Saturday, 0736, Emily and Jade's house.
Emily.
Jade was going on tour on Sunday. For six months. I would be staying here, calling and texting every single day, and then, I would join her in America for her big finale, or whatever they called it.
Jade says I'm going to be singing one song with her. On valentines day.
The tour manager, who is terrified of her, agrees.
The place in America agrees.
Jade's army of fans agree.
Shit.
I have listened to the songs that Jade has produced. I know some of the choruses. But the entire song? No way.
"Hun, it'll be fine. You're a great performer. Really! We'll even switched off all the lights that could cause you PTSD to act up." Oh, yes. The ever threatening post traumatic stress disorder. PTSD. I hated those four letters. Jade did too. But we knew what to do if that ever happened again.
"Sugar, I've heard you sing. You're incredible! Everyone will love you!"
"The performance bit isn't the problem. It's more the what I'm going to sing. And the singing." Jade laughed.
"Sweetie, I'm going to call you every day and we'll rehearse then. The WiFi is amazing, I promise."
"Huh, alright. But don't you think you should give me the sheet music in advance?"
"What do you think this is for?" She handed me a folder, filled with white paper. I opened it. The song was called Two Hearts. Not good.
Ding dong!
I had no chance to open it further.
"I'll get it." I said.
I practically ran to the door and there, standing before me, was David, the control freak brother, clad in leather, with a motorcycle helmet and a gun strapped to his leg.
"Emily, Jade. How are you?"