“You’re going to be fantastic like you always are.”
“Thanks, Ainsley.” I smile and lean my head on her shoulder as Knox finishes.
Knowing I have people I can count on during this chaotic moment in my life makes breathing a little easier. When Harris first approached me in Nashville about signing with Bentley Records, I was unsure. They are a new label, it’s small, and I’d be their first artist. My roommate and friend told me to wait for a bigger label. If I was chasing my dreams to go big or go home. My parents didn’t have much of an idea, so their advice was to follow my gut. It’d never let me down so far.
So that’s what I did. I followed my gut and agreed to a meeting with Harris and Knox. After hearing them speak, their passion and vision for the music industry, my gut tapped and said, Go for it. It’s been the best decision. While we may not have a huge fancy building with hundreds of employees, I know I’m more than a brand to make them money. They listen to me, ask me what my goals are, the kind of music I want to create. Most importantly, I know I’m not alone in this, and that is invaluable.
“You still down, buttercup?” Harris teases me.
I place my hands on my hips as I glare at him. “I am not down. I’m perfect and ready to play music.”
“Are you sure? You havin’ guy problem?” His eyes twinkle in mischief.
I throw back with as much attitude, “How about you? When are you going to propose to that angel of a woman?” Lifting a brow, I wait for his reaction. Instead, I’m met with a shy smile.
“Shut. Up.” I slap his arm.
“Ow.” Harris rubs where I just hit him. “Don’t say a word.” He points at me with a glare.
“I would never. Promise.” I place my hands together in front of my face, a huge smile now on my face. “Did you know about this?” I turn to Ainsley.
She smiles and shrugs. I can’t believe I had no idea.
“I’m so happy,” I squeal and hug him.
“Please keep it to yourself,” Harris warns.
“Honestly, I won’t tell a soul.”
“Glad to see it helped turn your mood around,” he winks and walks onto the stage to check up on Knox. Harris and Poppy deserve this, especially Poppy, after all the crap she went through with the men in this town. I don’t know anyone else who deserves her happy ending as much as she does.
Sighing contentedly, I join them and listen to the instructions as we go over a few last-minute details before we get ready for the VIP meet and greet before the show.
After doing my hair and makeup, Ainsley pops in and asks if I’m ready. Nodding, I stand and look in the mirror one last time before walking out of the room.
“I love this outfit,” she compliments, pointing to my tan suede fringe skirt and black tank that reads, Whiskey in a teacup.
“Thanks. I thought it’d be fun for tonight.”
Harris and Knox are waiting for us near the meet and greet, the chatter of fans heard from here. Taking a deep breath, Knox and I walk out to where the fans are waiting in line, and they erupt in cheers.
I smile and stand in front of my banner, next to Knox’s. After fans greet Knox and take pictures, they move on to me. It amazes me how many of these people are familiar with my music, ask for pictures and autographs, and some even choke up. This experience only solidifies that I’m on the right track.
I smile when a mom walks toward me, carrying her young daughter, who hides her face in the crook of her mom’s neck.
“Hi,” I say softly, leaning in to look at the little girl.
“She’s shy, but she loves your music,” her mom explains.
“It’s an honor to meet you. What’s your name?”
“Stacy,” the young girl’s voice comes through quietly.
“Do you want to take a picture?” She nods and lifts her head. She can’t be more than six, and I think about Penny.
“I have a friend that’s about your age, and she loves cupcakes. What’s your favorite sweet?”
This gets Stacy’s attention, and she smiles. “Donuts.”
“Oh, that’s a great choice. Let me guess…” I tap my lips. “Pink glaze with sprinkles?” I smile, hopeful I guessed correctly.
Stacy giggles and nods. “How’d you know?”
“Lucky guess,” I wink. “How about that picture? And then you can tell me which song of mine is your favorite.”
Stacy nods, and the photographer takes a picture of Stacy, her mom, and me before I chat with them a few more minutes.
“Thank you for taking your time with her. I know you’ve got a line piling up,” her mom tells me.
“No need to thank me. Everyone deserves a chance to meet an artist they like.” Her mom smiles and nods, walking away so the next person can meet me.
Once everyone has had a chance to meet us, take pictures, and ask us questions, we head backstage to get ready for the show. Singing is something I’ve always dreamed of, and not only living that dream but witnessing the impact I have on people fills me with humility. I knew if and when I became known as an artist, I’d become a role model for people, especially younger girls, and that’s something I take seriously.
…
“Famous Singer.” I turn around with a smile when I hear my signature nickname coming from the one little girl that calls me that. I’m walking down Main Street a couple of days after our concert in Boise as I head to Cup-O-Joe.
Penny is waving at me from a few feet behind me, holding a woman’s hand. By the uncanny resemblance,
