She hangs up and looks at me. “Apparently, your latest video exploded, and you have over three million views. Someone figured out your real name and posted your address online. They want to meet you and get autographs.”
The tightness in my chest gets worse. “I knew it. They know who I am.”
“Yeah.” Cricket’s voice is gentle.
“Can’t I go out to the beach and sneak home out back and then call Noah to get them to go home?”
Cricket squeezes my shoulder. “Is that what you want? To call the police on your fans?”
My heart sinks. She’s right. I can’t do that. “No.”
“Then here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to walk with you to your front door. I’ll do all the talking. All you have to do is wave and say, ‘Thanks for coming’ or something like that. You can sign a couple of autographs, then we go inside.”
“What if they ask me questions?”
“I’ll answer them. I’m your manager, remember?”
I look at her. She’s wearing that pink sundress, her hair is falling in soft waves around her shoulders, and she has this determined look in her eyes like she’s ready to take on the world for me.
“You’d really do that?”
“Of course I would.” She squeezes my shoulder again. “This is what managers do, right? Handle the people stuff?”
I nod, breathing a little easier. “Okay. But if I freeze up?—”
“Then I’ll get you out of there. I promise.”
We stand at the window for another minute while I work up the courage. Cricket doesn’t rush me or act impatient. She simply stands beside me, her hand on my arm, until I’m ready.
“Okay,” I finally say. “Let’s do this.”
We leave Cricket’s house and walk down the street together, and as soon as the crowd sees us approaching, people start calling out.
“Micah!”
“Oh my gosh, it’s really him!”
“Can I get a picture?”
My steps falter, but Cricket’s hand tightens around mine. She leads me forward, and when we get close enough, she speaks up in a clear, confident voice.
“Hi, everyone! Thanks so much for coming out to support Micah’s music. He’s really excited to meet you all, but we only have a few minutes before he has to get back to working on new songs.”
The crowd cheers, and Cricket guides me toward the front door. People are holding out phones and pieces of paper, and I’d normally be completely overwhelmed, but Cricket stays right beside me, fielding questions and organizing the chaos.
“He’ll sign a few autographs, but then he really does need to go inside,” she says, somehow managing to sound both friendly and authoritative.
I sign maybe five or six things, my hand shaking the whole time, but Cricket keeps talking, keeping everyone happy. When someone asks about my next video, she jumps in.
“He’s working on something really exciting that you’ll see soon. Make sure you’re subscribed so you don’t miss it!”
By the time we reach the front door, I’m sweating, and my heart is still racing, but we made it.
Cricket waves to the crowd one more time. “Thanks again, everyone! Micah really appreciates your support!”
We slip inside, and I lean against the door, closing my eyes.
“You did great,” Cricket says softly.
