is going to be so much fun.”
“Fun,” I squeaked out.
As we walked through the doorway together, I decided I needed a bottle of water. “Water. I need water.”
“I can grab it for you,” Josh offered.
“Thanks, but I can get it myself. You go on ahead. I’ll just be a second,” I said, falling back.
He hesitated for a moment. “You’re good, right?”
