December 24th [COMPLETED]

12. Phoenix

This was someone's idea of a cruel joke.

George couldn't shake the feeling that there was someone out there laughing their heads off at her expense. This was the cruelest of all jokes and George had to fight to keep a scowl off her face as she was led through the backstage area to her mark in front of the microphone.

There she was, finally on stage, at an award show, about to win. But was she there to accept the award? No. Of course not. Because that was her luck. She was finally given the go-ahead to stand in the spotlight, even stand next to the award that would have her name engraved on its base by the end of the night and she was there to hand it off to somebody else.

And not just anybody else. Felix.

Julien had tried to talk her down, had tried to reason with her, show her that the label was doing its best to meet her demands but they both knew how hollow his words were. They both knew the ridiculous lengths Concept had gone to keep her identity as George Briggs a secret. And now they were making a joke out of it.

The lights in the room went down, the spotlight shone down on her. This was it. This was her cue.

George stepped up to the microphone and read the words scrolling along on the teleprompter as three different cameras were pointed her way and every pair of eyes were trained on her.

"The category for Song of the Year celebrates the craft of songwriting. It celebrates and awards the songwriters of our industry who pick, with such delicate care, each word, each syllable, creating worlds and telling stories with the fewest words possible."

Her breathing was regular, her heart was steady enough, and yet George had to clench her hands to her sides to keep them from wringing each other apart. There was a reason she had spent her entire life up to this point avoiding situations just like this.

"These songs have spent the past year inspiring the public, relating to the common man, and healing wounds we didn't even know we had. Tonight's nominees have taken their job to the next level. While musicians sell air for a living..."

George paused for the laugh as the teleprompter told her to.

"... These songwriters made every breath, every accented syllable, every long-held vowel, count. And the nominees, for Song of the Year, are..."

A prerecorded video took over her job and George had a second to catch her breath, to wipe the sweat from her hands onto the velvet fabric of her suit pants. Somewhere Vivian was cringing. She had helped get George the dark red fitted suit George had wanted. She had rolled her eyes and strongly recommended that George reconsider and go with the traditional ball gown. But on this point, George had been firm. Since she was on stage to present an award to George Briggs, she was going to dress as George Briggs.

Her stage companion, the model George hadn't caught the name of, passed George the golden envelope as the prerecorded video wrapped up. George took two more deep breaths, flexing her fingers, grateful for something to hold onto even if it was just for a moment.

Felix understood why she avoided the spotlight, why she had never wanted to be a musician, to stand in front of thousands of people. She had had to tell him over and over again when they toured together and he wanted her to duet with him.

She could make it as a touring musician, that wasn't that hard. She had something to hold onto, a task to complete and she was the last person the audience was paying any attention to.

And it wasn't that she couldn't sing. Felix had heard her, she had filled in his background harmonies on both albums. It wasn't that.

No, George simply couldn't stand the feeling of standing out there, alone, in front of thousands of people, all of them with their eyes trained on her. She felt naked, exposed and she had worked her entire career to keep out of the public eye.