I let out a breath. “I know. I assumed as much. I’m just thrilled she put in so much effort and is brave enough to get on stage. I already told her she won just by showing up tonight.”
Hadley’s arm tightens around me, and I reach up to cover her fingers with mine.
Viv scans me for a moment and smiles. “Good. Then, maybe now’s a good time to talk to you about something else.”
I wait as she gathers her words. She glances back at the stage before focusing on me again. “She probably won’t win a scholarship tonight, but I’ve been very impressed by Naomi and her drive. She has a ton of natural talent, and if she’s come this far in just a few weeks, I can only imagine how amazing she’ll be in a few years.” She draws in a deep breath. “With your permission I’d like to talk to her about mentoring her directly as she pursues music.
“Now, I know what you’re thinking,” she rushes out, lifting her hand.
Yeah, pretty sure she doesn’t because right now all I’m thinking is don’t make a fool of yourself and start laughing and crying like a lunatic. I force a serious expression as I wait for her to continue.
“I know you have a ton of industry experience as well. This is not to take away from anything you’re going to teach her. It’s just, being a woman in this industry comes with a unique set of challenges, and I thought, I don’t know, maybe she’d benefit from having someone else who’s been through it to guide her.”
I glance back at Hadley who’s suppressing a smile behind me. She must have known about this. Wait, of course she knew about this.
“Think about it and let me know,” she says. “I won’t suggest it to Naomi unless you’re on board.”
I nod gravely. “I see. Well, that’s very kind of you.” I could have pulled off my joking frosty reaction if my girlfriend didn’t smack my arm in that moment. I shoot a glare at her, and she narrows her eyes at me.
“Fine,” I draw out with a sigh, turning back to Viv. “Apparently, I’m not allowed to think about it. Viv, I happen to know for a fact that Naomi would absolutely love to have you as a mentor. In fact, my only concern is that she’ll pass out when you propose it. Preteen fangirling is no joke.”
Viv snorts a laugh, and I flinch at the double smack I get from both sides. “Hey!” I cry.
“Oh, it’s starting!” Viv says.
She reaches over for Oliver’s hand, and I lace mine with Hadley’s. Hadley squeezes my fingers, probably sensing my nerves have returned in full blast.
Applause erupts from around the room as the host for the evening takes the stage in a gown that looks more appropriate for the Academy Awards than a children’s concert, but whatever.
“Welcome, everyone, to the first ever Genevieve Fox Young Artist Showcase!” the young woman sing-songs with a grand hand gesture.
Viv grunts beside me. “I begged them to just call it the Young Artist Showcase, but no,” she mutters. “Apparently, we have to be obnoxious about it.”
I toss her a grin as Hadley snickers beside me. Hey, at least she’s not sitting on the throne.
The host makes a few more embellished, over-the-top statements about Gen, her resplendent career, and her vast and munificent generosity, while Viv sinks further in her seat at each one. It’s kind of hilarious, actually. Even Oliver is cracking up to her left. I’m glad to see he gets smacked as often as I do.
Finally, we get to the first act, and my amusement fades. The girl is maybe nine, and belts out a classic diva ballad laced with dramatic runs the original diva probably couldn’t pull off. I exchange a look with Hadley, and she squeezes my hand again in a gesture that feels more like “we knew she wasn’t going to win” than “don’t worry, she still has a shot.” After the next guy crushes a Steinway with some ten-minute piano concerto, I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t encouraged Naomi to do this. Man, I hope she isn’t able to see the acts coming before her.
The third is a teenage girl who plays violin like she shot out of her mom holding one. “Why do these kids even need scholarships?” I mumble to Hadley. “Pretty sure they’re going to get a free ride wherever they want to go.”
Hadley gives me a commiserating look and pulls my hand to her lips. “She’s gonna do great,” she whispers.
I can’t breathe as Violin Girl absorbs the raucous applause and bows like she trained for years in bowing as well. Shit, I didn’t even think to review that with Naomi. Bowing isn’t exactly part of my experience on stage unless it’s done in an ironic, dramatic-end-to-a-show kind of way. These kids are doing old timey royal court bows. May I present the Duchess of Whatever to the Lady of Whatever, mi-ladies.
“I didn’t talk to Naomi about bowing,” I hiss to Hadley. She must not be as concerned when she gives me a stern look and motions back to the stage.
My breath catches in my throat when the most beautiful twelve-year-old girl on this planet crosses the stage with a Martin guitar in her hands. The spotlight follows her every step, creating a halo around her blond braid and shoulder-length waves. Damn, she looks transcendent. She really does look like an angel.
Somewhere people shift in their seats, glance at a program, cough out a tickle, but I’m frozen in a vacuum. Just a direct tunnel from my seat in row seventeen to the girl on the stool in the center of a giant stage that doesn’t deserve to host her.
She glances up nervously and adjusts the mic that’s already been adjusted to her height. Where the other kids displayed pretentious poise from years of being coached on how to smile and look composed, Naomi appears terrified as she scans the crowd. I know from experience she’s seeing mostly shadows, maybe a few strangers in the front rows. Her gaze rests on the judges’ table, and my heart thumps loudly in my ears.
“Come on, kiddo. You got this,” I whisper.
She taps the mic, and I wince at the amateur move. This is totally my fault. We spent so much time on the music, perfecting the melody and chord structure, I didn’t even think to coach her on the actual monumental task of performing it. Up until this moment, her only experience has been playing for Hadley and me in our living room.
“Um…” She flinches at the sound of her own voice and draws back. Clearing her throat, she surveys the audience again with wide, terrified eyes. Her foot slips off the stool and plants on the stage like she’s ready to bolt.
“Fuck,” I mutter. I’m tensing to go rescue her when Hadley grips my arm and holds me in place.
“Let her do it,” she whispers. “Remember who that girl is.”
I swallow my panic and force my attention back to the stage. Naomi props herself back on the stool and draws in a deep breath we can feel in the audience. She blinks a few times before finally leaning toward the mic.
“So, a year ago I lost my mom,” she begins quietly, averting her gaze to the stage. “I felt like part of me died too. In fact, there were a lot of days when I wished I could have gone with her. I thought…” Her words come out garbled and she wipes her sleeve over her eyes. I clench mine shut against the burn.
“I thought there was nothing left to live for. Nothing to hope for. Kids around me always seemed to laugh and have fun but I just wanted to disappear and be nothing because being nothing is so much better than hurting all the time.”