Bristol had to remind herself that Lizzy was trying to make things easier on her. Maybe this time she could sit in a booth somewhere and eat a meal with people who didn’t know who she was. At least in the winter she could hide under puffy coats and beanies. It was harder in the summer, especially when three giant tour buses and several SUVs pulled into a parking lot. They drew a lot of attention.

“We can try that. Or do a drive-through somewhere in one of the cars.” Grabbing a fat cucumber slice and a bottle of water, Bristol followed Lizzy out of the dressing room. Her security detail fell into place and escorted her backstage. Annie had switched up her set and added a faster song to her lineup.

“Maybe you’ve heard this song before, and maybe you were here last night. This is my last song. Fast Cars is up next. I’m Annie Foster, and thank you for being so welcoming. I love my hometown of Denver!”

Annie started strumming, and Bristol walked onstage with only a microphone. She touched Annie’s lower back and smiled at her before jumping in on the chorus. They had great musical chemistry and harmonized better than any singer Bristol had sung with before. Annie’s comfort level singing in front of thousands of people made Bristol proud of her for some unknown reason. More people were in their seats during Annie’s set than last night. Maybe word had gotten out about Annie and how talented she was, or that Bristol joined her on the last song and they were hoping for that little extra concert experience. They finished to whistles and loud applause. Bristol waved as she left the stage for Annie to say good-bye to the crowd and end her livestream.

Her entourage of personal security, Lizzy, the assistants, and her stylist walked with her back to her dressing room. Lizzy warmed the dish and handed it to Bristol. She was used to eating while Phoebe worked on her hair. Makeup would happen after she brushed her teeth and gargled to clear her throat.

“Don’t eat too much. You’re going to be moving a lot onstage,” she said.

It was a catch-22. She needed the carbs for energy, but performing with a full stomach wasn’t smart. She had a team of eight dancers that jumped out onstage during six songs. She mixed up her lineup so she could rest between intense dancing.

“I’m getting too old for this,” Bristol said. It was a lie. She was in the best shape possible. She should have said she was getting bored with this. She could power through the twenty remaining shows, especially with Annie in the mix.

“Look at these photos.” Dom, Bristol’s social media manager, was a part of Bristol’s entourage. She didn’t post a single thing unless Bristol approved.