Thirty-Five
THIRTY-FIVE
BULLSEYE
Kick’s been gone all day. I haven’t seen him since this morning when he pinned me to the side of the bus and kissed me soundly.
“I have a surprise,” he said. “I’ll be gone today getting it ready. I’ll see you tonight?”
“You’ll be gone all day?”
“Trust me,” he said. “It will be worth it.”
I really hope so because I’ve been pacing the venue all day, still keyed up from our time in my bunk last night. We crossed a bridge, told the truth, and now I’m ready to make good on our unspoken promise. I’m still scared it will affect our performance, our on stage chemistry, but not enough to deny my overwhelming need to get him alone as soon as possible.
It’s thirty minutes until showtime. We’re in Dallas tonight. I’m in the bathroom of my dressing room putting the finishing touches on my hair when I hear Emily and Cheddar come in. The bathroom door’s cracked open. I start to kick it wider with my foot but something in their voices makes me pause.
“We can use this room,” Emily says.
I peak through the crack in the door and see a third person with Emily and Cheddar. It’s not someone from the tour and no one I recognize.
“As I was saying earlier,” Emily chirps, “with our collective experience it was pretty easy to set it up. We had Sparrow’s blessing for the contest. They trusted our experience to choose who would be the best fit for the tour.”
“After we made sure they both got the votes, it was smooth sailing after that,” Cheddar adds.
“But why both of them?’ the third person asks.
“Honestly, we were pretty set on Kick Raines, but the Sparrow brothers wanted Mari Gold. Don was adamant about it. It could have derailed things but, lucky for us, Kick and Mari tee’d themselves up with those alcove songs. It was a no-brainer after that.”
What the hell?
“Who should have won?” the third person says.
“That grey band,” Emily laughs, “if you can believe it. But look, fans don’t always know what they want. We made sure they got the right artists, the best ones for the slot. And as you can see from the numbers, we were right about those two. You wouldn’t believe the lines of fans waiting to meet them after every show. It’s grown every single night. Fans can’t get enough of them!”
“And we’ve shown you the livestream numbers,” Cheddar says.
My skin, already hot, bursts into flames. Emily and Cheddar manipulated the votes. Shades of Grey was supposed to win. This entire time, every city, every show, Emily and Cheddar have been pulling the strings. Even with a different name, a different identity, I didn’t win this spot. Kick didn’t either. None of it is real. We aren’t supposed to be on this tour.
“After we made sure Kick and Mari got the votes, it wasn’t hard to generate the social chatter,” Cheddar says. “My team is plugged into hundreds of different accounts. I told them what to post to get the chatter going. A lot of it happened organically, too, but we definitely got the ball rolling. Using our dummy accounts helped make sure the narrative went the way we wanted it to.”
My legs are trembling so hard I have to lean against the wall. The Instagram polls. The TikTok videos. The hashtag. The fanbase I thought was growing by leaps and bounds—it’s all fake.
“So, you see,” Emily says, “if you invest in our new label, it’s a sure win. We’ll launch with Kick Raines, who’ll come with a built-in fanbase from Cheddar’s social plan and this tour. Word of mouth is happening exactly how we planned. Once we launch Kick, we can pretty much repeat the process again with the next artist until it’s no longer needed. All you have to do is sit back and let the money roll in.”
There’s a pause, Emily’s words hanging in the air.
“Kick’s really the star, here,” she says, like she’s trying to reassure the other person.
“But they’re so great together. Why split them up?”
“The novelty of the little flirty thing they’ve got going will wear thin by the end of this tour. It’s great for now because it ups Kick’s desirability which, let’s be honest, is already pretty damn high. Their relationship opens the door for Kick to release a break-up album fans will die for. It’s the perfect set-up.”
They all three laugh, ha ha ha, like they’re in a TV writer’s room talking about a couple’s inevitable demise.
“We think it’s smart to launch with a solid solo act that can go the distance. Kick’s got everything we’re looking for, plus he’s easy to work with. He’s not a great songwriter, but we can feed him songs. Better to leave that part to the professionals anyway, right?”
“A break-up album,” the third person says. “That’s really interesting. And the girl?”
“Mari’s expendable,” Emily says, her voice smooth as glass. “It shouldn’t be a problem.”
Expendable? Seriously? I nearly storm in and blow the entire meeting to smithereens. I’ve done everything that’s been asked of me, which, now makes me feel like a fool. I should have pushed harder against the duo thing, should have refused. Although, the way they’re talking about Kick, they would have just kicked me off the tour entirely.
“I don’t know,” the stranger says, a question in his voice, “I really do love them together.”
“Until they break up, which they will,” Cheddar says. “We can’t launch a label with an act that hinges on twenty-four-year-olds staying committed.”
Emily sighs. “Isn’t Harry Styles better since going solo? Beyonce? I could name a dozen more.”
“We believe the set-up on this tour will catapult…is catapulting Kick Raines to stardom,” Cheddar says. “We could go with them both, but it’s our belief that we’ll have more success, more financial success , with Kick as a solo.”
Another long pause.
“What does Kick think about this plan?”
I strain my neck to hear every word because, yes, what does Kick think about this plan?
“He’s on board,” Cheddar says right as Emily says, “He’s in.”
“Kick’s a team player,” Emily adds. “He knows what he has to do to make this work.”
More silence. More of the new life I thought I was building sailing over the edge of a cliff. More confirmation I never should have let Kick in, never should have let my guard down, never should have believed I could make it on this tour on my own.
“Sounds like you’ve both thought this through,” the mystery voice says. “I’d love to invest.”
I slump behind the door, unable to process a single thing I just heard. After everything Kick and I have been through, everything he said, once again I’m just a stepping-stone, a way for someone to get to the thing they really want. And the thing they want is never me.
I’m just the easy target.