After a while, we’re simply four more people in a sea of neon body paint, bass lines, and lighting effects—including the disco balls, which look amazing with the tree’s LED lights and the stage’s laser lights reflecting off them. We’re jumping along with the beats, dancing with the people around us. It feels like we’re part of one huge family.

  The Americana Land Freedom Fest family.

  I make a mental note to do some posts with that hashtag and caption. Especially if the photographer got some good shots of the festivalgoers with Grandma Barb.

  Generations of fun.

  It’s basically writing itself in my mind. I want to tell Carson, but knowing that he can’t hear me that well right now releases me to simply enjoy the craziness and leave the work until later.

  DJ Amalfo’s set finishes, entirely as amazing as Kyleigh promised. You can feel everyone catching their breaths, recovering from the steady dancing as they rave about the show and share excitement for the upcoming headliner. Slowly, anticipation fills air, building steadily. The crowd begins to chant, “Jazmyn! Jazmyn! Jazmyn!”

  As though the chant were music itself, people are jumping up and down and skipping around. It’s not out of control, but the plan-for-every-situation part of me is beginning to freak out a bit. “We need to get this calmed down.”

  Carson grabs my hand, pulling me away from the crowd, and I grab Taya’s too. Our chain all together again, we make our way to the edge of the crowd. With our neon shirts and Carson being easily recognizable by staff, we’re able to get backstage fairly quickly. Carson sees Spencer, Kyleigh, Toni, and Jazmyn talking and guides us that way. “Over there.”

  The Americana Land crew, including Toni, are wearing matching neon shirts. But not Jazmyn. She looks ready for the stage, wearing three-inch platform boots, red leggings which have been ripped to shreds along the front of the thighs, a black T-shirt with a cut neckline hanging off one shoulder, and so much jewelry and chains, I’m surprised she can move. Her makeup is dramatic black and white eyeshadow accented by false lashes and a literal smear of red lipstick across the lower half of her face. And her mullet is teased high at the top. She looks like a vampiric anime dream girlfriend.

  “What’s going on?” Carson demands.

  Spencer steps forward. “Minor issues. Being resolved as we speak.”

  Jazmyn is near hyperventilating, though. “Minor?!” she screeches. She’s nothing like the flat, sarcastic, unaffected starlet we had brunch with. She’s freaking the fuck out.

  Toni and Kyleigh gather on either side of her. “It’s gonna be fine, Jazzy. We got you.”

  Jazmyn’s wide eyes flick between the two supportive women, but she shakes her head. “This isn’t meant to be. King’s Krossing is down a member, that crowd is insane, and Steve can’t find my lucky rabbit’s foot. I can’t perform without it.”

  She’s shrinking back right before our eyes, and I seriously consider whether she might make a run for it. Luckily, I don’t think those boots were made for walking, much less running. Hell, I’d break an ankle just standing up in them, so hopefully Jazmyn can perform in them. Because she’s going to. She’s got to.

  Spencer speaks calmly and clearly, sounding equally in charge and motherly. “Steve will find it. We’ve got three people looking.”

  That’s at least one issue addressed.

  “What happened with King’s Krossing?” I ask.

  Toni answers, “One of the kids is grounded.”

  “From performing?” I look at her wide-eyed, hoping she’s kidding. “That seems a little extreme, right?”

  Toni shrugs. “His mom isn’t budging. Said he knew he had to pass Geometry if he wanted to perform, and it was his choice to not study for the exam. You gotta admire her dedication to education . . .” She trails off, not looking sure whether the punishment fits the crime. “I do have an idea, though.”

  “What?” Jazmyn grabs Toni’s shoulders, getting right up in her face. I vaguely wonder if she’s going to bite her. Maybe that’s how she got that smudged lipstick? Has anyone actually seen Steve? Or this rabbit?

  “It’s crazy, but . . .” Jazmyn gives Toni a little shake, but Toni laughs. “I could do it. I know the whole routine, have done it roughly a thousand times, and have experience on stage.” It’s a small brag, but right now, it seems to reassure Jazmyn a little, given the way her eyes brighten.

  “No.” Carson’s refusal is instant and final.

  Except . . .

