Page 48 of Love Is a War Song

British studios were nearly identical to American ones, except sometimes it was hard to understand the crew when they were talking fast in all their various accents.

The green room was not green and Lance, the makeup artist my team hired to assist Chelsea, had hot pink bushy eyebrows that rested on top of his round wire-framed glasses.

Lance dusted my face with highlighter as Chelsea gelled the top of my hair in a tight half pony that put Ariana Grande’s to shame.

My stomach was a ball of nerves as she worked to get me ready for the show, and I hadn’t been able to get our conversation out of my mind for the past day, her telling me to go to Broken Arrow, to Lucas.

But I couldn’t, could I? There was so much riding on this performance—my entire career essentially.

While the show was not broadcast live, it was taped in front of a live studio audience.

The memory of the death threats still stung.

To distract myself from thinking about everything that could go wrong, I scrolled through my DMs on Instagram.

One stood out from @blacksmithMB. I clicked the message open and there was a photo of Red Fox Ranch and a stage being built in the middle of the pasture.

The accompanying message read: sad u had to leave.

The setup for the fundraiser is coming together.

Lucas misses you, but don’t tell him I told you that .

Mary Beth! I felt a jolt through my body at the mention of the fundraiser and Lucas. The fundraiser was still on?

“Mom!” I called, startling Lance as he was dusting my cheekbones with highlighter.

“What is it?” She ran in from the hallway.

“The fundraiser is still happening.”

“So?”

“ So you and Lottie made it seem like she had given up on the ranch.”

“I haven’t kept up with her or the ranch since we left. She probably didn’t want us in her business.”

“It’s too late for that. I helped Lucas set up the crowdfunding website and we have almost reached our goal.” I flashed my mother my phone screen. The red bar was almost at the $150,000 goal line. “I donated the first twenty-five thousand dollars.”

“Avery!” My mother clutched her chest in shock. “That was nearly all the money you had in your checking account.”

“I know. I wanted to buy the whole thing. We’re going to reach our goal though. The ranch is going to be saved.” I smiled and felt lighter. We really did it. I needed to talk to Lucas. My body was buzzing with energy.

I shot up from my seat.

“Hey!” Chelsea protested, her fine-tooth comb stuck in my hair.

“I can’t do this. I need to be there.” I went to gather my bag, digging through to make sure my passport was in there with my new wallet and credit cards.

“Are you hearing yourself? You can’t leave now! You’re expected on set in thirty minutes.” My mom blocked the door.

“You’re my manager, manage the situation.”

“What are you doing, Avery?” Chelsea asked nervously.

I turned to her, trying to appeal to someone here. I needed an ally. Lance just stood silently, his pink eyebrows up to his hairline as he looked from me to my mother.

“I love him. I can’t stay here when he needs my help, and I gave my word. I should have never left Oklahoma.”

Chelsea held her hand over her heart. “Then go.”

“You are not throwing your opportunity away for some Okie who lives in a trailer. I’ll not stand for it. If you leave, we will never be invited back. No one will want you. Do you hear me? You’re throwing it away!” my mother said.

“The only thing I’m throwing away is letting you decide my life for me. I’m not a little girl anymore.”

“You don’t understand what you’re doing. This is your life, Avery. I’m just trying to protect it.” My mother’s voice cracked.

“I’m sorry, Mom. But I’m leaving. If I go now, I can make it back for the fundraiser. I have to.” I rushed to the door, and at the top of my lungs, I shouted, “We need more toilet paper! Oh my god! I’ve become violently ill. It’s coming out both ends! Someone get another trash can!”

“Avery!” My mother seethed as silver lined her eyes.

“Tell them I caught a terrible stomach bug, and we have to reschedule my appearance. I’m sorry, but I have to go. I have to do this.”

I stood at the door, fighting for the handle while my mother looked like she was on the verge of tears.

