Page 49 of Playing With My Heart Strings

baylor

Scandal

I haven’t seen Dusty all morning. After our night in the dressing room, he walked me back to the hotel.

We shockingly didn’t run into any producers.

But this trip, the contestants all have roommates, so Dusty wasn’t able to sneak into my room and I wasn’t going to try to sneak into his. It was too risky.

When I got back to my room, Sage was sprawled out on her bed, drool rolling down the side of her mouth. She left the lights on, so I got ready for bed, turned them out, and went to sleep. It’s probably best she wasn’t awake. Allowed me to avoid a potentially awkward interrogation.

We don’t have to be at the concert venue until four this afternoon.

Doors will open around five thirty and the show starts at seven, so it gives us plenty of time to relax.

The producers offered to accompany us if we wanted to walk around and explore, but we’re all exhausted from the day before, some of us (me) more than others and in different ways.

The spot between my legs is still sore, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I found small purple marks peppered around my body.

Katherine, Valerie, Sage, and I all sit at a table in the hotel restaurant.

“I can’t believe it’s already been eight weeks,” Valerie mumbles between bites of her eggs benedict. “It feels like we just started.”

“It’s kind of bittersweet that there are only two weeks left of the show. But then again, that’s only for two of us,” Katherine replies a bit sadly.

“I wish all of us could get record deals and go on tour with Dusty,” Sage adds, but there’s some humor to her voice. “We could all just be country music sister-wives.”

That gets a laugh out of everyone, at least for a brief moment. But it ends when Katherine whispers, “Who do you think will go home this week?”

It’s the question everyone’s been thinking, but we’ve all been too scared to ask.

The group falls silent. If Aspen were here, she’d have an opinion and would unabashedly share it. But she’s not here, and there’s an air of mutual love and respect within our group.

“It could be any one of us,” I dare to answer. “It’s going to be a tough decision.”

The girls all nod in agreement.

“We’ll all have to do our absolute best,” Valerie agrees. “Luckily, we’ve already performed the set once, though.”

The rest of the girls have already left the dressing room to wait backstage, but as I’m adding the finishing touches on my hair, someone knocks at the door.

“Come in!” I call out, not bothering to get up to let them in.

“How’s my girl?” The mirror’s reflection shows Dusty leaning against the door frame.

“I’m not your only girl.” I playfully roll my eyes.

He walks over, letting the door shut, and wraps his arms around my shoulders. “No, but you’re my favorite girl.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be saying that kind of stuff. Takes away all the mystery.”

“It’s not a mystery that I’ve been falling in love with you for weeks now, Baylor. It’s not a mystery that you occupy every corner of my mind.” He brushes my hair to one side, and his lips move down my neck, placing gentle kisses that send shivers down my spine.

“It needs to be a mystery. You know, for the viewers…” I trail off, because what I’m saying isn’t something a contestant would say.

“I’m afraid I can’t pretend when it comes to you. You look absolutely stunning, by the way.” With a gentle brush of his knuckles on my cheek, he heads toward the door. “I’ll see you out there, darlin’.”

My heart races in my chest. I’m not sure I’ve been able to pretend with him either.

Not for a while, at least. I know this was all supposed to be fake and I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with him, but it’s not a game to me anymore.

I’m not sure if it ever was. I close my eyes and take a deep breath to compose myself, fluff my hair one more time, then head toward the stage with my head held high.

“How are y’all doing tonight, Atlanta?” Jarrod waves as he struts out on stage, microphone in hand.

“This is our second leg on the Heart Strings tour, and I know I can speak for the ladies and Dusty when I say we are so honored to be here. You’ll be spending the next couple hours with us, so I hope you all thoroughly enjoy the show. ”

When Jarrod exits the stage, the lights go out—the cue for the four of us to go out and take our places.

The opening number goes perfectly, even smoother than the show in Chattanooga. My confidence has definitely improved since the first rehearsal for the tour, and I can only hope the viewers see that.