  “Where have you been on stage?” Spencer asks Toni directly, not letting Carson’s ‘no’ bother her in the slightest.

  “I’ve been in dance classes since I was a kid. My mom’s a dancer, you know?” Toni smirks because everyone knows that about Izzy. “Look.”

  Toni pulls her phone out of her pocket and clicks around until her social media comes up. Turning the phone around, we all watch as Toni perfectly does the King’s Krossing dance to Jazmyn’s song . . . in her bedroom.

  “That’s not quite the same thing,” Spencer says carefully. “How many takes did you have to do?”

  But Jazmyn’s nodding her head. “That’s okay. It’ll be good to have a familiar face up there.”

  I guess Jazmyn, Toni, and Kyleigh have become faster friends than I thought because the three of them are having one of those eyes-only three-way conversations now.

  “Toni?” Carson meets Toni’s eyes. “Are you sure? This is risky. If something goes wrong, you’ll get slayed with this many eyes. And if it goes right, they’ll still say you got the gig because you’re family. There’s no winning here.”

  Toni rushes to Carson, slamming into him in a fierce hug. “Thank you for looking out for me, Bro, but I got this.” She pats him on the chest and praises, “And good job on slang usage. You even used ‘slayed’ correctly.”

  “What? I just meant they’ll kill you,” he mutters, confused.

  Issues handled, all eyes turn to Jazmyn. She’s quiet for a minute, listening. The crowd out there isn’t chanting her name any longer. Instead, they’ve started singing her songs without her. It’s . . . moving, actually.

  “My rabbit foot?” she says in a small voice.

  “Fuck it,” I hear from behind me, and then Taya shoves me out of the way. She’s in boss mode now and gets right up in Jazmyn’s face. “Look here, girl. You don’t need no dead animal bits for luck.”

  “But—”

  Taya’s look of disgust is obvious even with the heavy silver face paint. “Your so-called luck?” She makes air quotes with her ridiculously long nails, which I now realize are also silver, with little bits of mirror glued all over them. Gotta give her credit, she really knows how to embrace a full look.

  “It’s inside you. It’s called work. You’re the one who stayed up all night practicing songs, pouring your energy into lyrics, and learning how to play piano so you could be better. That ain’t luck. You earned that” —she points behind her to the crowd behind the stage curtains— “with work. So get your shit straight and get out there! Do what you’ve always dreamed of. This right here is your moment, and you damn well better take advantage of it. Because if you don’t go out there, I sure as fuck will.”

  Taya swings her hair behind her back, except it’s all up in her turban. It doesn’t matter, though. The invisible hair flip is still impactful.

  Everyone is frozen, mouths hanging open. Not just us, either. Taya was reading Jazmyn loud enough that even the backstage crew has stopped to stare, especially given that Taya’s voice is quite recognizable.

  Captain moves closer to Taya’s side, and she pats his chest. “It’s all good. We’re not gonna have a problem.” She looks around, meeting the eyes of everyone staring at her in a challenge. “Because nobody saw nothing and they ain’t heard nothing either. Right? We’re all just out to have a good time tonight with zero drama.”

  People nod their heads, hearing the threat in her words. Some even scamper back to work.

  “Wow,” Jazmyn sighs. “You’re . . .”

  “Yes, I am. But that doesn’t matter.” She clicks her nails together in Jazmyn’s face. “Who are you? You think I recommended you for this shit because I thought you’d fail? No, I did not. I thought it was your time. Don’t make me be wrong.” Her head is swiveling so much that I worry her turban might unwind, but it seems to be secure . . . for now.

  I step forward, worried for Taya. I’ll need to pre-emptively spin a story on this little stunt of hers because there’s no way all these people are going to keep their mouths shut. But I also deeply appreciate her willingness to help, not only me, but Jazmyn. “That’s true, Jazmyn. When we came up with this idea, Taya is who suggested you. She’s why we reached out.”

  If I’d told Jazmyn that God herself had recommended her, I think she’d be less surprised. But it doesn’t matter if she doesn’t go out on the stage.

  It takes a minute, but slowly, we can see Jazmyn’s confidence returning, her eyes brightening and back going straighter. “Let’s do this!”

