on her hip. “You want someone recognizing you and telling him you’re there?”
I crossed my arms. “No…”
“Then you’re wearing this. You’re either blazing in like, ‘I’m here, bitches,’ or you’re going deep undercover. And if we’re undercover, we can’t sit in the front row. We’ll have to switch tickets with someone.”
I took a deep breath and let her slide the enormous glasses on my face.
“You need to hide your hair and your tattoos. Take my sweater,” she said, peeling it off and handing it to me.
I stared at it in my hand. “Is this crazy?”
She picked up a brown wig. “Maybe. But my job is to help you with your crazy. Make you the best, most magnificent crazy you can be.”
I snorted.
Kristen prepared me for the concert like I was a sacrifice delivering myself to an altar. I was fussed over and garbed.
I ended up wearing the hideous glasses and a beanie since we couldn’t get all my hair to stay under a wig—not to mention the wig made me look like a lunatic.
Kristen, on the other hand, did look like a lunatic.
Nobody but Jason would recognize her, but that didn’t stop her from going all out. She was wearing a mullet and some fake braces she’d bought. It was so funny I couldn’t stop laugh-sobbing the entire way to the Forum.
I was a mess. My whole body was shaking. My eyelid was in full revolt. When we got there, it took me ten minutes to gather the courage to even get out of the car.
Walking into the Forum felt off. I didn’t come into venues this way anymore. I came in the back, through service entrances, with the band. I hung out while they set up. Watched shows from backstage.
Now I was in the crush of the crowd. I had to go through metal detectors and get my tickets scanned. I was a spectator. A fan. Just one of his millions. No different from anyone else. And I guess that all made sense. After all, I was here to see Jaxon, not Jason.
I wasn’t even sure Jason existed anymore.
Kristen tried to get me to eat something, but I couldn’t. I let her buy me a bottled water and I waited by the merch tables for her while she ran to get it. I stared at the posters for sale. “I was with him when he took those pictures,” I said to Kristen when she came back. “I’d been standing there right off camera at the photo shoot.”
But there were other posters now too, pictures I hadn’t been there for. He didn’t want me there anymore. He’d ejected me from this life.
The betrayal surged back and I almost lost my nerve.
Zane’s expensive tickets weren’t a hard sell. We found a couple in the tenth row to trade us for our front-row seats. Now we were close enough to see him well, but too far for him to notice me from the stage.
I was nervous and jumpy through the whole opening act. When Grayscale did their last song and Jessa did her “Make some noise for Jaxon Waters!” I panicked and did debate leaving before he came out.
Maybe this was totally self-destructive. Maybe if I saw him, knowing that he’d never cheated on me, it might make things worse. I might have a harder time accepting that we weren’t together anymore if I wasn’t fortified with my pure rage.
“God. I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
Kristen dipped her head to look me in the eye. “We can go anytime you want. Okay?”
I nodded. But I wouldn’t go. I would see this through. I had to.
We stared up at the two Jumbotrons, one on either side of the stage, with the words “Jaxon Waters” rotating over an image of a loon.
I knew what was going on backstage. I could imagine every activity that was bringing him closer to coming out. He was walking out of the dressing room. Zane was handing him a water bottle. A production manager was jogging in front of him, stepping over thick black electrical cords, speaking into a headset so the rest of the band would know it was time to gather by the curtain. Jason would put in his in-ear monitor and hand his water back to Zane. He’d open and close his fists to warm them up the way he always did before he went on. He wouldn’t be nervous. He’d be loose and light, and getting brighter the closer he got to going on, like