Page 215 of Once Upon a Winter Beast
It’s thoughtful and honest, and it’s definitely going in my scrapbook.
My break wasn’t something I chose. It was forced on me by my stepmother, who turned into my manager. She had a promising career, but never really took off. And when I did?
Let’s just say she couldn’t handle it.
Threats were made, and I chose to walk away from it all. Not because I wanted to, but becauseI had to. It was better than letting her destroy something I’d worked so hard to build.
Music is so deeply ingrained in my soul that a long-term break couldn’t work. I need it to unwind, to beme.
So I did something risky.
I tested a whole new identity.
There are approximately two people who know who I really am, and they’re up to their eyeballs in non-disclosure agreements.
I glance up at my reflection, still surprised at the woman staring back at me, even years later.
Blonde locks have replaced my almost black ones. A spray tan hides my ivory skin. I still use my signature red lipstick, but with a special lip plumper, so even the most visually critical (or possibly worrisome) fan won’t notice.
Once, we thought a fan was getting close to figuring it out. After all, it’s not every day someone explodes to stardom with minimal verifiable background.
So we added a prosthetic nose and let rumors fly that my new persona had a nose job. It’s all a part of constantly feeding the press the right stories.
And it’s allowed me the luxury of continuing in a career I love. It’s not the country music I grew up with, but I’ve found success as a pop-hybrid singer and songwriter.
It’s mostly quelled the mess I chose to walk away from.
Only…this letter is aptly timed.
Like it was meant to find me, right now.
Because I’m not who I say I am.
Out of curiosity, I flip the glitter-coated envelope over and smile as it sprinkles my legs like snow. These two are kids after my own heart.
As quickly as it formed, my smile disappears.
This letter can’t be real, because the postage stamp says Enchanted Hollow. And that place is as real as the person I’m pretending to be. I was brought up on stories about a small Texas town that quietly oozes with magic.
Wishing wells, bridge trolls—supposedly the whole shebang.
My heart rate kicks up a few notches.
It could be exactly the place to take a break. A real one. Where I don’t have to pretend to be someone else, and I can just breathe.
It’s too much to hope for, but at the same time, it’s the answer to every wish I’ve made for years.
It could mean a life where I could regroup. I could stop running and looking over my shoulder, waiting for the moment that we slip and my step-mother finds me.
Just for a little while.
And since my tour has a stop in Texas coming up, I know the perfect time to test it out.
