One Night Only

Chapter Six

It's another two days before I step outside my house. If it weren't for what Elton and Mom arranged for me to do in secret, I'm not sure I would have made it past the front door. Knowing I'm going to see fans who were at The Domino is what kept me going as I transformed into Cayden Indigo this morning, trading my T-shirt, shorts, and ponytail for a sleeveless jumpsuit, block-heeled sandals, and a blue wig. This, along with sparkly eyeshadow, winged eyeliner, false eyelashes, and bright lip gloss, do a decent job of disguising who I really am right now. I may be playing the part of my pop star alter ego, but the true me is a shell-shocked teenager who has been holed up in her bedroom, not sleeping much.

The teens and kids I'm visiting this afternoon are patients at Children's Hospital. Each of them were injured in either the blast or the stampede to leave my concert, and seeing them is more important to me than anything has ever been. Still, I'm terrified. I don't fear something bad will happen once I'm past my driveway gates, and I'm not afraid to find out how seriously some of the kids were hurt. But after I asked to visit the hospital and to bring stuffed animal lions as gifts to remind each wounded fan that they're strong and fierce, doubts crept into my mind.

Being at my show landed my fans at the hospital. What if none of them want to see me, or what if I remind them of what happened and trigger flashbacks? What if their parents freak out and ban me from being there once I arrive? So much could go wrong.

I wish I'd asked Sawyer and Carter to come along for support. I would have said the same for Bowie not that long ago, although this isn't true now. I haven't heard from him since he stalked out of my house two days ago, and I also haven't reached out. He'd once planned to go with me to the show I should have performed in San Diego last night. It was supposed to be my last solo concert before our tour together. Bowie either heard it was canceled, forgot he was supposed to go, or didn't care.

Maybe his silence means we're over. Maybe it doesn't. Either way, we'll have to hash it out before the tour. If it's the end of him and me, we'll have to figure out how to make things work without all kinds of tension between us, or it's going to be a grueling summer on the road. Not that I even know how I'll make it to that point. It's difficult enough putting one foot in front of the other to get from the front porch of my house to Mom's Range Rover.

"Elton said he'll meet us there," Mom tells me as I slide into the passenger seat. "He's bringing the stuffed animals."

"Okay, great." That's all I say, and it's typical of me these last couple of days. My brain has been working overtime, but putting my thoughts and feelings into words has been close to impossible.

Mom starts the engine, then pauses. Her weary expression tells me she has something on her mind.

"Out with it," I say. "What do you want tell me?"

"I checked the gate camera before I came outside," she admits. "There are still a few paps around, probably waiting for a glimpse of you."

I'm not overjoyed by this news, but I'm also not surprised. The media has only heard from me through my publicist, and there hasn't been a single sighting of me in public since I was photographed crying on Sawyer's shoulder. The tabloids are probably hungry for photos, video clips, and my answers to their questions about Dallas and what happened at my show.

"Do you think they'll follow us if they see me?"

"They might."

"I'll get in the back." I unbuckle my seat belt and get out of the SUV.

As long as none of the paparazzi Mom saw have been climbing trees or ladders to peer over our fences and gate, they shouldn't be able to see me in the driveway. I open the rear passenger-side door and hop into the back of the vehicle, where I lie flat across the seats and cover myself with a blanket we keep in here for exactly this reason. The blanket and the heavily tinted windows have helped me dodge the paps before, and with any luck, these will do the trick again now. Today's hospital visit is private and off-limits to the media.