“This way,” she said.

Jen and I followed closely on her heels. We navigated the crowds of exhausted fans, and I pushed down the nerves that were coursing through my body. Were we really going to get to meet him? Would he recognize me, and if so, what would he say?

What would I say?

We took a long loop around the stadium, and I wondered if we were going in circles.

I looked up and saw that we were approaching the C wing, and there were a scattering of people standing next to the entrance, directing people back the way we’d come. Vanessa looked back at us and gestured with her head.

“Come on,” she said and grabbed her daughter’s hand.

I followed, my throat dry and hands clammy.

What are we doing?

Vanessa walked up to a tall, skinny security guard who looked like he couldn’t have been more than twenty-two. He smiled as he saw her approach.

“Hey, the pierogi lady,” he said. “Thanks for the recipe. I’m making it for my mom this weekend.”

Vanessa peeked back at me with a smile, then turned to face the guard. “No problem. This is my best friend, Paula, and my daughter, Jen, who I was telling you about.”

“Nice to meet you, ladies,” he said. He looked down at Jen. “Your mom is awesome!”

We all laughed and thanked him before scurrying past him and down the long hall of the C wing.

“Pierogis?” I whispered as we walked along. “That was the super-secret thing you couldn’t tell me about in front of Jen?”

“Figured I’d let your imagination have a little fun with it,” she said with a smirk.

We turned a corner, and then we were walking through a large, open space that was filled on either side with concert equipment, chairs, and other supplies. There were a lot of people there, all moving around with purpose, and I waited for someone to ask who we were or what we were doing there. A tall man with a clipboard walked in our direction, and when he saw us, he smiled. “That way,” he said, pointing around another corner.

Vanessa, Jen, and I looked at each other and then walked quickly in that direction. As we turned, we all groaned.

In front of us, there was a line of at least forty or so fans, standing in groups and pairs, leaning to look at the front of the room. We couldn’t see what was going on at the front, but it was clear we were in the right place.

“Apparently, you weren’t the only one with a recipe to share,” I said.

“At least in my case, it really was just a recipe,” she said, looking disappointed.

“I’m sure it’ll move fast,” Jen said.

I once again had to admire her determination.

We joined the back of the line and waited.