He’s right. I take his advice, nursing my second whisky. Gabriel’s attuned enough to my needs that he knows to be quiet now, allowing me to stay in my own head. As I’m collecting my thoughts, it occurs to me that Gabriel’s use of my name wasn’t by mistake, but design. He wanted to remind me of who I really am.

Karen’s introduction lasts longer than it does on Thursday nights. She spends nearly all of it finding different ways to communicate what a thrill it is for her and for Lava to host Onyx. It’s obvious from the screaming that the crowd is here to see them perform. It makes me even more nervous, and I finish the last drops of my second whisky.

“But before Onyx gets up here, you all are in for something that you’ll not soon forget. There’s only one woman who I think can match the intensity that Onyx brings to the stage, and that’s Lava’s very own . . . Cassidy!”

Karen’s introduction garners enthusiastic applause, although it’s not nearly as loud as when Onyx was mentioned. When I reach the stage, she hands me the microphone. With her hand covering the top of it, she whispers, “Blow the roof off this place like you always do.”

A moment later, I’m alone before the crowd. I shut my eyes. To my surprise, tonight it’s neither Charlotte I see in my mind’s eye nor Lauren, but Gabriel. I open them quickly and focus on the genuine article.

“Thank you,” I say. “Thank you all so much for being here tonight.”

The introductory chords to “Light My Fire”—the cheesy organ riff that lets you know at once that you’re going to another place—fills the room. I go with it, and am all too happy to be swept away.

After “Light My Fire,” I sing The Pierces’ “Kissing You Goodbye,” which is new to my repertoire. I like that it sounds spooky and has the word goodbye in it. Then I take it down a notch with “Nothing Compares 2 U.” I do that one because I read somewhere that Sinéad O’Connor sings it in honor of her mother, despite the fact that it was written by Prince, who was undoubtedly thinking about a woman gone for seven hours and fifteen days. Then I bring it back up to eleven with Fiona Apple’s “Sleep to Dream.” I disregard Karen’s advice that “Never Goodbye” should follow and keep the original playlist, with Bruce Springsteen’s “Brilliant Disguise” next.

Even among the throng before me, Gabriel stands out clearly. He holds a clenched fist above his head, his way of telling me that I’m doing great.