Eleven
ELEVEN
INSTAGRAM POLLS, GASTRIC DISTRESS AND OTHER REASONS I’M SPIRALING
The entire internet thinks I had sex with Kick Raines.
It didn’t take long for people to put together our songs were about each other since we both sang about alcoves. Like idiots. It sent voting into overdrive (which is good) but the social commentary has been…colorful. Voting ends in ten minutes and for the last hour I’ve been neck and neck with Kick Raines, the last guy on earth I should be tangled up with (again). Thanks to our songs we’re a hashtag crammed with all manner of sexual assumptions about what we did, how we did it, how many times we did it.
“Everyone’s acting like they’d rather subscribe to our OnlyFans than listen to our music,” I say, pacing the living room floor.
If Cass wore glasses, she’d be looking at me over the top of them like she wasn’t born yesterday. “Wasn’t it you who said, and I quote, ‘Look at him.’”
“Just because he’s wildly attractive doesn’t mean…” I lose my train of thought thinking about it.
“I hope you were safe,” Granny says from the overstuffed floral monstrosity that is her favorite chair. She’s watching the Gameshow Network, calling out answers to questions one hundred Americans answered and eavesdropping on our conversation. Chop is on the footstool in front of her, dozing.
“All we did was kiss,” I say, loud enough for her to hear me over the overly excitable gameshow host. I sit down on the couch next to Cass. “And maybe some over-the-clothes action. And a little bit under the clothes.”
Cass exhales through her nose like she’s equally proud of me and also maybe doesn’t all the way believe me. “ I make it a rule not to ship real people ,” she reads from her phone, “ but Marick is my life now. If these two don’t get together I will no longer believe love exists. Unless Kick wants to date me and then I will force Mari Gold to board a ship to outer space because BOY IS FINE .”
“Lovely,” I say.
She keeps reading. If anyone’s interested in Marick fic I’ve got some posted to AO3 under MarickHeartsandAlcoves
“There’s fanfiction? Already?” I’m half tempted to read it.
“Refrigerator,” Granny yells at the gameshow host.
“They weren’t even on screen together and still their chemistry made smoke come out of my laptop.”
Cass takes a breath and I butt in.
“Easy for them to say. They don’t know the real Kick. They don’t know that he’s so…so…he’s…”
“Yes, you’ve been saying,” Cass says, rolling her eyes.
“Chicken casserole,” Granny hollers, clapping when a contestant echoes her.
“At least I’m not getting tons of ‘aren’t you LOVEJOY’s sister’ comments.”
I balance my laptop onto my knees. Every time I refresh the voting page, Kick pulls ahead by a dozen or so votes. Then more votes for me on the next refresh. None of the other contestants are even close.
“This is torture.” I toss the laptop aside and launch myself off the couch just to sit down in the swivel recliner and spin around and around and around. “What will they do if it’s a tie? ”
“Don’t make yourself sick, little flower,” Granny says, eyes glued to the TV. “Bruce Springsteen.”
“I didn’t think people would be so invested,” I say, “even though Cheddar all but crystal ball’d it. I sort of thought the fan vote was just for publicity and Sparrow would pick the winner. It is their tour after all. You think they’d want a say in who plays in front of them every night.”
“Yeah, but then you and Kick sang those alcove songs,” Cass says. “People are invested now. Hugely. In the music, sure, but mostly in the two of you.”
“That’s exactly what I don’t want,” I moan. “How did I move to Nashville to build something authentic only to end up in a PR stunt? If that’s all it took I should have stayed in Los Angeles. My mother would have made me a household name by now.”
I move back to the couch, open a new tab and type Mari Gold into Google. Way more results pop up than I’m prepared to face. A lot more. One of the top results is an article on Music Now.
INDIE ACTS VIE FOR COVETED OPENING SPOT ON SPARROW SUMMER ARENA TOUR
Looking to involve their fanbase in their summer dates, Sparrow announced a fan vote to determine the opening act for their Grand Total Tour. Five Nashville up-and-comers competed via livestream to win the coveted spot and spend the summer hitting the road with the platinum-selling rockers.
Surprising livestream viewers, two of the contestants, rocker Kick Raines and singer-songwriter Mari Gold, performed songs that appeared to be about each other from a romantic encounter they shared at a recent Nashville gathering. When asked about the origin of their songs, Raines was tight-lipped in his response.
“Mari and I met at a party in Brentwood,” he said, “but we only talked for a few minutes. We don’t really know each other. It was a surprise to see her at the audition and learn she’s a really talented artist.”
Despite Raines’ claim he and Gold don’t know each other, social media platforms have lit up with speculation about the two contestants.
Voting is open until May 16 th at 8/9pm ET on the band’s YouTube channel. Tickets for the Grand Total tour are on sale now.
*Mari Gold could not be reached for comment.
“He gave Music Now a quote,” I huff. “It says I couldn’t be reached for comment, but they gave him a quote.”
Cass’s face scrunches into an I-told-you-so. “I did say you should check your DMs.”
“I did! There’s like a million of them! And not a few asking me about Kick’s…anatomy. One person asked me if he’s hung more like a banana or a hot dog.”
