Chapter 15: Backstage

Hank got us off the stage in nine seconds flat.

He put one hand on my back and one on Jude's.

The three of us went down the side stairs into the dark of the wings.

The sound came back before we reached the bottom.

It came back with a thump and a shriek of feedback, and the whole building was roaring again.

Through the wall of the corridor, I could hear it clearly now.

It had split down the middle.

One half of the arena chanted "Stalker, stalker."

The other half, thinner but louder than before, chanted my name.

Deirdre was waiting at the foot of the stairs with her hands folded in front of her.

"A technical fault," she said. "It happens. I've asked the engineer to look into it."

"You cut the board," Jude said.

"I did nothing of the kind."

Hank held up a gray headset.

"The kid on monitors gave me this.

He said a woman in a cream suit told him the label was pulling the feed."

"I was never near the board."

"You were in his ear," said Hank.

Her smile did not slip.

"Mr. McCauley," she said, "your guest has now stood in front of twelve thousand paying customers.

Before midnight you will decide whether you stand beside her, or beside the label that made you."

She tipped her head.

"The label's counsel is going to want a conversation about that."

"Fine," said Jude. "Have it with Hank."

"With respect, I'd rather have it with you."

"No," I said.

They both looked at me.

I was shaking so hard I could feel my teeth.

"You don't get him tonight," I said. "Hank. Is there a room with a lock?"

Hank took one look at my face and walked.

The dressing room was small and bright, with a gray couch, a long counter, and a mirror ringed in bulbs.