Ryan had sent me pictures of the Lone Star Lounge and the real thing looked just like them, only absolutely packed full of people. My breath froze in my lungs as I took everything in. I was suddenly doubly grateful that Victoria had made me perform in front of all those strangers on Thursday, because at least it wasn’t a totally unfamiliar experience.

I saw Ryan before he saw me. He was wearing a bright white button down that made his blue eyes and dark hair pop all the way across the room. He was so handsome it was impossible not to notice him. My heart leapt and then plunged. He was sitting at a table next to a woman with long brown hair. She was faced away from me, but from my angle, they seemed to be deep in conversation.

Who was she? Why was she here? A feeling of jealousy grew in me, thick and toxic. My already anxious mood mutated to become even more foul. I had a plan, and her presence didn’t change it, but it didn’t help, either.

I didn’t approach Ryan and the mystery brunette. I just didn’t have the courage. Instead, I headed over to the bar to introduce myself. Getting up on stage suddenly seemed a million times less intimidating.

“You, get out,” the bartender said, taking one look at me and deciding that I wasn’t old enough to be in the bar. “You shouldn’t have made it past the door.”

Even a scolding from a gigantic guy like him didn’t intimidate me at the moment. Which was something, because the bartender was like six and a half feet tall. Talking to him was like talking to Shrek. I felt like I just stared up and up forever.

“Excuse me?” I snapped.

“Don’t even show me your pathetic fake ID,” he replied. “If you’re twenty-one, I’m fifty.”

I frowned at him. “I could believe that. You’ve got the thinning, grey hair and the limp.”

He blinked in shock and hid a smile. He was definitely no more than thirty-five, but I didn’t appreciate the attitude. He probably thought he was scary, but I knew there was a difference between big and scary. By the way he drew a self-conscious hand through his not-thin and not-grey hair, he was pretty clearly one and not the other.

“Ok, mean girl. Show me some ID then.”

I brightened and extended a hand over the bar. “I’m Rosie Ross—um, Rosie Soon—your opening act this evening.” My handshake showed him the black exes that I’d unceremoniously had sharpie-d onto the backs of my hands to denote my underage status, and then I lifted the guitar at my side to prove why I was there. It had already taken a ten-minute conversation to get past the bouncer (the bar apparently converted to a twenty-one and up space after sundown), my nerves were shot, and I was in no mood.

“Oh!” The bartender at least had the good graces to look chagrined. “Sorry.” He rounded the bar to shake my hand. “I’m Ward Williams. This is my bar. You’re welcome here Rosie, unless you try to buy a drink.”

I shrugged. “It’s ok. I know you’ve got rules. Do you mind if I start setting up?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. Just come over when you’re ready and I’ll kill the house music.”

“Ok.”

“I think Ryan’s over there if you’re looking for him,” Ward said, nodding in his direction.

I know. I resisted turning my head for fear that Ryan might glance over. It hurt not to look.

“Ok.”

“Oh, and Victoria called a few minutes back to say she’s running late. You’ll need to double your set.”

What? “Ok.” Objectively I knew that was good for me, but it still scared the shit out of me. I’d need to play virtually every song I had in my repertoire. “Should I just start playing now and keep going until she gets here?”

Ward shrugged. “It’s totally up to you. I can keep playing music over the speakers for a while if want. Victoria’s not exactly a very punctual person.” He frowned deeply. “If person is even the right word to describe her.” It didn’t take a genius to perceive the fact he didn’t like her much.

I took a deep, cleansing breath. “These people didn’t come to hear me, but I feel bad not providing them some live music.” I made myself smile. “I’m here after all.”

Ward smiled back at me. “Great. Once you’re set up, give me a signal. You can put anything you don’t want up on stage in the office around the corner.”

“Ok, thanks Ward.” I mustered up another smile. “Here goes nothing.”

I hopped up on the little stage and arranged things the way I wanted, tuned up, got the pick up on my guitar where it needed to be, fiddled with the microphone… all without looking up. My brain was working overtime, trying to juggle all the problems. Ryan, who maybe hated me now, was sitting with a mysterious female stranger. Victoria was late, and I’d need to play for twice as long as planned. My dad would be here any moment. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my teenage hero Jason Kane and his impossibly beautiful wife watching.

No pressure.

My heart gave a little hiccup in my chest and it burned. My vision blurred and then narrowed to a tiny tunnel. My head pounded. Was this a panic attack? I’d never had one before, but this seemed like a panic attack. It felt horrible. It felt like I was dying.

It was too much. It was all just too much all at once. My entire life had been transformed in the past two weeks, and I wasn’t sure if I was equal to it. My composure cracked, and I descended the steps of the stairs and headed for the bathroom before it could dissolve completely in front of a bar full of people.