Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Carlene woke to sunlight cutting across the hotel room, a warm stripe on the sheets that reminded her she’d fallen asleep in her clothes again. Her laptop still sat open on the nightstand, the faint hum of its fan mixing with the sound of gulls outside.
For a moment, she just lay there, eyes closed, replaying the kiss from the night before. It had been soft and quick, but her heart still fluttered at the memory. The warmth in Jami’s eyes afterward had felt like something she hadn’t let herself want in a long time.
Then reality caught up. The day was too important to get lost in feelings.
She sat up, reached for her phone, and scanned her notifications. Three messages from Tony. One from Vivian. Another from Bret. And one from Jami.
She opened Jami’s first.
Jami:
Morning, General. Hope you slept. Big day.
A smile tugged at her lips. Carlene:
I slept enough. You ready for the livestream?
Jami:
Ready to show them who we are. See you at the Barn.
That simple exchange steadied her. She showered, dressed, and pulled her hair back into a tidy ponytail. The woman in the mirror looked capable again, though the shadows under her eyes refused to fade completely.
By the time she reached the barn, the crew was already setting up lights and cameras. The energy buzzed through the air like static.
“Morning,” Tony called. “We’re running sound checks.”
Carlene nodded and opened her laptop at the table near the mixing station. “Everything looks good?”
“Better than good,” he said. “Even the label’s happy for once.”
That made her pause. “Vivian?”
Tony nodded. “She said she’s flying in tomorrow. Wants to congratulate everyone in person.”
Carlene frowned. “Since when does she make personal appearances for small campaigns?”
Tony shrugged. “Since today, apparently.”
She opened her email. Vivian’s message sat near the top: Outstanding work, Carlene. The label appreciates your precision and dedication. You’ve proven your worth on this one.
It should have been reassuring. Instead, her gut twisted. Vivian never used compliments unless she needed something.
Carlene’s cursor hovered over another new email, this one from Bret. The subject line read: FYI, they’re cleaning house.
Her pulse kicked up. She clicked it open.
Heads-up. The label just removed all external access to the content server. My credentials got wiped this morning. Yours probably will too. Something’s shifting, and they’re not saying why.
She reread it twice, her heart thudding louder each time.
“Carlene?” Jami’s voice broke through her thoughts.
She looked up. He was standing near the bar, guitar slung over his shoulder, wearing a black T-shirt and jeans that looked too good on him for her to think straight.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just catching up on some emails.”
He tilted his head. “You sure?”
“Positive. Go finish your sound check.”
He studied her a moment longer, then nodded and went back to the stage area.
When he was gone, she reread Bret’s message again, then checked her credentials. Access denied.
Her stomach dropped.
Someone had locked her out.
She tried the backup portal. Same result. Even the mirrored drive she’d built last night wouldn’t sync.
Her hands trembled slightly as she typed a new query, searching the public-facing feeds for file changes. Everything looked perfect. Too perfect. The data logs were scrubbed clean, as if no one had ever tampered with them.
“Damn it,” she whispered.
Tony walked by. “Something wrong?”
She snapped the laptop halfway shut. “No, just tired. How’s the sound?”
“Good. We go live in twenty.”
When he walked away, she exhaled slowly. She’d learned long ago that panic never helped. Whoever was tightening control around the files didn’t want her looking deeper. That meant the evidence she’d pulled last night was more valuable than she realized.
If they were trying to erase the trail, she needed to secure her copies in a safer place.
She opened a hidden directory and started transferring the mirrored backups to an external drive.
The process crawled at a snail’s pace, each percentage tick taunting her.
She glanced toward the crew. Cameras were rolling, people were laughing, Jami was tuning his guitar, and she was trying to keep her breathing steady while everything inside her screamed that something was wrong.
Her phone buzzed. A message from Vivian.
After the show, let’s debrief privately. You’ve earned some recognition. I’d like to discuss your next project.
Carlene stared at the text. It sounded friendly. Too friendly. And Vivian hadn't hired her for this job; Tony and Jami had. So what did that even mean?
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She typed,
Of course. Looking forward to it.
Then she unplugged the external drive, slipped it into her bag, and stood.
“Carlene?” Jami called from the studio. “You coming in here? We’re ready to roll.”
She forced a smile, walked to her spot by the control board, and nodded. “Let’s make some magic.”
As the lights came up and the music began, she let herself look at him once.
His voice filled the barn, warm and raw, every note echoing off the rafters.
The song was the one he’d been working on for weeks, the unfinished one that had kept him up at night.
It was still unfinished, but the cameras only wanted a snippet for a teaser.
Something in her chest loosened as he sang, but the unease didn’t fade.
The label had gone quiet.
Her access was gone.
And Vivian was suddenly too interested.
Carlene forced herself to keep smiling as the livestream started, but inside, she knew one thing for certain.
The real storm hadn’t even hit yet. And her body tightened with the dread of what that might be. For her, for the band, but mostly for Jami. Just as they were hitting it big, he didn't deserve this bullshit. None of them did. The injustice of it all made her stomach go sour.