“Life.” Clarice shrugged.
“We will figure it out,” Alicia said. “Promise.”
I wanted to trust her, but what did you get the girl who had literally everything?
“I have an idea,” Clarice offered. “And it’s kinda corny, but… I think your girl likes corny.”
“I am all ears,” I said. For Betty, I’d get sappy in a heartbeat.
“With Bea’s penmanship and your words, you could make that new song of ours work. Write it out pretty, do some of the doodles you do, and sign it with some sweet nothings. We could grab a journal at the stationary store around the corner from the hotel.”
It was a sweet idea. I knew she’d find it thoughtful and the song was a proper love song. A journal was very me, but something I suspected Betty would want to cherish andcouldcherish.
“Would we have time?” I winced.
“Bitch, we willmaketime!” Alicia declared.
Chapter 45
The Semifinals
MARY
My palms sweated as I waited backstage with the Norwegians. The band was cool as a cucumber, but like the Norwegians about to go right before me, I was in a zone. I paced in my headphones, listening to white noise. I felt very little—no nerves and determined to stay calm. This was just a semi. It was another day at the office to get us to the finals. I focused on my headphones to avoid hearing any trace of Betty’s voice. I loved her, but right now, I needed to work.
Ahead, the lead singer of Giftehode was busy doing step-ball-changes. That felt surprisingly light and theater kid for a girl in an abundance of spikes, chains, and a neck tattoo. I never met more interesting or kind people than the progressive set of metalheads I had the pleasure to work with. They didn’t care that I was into girls or that I’d once been a ‘poser’. If you were good and talented, they would throw down to protect you. I’d take the weird and wonderful over expected and judgmental any day.
Then came the Swedes. I watched Max arrive and chum itup with a UniVox producer. His presence didn’t frighten me, though. He could charm those people with lies, but tonight wasournight to perform. I refused to let anyone, or anything get in the way.
The documentary crew repositioned for a better view of myself and the door. They were about to get a combined shot of the other bands as the Swedes entered. Alia passed with Jason to take her place just before us. As she passed, I smiled and gave a playful thumbs up. She grinned adorably and bowed with her hands playfully. The handlers led the Norwegians to their places and I waited. I had to hand it to the kid. She grew on me. I turned back, ignoring the camera that was only a few feet away.
“Don’t try to trip her up.”
I turned, taking my headphones off. It was Max.
Hold it together, Marit! You’re being filmed. My only escape was in a very-crowded green room. Max had no doubt bet on this.
“What?” I asked.
“Don’t try to ruin this for her.”
“Why would I?” I asked. “I wished her good luck. Don’t worry, I’m not coming for your show pony, Max.”
“She gets easily shaken.”
“I wonder why,” I sighed. “No one is going to sabotage her. There is no bad blood. She’s talented. I’m protective of her if anything.”
If looks could have killed, I’d have been dead.
“You don’t need to run your mouth, Marit!”
I scoffed. He had no idea how many times I instinctively took the high road, knowing that if I ever spoke out, I’d be banished from the industry. He’d beaten that into me from day one—heprotectedus from it. We were “like his kids”, but everyone knew what happened if you outed his shitty behavior to your parents—retaliation and promises of a cancelledcontract. When your musical guardian was vengeful and all-powerful, you knew the score.
“I told you what I’d do and I still would. Don’t get above your station, Marit.”
Above your station. Whatwasmy station? I was a bonafide producer and songwriter. At this moment, I had three songs in the Euro top ten. We wrangled a stadium tour and huge record deal. I had a beautiful girlfriend who loved me. My band had my back. He had no one and nothing if he didn’t keep exploiting young women for their talent. Iwasabove his station. I had been from the moment I returned to music and refused to play by his rules.
I shook my head, not caring how it looked. If they bothered to hire a translator for this, I didn’t give a fuck. He needed to be called out. I always avoided torching him, but if he wanted to tangle here just off stage, I would channel all that rage into my responseandperformance.
