Image: A Love Story

Chapter Six - Meadow

Adrenaline pumped white hot through my veins as I leaned my hand up against the trap door. The same trap door that would open and lift me onstage in about ten seconds. I could hear the chanting roar of the people. The people that hadn't seen me since my widely publicized breakup with Ryan. The people that would judge, and watch my every move, in about ten seconds.

Dozens of hands swarmed over me. Mic and hair adjustments, a towel on my sweaty forehead followed by finishing powder, a bucket thrust in front of my face. I waved that away.

I'm fine. I've done this hundreds of times and this time is no different.

"We're on in three—" a lady with bubblegum pink hair said to me, showing three fingers.

I took a deep breath. Maybe I did need that bucket.

"Two—"

No, no. I'm good.

My insides trembled and my entire body was thumping like a heart.

"One—"

I'm going to faint. Right on stage.

"Lift her up."

The wooden floor beneath me elevated. My quaking legs stumbled and when it stopped, I straightened back up.

The red and yellow lights were temporarily blinding. Hot. I began to lift my hand to shield my eyes, but stopped myself. I adjusted quickly, staring out into the crowd, away from the lights. I could hardly see any individual people. There was too many. And the lighting made it too difficult. That was comforting. It just looked like a long stretch of moving black lumps. The sheer expanse of it was disconcerting, easily the length of two football fields. I reminded myself I had performed in front of an even larger audience, and that helped.

Then my eyes fixed on a girl near the front row. She looked maybe thirteen or fourteen. There were tears streaming down her face. I felt a strange, fleeting mixture of emotions; wonderment, disgust, pity, flattery.

Their sound was relatively muffled due to my in-ear monitor, just a dull roar. Maybe it was also due to the ringing in my ears. However, I could tell just how loud they were by looking at the first row. Mouths opened wide, like they were simultaneously devouring double Big Macs. There was another girl holding up a sign, We love you Riley!

There was fog rolling at my boots from the machine offstage and suddenly the lights above me twisted, lowered and dimmed.

The first few notes played in my ear and my mouth opened. My voice was surprisingly strong. Almost foreign. A third limb. The crowd roared louder as I slipped into my other skin. Like a backwards molt, or Buffalo Bill.

I slipped back into routine with ease. The words flowing freely and without thought.

My tense muscles finally unlocked like a finely oiled Tinman and I began to dance.

I'm doing this. I'm back.

When I was finally done, I felt exhilarated. Like I could continue for hours and hours. I wasn't used to feeling this way anymore and I hadn't in months. I bounded offstage, breathless and smiling as I handed my in-ear monitor back to Bubblegum hair. She threw me a high-five and said "great work."

Rick gave me a heavy-handed pat on the back as he led me outside to the bus. We went through a secret exit, away from where the paparazzi loomed in the shadows. The sky was black as pitch, and the gravel crunched under my boots. My sweat cooled, it was unusually cold for California mid-September. Then again, I was always cold. I was born in Phoenix, Arizona and just about everything was cool by comparison.