  She gives a few hops, somehow not breaking an ankle in those boots. Maybe she’s got steel ankles or something?

  Taya claps her hands. “There ya go, bitch. You better show up, show off, and show out because I’m here for it!”

  She claps her hands, emphasizing each word. Energy building, Jazmyn shakes her whole body like she’s spasming. It’s similar to what Taya does before she goes onstage, except she’ll usually give her cheeks a fierce pat. Both sets of cheeks—one for a little color and one to start the jiggle, she says.

  Steve rushes up, looking harried. “I found it!” he shouts, shoving a black and red rabbit foot toward Jazmyn.

  Jazmyn meets Taya’s eyes and then tells Steve, “It’s okay. I don’t need it.”

  With that, she runs on stage to grab the microphone. “Helloooo, Starr-lights!”

  CHAPTER 20

  CARSON

  From backstage, we can see the faces of all the guests light up when Jazmyn hits the stage. The scream of joy is so loud it’s a literal, palpable thing I can feel along the tiny hairs on my arms.

  “Helloooo, Starr-lights!” Jazmyn yells. With a crash of electronic music following that declaration, the show starts. She rolls straight into one of her lesser-known songs, but the crowd sings along with every word. Jazmyn is surprised a bit at first, but by the end of the song, I think she’s near tears.

  She takes the microphone from the stand and walks back and forth across the stage. “Starr-lights, I was so nervous coming out here tonight. I’m just a girl who likes to sing in her bedroom and started posting stuff online. I got a few followers—”

  “I love you, Jazmyn!” a voice calls out from the crowd, and she blushes.

  I swear, she actually turns pink above that red lipstick. I don’t think it’s a trick of the lighting.

  “I love you too,” she calls back, laughing. “And then a few more people followed me. But I never dreamed that there were so many of you who felt like I do—like this whole world is so big and there was no way that one person could be that important. That’s where I was when I wrote this next song, staring up at the stars and feeling small. But I want you to know . . . each and every one of you is important. To me.”

  She sings a song called Constellations, which reminds me of the tattooed stars on her face that I mistook for freckles. It starts out a little slower, and I watch as the crowd locks arms around each other, swaying back and forth in waves. I hope the videographer is getting this and the live streaming is working because this is magic in action.

  Magic that Jayme helped start.

  I catch her eye and then subtly step closer, touching her hand with mine. It’s a question. I want to hold her hand, right here in front of everyone, but I know it’s a big risk, for me and for her. I don’t want to be seen as similar to my dad, who had a workplace romance. And Jayme told me that client relationships are strongly frowned upon, especially mid-assignment.

  Fuck it.

  I’ve done enough worrying about image and reputation and what everyone else thinks, especially Dad. I’m doing what I want. She told me to trust my gut, and that’s what I’m doing. I take her hand, squeezing it tightly. She answers with a side-eyed grin that I can only see in my peripheral vision because I’m trying not to draw attention to what’s happening between us. But I can feel her giving in to us.

  Jazmyn hits the chorus, which is a forceful combination of screaming and singing. I’m honestly not sure where she’s getting that much power from. She’s relatively small, but I think her voice could fill the whole park, even without a microphone. She’s got the audience in the palm of her hand.

  The lights on the stage shoot out over the Great Garden in flashing patterns, creating energy and movement and showcasing the crowd. It’s a sea of neon glowsticks, light-up hula hoops, glow in the dark costumes, and signs with Jazmyn’s name.

  Fireworks go off overhead, and there’s a collective gasp from the crowd before everyone oohs and ahhs. It’s beautiful, and totally unexpected, to be honest.

  “I didn’t know about that,” I yell to Spencer, who’s smiling bigger than I’ve ever seen before.

  “I like to go above and beyond,” she shouts with a no-biggie shrug. But we both know this is a huge deal and a sign of what she’s capable of when given free rein. Maybe strictly following the traditions that Dad put in place decades ago hasn’t only been holding me back, but others as well.

  “In budget? Permits?” I clarify.

  She dips her glasses down her nose to scowl at me. “Of course.”

  I can’t help but smile, and with a flashed thumbs-up, I say, “Great job, then.”

