Page 18 of Thirsty Bodyguard Summer

Then I peeled the tank away from my damp skin for one second and let it fall back.

She glanced at me.

I walked to the edge of the riser. “Was that a security assessment?”

“Your left wing is still open.”

“That wasn’t the part you were assessing.”

“The clock is running.”

“You could admit I’m good.”

“I haven’t heard the guitar section.”

I looked over my shoulder. “Bring me the acoustic.”

A crew member passed up the guitar. I slipped the strap over my head and settled the instrument against my torso.

“From the bridge,” I said.

The keyboardist gave me the opening chord.

I played the first progression alone, then sang over it. The arrangement stripped the production away until nothing remained but the guitar, my voice, and the song I’d written after Sunday Drive ended. The pavilion’s empty seats returned the sound without the roar that used to swallow every quiet line.

At the final chord, I let the strings fade beneath my palm.

Nobody spoke for a moment.

Then Cassidy said, “You’re good.”

I looked down at her. “I’m sorry. The guitar was ringing. Could you repeat that?”

“No.”

“I’m sure Isabel heard you.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Isabel said from the aisle.

“Professional betrayal,” I told her.

Cassidy pointed toward the piano. “You have twelve minutes.”

I handed off the guitar and followed her signal toward the rear riser. A technician started to cross the route, but Cassidy raised her hand. He stopped, let us pass, and continued after she cleared him.

The grand piano waited under a protective cover at stage right. I pulled the cover free, sat, and tested the keys.

The first chord vibrated beneath the bench.

I played the ballad’s intro, then shifted into the shortened arrangement planned for the concert. I widened the melody where the vocal needed space. The song ended with a high note I’d been protecting for weeks.

I took the breath low, released it steadily, and held the note until the sound engineer lifted his thumb.

When I stood, sweat ran beneath my tank. Cassidy stepped beside me with a cold bottle.

She held it out.

“Hydrate.”