“Hey, Mom!” I answer my phone on the first ring, hardly able to contain the elation in my tone.
“Lexi ... Are you okay?” Of course she’s suspicious. I’m rarely this excited about anything, including her calls.
“I’m fantastic, Mom. I just finished my first set on the Three Ugly Guys tour.”
“Oh, that’s right! I forgot that was tonight.” A little buzzkill, but I will not let her bring me down. Not tonight. “How was it? Did you have a good show?”
“It’s was amazing, Mom. Thousands of people in the arena. Thousands! I’ve never played in front of that many before. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. You worked so hard. Your daddy will be so proud when I tell him. You should call him.” This is who she is. She’ll never get it.
“No.”Breathe, Lexi.“Mom, I’m not going to call him. I don’t care what he thinks.”
“Now, don’t be that way. He’s the reason you have any talent at all.” She says, and it’s all I can do to not scream. She believes her words are the truth, and maybe that’s what hurts most.
“Mom. I love you, but I’m hanging up now.”
“Are those Three Ugly Guys as sexy as they are in that Mindless music video?”
“Bye!” I sing into the phone and hit end before I throw my phone. Nothing like a call from my mother to sour the most awesome of moods. I don’t expect her to be anyone other than herself, but she still never ceases to amaze me with her lack of tact or sense of reality. She’ll never give up hope that I’ll have a relationship with my father, the same way I’ll never believe she was never more than a glorified regular hookup to him. A knock at my dressing room door shakes me from my thoughts. “Come in!”
“Hey, Lexi.” I’m surprised when I see Jax poke his head inside. “You killed it out there tonight.”
“Thanks, Jax.” I allow my lips to pull into a grin.
“You got any plans? Going out to celebrate?”
My smile dims . He’s here to hit on me. I try not to let disappointment cloud his compliment. “No plans here. I want to get some writing done until the buses leave.”
“Cool. Come with me.” He nods over his shoulder all casual, a friendly move that doesn’t jive if he were trying to get in my pants, or rather skirt, but one can never be too careful.
I purse my lips and tilt my head. “And where exactly would that be?”
“Merch tables. Your fans want to meet you, kid.” He winks.
“I have fans?” I scramble off my seat and grab my cell.
“You do after that performance. Even I recognize greatness when I see it. Give us a few more shows and you’ll have a line waiting for you after each set, just wait and see.” He holds the door for me and we walk down the wide industrial corridor side by side. He points out different things as we pass, waves at several of the crew, and I feel a little less alone by his side. It’s nice to have a friend, or rather what I hope is the beginning of a friendship. And his confidence in my abilities as a performer only affirms I’m exactly where I need to be.
