“Still shark infested as ever.”
He laughed humorlessly, then turned his attention to Niko. “And what do you do?”
“He’s an artist,” said Merritt, without thinking. Niko glanced at her, and when she met his eyes, her stomach bottomed out at the hurt in them.
“I’m a contractor,” he said firmly, and she caught Alan’s smug expression before he composed himself, like something had clicked into place. “What about you?” She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Niko so guarded and spiky.
Alan shrugged, faux-humbly. “I createdThe River,” he said, referring to his multi-award-winning prestige drama from the previous decade—the success of which he’d never been able to replicate.
Niko’s brow furrowed. “Which river?”
Merritt was torn between laughing at the offended expression on Alan’s face and cringing at the mask of superiority that overtook it, so she hid behind a sip of her drink, murmuring, “It’s a TV show.”
“Oh, sorry. I’ve never seen it. I don’t really watch TV,” Niko said.
“That’s okay,” said Alan. “Plenty of people did.”
Merritt fought not to roll her eyes. She’d had enough of this. Thankfully, as soon as she opened her mouth to make an excuse to leave, a staff member appeared, herding them all into another room for Sadie’s performance.
A stage had been set up in the biggest of the house’s many living rooms, clearly temporary but anything but makeshift. Once the room had filled, the head of A&R—the same one who had discovered Merritt—gave a brief but uncannily familiar introduction, thanking everyone for coming before gushing about Sadie’s talent, her fresh perspective, and how everyone in the room was going to be bragging about being here a year from now.
Shortly, Sadie came onstage to raucous applause. She slung her guitar over her shoulder, then stepped up to the mic, a little shyly, thanking everyone for coming.
“This is the most surreal birthday of my life,” she said with a disbelieving laugh before launching into the hit single from her first EP, “Late Last Night.”
Usually, industry events meant the worst audiences, everyone too wrapped up in themselves to have a good time, but by the end of the second song, there was a small crowd dancing up front—the youngest and coolest of the guests, probably Sadie’s actual friends.
Merritt grabbed Niko’s hand and pulled him into the center, and the two of them lost themselves in the heaving mass of bodies, her dress clinging to her lower back, his hands on her hips, the two of them exchanging brief but loaded looks. It felt like an act of defiance, letting herself be this uninhibited in this crowd, unconcerned with who was watching and what they might think.
She was free, she was alive, and she was still fucking here.
She felt light and giddy, buoyed by the unexpected joy bubbling up inside her, like Niko’s hands on her hips were the only thing anchoring her to the ground. She pulled him in for a long kiss as Sadie and her band wrapped up another song.
When Merritt turned back around, she saw Sadie grinning at her before leaning over the stage, away from the microphone, and mouthing:Do you want to come up here?
Merritt shook her head, waving the question away. Sadie fake-pouted.Please?she mouthed.It’s my birthday.
Merritt hesitated, looking back at Niko for reassurance as he held one of her hands in both of his. He was smiling warmly down at her.Fuck it,she thought, and made her way to the stage, hiking up her dress so she wouldn’t trip on the stairs.
The crowd whooped in appreciation as she gave the beaming Sadie a hug before sitting down at the keyboard and adjusting the mic.
“I got the best birthday present this year,” said Sadie into her microphone, grinning ear to ear. “The honor of working with the one and only Merritt Valentine.” The crowd dutifully applauded—louder than Merritt would’ve expected, considering her history with many of the people in it. “Here’s a little preview.”
They played “Something I Said,” and considering they’d never rehearsed it with a band, it went surprisingly well. During the applause that followed, Merritt stood up to leave, but Sadie turned to her, mouthingOne more?Merritt shrugged and sat back down, unsure but game.
“This is the first song I ever taught myself to play,” said Sadie, then began the first verse of “Dirty Water,” the lead single off Merritt’s second album. Merritt blushed, but her fingers found the keys instinctually, like she’d last played it yesterday.
It wasn’t until she was halfway through the first chorus thatit hit her. She was doing something that, up until a few months ago, she thought she’d never do again: performing her own songs in front of an audience. Gratitude rushed over her for Sadie, for pulling her up here without giving her the chance to overthink it.
She was up here because, years ago, this song had meant so much to a little girl that it had changed the trajectory of her life.
She was up here because she carried her father’s legacy with her, the love of music that nestled deep in her bones, inextricably intertwined with his love for her.
She’d spent years running away, cutting herself off, and hiding as the only way she knew to protect herself, but she couldn’t escape the power of the connection coursing through her like a circuit, threatening to overwhelm her.
She managed to keep it together long enough to finish the song and pull Sadie into one last hug. She made her way back to Niko and practically fell into his arms, drenched in nervous sweat.
“How was that?” she murmured into his ear.