“Halloween,” Granny says before turning to me. “Even a cocktail weenie can be good if he knows what he’s doing.”
“Granny,” Cass shrieks, “gross.”
“The point is,” I say, trying to erase dancing cocktail weenies from my mind, “he’s trying to act like?—”
“He’s talking about you,” Cass says.
“What? Where?”
She turns her phone around and it’s open to Kick’s Instagram stories. There are several of him talking about the contest, asking for votes. The camera, even on a poorly lit Instagram story, absolutely adores him. He’s got a poll up, asking people to guess who’s going to win, me or him. Cass votes for me and we see the votes are evenly split down the middle. I take it as a good sign since people are on his Instagram voting for me.
“You should be doing stuff like this,” Cass says. “I know you don’t want to engage the trolls but if he wins, it’s because he’s interacting with people, giving quotes to Music Now .”
This is all moving too fast, too big, too much. I thought I had everything under control and now it’s all spiraling against my will.
“Ski boots,” Granny says with a loud handclap. Chop startles awake and barks.
“Refresh the votes,” Cass says.
I pull my computer back onto my lap and hit the space bar. I’m back in first place. Barely.
“Seriously, what if it’s a tie? Or worse, what if that smug bastard?—”
“That you definitely don’t want to bone.”
“—that I definitely do not want to bone, beats me by ten votes?”
“He’s not going to beat you,” Cass says with an undeserved assuredness. “There’s no way.”
“You’re gay. You cannot comprehend the full scope of his sexual energy.”
“Excuse you. I may love the ladies but even I can understand his animal magnetism.”
“Animal magnetism?” I ask, straight-faced.
“Look, I know this isn’t the way you wanted it to go down, but at least it’s happening? Your music is getting out there, your name is getting out there. Over forty thousand people have voted for you, which means forty thousand people think you’re rad. That’s a win.”
Damn. She’s always right.
I go back to dramatically spinning in the swivel recliner with my eyes closed, my heart swishing around in my chest with each turn of the chair.
Despite Cass’s wise words, I hate that it’s come down to a hashtag popularity contest. I thought entering this competition would be a legitimate judge of talent instead of a reality show in the making. Either way, I cannot be beat by Kick Raines. I’d rather be beat by that all grey band, which, would be super embarrassing. But being beat by Kick would be worse. So much worse .
The Alexa timer dings and Cass hits refresh. I jump up from the chair, wobbly from the spinning. We lean in like getting our faces closer to the laptop screen will change the results. Chop barks, wanting in on whatever we’re doing.
“Did you win?” Granny asks.
Final Votes:
Kick Raines — 46,453
Mari Gold — 46,453
“That’s not possible. It’s not…that’s impossible.”
Cass’s phone dings with an alert that Sparrow is going live on Instagram. She hits the notification, opening up the live.
Deacon Sparrow’s familiar face is on the screen with his brother Don sitting silently beside him.
“Hey everybody, big news about our little opening act competition we’ve had going. We decided to let you pick a young Nashville artist to debut on our summer tour and wow, y’all really showed up for this contest in a big way. And that was very cool of you. All five of the artists who auditioned blew us away. We’re glad we’re not the ones having to make this tough decision, am I right, Don?”
Don smiles.
Deacon scans his screen. “I’ll just wait for some more folks to get on here before we announce who you’ll be seeing with us on tour this summer.”
“I’m going to be sick,” I say.
Cass grabs my hand and holds on. We’re huddled around her phone, me anticipating the worst and her believing the best, the applause track from Granny’s gameshow filling up the silence.
“We want to thank all of you again for voting,” Deacon says, stalling. “Our digital media team told us y’all nearly broke the server.”
“Does Don ever talk?” Cass says.
I shush her, my eyes never leaving the phone screen.
“We didn’t really know what to expect with this contest and truthfully, we got way more votes than we anticipated. As it turns out, there’s a tie. Can you believe it?”
Cass squeezes my hand harder.
“All five acts were great and you guys should totally check them all out and give them some love, but, after counting all the votes, it looks like you really loved Kick Raines and Mari Gold and honestly, so did we. Those two really brought something special.”
“And different,” Don says.
“He speaks!” Cass shouts.
“That’s right. Two very different artists, but different in very interesting ways.”
My phone rings. It’s Jasmine so I answer it.
“Hi, Mari, this is Jasmine Milner from Sparrow. I’m not sure if you’ve heard?—”
“A tie?”
“Yes, exactly. Congratulations,” she says.
“So, we’ve decided to take them both,” Deacon says.
Cass smacks my arm and I nearly fall off the couch. There’s too much happening at once. Hearts are flying up the screen on Sparrow’s Instagram Live and Jasmine is saying something in my ear about schedules and bus assignments and Cass is bouncing up and down on the couch causing Chop to bark and turn in circles while Granny shouts “camper” at the TV. I’m in the middle of a joy tornado but internally I’m a jumble of sparked nerves. It’s happening. It’s really happening. I’m going on tour with Sparrow. I’ll be singing my songs in front of thousands of people every night. I’m going to find out what happened between the band and my father.
And I’ll be doing it all with Kick Raines.