into the lot, I wasn’t ready to be on my own again, so I swallowed my pride and asked him to stay with me for a while. We got hot chocolate from the lobby and sat on wicker chairs in the courtyard, looking up at the Hollywood Hills, now green from an autumn rainstorm that had beaten us to California.
I took a sip and stared into the distance. “Dad’s too sick to perform, so I’m going on in his place.”
Liam set down his cup. “Are you serious?”
I nodded. “His surgery’s going to cost like forty grand, and we don’t have insurance. So I don’t have much choice.”
“Ellie, that’s—”
“I know. But first I have to persuade Flynn to let me do it.”
“You think he will?”
“I don’t know.” I picked at the rim of my cup. “But I have a plan.”
“This is big.”
“It’s huge. And I should be terrified. But instead I’m numb.”
Liam picked up his cup again, then set it back down. “But you know the routine, right?”
“Backward and forward. I’ve been thinking about it nonstop for ten days.”
“And you get paid something, even if you fail?”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“That’s not what I—”
I smirked, and he rolled his eyes.
“I just mean you’ve got nothing to lose. There’s no downside.”
I stared at the clumps of undissolved chocolate powder at the bottom of my cup. “With me, there’s always a downside.”
“Oh.” There was recognition in his voice, and I believed that he really did get it. I felt a swell of gratitude.
“Do you remember I told you how my mom died?”
He nodded.
“She did it right after what happened on TV.”
Liam let out a long breath.
“Dad failed big, and it triggered a cycle, and she never recovered.” My throat tightened. “What if that happens to me? What if I fuck up like he did? What if I get it wrong?”
I expected Liam to comfort me. To encourage me. To spout platitudes.
Instead, he said, “I don’t think that’s what you’re scared of. Not really.”
“How would you know?”
“Because I know you,” he said. Something in his voice told me he believed it. My anger cooled a little.
“What am I really scared of?”
He hesitated, as if calculating the cost of what he was about to say.
“I think you’re afraid of having the best moment of your life, and then facing the comedown. I think you’re scared of what happens if you get it right.”
I sat there with my jaw tight as a piano wire, glaring at the stupid burbling fountain in the courtyard and hating Liam for being right. After what probably felt like forever to Liam, I turned and looked him right in his stupid perfect blue eyes.
“I’m not going to apologize for putting you through emotional whiplash. The same way I wouldn’t expect someone in a wheelchair to apologize for wrecking the carpet. I am what I am. I’m better on meds, but I am what I am.”
Liam met my gaze and said, “Okay.”
“Okay? You think ‘okay’ covers this?”
He shrugged. “I am what I am, too. And I didn’t have time to practice this part.”
Liam had to return the car he’d borrowed, and I had a dress rehearsal to prepare for. He promised he’d be watching tomorrow night. I wanted to ask him to come to the theater, to stay with me backstage—but he had already done enough. As we said goodbye in the lobby, he didn’t try to kiss me or anything. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
I arrived at the Dolby just after twelve noon and surprised Grace at the stage door. She threw her arms around me, her headset digging into my shoulder. Finally, she pushed away, holding me at arm’s length. “How’s your dad? Is he okay?”
“He will be.”
“I know your equipment is on loan,” she said, swiping at her iPad, “and you’re going to need it back. We’ve got two more acts to rehearse, and then we can get a crew to load—”
“Actually,” I interrupted her, “I was hoping to speak with Flynn. Mr. Bissette, I mean.”
Grace looked up. “About what?”
I took a breath, trying to relieve the pressure building in my chest. It would be a huge risk for Flynn & Kellar to allow a total unknown with no TV experience to take up three minutes of their live national airtime. But I had to persuade them. I tried to harness my inner grifter. The suburban pickpocket, the diesel-pump distracter. Hot tears began to trickle out of the corners of my eyes; maybe I was