Page 119 of Heartbreaker

I don’t really care about any of it.

I go on stage in an hour and whereas I don’t get much stage fright anymore, there’s usually a little bit of jittery anxiety beforea big show like this. Tonight, I feel nothing. No fear, no anxiety, no excitement—a big, fat nothing.

God, this sucks.

I’ve never experienced this kind of sadness—missing someone so much it’s often hard to breathe. How on earth am I going to get through a two-hour set? My plan to work Royal out of my system appears to be failing miserably.

“Now you look like your usual million-dollar self!” Fannie says, turning my chair so I can see the final product.

And I do look pretty damn good. Even if Ifeellike shit.

“Thank you, Fannie. You’re amazing.” I squeeze her arm as I slide out of the chair.

“I’ll be in the wings if you need any touch-ups mid-set!” she says as she heads for the door.

“Thank you!” I close the door behind her and lean against it.

Time to get dressed and put on my game face.

So to speak.

My phone buzzes and I smile at the text that just came in.

BRIAR: Kick ass and take names! And Frankie sent you this:

She attached a video so I press the little arrow to play it.

It’s of Frankie, playing guitar.

And singing an incredibly off-key version of “Forever in Rewind.”

It’s so sweet it brings tears to my eyes.

But I take a deep breath so Fannie doesn’t kill me for ruining my makeup.

JADE: Tell her the next time I play in L.A., she can come on stage with me.

BRIAR: Oh, God, I can’t tell her that—she’ll never stop talking about it!

JADE: LOL Well, then tell her she did an amazing job and almost made me cry.

BRIAR: You doing okay?

JADE: I’m fine, gotta go! Thanks for checking in.

I change into fishnet stockings, a denim miniskirt, and a black leather vest that laces up the front. I’m usually a little more modest on stage, but I’ve decided I hate that look. It was fun wearing something sexy up on stage with Lily, so I’m going to do it tonight. If Carrie Underwood can look hotter than the surface of Mars and sell a zillion records, then so can I.

I slide on my favorite red airbrushed cowboy boots and take a few minutes to breathe.

In through my nose.

Out through my mouth.

A soft knock on the door. “Jade? You ready?”

“Two minutes!” I call.

This is it.

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