All of us except Katherine exit the stage, and Sage grabs my hand when we’re out of the audience’s view.

“You were amazing out there, Bay.” She gently squeezes. “If it’s not me tonight that makes it, I really hope it’s you.”

“What do you mean? You don’t think we’ll both make it?”

“Katherine and Valerie are going to make it. That’s a no-brainer. I’ve seen the way Dusty interacts with them. He’s smitten.”

My stomach drops a little at the thought of Dusty having a strong relationship with them. But she’s right. From what they’ve told us about their dates, the producers are setting them up to be the final two. The worst part is that even though we’re friends, we’re all competing for him.

It’s kind of fucked up if I think about it too much. If I don’t win, I don’t think I can ever watch the show back. Even if I win, I’m not sure if I can watch it. It’ll hurt to see Dusty kissing other women knowing what we’ve been doing behind the scenes.

“Mhm, yeah.” I try not to sound wounded, but I don’t think I succeed.

“I’m so sorry, Baylor, I didn’t want to make you feel bad,” Sage apologizes quickly, guilt laced in her words.

I place my hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’re not. We all knew what we signed up for, right? I think you’re on soon, you should probably get ready.”

She purses her lips but then nods, even as her eyes glass over like reflective pools of sadness.

And when Katherine kills her performance, earning a standing ovation from the crowd, I worry Sage might be right.

If Katherine and Valerie both move on—something that’s looking more and more likely to happen—it’s going to be a battle between me and Sage tonight for the final spot.

Sage and Katherine trade spots on stage, and Sage begins her solo. Her vocals start off wobbly, but she finds her rhythm soon enough that I don’t think many people notice. I wonder if she’s as nervous as I am with the elimination hanging over our heads.

“How are you feeling about tonight?” Valerie sidles up to me. Her normally bouncy curls are straightened today, and the corners of her eyes are brightened with white eyeliner and highlighter.

Jealousy pricks at my skin when I look at her.

She’s beautiful . There’s never been a doubt about that.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Dusty’s label would want him to pick her.

She’s incredibly talented and would no doubt make her mark in the genre.

They’d be remiss to let someone like her go.

And she deserves it, arguably more than anyone else here.

“Baylor?” She raises a perfectly shaped brow.

What the hell am I thinking? Valerie’s been nothing but kind and supportive of me, even in this competitive environment.

“I’m sorry, I’m just feeling overwhelmed,” I admit. “The elimination is stressing me out. And I don’t know, I was kind of jealous of you for a second.” I choke out a laugh, but not because I think it’s funny.

Valerie doesn’t give me any pity laughs. “You’re so talented, Baylor. Of course, all of us want to make it to next week, but I don’t think you have anything to worry about. What you have with Dusty is special. I can see it in his eyes.”

“Sage thinks you and Katherine will make it. She says Dusty is smitten with you both.” I don’t know why I said that. I’m not trying to discredit or invalidate their talents at all or throw Sage under the bus, but I think Valerie needs to hear that she’s just as loved.

But she shakes her head. “Dusty may admire me and Katherine, but our relationships with him are nothing compared to what you two have.”

I wonder if she knows something I don’t, but I don’t have time to ask, because Sage finishes up her song and one of the stagehands pulls me away.

I blink to adjust my eyes to the spotlights when I step out on stage. My song starts out with a simple guitar-picking pattern, and before I get to the microphone stand, Charlie is already playing it on a loop. He knows to give me as much time as I need before the song starts.

“Atlanta, you look amazing tonight!” I give the audience my biggest smile, even as nerves eat away at my stomach. I turn to the band and nod before moving right into the first verse.

The song I chose to perform tells the story of a breakup and the aftermath of a relationship.

How everyone—media, friends, family—talks about the happy moments involved with falling in love and how beautiful it all is.

But the song argues that love is weird and messy.

The lyrics capture the reality of moving on from heartbreak and the acceptance that comes later.

Slow drums enter on the chorus, creating cinematic imagery and emotional depth.

