Hidden in the Stars (Falling Stars #2) (31 page)

"Yes, well, while we are a family show, we do not have facts regarding this…development. The first live show is tomorrow evening. You will perform, but we will be investigating the allegations. I wanted to personally call you and let you know so you aren't surprised upon your arrival."

"I understand." I swallow.

"Good. We'll see you tomorrow." She disconnects before I can respond.

"See, you are still on the show." Lucas' face lights up. "They have to prove this crap is truth and we know it's not."

"I'm not going." The words aren't easy to say, but getting Lucas away is the smartest thing.

"You have to." His face drops with disappointment. "Don't let them win. This is what you've always wanted."

"Lucas—”

"No, mom," he snaps. "This is your dream and you would be living it if you didn't have me."

My head buzzes from his words and chest restricts, as if all the air has been sucked from the room. Dropping to my knees, I wrap my arms around my little boy.

"Oh, baby," I finally choke out. "No."

I squeeze him one last time before pulling back. Taking his face in my hands, our tear-filled eyes meet.

"You are the dream I never dared to dream, Lucas." A tear spills over his boyish cheek. "I love you so much. Don't ever,
ever
think there is something I want more than you." I hug him again, cupping the back of his head with one hand.

His tears dampen my neck as mine streak down my cheeks.

"I'll do the show for you," I whisper.

Lucas pulls out of my embrace and furrows his brow.

"You'll stay on the show?" The hope in his eyes warms me.

I nod. "Yes."

A smile splits the frown he wore moments before and my heart swells at the sight.

Leftover pizza and salad are eaten around the TV, but we don't watch live television. Instead, we watch movies until my son falls asleep in my arms. As I'm about to doze off, my phone chimes.

Unknown Number: He wants to come for you.

Setting my cell on the end table, I sigh, putting an arm over my face. I know it's irrational to want him, to fantasize about him showing up just to be close to me. It's stupid and crazy, but my heart has enslaved my brain.

Chapter Seventeen

Liza

Lucas' smile is the only thing that gets me through the group of photographers and reporters. Thankfully, their numbers are down, but there are still twenty too many.

"I can't believe the bastards are following us." Kel looks out the rear window.

Sid snorts from the front seat. "Of course they are. They want to be the first to get whatever story they can."

I drop my head against the back of the seat.

"It's okay, mom." Lucas takes my right hand and squeezes.

"They're a bunch of jerks," Sean grumbles, leaning his head on my left shoulder.

Freeing my hand, I wrap them both under my arms.

"I'm sorry you guys have to go through all this." I kiss Lucas' head before turning to Sean's.

"If they don't leave you alone, I'm gonna kick them in the balls," Sean mumbles.

The car falls silent for a moment before Sid starts laughing and the rest of us do, too. Even the driver chuckles.

Luckily, the theater has a gated rear entrance only authorized persons can enter. My gratitude dissipates when just inside the building, I have to say goodbye to my family.

"Here." Sid holds out the small flash drive.

"You finished it?" I ask, excitement and nerves battling inside my stomach.

"Stop worrying," she orders.

"I'm not—”

"Yes, you are, and you don't need to. You can do this. You're the strongest person I know, Eliza." Sid leans in and kisses my cheek before a show assistant leads them in the opposite direction.

Once they round a corner, I comply with the assistant's request to follow him.

"I need to speak with the band, staging manager, and lighting—”

"You're needed backstage to meet with producers and then in the green room for quick interviews with reporters." He motions for me to climb a few steps leading to a dark gray door.

"Fine, but I need to change my song for tonight."

"That's not possible." The assistant finally looks at me.

"Make it possible. I need to do this."

A look of confusion crosses his face, and then irritation.

"It's for my son." I hold up the flash drive.

His face softens. "Okay, but we have to be quick."

He opens the gray door and looks back and forth before hurrying us toward the stage. We find the band in a small makeshift studio working on a song with one of the other contestants.

The music director looks up from his piano.

"We aren't done here yet." The irritation in his voice is evident.

"She wants to change her song," the assistant states, pointing accusingly at me.

The director drops his head, sighs heavily, and leans forward to rest his arms over the shiny lacquered finish of the piano. Folding his hands together, he raises his head and gives me an annoyed look.

"Look, this is kind of zero hours. A song change is going to be a lot of work."

The other contestant snorts loudly before adding, "It's not like it will help you anyway."

All eyes turn to the young, tan-skinned girl.

"What? Everyone knows the show is only using you for first-night ratings. That's why you perform last tonight. After that, I'm sure you will be given your walking papers."

"They put her on last for ratings?" a backup vocalist scoffs.

The contestant shrugs. "No one has said it directly, but come on, why else would they put a singing prostitute on stage last? They want the ratings her scandal is going to bring."

"I'm not a prostitute," I growl, growing angrier every time the girl opens her mouth.

"Whatever," she says, drawing out the word.

"Look, you clearly don't know anything about burlesque or cabaret, especially since you're barely out of high school. There is a difference between selling myself for sex and performing on stage in a style that some of the greatest female singers have done in the past."

The girl opens her mouth, but I continue.

"And the fact that my personal affairs are being publicized doesn't give you the right to assume one damn thing about me. If your privacy were invaded, I bet you wouldn't look so sweet and innocent, would you? In fact, I'm sure I could get some easy information from that other contestant..." I turn to the assistant. "The guy with the long, dark hair and neck tattoo, what's his name? Ya know, the one with a pregnant girlfriend back home?"

