Page 24

Mel

I leaned against the wall in the backstage greenroom, checking off items on my tablet as dancers and technicians bustled around me. My body ached in the most delicious ways, reminding me of last night—of Ethan’s hands, his mouth, the way he’d moved inside me not once but four incredible times.

I shifted my weight, heat rising to my cheeks at the memory. I’d never experienced anything like it. And then he’d still been there in the morning. No rushing off, no excuses about early meetings. Just Ethan, ordering breakfast, asking me questions about my paintings…

I winced. Those questions. What was I supposed to say? “Oh, I just paint the same house with the same kids playing outside because my secret dream is to be a stay-at-home mom”? He’d probably laugh. Or worse, he’d look at me with pity, wondering how someone could have such small ambitions in this day and age .

“Mel!” Nova’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Where’s my setlist changes? I can’t find them anywhere!”

I pulled up the document on my tablet and handed it to her. “Here. I made the adjustments you wanted for the dance break in ‘Midnight Dream.’”

“Thank God.” She scanned it quickly, already in her costume for the opening number, the elaborate masquerade mask for the first song already covering half her face. Everyone else was in their masks too—some full masks, some barely covering one eye. “At least something is going right today.”

I bit back a sigh. We were back in Texas for the final two shows before the week-long break, and everyone’s nerves were fraying. I was counting down the days until we’d be home in Dallas. One more night after this, then a blessed week without hotels or travel.

“Has anyone seen Clark?” Dexter rushed over, his face pinched with worry. “He’s not in the dressing room, and we’re about to start the circle!”

Ah, shit. Time to herd kittens.

I texted Jace:

Has Clark checked in with his keycard?

The response came back almost immediately.

Yes. Swiped in about twenty minutes ago.

That was cutting it close, but at least Clark was here. Crisis averted.

“He’s here somewhere,” I announced. “Jace confirmed he checked in. Maybe he’s warming up in another area?”

“Well, someone find him! We need to circle up in five!” Dexter threw his hands up dramatically before rushing off to corral the other dancers .

I watched the commotion with a strange detachment. This had been my life for so long—solving crises, putting out fires, keeping Nova’s world running smoothly. But lately, especially since Ethan had come into my life, I’d started to wonder: was this really what I wanted?

I needed to talk to Nova about my future—about possibly stepping back after this tour. But finding the right moment seemed impossible. Nova was either surrounded by people or in performance mode or dealing with her own dramas. And bringing up my desire to leave would only create more chaos.

Later, I promised myself. After the tour break. I’d find the right time.

“Circle up, everyone!” Nova called a few minutes later, clapping her hands.

The dancers gathered around her, all in their opening costumes and masquerade masks for the first number—a dazzling array of feathers, sequins, and leather. It was truly spectacular, and I felt a flutter of pride despite my misgivings.

“Wait!” Dexter cried. “We can’t start without Clark!”

Just then, a figure in an elaborate black and gold mask rushed into the group. “Sorry, sorry!” he panted.

Relief washed over everyone as Clark slipped into place, his mask covering most of his face. I couldn’t see his expression, but his body language seemed tense.

“Well, thank God,” Dexter muttered. “Don’t do that again!”

“Places, everyone,” Nova said, then surprised me by reaching out. “Mel, come join us today.”

“Me? But I’m not performing.”

“I know,” she said, tugging me forward. “But you should be part of this.”

She leaned in close as I stepped into the circle. “I’m sorry about last night,” she whispered. “For leaving you behind. That wasn’t right.”

The apology caught me off guard. Nova rarely acknowledged when she’d messed up. And after what had happened with Ethan afterward, I couldn’t even be upset about it.

“It’s okay,” I said honestly. “Everything worked out fine.”

Clark grabbed my other hand as I joined the circle, giving it a squeeze. Maybe he’d heard Nova’s apology.

Nova addressed the group. “We’ve had an amazing tour so far,” she said, her voice building with the familiar preshow energy. “Let’s make this one unforgettable!”

“One, two, three—” Nova started.

“ Nova rising !” we all shouted together, hands thrusting upward.

The circle broke, everyone rushing to their places. I followed behind, finding my usual spot in the wings where I could watch without being seen. Despite everything, I did love this part—the electricity in the air, the anticipation, the pride of seeing something we’d all worked so hard on come to life.

