usual, his skin ashen, his hair rumpled; he insisted he just needed to splash some water on his face. While he went off in search of a restroom, I went into the theater to find Grace.
Backstage areas are usually disappointing: Instead of red carpet, the floor is scarred concrete. Where you’d expect chandeliers, the ceiling is decorated with tangled wires and ugly ducts. There are no glamorous celebrities in tuxes and gowns, just crusty stage crew in black Dickies. I had seen it all. At least, I thought I had—but backstage at the Dolby was different. The walls were black and sleek and covered with flat-screen monitors showing every angle of the stage. The managers had lecterns on wheels, and the stagehands drove Segways. Even their clipboards were iPads. And I did, in fact, see celebrities. Cynthia Sixx walked right past me, her tower of curly hair even taller than it looked on TV. I saw Tommy Takai come out of a dressing room wearing a baseball cap and a silver-sequined blazer. He nodded at me as he walked by.
Suddenly, it hit me: I was here. I had arrived. Magic didn’t get bigger than this. Last week we’d played for fifty people at a bar. In two days, we would play for millions. I had to shake myself back to reality. We were late, and I needed to check in.
When I spotted Grace, I knew immediately that it was her: dark hair, late twenties, Starbucks in one hand, iPad in the other, talking rapidly into her headset. As I approached, she held up the index finger on her Starbucks hand in a hold on gesture.
“I need it here tonight,” she said into the headset. “Make it thirty minutes.” The call apparently ended, because she let out a frustrated sigh and turned to me. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Ellie Dante,” I said.
“Oh my goodness! It’s great to meet you.” She made a helpless gesture with her full hands. “When does your gear arrive?”
“It’s here,” I said. “We came in the same truck.”
“That sounds awful.” She turned her focus to her tablet. “I’ll get a crew down here to unload it. Hold this for me?” She handed me her coffee and swiped at her iPad. “We’ve got you at the Magic Castle Hotel. Go check in, drop your bags, be back here in an hour.” Her phone rang. She answered it, grabbed her coffee, and rushed off. I turned to head back to the truck, then paused midstep.
I was standing under the giant roll-up door that looked out onto the Dolby Theatre stage. It was wide and black and big enough to park a 747 on, but that wasn’t what stole my breath.
Beyond the proscenium gaped a cavernous auditorium. I found myself pulled center stage, where I stared out at three thousand red velvet seats starting in the orchestra and rising three balconies high to a domed ceiling. The hair on my arms stood up, and I felt blood surge through my veins, warm and fast. I visualized a packed house, a hot spotlight, the glimmer of sequins on my costume. The hush of the audience, the rush of adrenaline—and then a forklift beeped behind me, and the fantasy popped like a soap bubble. I felt an almost physical sensation of whiplash as I came back to reality.
It was this coming down, this caustic deceleration, that made it impossible for me to continue performing. It was too much for me; it was just too much.
Feeling heavier than I had before, I turned and fled the stage.
At the hotel, Dad urged me to eat something, but I wasn’t interested in food. I watched him fix his tie in the mirror. He looked pasty and exhausted.
“I’m fine,” he said, reacting to my look. “Just a little woozy from being cramped up in the cab of that rig.” He smoothed out his lapels.
“It’s just tech, Dad. You don’t have to dress up.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You think there won’t be cameras? This is Flynn & Kellar we’re talking about.”
He was right. I frowned at my jeans and T-shirt, then grabbed my bag and pulled out my little black dress. I hadn’t washed it since before Phoenix, but it would have to do. I set up the hotel’s ironing board but paused before turning on the iron. Suddenly, dread flooded my chest.
“What is it?” Dad crossed the room and put his hand on my shoulder.
“Nothing,” I said, switching on the iron and straightening my dress on