  Smugly, she goes back to watching the fireworks, which are spectacular. Bright streamers of light shoot up into the sky en masse, a finale, but the show’s not over. Jazmyn finishes the song, and then, breathing heavily, she sits down on the edge of the stage. Her heavy boots swing as though she’s a child in a too-big chair as she talks to the audience again.

  “You know, Starr-Lights, back when I was posting stuff online and praying I’d get a single like, there was a special group of people who heard something in one of my songs that made them want to dance.” The crowd cheers loudly, knowing that she’s talking about King’s Krossing. “They created choreography to the song, and when they posted it, their dance went viral, taking my song along for the ride. So when I got the invitation to come to hashtag-AmericanaLandFreedomFest, I wanted to bring them along on this ride.”

  Damn, I could hug Jazmyn right now! She just threw out our whole hashtag in the middle of her speech about the most anticipated song of her set. I know that live streamed. I meet Jayme’s eyes, which reflect the victory I’m feeling too, and feel her shaking our entwined hands in delight.

  “So . . . welcome to the stage, King’s Krossing!”

  The dance group takes the stage, running in from the other side. A few of them do tumbling passes, and I worry about the stage setup, not wanting them to run into an amp or guitar. But they land safely and take their places, waving at the crowd, who’s going mad and shouting individual dancers’ names.

  “I also want to welcome a special friend, Toni Steen, daughter of Ben Steen, CEO of Americana Land.” Toni runs out too, her smile wide and both hands waving in the air. She looks completely at ease, and a knot in my chest slowly starts to unwind. “Sometimes when you meet someone, you automatically know that they’re going to be a ride-or-die friend. That’s Toni. I met her yesterday and we’re already besties!” Jazmyn laughs and hugs Toni before they stand together, posing for a quick picture by the front-row photographer.

  The audience cheers. I even hear a few people shout, “Hi, Toni!”

  “Okay, let’s do this!”

  The music starts with a heavy bass drop, and Jazmyn skips around the stage. Toni takes her place in the line-up, and King’s Krossing starts clapping, hyping everyone up. Jazmyn’s too active, singing too close to the microphone to make every word crystal clear, but the crowd knows them by heart and sings along. As King’s Krossing and Toni start doing the dance steps, I can see the audience doing them too. It’s like a massive flash mob scene.

  “Wow!” I shout.

  “I know,” Jayme yells. She lets go of my hand, but it’s only to clap along. And though we don’t know the song, the words, or the moves, we party along with everyone. Even Spencer sways back and forth a little bit. Kyleigh is doing a watered down, and slightly off-beat, version of the dance, but she’s having fun too.

  Pyrotechnics go off on stage, and Jazmyn throws her hands wide, letting them frame her, and then she joins the dance too as the band plays a repeat of the verse and chorus.

  It’s amazing. And I have Jayme to thank for it.

  Other people too, obviously, but she’s the one who came up with this idea, and it is absolutely going to be the savior of Americana Land’s image. I’m watching as we become relevant to a whole new generation right before my eyes. Even our existing line-up of concerts will benefit from what we’ve learned doing this festival. And it’s all because Jayme had a crazy idea and the guts to push me out of my comfort zone.

  Gamble on yourself, your team, on me.

  I did, and it’s paying off in more ways than I could’ve dreamed.

  Jazmyn plays a few more songs, the lights, fog machine, and effects accompanying her, but I’ve honestly stopped paying attention. All I can focus on is the woman at my side. I step in front of Jayme, blocking her view of the show, and she looks up at me with a question in her eyes.

  “Thank you,” I say, trusting that she’ll hear me before I cup her jaw in my hands and kiss her. She gasps in surprise, and I take the kiss deeper, wanting to tell her through my actions how much I appreciate her and what I’m feeling. Her hands press to my chest as she lifts to her toes and leans into me for more.

  “Ooh, bitch. Yes ma’am, getcha sum,” Taya calls from somewhere to my left. She’s been dancing along with Jazmyn’s show too, though her dancing is more stomping and attitude than complicated footwork.

  I’m not sure if she’s talking to Jazmyn onstage or to Jayme about me. Either way, I press one more kiss to Jayme’s soft lips. When I pull back, she’s smiling happily.