My voice cracks during the bridge, but I keep going, even as tears well in my eyes and threaten to fall. The song is my own recognition that I’m not the same person I was when I started the show and I won’t be the same person after it ends. As bittersweet as it is to sing about, it’s also healing.

When I look to the left wing, Colette is standing with her arms crossed, watching me.

I don’t let it throw me off, though, even when she raises her cell phone to her ear and shifts her body so no one can read her lips.

I close my eyes and grab the microphone with both hands, singing the final verse of the song like it’s the last time I’ll ever perform. When I open my eyes again, she’s gone.

The last line of the song leaves my lips and the guitar fades out, all while the crowd leaps to their feet. I blow a kiss to the audience, their cheers still echoing throughout the venue long after I exit the stage.

The rest of the concert flies by. I don’t see Colette backstage for the remainder of the show, but a nagging feeling in my stomach tells me there is a reason she made an appearance for my song and no one else’s.

“Ladies, after your closing number, you’ll stay on stage and the elimination will take place immediately,” a producer chirps in my earpiece. “Remember, the concert is being aired, so live voting will be taking place for the bottom two.”

I do my best to clear my mind and not think about the elimination during our final group performance, but my breathing quickens when Jarrod joins us.

“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight there will be an elimination. Dusty will choose two women who he would like to continue in the competition, and you will have an opportunity to vote to save your favorite contestant.”

Right on cue, Dusty emerges from the right wing. He gives me an encouraging smile, and while I’m sure the intent was to help me relax, it only stirs the butterflies in my stomach.

“Dusty, who are the first two women you would like to?—”

“Miss! Excuse me, you can’t be on stage!” My head snaps to the right as I look off-stage where Aspen is strolling up without any regard for the producer who is yelling at her.

“Oh, trust me. The viewers are going to want to hear this.” Her eyes shoot daggers as the producer stands down. Anything for dramatic television, right?

“What are you doing here?” Dusty meets her in the middle of the stage, his posture rigid and challenging. “You were sent home for a reason, Aspen.”

“Yeah, and the person who you’re apparently obsessed with shouldn’t even be here.” She gestures at me.

Oh no. God, no, please.

“What are you talking about?” Threads of accusation lace through Dusty’s voice. He still has no idea.

“She’s a fucking plant, Dusty. She was never here for you.”

At this point, the producers are panicking, wanting to get Aspen out of here as quickly as possible. Silence falls over the live audience as they watch everything unfurl in front of them. As they process the nuclear bomb that was just dropped on everyone.

“Someone get her off the stage!” If anyone doubted what Aspen said, the reaction from the producers likely made them change their minds. It’s obvious to anyone that they’re trying to cover it up.

A producer runs up and grabs Aspen’s arm to remove her from the premises, and she doesn’t resist. She’s already done her job. The damage was done, and I know I’m going to have to deal with the fallout.

“Dusty, we need you to choose who you would like to move on,” the director cues him in our ears.

He looks at me with a pained expression, but it’s only there for a split second before he sighs and looks at the four of us. “Valerie and…Katherine.”

Sage and I look at each other.

“I’m so sorry,” I mouth at her, because words won’t come out. She doesn’t say anything but squeezes my hand once before letting go.

“Live voting, starting in three, two, one.”

The clock is running down, and the stage screen behind us shows the running tally of results.

Sage, then me.

Then Sage. Then me.

Fifteen agonizing minutes pass, and despite Aspen’s outburst and exposing me on live television, the results read Baylor - 55%, Sage - 45% .

“Congratulations, Bay. I knew you’d make it. Prove them all wrong, okay?” She looks at me with glassy eyes, and I hug her before she gives one final wave to the crowd and walks off stage.

I’m left to join Katherine and Valerie. They both give me looks of acknowledgment. I’m unsure what their thoughts are. What Aspen said isn’t false, but she also painted herself as the villain of the group from the very beginning.

All that matters is a conversation between me and Dusty. But the minute the cameras stop rolling, he gives me a defeated look and rushes off stage.