Another sigh falls out. Back to the grind.
“Sure!” I call back.
Groggy and defeated, I reach for my phone on the nightstand. A dozen text messages light up the face. Mostly from Kenna. Two from Mom. Some from people I haven’t talked to in years.
I frown, swiping my thumb across the screen as my vision settles.
My eyes skim the string of texts.
Did you see this?!
Annalise. Wake up.
Look!!!
YOU’RE FAMOUS
Hello, viral! Congrats girl!
I shoot up in bed, throwing off the covers because it’s suddenly a sauna in the bedroom. My heartbeat thumps against my ribs. My brain spins. My pulse skitters out of control.
I open the attachments—it’s a video.
Of us.
Of Chase.
My song booming through the crowd.
His guitar lighting up the stage.
And 2.3 million views.
Chapter 35Annalise
The week flies by in a whirlwind.
Everything hit a no-turning-back pinnacle when Crowley’s text came through midday, hours after I received the first slew of messages, while I was scrubbing ketchup stains off my apron.
Crowley:Hope you’re ready. The Soundproof wasn’t your peak. It was your beginning.
I’ve watched that video more times than I can recount, the fifteen-second reel currently sitting at a shocking 7.2 million views. We looked like a band. A real one. Not a garage experiment or a maybe-someday fantasy, but something authentic.
Something people want more of.
Suddenly, everything we joked about, whispered about, wished for, became more than a dream. Now it’s a reality. A ticking clock.
At my urging, Kenna’s taken on the role of unofficial talent manager,leveraging her social media hustle and an old boyfriend’s music-industry hookup to spin our fifteen minutes of fame into big-time stuff. I told her she was being wasted at that diner, that she could do anything, and if she was up for it, I wanted her by my side.
She didn’t even hesitate. Even before I insisted on paying her.
Kenna:BESTIE! Labels are sniffing. You guys have a window. If you want a tour, I’ll talk to Crowley. We can make it happen. The world is waiting.
My best friend’s texts are already spiraling into action-mode as she showcases her managerial knack and puts her go-getter nature to good use.
Interviews with gossip columns, reposts, and reaction videos flood our feeds. Music blogs call it “a cosmic collision of grit and glitter,” and someone even dubs Chase “the man who strums stars.” My voice gets dissected on social apps and looped into mashups. One viral stitch compares our sound to “if Florence & The Machine and Arctic Monkeys had a love child at a laser show.”
I can’t stop moving. Rehearsing. Planning. Watching that video over and over, as if it might disappear.
