Page 18 of Protecting Hailey

6

Hailey

My head pounded as though it would crack through my skull. I groaned when someone turned the light on in the green room.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” my mother consoled me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

“I feel horrible,” I mumbled with my head down on the table. “My throat burns, my nose is stuffed, and my head won’t stop pounding.”

My mother rubbed my back, her knee bounced beside me. Her nervous energy radiated off of her like an electrical current.

“Here, take these.” Christian passed me two pills. “They’ll help with the headache and maybe even the stuffed-up nose. They’re non-drowsy.” Then he set a hot mug on the table. “It’s ginger tea with lemon and honey. It’ll make your throat feel better.” I inhaled the beverage, and the steam unplugged my nose momentarily.

“Thank you,” I croaked and then groaned at the sound. “I sound awful. I can’t go on.”

Just then, Frankie walked in. “What’s shaking, doll?” he shimmied over to the table. “I love that sparkly black dress.”

“Frankie, you have to tell the producers that I can’t go on. I’m too sick.”

“You were fine yesterday. This isn’t performance anxiety, is it? I can make a quick call and get you a prescription for that if you need something.”

I tried shaking my head, but the movement hurt too much. “No, I’m actually sick.”

He pursed his lips. “I don’t think we can cancel at the last minute, but let me talk to the producers and see what we can do. Maybe we just skip the singing part for today and do only the interview.”

Relief washed over me. “Thank you, that’d be great.”

“Smile!” someone called from the other side of the room and a phone camera shuttered.

I narrowed my eyes at Ingrid. “This isn’t the best time to take a photo of me.”

“Oh, sorry. But I’m doing a whole post about your appearance today, and I need backstage pics for your stories.” Ingrid didn’t sound sorry at all. Her smile only made me frown deeper. I turned away from her camera and sipped my tea.

Not bad. The hot tea warmed up my chest, and I sighed at the feeling. Christian was god-sent.

He shook me awake this morning when I slept through the alarm. He made me a warm breakfast and now stepped up with the cold medication and tea.

Trey was still snoring when I left. Nothing but a bucket of water would wake him up after a night of drinking.

I didn’t want to see him, anyway. He was the one who got me sick. I was sure of it.

A few minutes later, Frankie walked in with a woman wearing jeans and a black button-up shirt. “Hailey, this is Maria, one of the producers. I told her about your predicament.”

Maria smiled warmly at me. “Don’t worry about it, Hailey. This stuff happens. We’ll just play your track in the background with your mic turned off, and you can dance and still do your thing. Sounds good?”

My head was foggy, but I was pretty sure I understood what Maria had said. “You want me to lip-sync to my song?”

“Well, yeah.”

I shook my sore head. “No. I won’t do that. I sing all my songs live.”

“Hailey, we do this all the time. The network prefers it as there are no surprises and so does the audience. People are expecting to hear what’s on the radio. If the voice is off, they’ll be disappointed. Trust me.”

My gut was shouting ‘No! Don’t do it!’ but my pounding migraine just wanted everyone to shut up and go away. “Fine. I’ll do it. But only because I’m not feeling well.”

Frankie clapped his hands. “That’s my girl.”

My attempt at a smile probably resembled a grimace.

---