4. The Wire #2
“Now that you’re single can I get your number?” he teases. “Just kidding. No I’m not. Okay, okay—I better behave. Your manager looks like he’s about to kick my chair.”
We all laugh, but the tension simmers just beneath the surface, humming between the cracks in the smiles.
After the interview wraps up, Tamika—the showrunner for the Manhattan Wave—ushers us down a short hallway to a small greenroom.
“And now,” she says brightly, clapping his hands together, “we’ve got the winners of Ava Edward’s concert tickets—plus a meet and greet with you.”
She opens the door for me and I walk in seeing four people waiting, lanyards already looped around their necks. A couple of them are wearing Ava’s concert merch.
Two girls—can’t be older than fifteen—hover shoulder-to-shoulder, giddy nerves written all over their faces. A smaller man dressed flamboyantly beams beside them, practically vibrating with excitement. And then there’s a fourth.
A face I recognize…but not quite.
“Hey, guys,” I say as the door closes behind us.
“Elena,” Tamika says, gesturing to them one by one, “this is Shae, Britney, Zini—and Ben. Our competition winners.”
“Congratulations, guys,” I say, smiling. “Are you ready for the show next weekend?”
“Yes,” Shae and Britney gasp in perfect unison, hands flying to their mouths.
Zini snaps his fingers. “Yasss, queen.”
Ben just nods. He keeps his eyes on the floor.
Something about that makes me tilt my head. “Hey,” I say gently. “Do I know you?”
He stiffens—then looks up.
The shift is immediate. His eyes light up bright and hopeful when they meet mine, like I’ve flicked on a switch.
“Um,” he says, clearing his throat. “Your friend Riley was my roommate.”
Oh.
Holy shit.
“The ferret guy,” I blurt before I can stop myself.
A beat—then he laughs, breathy and relieved. “That’s me.”
“That’s right,” I say, warmth flooding back in. “Your ferret friends—Kira, was it?”
“And Dax,” he says quickly. “You remembered.”
“Of course I did. How are those little scamps going?”
A huge grin spreads across his face, unguarded and genuine, and it softens something in my chest.
“They’re still my girls.”
Tamika giggles. “Ben’s actually a bit of a legend in your corner,” she adds casually. “He founded a big online fan club of yours—EMbers, Absolute powerhouse. Runs a social media account, moderates, the works.”
“No way!” I gasp, turning back to Ben. “That’s amazing. Thank you.”
He shrugs, shy again. “Just…happy to support you.”
“Elena,” Zini cuts in, clasping his hands together. “Oh my God—can we call you that?”
I laugh. “Of course. It’s my name, right?”
They all chuckle.
“I just want to say,” Zini continues, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I’m so sorry about your breakup. Alex is such a douchebag.”
I nod, even though the words sting.
“You’re way prettier than she is,” Britney remarks.
“And so much nicer,” Shae adds with a warm smile.
“He’s a fool,” Ben says flatly.
The bluntness of it take me aback.
“No personal questions,” Kylie interjects smoothly, stepping forward and cutting the conversation clean in half.
“Sorry.” Zini pouts playfully, clearly more entertained by the gossip than remorseful. The moment passes.
But Ben doesn’t look away.
As the meet and greet wraps up, Kylie, Mark and I retreat to the corner café across the street.
The sharp aroma of espresso hangs in the air, cutting through the soft sounds of conversation and clinking cups.
I cradle the warm mug between my hands, letting the heat sink into my fingers as my adrenaline finally ebbs.
They’re fixed on their phones, their thumbs flying across the screens.
Mark finally glances up, clearing his throat. “Elena, we’ve secured your new security details. Chris Thompson, Tony Jones, and Luca Rossi. We’ve also arranged for a permanent driver to be added to the roster.”
I look at him, completely thrown, setting my coffee down.
“Four people? Just to take care of me? That feels a little excessive, Mark.”
He gives a small shake of his head. “We’d rather be overly cautious.”
