Page 168 of The Broken Note

He’s frowning, lips set in a thin line. “You keep spacing out on me.”

“You talk too much,” I mumble.

His eyebrows tighten. He looks at me like he doesn’t know who I am.

I reach for the veil, set it over my freshly-done makeup and hand him the ties.

He secures it at the back of my head. “If I knew you’d be so much trouble, I wouldn’t have agreed to this personal security gig.”

“Go home then,” I say.

I didn’t ask for anyone to follow me into my own version of hell. In fact, I’d prefer to be alone. Hunter’s constant worried looks only make me feel worse.

“Done,” Hunter says.

I step out of the chair. Hunter’s eyes slide over me. If I wasn’t so dead inside, I’d probably be flattered by the glint of admiration.

Jarod Cross’s costume designer made me a black dress with elegant sequins and a long veil that trails from the top of my head and fans out behind my piano stool when I sit.

The back of the dress is slightly sexier with a scooped out design that shows off a ton of skin beneath the veil. There’s a matching mask to hide the lower portion of my face.

When Jarod asked me what I wanted to wear, I told him it didn’t matter. As long as when I step out into the audience, the only thing I’m exposing to the world is my eyes.

I notice Hunter is still staring and I frown. “Isn’t it time for me to get on stage?”

“Oh. Right.” He clears his throat and opens the door for me.

I walk with him down the hallway, carrying the tail end of my veil over one arm.

Hunter’s stride falls in line with mine. “You get a day off on your birthday tomorrow. What do you want to do?”

“Nothing,” I mumble. We’re closer to the stage now. The sound of Pain and Punishment’s edgy music fills the air. The bass slips under my skin and makes my body vibrate.

Hunter gives me a scolding look. “Eighteen is a big number.”

“Miss Soprano.” The crew manager offers his hand to me.

I slip my fingers into his grip and meet Hunter’s eyes. “It’s just another day.”

“Let’s do something special. Tonight. We’ll celebrate your birthday the right way.” Hunter offers an encouraging smile.

My lips remain flat. My heart remains cold.

I climb on top of the lift.

As the platform rises, I see the packed room. Faceless blobs. Screams loud enough to shatter my eardrums. Lights too big and too bright.

I adjust my ear piece, glad that I have an in-ear monitor so I can hear myself when it’s time to play the piano.

The leader of Pain and Punishment, some guy whose name I forgot the moment he shared it, gestures to me. The spotlights shift, bearing down on my head. It’s hot, like the sun and yet I’m still shivering.

The screams get louder. Everyone seems keyed up, wound so tight I could send them to the moon on a rocket.

I’m featured in the band’s last set.

The grand finale.

The emotional punch.

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