“Please, Mom. My story isn’t your story or even Lottie’s. It’s mine and this is what I want. He is what I want.” I looked at her imploringly. “I promise you this isn’t some impulsive decision I’m making—a mistake or silly crush. Please, trust me.”

“Do you know what this could do to your career? You have only just gotten this reprieve from public scrutiny.”

“I know I’ll have to work even harder to please my fans and I am prepared to do that.

I want to be happy. My best music comes from my happiest place.

I have you to thank for all of this. All my life I dreamed of a big, supportive family.

You sending me to Broken Arrow finally gave me that.

I can’t turn my back on them. I know this performance is a commitment, but I made a commitment to them too. I have to do this. Mom, please .”

My mom looked at me for a moment, a war going on internally, and I held my breath until finally, she released the knob, stepping away in resignation.

I hugged her and whispered into her ear, “I love you, Mom. Thank you for helping me achieve my dreams. This is my new one and I have to go. I’d regret it for the rest of my life if I don’t. ”

She was sobbing now. “Just go. Hell, you’re number one here, so clearly they want you. I’ll cover.”

Tears were running down my cheeks and I nodded at her and looked to Chelsea and then Lance.

“Go, girl!” he said, clapping.

I ran past a PA in a headset juggling eight rolls of toilet paper. I sprinted in my crop top and assless chaps with neon pink spandex underneath. I made it to the street and hailed a cab.

“To Heathrow, and step on it!” I demanded, always having wanted to say that.

“Step on it? Are you mad? It’s half past five. There’ll be no gettin’ to Heathrow in less than ninety minutes,” the old cabbie said, looking bewilderedly at me through the rearview mirror.

“Oh well, I didn’t know it was rush hour. To Heathrow as safely as possible then, please.”

We finally made it to the airport, and I rushed to the United Airlines kiosk.

I managed to get on the next flight with a connection to Tulsa.

It was in coach right in front of the bathroom at the very back of the plane, but I didn’t care.

It was another hour before I made it through the security line.

All the rivets on the chaps set off the metal detector and I had to get patted down.

After that humiliating ordeal, I waited in the long line to board and opened the DM thread from Mary Beth and shot off a quick message and a prayer.

This had to work.

···

Exhausted, I exited the Tulsa International Airport, searching for Mary Beth’s bright yellow Jeep, and she was right there at the curb, waiting for me.

“What the hell are you wearing?” she asked as I let myself in through the passenger door.

Assless fucking chaps. I’d been in these for over fifteen hours of travel. I needed a shower, a toothbrush, and some clean clothes.

“It’s a long story. Did you get in touch with Bessie?” I asked.

“Yes. She gave me this to give to you.” She reached behind the passenger seat, keeping one hand on the wheel, and pulled out a plastic bag.

“What’s this? I just wanted to make sure we could get her to the fundraiser so she wasn’t home alone.”

“Oh, I know. She’s coming. I’m borrowing a wheelchair from the medical center, but she insisted you wear this.”

Intrigued, I unknotted the plastic bag handles. Inside was a gorgeous green ribbon skirt with red, purple, and blue ribbons sewn around the bottom and a cranberry-red finger-woven belt. A note was on top in scratchy handwriting.

Marie would have loved you. This is one of her skirts. I made the belt with the yarn you brought over. Wear them with pride.

I wiped a tear from my eye. “You sure you can trust Davey? He kind of has a big mouth.”

“He wants Lucas to get his surprise, so he won’t say anything. He knows he’ll be castrated if he tells another secret after announcing our pregnancy to the entire stickball league before I could tell my mother. That was a drama.” She huffed.

I laughed, and it felt so refreshing. I needed a good laugh after the last few days I’d had.

It was hard to believe I was just in London yesterday.

Looking at my haggard reflection, however, it was undeniable.

My eyeliner was smudged around my eyes, but my hair looked the same.

Chelsea was the best in the game. I was going to have to call her after all this to thank her.

But first I had to make sure I could pull off my plan.