Page 148 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

trying to shove the feeling down.

It’s a little past 10:30 PM.

Sunset Decay goes on in half an hour.

I need to focus on the music, on this band that could be Soundwave’s future. On the one thing I didn’t lose the night Dad died.

If tonight blows up in my face,

if I screw this up too,

everything I’ve feared becomes true:

I’m not my father’s daughter.

Soundwave would’ve always only failed in my hands.

Raymond and the board were right all along, and I don’t have what it takes to be CEO.

All I’ll ever be is the ghost who writes songs in secret. The girl who inherited something she had no right to carry.

When my heels hit Sunset Boulevard, West Hollywood rushes down the strip, neon bleeding into the dark. Girls in faux-fur walk past a Ferrari parked at the curb. Puddles reflect strip-club signs—hearts, lips, XXX glowing dirty pink.

While New York’s got blood soaked in the wind, LA’s got perfume floating on it, their December nights hitting like a fever, warm wind with a chill tucked under, fooling you ‘til your arms goose.

Behind me, Venom glows gold, line snaked out front, all leather, eyeliner, and vape clouds.

Celie’s scream pierces through traffic noise. “JOOOORDAAAN!”

The sidewalk jumps, heads whip.

She’s flying across the curb, curly hair bouncing, purse smacking her thigh, throwing herself at a skyscraper with legs that don’t end.

Jordan bends down to me next, her hair flat and glossy, a black-water bayou pouring down her back.

Her cheekbones glow lanterns in the dark, mouth all velvet curves, all lush, all model.

She points out the cuts on my face.

Celie gives her the rundown.

They laugh.

I roll my eyes.

They move on.

“Lawd, I ain’t even ready for Sunset Decay,” she says, bourbon eyes burning. “Whole strip been buzzin’ all night. And you mean to tell me you brought ‘em all the way out from Wisconsin?”

True story. After the night I met Andrew, I found their video in some corner of YouTube—county fair stage, hay bales stacked behind them, crowd of fifteen, all chewing funnel cake.

“Yeah. They don’t know how the hell they got here.” I slipped them the slot and sent them an email as if Venom, flights, and hotel were a contest they won.

They’re too small-town to question it.

I don’t want Raymond knowing I’m backing these guys. I don’t want him anywhere near Sunset Decay.

“All they know is that they’re here. All I know is, if they choke, that’s on me.”