Page 9 of Mysterious

“Oh, well.”

Maybe harsh is what I have to be to get things the way I want when it comes to my mother.

CHAPTERFIVE

Mia

All of ussit around in my dressing room as always to do our preshow ritual I’ve done since the first time I went out on tour. Back then, it was a tiny event that consisted of malls and galleries that held no more than a couple hundred people. Still, it was exciting in those days since I was only fifteen and couldn’t do bars and clubs like other performers just starting out. But whether it’s a mall show or one in front of an arena full of screaming fans, my entourage and I always sit together and share good vibes we want to carry us through that night’s performance.

“Okay, everyone! Time to join hands,” Ainsley announces to the entire group. “It’s almost time for Mia to go out and see her fans, and we want to send her off with the best possible feeling we can.”

One by one, each person I rely on to make me look beautiful and toned and talented, along with my five dancers for the night, steps up into the center of the rather small dressing room at the Citrus County Pavilion. We all take the hand of the person next to us and close our eyes as I try to channel all the gratitude and happiness I have inside me.

“Thank you for all these incredible people who make my professional and personal life so much better than I ever dreamed possible. Let us have a great show and give my fans what they came here tonight to see.”

As usual and our tradition, Mitchell chimes in with his lame joke, “Okay, break a leg! Well, not really because working out with a broken leg is complete crap and I don’t want to have to deal with that.”

By the time he finishes, everyone’s eyes are open and we’re all staring at my trainer in amused disbelief that he thinks any of that is funny. He’s a terrific guy, but his sense of humor is shit.

“Thanks, Mitch. And thank you everyone! Let’s have a great show tonight!”

Everyone cheers and throws their hands up in the air. This feels good, and I’m looking forward to the start of a fantastic tour with this show. We’re all happy and rested, and I’ve got the best security man in the world protecting me.

What else could a girl like me ask for?

As everyone files out of the dressing room to leave me alone for the last few minutes before show time, I wonder where Liam has been for the past hour. I’ve seen each of his men milling around, but he’s been absent.

Probably double and triple checking everything. He does like to be thorough. I like that about him.

A member of the stage crew opens the dressing room door just enough to fit his lips into the space. “Sorry if I’m barging in on you, Mia, but fifteen minutes until show time.”

He closes the door before I get a chance to thank him. Fifteen minutes. Like always, this is when I start to get nervous. I look down at my hand resting on my dressing table and it’s trembling. I have nothing to be scared about. Liam and his men have taken care of security and made it tighter than it ever was.

For a few seconds, my mind races with the thought that the bullet that hit Liam wasn’t meant for him but for me. Is it possible my stalker has taken things up a notch and turned to attempted murderer?

I shake my head in disbelief. No way. For all this time, he’s only been a stalker and now suddenly, he’s taken to trying to kill me? That doesn’t make sense.

But if the shooter wasn’t him, who was it? Of course, the police say they have nothing yet. It feels like every time something happens with me, that’s all they have to tell me. “Nothing yet, Mia. We’re working on finding all the clues we can and solving this, but it will take time.”

Time my ass. I doubt they’ll ever figure out who took that shot at Liam and me. Then again, maybe because it involved another person, the cops will actually try to solve this crime.

A knock on the dressing room door tears me out of my miserable thoughts about the police, and I hope to see Liam walking in to tell me he’s checked everything and it’s all as safe as can be. Then I’ll get back to dealing with the preshow jitters that always plague me on first nights.

But when my mother walks through the door instead of him, I’m disappointed and don’t bother pretending I’m not. “What do you want, Mother? I’m busy trying to get myself into the right mindset right now, so whatever you want to talk about, it can wait.”

She forces a smile in response to my coldness and hurries over to where I sit. “I love that costume! I didn’t realize you were returning to your red look for this show. You always look so great when you wear red on stage, Mia.”

Her compliments make me smile, but I sense something frantic about her as she practically trips over her words. “Thanks, Mom. The girls and I talked it over and we decided red felt right for this tour. I want people to be wowed, and even thoughMinehas hit the top of the charts before the whole record releases, I feel like I have something to prove with this tour.”

That’s the most I’ve talked about my music and my songs to my mother in months. I didn’t mean to confess all of that to her, especially since she rarely enjoys hearing about the artistic side of the business. She’s all about the money side, and I have a feeling if it were up to her, she’d have me singing the same song over and over on a constant loop if it made money.

My talk about how this tour feels for me surprises her, but she nods like she understands, or at least like she wants me to think she understands. “Of course, the song is doing well. The entire record will too. Your millions and millions of fans love you, Mia. It’s why this show tonight is packed, even though it’s just a warm-up show to work out all the kinks.”

“The audience doesn’t think of this show that way,” I say, reflexively wanting to defend my fans.

They don’t view early dates on my tours like practice sessions, and they shouldn’t. I would never want these fans tonight to think they got a lesser version of me or my performance simply because they showed up for the first date. These are my hometown fans, people who have watched me grow up from that little girl at the malls singing her heart out for a couple hundred people. They were there before the rest of the world. They deserve nothing but my best for being my fans the longest.

“Yes, yes,” she says, not truly agreeing with me but placating me as she fixes the strap of my costume on my left shoulder.

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