“Could we scale it back to two? Maybe have one of the security guys double as a driver?”
Mark frowns, considering. “I don’t know if we can take that risk.”
“I really don’t feel comfortable having that many people shadowing my every move,” I counter, keeping my tone even. “Can we at least start with two? If we need to ramp up for bigger events or if things get out of hand, then we adjust.”
Mark exchanges a brief glance with Kylie before nodding. “Okay. You’re the boss.”
Boss.
The word feels strange. Technically, they work for me but, I’ve always leaned on my team to steer the ship, maybe it’s time I take the wheel a little more—especially when it comes to my career.
“The initial sentiment looks great,” Kylie says, eyes still locked on the glowing device. Her tone is even, but the faint curve of her lips hints at satisfaction.
I exhale, my shoulders finally dropping as the tension loosens its grip.
“You handled yourself perfectly, Elena. Well done,” Mark adds, reaching out to give my shoulder a reassuring pat.
“Yes, you did,” Kylie echoes, finally lifting her gaze to meet mine, a genuine smile breaking through. “I’m glad to see the media training is starting to pay off.”
“I hope it’s enough,” I murmur, wrapping both hands tighter around my cup. The coffee’s steam curls lazily upward, warming my face.
Kylie takes a slow sip, her sharp eyes already scanning ahead. “You did exactly what you needed to. Chad’s a jerk, but his show pulls in a loyal crowd. The more buzz we build before the tour, the better.”
Mark leans back, giving a casual shrug. “All of this comes with the territory if you want the leverage to get what you want.”
He’s right. Every interview, every headline—it’s all part of the plan. A carefully calculated climb so I can finally sit across that negotiation table and fight to strip out the morality and abandonment clauses—those suffocating shackles buried deep in my contract.
Later that evening, I meet Philippa, Andrew, and Riley for our fortnightly Friday night dinners at SORA, an upscale sushi spot in Manhattan.
It’s become my favorite over the past few months—a little ritual I’ve grown to love.
The low hum of conversation mixes with the soft clinking of glasses and the rhythmic chop of knives behind the sushi bar.
The faint scent of soy, fresh fish, and yuzu fills the air.
I arrive late—as usual, Filipino time. Riley, Philippa, and Andrew are already seated, a half-empty bottle of sake on the table.
“Hey!” they chime in unison as Riley pops up to pull me into a warm hug before I slide into my seat beside her.
“I’m starving,” I say, reaching for the menu like rabid racoon.
“Your interview went well,” Philippa says, taking a slow sip of her martini, her diamond ring catching the low light.
“Thanks, the initial reactions were positive,” I reply, flipping open the menu.
“How was rehearsal?” Riley asks, popping an edamame bean into her mouth.
“Exhausting. I had no idea how unfit I was,” I laugh, already feeling my muscles ache just thinking about it.
“Well, you know my preferred method of cardio.” Riley grins, winking suggestively.
The table bursts into laughter.
“You could always join me for Pilates,” Philippa offers, her tone light but pointed.
“Or start running,” Andrew adds, ever the pragmatic one.
I groan dramatically, “Pip, you wake up at five every morning to do Pilates, and...I’d rather run off a cliff.” I shake my head, skimming the menu. “Have you guys ordered yet?”
They all nod in unison as Andrew signals for the waiter.
“For what it’s worth,” Philippa adds, setting her glass down, “you should probably start building good habits—both of you.” She nods between Riley and me. “Once you hit the road, Elena, it’s going to be full-on. You’ll want to take care of yourself if you want to keep performing.”
She’s right. At twenty-three, I’m still figuring out how to take care of myself. The first time truly on my own, no mother to hover.
“But adulting is hard.” Riley pouts, tossing her head back in mock despair. “Have pity on us.”
Philippa chuckles to herself shaking her head.
“How’s work going for everyone?” I ask, steering the conversation toward safer ground.
“Oh, don’t get her started,” Andrew teases, earning a playful glare from Philippa.