The lights dimmed, the crowd roared, and the music began. Nova emerged through the smoke in her mask, her voice soaring over the opening notes. The dancers followed, moving in perfect synchronization as they filled the stage with color and light.

But almost immediately, I could tell something was wrong. Nova’s movements, usually so fluid and confident, seemed slightly off. Her eyes kept darting to the side, searching for something.

I tried to figure out what was throwing her off, but I couldn’t see anything specific. Did she need something? Was her in-ear monitor not working properly? Something wrong with her shoes? Her costume? Her hair? I couldn’t place it, but I knew something was wrong.

“What the hell?” Dexter appeared beside me, his face contorted with fury. “Where’s Clark? He’s not out there!”

That was it.

“I don’t know,” I said, scanning the wings on both sides. No sign of him. “Maybe he’s sick? Did he say anything to you? ”

“No! He just rushed to his place in the circle and then headed out with everyone else immediately afterward.”

I pulled out my phone and texted Ethan:

Clark’s missing. Was in preshow circle but didn’t go onstage. Nova’s upset. Can you check bathrooms? Maybe he’s sick?

Ethan’s response came almost immediately.

On it. Will check.

Onstage, Nova powered through, making adjustments to cover Clark’s absence. The average audience member probably wouldn’t notice, but I could see the tension in her shoulders, the slight hesitation each time she neared what should have been Clark’s position.

“I’m going to kill him,” Dexter muttered, storming off.

The first two songs passed, the choreography adapting around the missing dancer. Then Nova rushed offstage for her first costume change.

“Where is Clark?” she demanded the moment she was in the wings. Her aides started slipping her out of one costume and into the next. “He’s throwing everything off.”

“We’re looking,” I assured her, helping unzip her costume as the wardrobe team descended. “We think he might have gotten sick.”

She rolled her eyes and rushed back out for the next number.

It just got worse from there. No one could find Clark, everyone was more thrown off with each song, tensions were getting higher.

Then Nova came backstage for her quick transformation before her ballad set. I stood over to the side, ready to help if needed .

“Okay.” Nova took a steadying breath. “At least the slow songs don’t have any dancers. No more stress.”

I smiled. “That’s right. Just focus on doing your thing.” Finally, the crisis seemed to have passed.

“Where’s my rainbow wig? I need it for these songs.”

One of the wardrobe assistants froze. “I…I thought Marina had it.”

“I gave it to you!” Marina shot back.

“No, you didn’t!”

Or maybe the crisis was just getting started.

“Oh my God.” Nova’s face flushed with fury. “How hard is it to keep track of one damned wig?”

“We’ll find it,” I promised, motioning for the assistants to search. “Just let them finish your change.”

“Two minutes to stage,” a production assistant called.

The wardrobe team worked frantically, completing Nova’s transformation without the signature rainbow wig she wore for her ballads. It completely threw off the look we’d crafted for this part of the show. Nova put on her backup black wig instead, but the effect wasn’t the same.

“This is unbelievable,” Nova hissed as she headed back to the stage. “Fix it, Mel.”

I spent the next hour coordinating search parties for both Clark and the missing wig, all while juggling the usual mid-show crises. Neither turned up. No wig, no dancer. Ethan texted that they’d checked every bathroom, dressing room, and storage closet. No sign of Clark.

By the end of the show, Nova was furious. She’d performed professionally despite everything, but the moment the final curtain dropped, she stormed off the stage.

“What a fucking disaster!” she shouted, tearing off her microphone and shoving it at a wide-eyed technician. “I’m going to my room. Don’t follow me.”

“Nova, wait—” I followed her toward her dressing room .

“No.” She whirled on me, eyes flashing. “You’re my manager, Mel. This shouldn’t have happened! A missing dancer? A missing custom wig? What are we running here, an amateur hour?”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but?—”

“But nothing! I looked like an idiot out there!” She yanked open her dressing room door. “I need to be alone.”

The door slammed in my face. I stood there, stunned, as crew members scurried by, avoiding eye contact.

“Not your fault,” Dexter said, appearing beside me. “Clark’s never done anything like this before. And the wig—who knows? Things go missing.”

“Try telling Nova that.” I leaned against the wall, suddenly exhausted. “She thinks I should have prevented all of it somehow.”

A few minutes later, Nova stormed out of her dressing room and headed up to her hotel suite. She didn’t say a word to me.

Yes, I definitely needed to find something else to do with my life.