“Since day one. I heard her playing at a fair when she was fourteen and had her signed within the week. She didn’t cut her first album until she was sixteen. We had to get her voice and piano lessons. Natural talent goes only so far. We had to polish the rough edges.”

Annie couldn’t believe that. Bristol had a range that all singers envied. That talent wasn’t taught. It was discovered.

“Okay. Let’s get you onstage. How are you feeling?”

Annie took a deep breath. “I’m excited. I hope I’m well received.” What she really meant was that she hoped she didn’t crash and burn or get booed off the stage.

“You’re good. Come on. Let’s kick her off so you can get some playing time,” Lizzy said.

The palpitations in her chest became more pronounced the closer they got to the stage. She wasn’t worrying about screwing up. She knew her own songs forward and backward. She was worried about people not liking her. She was worried that her music wasn’t good enough to open for Bristol Baines.

“Sondra’s bringing your guitar so we don’t waste any time. I hope you don’t mind,” Lizzy said loudly over Bristol’s voice that reverberated throughout the stadium. Would her voice be that strong?

“That’s fine.” The guitar was in a hard case, so she wasn’t afraid of somebody banging it up. She stood by as Lizzy said something to the sound technicians, pointed to something on one of the computers, and motioned to Bristol to wrap it up by spinning her finger in a circle. Lizzy guided her to the side of the stage just as Bristol finished her song. She exited with her band and stopped in front of them. Her energy was so large that Annie took a step back.

“You sounded great,” Annie said.

Bristol gave Annie a smile that made everything inside her turn to mush. She was sweating, breathing hard, but looked so beautiful and totally in her element. Annie’s bones felt soft and her knees weak at the sheer power she exuded.

“Thank you,” she said.

Bristol took the towel from Lizzy and wiped her face and brow. “Looks like you’re up now.” She motioned for Annie to take the stage.

Annie didn’t remember walking to the microphone or how her guitar managed to work its way around her neck. Reality didn’t set in until she strummed the first chord. She made a few tweaks on the tuning pegs out of habit and had her first flutter of anxiety on a stage bigger than any she’d ever been on before.

“Start strumming and we’ll adjust your sound.”