“This never turns out how we want,” Lizzy said. Her voice held a gentle warning, as though Bristol could forget what happened the last time she was out in public. An eleven-year-old kid got trampled as a mob chased Bristol. Not only was it an eye-opening experience, but it also made Bristol retreat further inside herself. She’d refused interviews and public appearances except for the stage until a month ago.

“Can we at least try?” Bristol asked.

“Of course. Let me make a few calls and see what I can do.” Lizzy waited.

“Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m going to need my phone in order to do that.” Lizzy held out her hand until she dropped the phone into her palm.

Bristol picked up her own and googled Annie Foster. It was a wholesome name. And she was pretty. The all-American girl-next-door. Women with guitars were a dime a dozen. But the number of subscribers was impressive no matter what she’d told Lizzy. Bristol pulled up a video of one of Annie’s most viewed videos. She was engaging, comfortable in front of people, and had a smile that was both infectious and sexy. Bristol downloaded her EP and clicked through her website. It was fun and flirty, with a ton of queer content. She’d played at Denver Pride and performed several times at The Center, Denver’s LGBTQ organization and safe place for queers. Bristol was impressed with how involved Annie was in her community.

“Okay, so the woman who owns The Night Owl said she’s going to contact Annie now and try to get her to meet us at the place in an hour.” Lizzy rested her head on the pillow next to Bristol.

“So, you’re saying we’re going on a field trip? Oh, my God, I can’t wait.” Bristol jumped up and raced to her suitcase. Most of her clothes were on the bus, but she always had an overnight bag of casual clothes to wear in the hotel suites. She pulled out a pair of leggings and an oversized T-shirt. “Can I get away with this?”

“No. You look too much like you,” Lizzy said.

“It’s summer. I can’t hide in a trench coat or sweatshirt. I’ll sweat to death.”

Lizzy piled Bristol’s long, chestnut-brown hair up on her head. “If we find a cap that says something like Rocky Mountains and you wear my oversized sunglasses and sit in a corner, then maybe we’ll have a few minutes.”