“Thank you, thank you. I have to be honest though, I had pizza at midnight last night,” I joked, turning to the side.
Gina gasped playfully. “That’s okay. I had a whole bag of Twizzlers while I was getting ready,” she laughed, and then jumped into the first round of questions. It was all simple and fun. She asked questions about my upcoming album, about my tour dates, but then in the middle of the interview, I felt a hand hit my lower back, just above the tight material of my gown. When I spun around, the first thing to hit me was his scent. Jason’s cologne was stronger than the haze of beauty products surrounding me and I had to fight not to sway on my heels. It wasn’t that he was doused in it; rather it was the way my emotions reacted to his scent. Without meaning to, I’d come to associate it with pleasure and happiness.
He looked similar to how I’d seen him when he dressed up for the high school prom, but his tuxedo was designer and impeccably fitted. His cufflinks were in place and his shoes were shined. His hair was styled professionally, a fact I’m sure he hated, but it framed his handsome features for everyone to see.
Gina squealed into the microphone when she saw that he was electing to join us for the remainder of the interview.
She turned to the camera with a bright smile. “Jason Monroe is here to join us as well! We get an exclusive first interview with the pair who will be part of the most anticipated performance of the night,” Gina spoke before turning back to us. “Are you guys ready for it?”
I could have come up with an answer for her question if Jason’s hand hadn’t been turning slow circles on my back. C’mon, seriously. I don’t need to get turned on in front of a news camera.
“We are. We’ve been practicing for the last few weeks,” Jason said, edging closer to me. The paparazzi were having a field day with the pose, snapping away from the second level like their lives depended on it.
“Could you give us a sneak peak of the performance? Maybe some insider info,” Gina asked with a bright smile. She was trying to do her job, but I just wanted the interview to end so that I could step away from Jason and finish walking the red carpet.
“I think you’ll appreciate the ending,” Jason said, looking from Gina to me. Ending? We’d rehearsed this song one million times on that stage and I couldn’t think of any special ending. The choreographer had stayed true to her word. Our performance would be simple and under-stated, none of the special effects and costume changes that would accompany Lady Gaga’s performance later on in the night. Now that would have a crazy ending.
“I can’t wait. Thank you guys for joining us. Could you look into the camera and say, “You’re watching ‘E News’?”
…
Just because I was performing, didn’t mean I could skip the actual event and just hangout back stage. No, I had to sit in the front row with Cammie on one side and Jay-Z and Beyoncé on the other. That’s right, I was sitting with hip-hop royalty while I watched award after award get announced on stage. I was nominated for two: Best Pop Solo Performance and Album of the Year. Both of which would be announced after my performance, which was good. I couldn’t concentrate on a single thing knowing I was minutes away from getting ushered back-stage for a dress change and a final warm up.
“You’re almost up. Are you nervous?” Cammie whispered, leaning in so no one could overhear her.
I gave her a pointed stare. “I want to vomit everywhere.”
She squeezed my hand tight. “Yeah, let’s try and avoid that if possible.”
The show cut to commercial break and a stagehand signaled for me to move backstage just like we’d rehearsed. My heart hammered against my chest as I let go of Cammie’s hand and stood, holding my dress up so that I could walk easier. I glanced back to find Jason, but he was heading toward the opposite side of the stage, moving with a purpose. My stomach dropped. I really wanted to talk to him before we performed— just to have him tell me that we’d be okay.
I breathed deep and let the stagehands guide me backstage, directly into the behind-the-scenes mayhem.
“Ms. Heart,” a young girl with a headset spoke. “You have ten minutes before your performance. Wardrobe needs you now.”
The next few minutes passed in a blur. People moved around me, tugging off fabric and dressing me in more. The tight red dress was far easier to breath and move in, so I welcomed the change even if my boobs were on display. No really, the girls were OUT. A make-up artist went to town touching up my lipstick and face, while a hair team attacked my head.
I sat with my hands folded on my lap and my eyes closed, repeating the phrase, “just breathe, just breathe.”