Page 62 of Broken Bridges

Could I? This was for Cole. I’d do anything for him. Damn it. “Fine. Give me a quick rundown.” But I’d grab Kyle’s cell number from Falcon as a backup.

“Thanks.” Gena led me over to the monitors and rubbed her tummy. “I’m freaking out about being pregnant. This changes everything. I’m worried I won’t be able to tour with the guys at the end of the year.”

“You’re having a baby, not dying.”

“It feels like it.” Her hand trembled as she wiped her brow.

“You’ll be fine. I’m here if you need me.”

“Thanks.”

Thirty minutes later, ticketholders streamed into the venue and filled the auditorium. Five minutes out from showtime, Gena bolted for the restrooms.

Kyle hadn’t come to help.

Shit.

I’d have to run the show.

Chapter 18

TIA

My heart thundered somewhere up near my throat. My stomach twisted and turned. Concertgoers filed past us into the auditorium and herded toward the stage. Whoa. So many people. I’d wanted to help Gena, not run the damn show. Fuck. I reread the set list. Reviewed the software settings. Ran my fingertips over the channel inputs. Everything was set.

Tristan swiveled on his chair beside me. “You got this, right?”

“Sure.” Maybe...no...yes.

I shot Kyle a text. Called him. No answer. Crap. Where is he?

I slipped on the comms headset and adjusted the band to the correct size. Licking my dry lips, I lowered the mic into position in front of my mouth. I pressed the unmute button and checked in with Blake and Falcon backstage. “Hi. It’s Tia. Is Kyle there with you?”

“Tia?” Blake hissed. “What the fuck?”

I wiped my clammy palms on my dress pants and stared at the stage. “It’s okay. I got you. Gena’s sick. But some help would be good.”

“Kyle left with Gemma. Their daughter’s ill.”

Shit. “What about Hunter?”

“He’s drunk with Hayden, schmoozing industry reps.”

My stomach swayed. My fingers shook. But I closed my eyes and nodded. I can do this. “Okay. I’ll run the show. I know the set. Are the guys ready?”

Radio silence.

Nothing.

Not a word.

“Blake?” I tapped the mouthpiece on my headset. “Are you there?”

Was he talking to the guys to see if they wanted to delay the concert’s start time?

“Yes. Go.” His terse voice came through my headset. I didn’t miss the warning in his tone.

As I ran through final system checks, my ribs constricted. Why couldn’t people take me seriously? I’d never mess with a show that was this big and important. I wasn’t always out for a laugh. I’d changed. Life had changed. I could do this. I wanted to do this. “Alright then. On the count of three. One...two...three. Showtime.”

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