Page 130 of Heartbreaker
ROYAL: Good luck, Shortcake. Frankie and I will be watching!
JADE: Thank you. I love you.
ROYAL: I love you too.
I put my phone away and try to focus on the emcee, the entertainment, the other awards. Country Music Superstar of the Year will be last, of course, which means I can’t even take a bathroom break.
And finally, it’s time.
I won’t be overly disappointed if I don’t win.
It’s a new award, new organization within the music industry, new everything, so it doesn’t hold a lot of weight yet.
But it would still be cool.
“And the winner is…”
There’s the typical dramatic pause, and it takes a lot of self-control not to grab Dash’s hand.
“...Jade Cantrell!”
“There you go.” Dash smiles triumphantly.
I stand up and he gently squeezes my hand.
I don’t even have a speech planned because I didn’t want to assume anything.
Now I’m going to have to come up with one on the fly.
“Thank you, Dallas!” I say after accepting the small but heavy glass award in the shape of a cowboy hat. “I’m so honored to win this. First and foremost, thank you to Grandma Louise and my Mama, who instilled the love of music in me.”
Lots of cheering and clapping.
“And to my amazing fiancé, Royal Ewing, who couldn’t be here tonight—I love you. Oh! And feel better, Frankie!” No one knows who I’m talking about, but I don’t give a damn. “The last year has been incredibly chaotic. In the best possible way. Awards like this mean everything…I appreciate my fans, myteam, and all of you—my contemporaries. Thank you!” I raise my hand, holding the glass award as the music comes up and I start to exit the stage.
But something in my peripheral vision catches my eye.
Instinctively, I step back as a man lunges onto the stage and comes at me.
Startled, I drop the award and it shatters as it hits the ground.
“Stupid cunt! You don’t deserve shit!”
I shrink back, unsure what to do, and then like an arrow shooting through the night, Dash is there. He puts himself between me and my attacker, and I see the glint of metal.
“Dash—he has a knife!”
Dash is still between us, his large body a barrier that’s both soothing and terrifying because I can’t see what’s happening.
“Sugar, let’s get you out of here and let security handle it.” One of the announcers comes to my side, putting her arm around me.
But I can’t leave Dash.
Not when he’s in danger because of me.
It’s ridiculous, since I know he can take care of himself, but I look back over my shoulder as I’m forcibly propelled backstage.
More security has descended on the stage but not before my attacker lunges at Dash.
