Broken Perfect Lies by Katie Wismer

Author:Katie Wismer [Wismer, Katie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ahimsa Press
Published: 2023-02-19T16:00:00+00:00

Las Vegas used to be one of my favorite places to perform. The energy of the crowds here feels different than most places, and it’s easy to feed off that and energize yourself more onstage. That’s what I repeat to myself over and over as I sit in my dressing room and my makeup artist does my face. I stare at my reflection in the mirror as she builds on my smoky eyes and adds fake lashes. The black wig skims my chin, and she darkens my eyebrows to match it.

I thank her quietly as she finishes and slips from the room, and then for one merciful moment, I’m alone. A lump forms in my throat, and I grit my teeth against it. The rest of the team is waiting for me—my dancers and backup singers and the band. And seeing them as I’d walked through the halls had been a comfort, but it also dug into my stomach like a knife.

Because among the sea of familiar faces, there was one noticeably absent. The one who would wait outside my dressing room and do our secret handshake with me for good luck right before I stepped onstage.

Nope. Nope. We’re not thinking about that right now.

I go through another round of vocal warm-ups as I pace, then stretch my neck, my shoulders. It’ll feel different once I’m onstage with the music, the lights, the people, the dancers. It’ll feel natural again.

It will.

A soft knock on the door jolts me out of my trance. “Come in.”

The door cracks open, and Heath pokes his head inside. His eyes land on me, and he pauses, no words coming out as he opens his mouth.

“What?” I glance at myself in the mirror to see if there’s anything out of place. I’m already in the leather corset and black pants for the opening number, but I’ve been putting off the platform boots for as long as possible.

His eyes slowly trail from my feet back to my face. “I—sorry. They wanted me to check if you’re ready.”

With a sigh, I yank on the shoes and follow him into the hallway.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks under his breath.

“I took a shot of tequila,” I admit.

He lets out a surprised laugh as we reach the rest of the team, but the room is a blur around me. All too soon, one of the stagehands is helping me into the crawl space for the trap door as music reverberates through the venue. I squat in the small space, my breathing echoing around me as I wait for my entrance.

You’ve done this a thousand times, I remind myself. You could do this in your sleep.

Faye’s face appears at the end of the long crawl space, and she shoots me a thumbs-up.

The panel beneath me buzzes and starts to rise. I adjust the headset in my ears and blow out a calming breath as the stage lights wash over me, and the crowd erupts in screams and applause. My body moves like

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