"You don't know what you're talking about!" the girl screams, yanking her headphones off her head.

"Neither do you, so try to remember that," I snap at the little bitch before turning back to the music director. "I am changing my song for my son."

"Let the girl change her song, Ray," the backup vocalist says, joining my plea.

He shakes his head and grins. "Fine, let's see what you got."

"We aren't done going over—”

"Wait outside for a minute," Ray instructs. "After I speak with her real quick, we'll get back to you. Alright?"

She stands rod straight for a moment before stomping out of the room while complaining under her breath.

"So, what song are you doing?" He motions for me to step closer.

I do, handing him the sheets of music. "
Nightingale
."

"Demi Lovato?" He raises a brow.

I nod.

"Okay, let's run through the keys real quick. I'll try to get you in here before the show tonight, but I can't make any promises. Understand?"

"Yes, and thank you."

When we finally reach the originally planned destination, we're stopped short by three men and two women in suits.

"Miss Campbell, we've been waiting for you." I immediately recognize Gideon Thorne, judge and Bel Suono Studios producer.

"Yes, I'm sorry about that. I needed to speak with the directors to make some changes for tonight." I fail to sound as strong and sure as I'd intended.

"Changes?" He raises one dark, perfectly arched brow over his piercing blue eye.

"Um, Miss Campbell decided to change her performance song and—”

"You changed without speaking to us first?" A woman in a dark gray suit steps forward, exasperation on her face.

"It's my performance," I snap.

She opens her mouth, but Mr. Thorne puts a hand up, stopping her.

"We need to make sure you understand the allegations are still under investigation. This is a family show and we need to maintain a moral responsibility. So…" He drifts off at the end.

"So, if you find out I have prostitution in my past then I suddenly don't get enough votes to keep me on the show, right?"

The right corner of his mouth twitches, but he remains serious when he nods.

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"Understood," I state firmly. "Can I go now? I have a show to prepare for."

"We'll talk more after the show, when Mr. and Mrs. Mackey are available to speak with you."

All my confidence shrivels into a ball of anxiety. The Mackeys, who own and operate Bel Suono Studio and Mack Productions, two major forces in the music industry and by whom the winner will be contracted, want to speak with me personally.
Oh my God.

A ragged breath leaves my body, making my panic obvious. Mr. Thorne spares me a pitying smile before excusing himself and his team from the room.

"Are you okay, Miss Campbell?" the assistant asks.

"Just give me a moment." I prop myself against a wall and breathe deeply.

The crew flits about in the darkness, preparing each contestant before they go out to face the crowd. Knowing this will most likely be my one and only performance on this show doesn't help my nerves. Even though I'm used to performing on stage, this crowd is in the thousands and the mentors’ feedback is a toss-up.

I wipe my sweaty hands on the long, black, lace dress, my nerves ratcheting higher and higher.

"You're up." A crew member appears on my left and instructs me toward the darkened stage.

With a deep breath, I walk to my mark. The mic stand is right where I asked and the lights are so dim, I can see part of the audience.

Well, I didn't think that out very well, did I? My Lord, there are so many—

The show’s host breaks me from my thoughts, welcoming the TV viewing audience back from a break and begins to introduce my performance.

Shaking out my hands and arms, I breathe deep and exhale a couple of times before he finishes. My name is the cue.

The stage lights barely raise and a soft spotlight finds me alone on the darkened stage. The large screen behind me casts a glow against my back.

"For you, Lucas. You are everything," I whisper into the mic. The music begins and tears already threaten, but I swallow the emotion.

I start the song, knowing the first picture on the screen behind me is of the day I brought Lucas home from the hospital and a slideshow of his life will follow. I want everyone to know the truth; that my son is a regular boy and has led a typical boy's life. They can take their rumors and choke on them.

The spotlight makes it impossible to see the audience or their reactions, so I focus on one spot. Picturing the boy who will forever be the main man in my life, I sing for him.

The red lights on the cameras moving around me demand my attention, but I can't focus on them. I pull the mic from the stand and reach my arm out to the light bathing me. A feeling of love, peace, and satisfaction sweep over me. When I hit the arc in the song, I know what I want isn't this gimmick—this reality karaoke show.

Not caring about the audience, mentors, or all the judgmental assholes backstage, I lose myself, unleashing my emotions. Tears fill my eyes as I sing to my son, giving all of me to the moment. Me, Eliza Campbell, not Miz Liz.

"‘Cause, baby, you're my sanity. You bring me peace. Sing me to sleep," I belt, feeling the words through my entire body. I finish the song, one arm extended over my head, the other clutching the mic to the rapid rise and fall of my chest.

The crowd erupts, breaking me from my personal awakening.

I wipe away a stray tear and blink at the intrusion of the stage lights glowing brighter, until I see Jackson at the edge of the stage. He lifts Lucas onto the edge and Lucas says something to Jackson before setting his eyes on me.

His smile lights his face and he charges toward me. The love and happiness I feel in that moment spill over my cheeks. He enters my open arms, wrapping his around my waist.

"I love you so much!" he says, his voice muffled by my dress.

"I love you, too, baby." I kiss the top of his head.

Pulling back, he looks up and I cup his face with my free hand.

"You don't have to stay on this show. I know I wanted you to, but they don't deserve you." He buries into me again, not realizing his words were heard by every person watching.