4. The Wire
The Wire
Istare at my phone, again, rereading the headline like somehow it’ll change if I keep looking long enough.
“Elena’s Rise Struggles to Stand on Its Own.”
Two stars. Two…stars.
The screen lights up with an incoming call—Kylie.
I swipe to answer, trying to sound less wrecked than I am.
“Hey.”
“Alright, before you spiral,” she says quickly, that familiar handling a crisis tone in full effect. “I saw it. And I need you to hear me when I say—it’s one article, Elena. One. Out of dozens praising you.”
I swallow hard. “Yeah, but this one’s in The Sentinel. People read that.”
Kylie lets out a soft sigh. “People also read Rolling Stone, which just called Rise ‘the most raw and promising debut of the year.’ Do you want me to read you those reviews? Because I will.”
I smile a little, despite myself. “No, I know.”
“Miranda Cole is a known hater,” Kylie continues. “She’s not a girls’ girl—she’s made a career out of tearing women down. You’re not her first target, and you won’t be her last.”
“Still...” I trace a line on my leg, sitting cross-legged on my bed, nerves crawling up my spine. “What if she’s right?”
“She’s not,” Kylie says, voice softening.
“Look, I know you. I know how much you put into this album. You’ve got talent, Elena.
And when you walk out on that stage in front of a packed Madison Square Garden, no one’s going to be thinking about Miranda’s little hit piece.
They’ll be there for you. Your voice. Your music. ”
I nod, even though she can’t see me, because that’s easier than admitting I’m rattled.
“I’ll be there, “ Kylie adds. “And so will half of New York, screaming every word to Sparks. Don’t let one bitter woman get in your head.”
“Okay.”
The call ends and I’m left alone again, the words still echoing.
“Sometimes, when you’re thrown into the spotlight too soon, the only thing that rises is the smoke.”
I close my eyes, leaning back against the pillows, trying to shake it off.
But with my first show looming just weeks away, all I can hear is that voice in my head, asking the question I’m most afraid of:
What if I’m not enough?
I scroll aimlessly trying to take my mind off of the review. Checking my inbox and spot a few unread emails from Jack. I’ve been slack with my replies lately, so I tap one open.
Jack. On a plane. I never thought I’d see the day. The man was born in Jervis Bay and the furthest he ever traveled was to Sydney—for Mom’s specialist appointments and to drop me off at the airport. Seeing him at the wedding will be nice. I miss him so much, a small reminder of my life back home.
Though now that I’d been away from Jervis Bay, it didn’t feel like home as much.
I scroll down to another one.
I roll my eyes, Sharon is a known gossip, I quickly type out a reply. Hoping to nip this in the bud.
Fuck. My stomach sinks. Looks like news about Alex and I made it all the way down under.
Jack’s always been more like a cool uncle than a father figure—never strict, never one for lectures.
He left the disciplining to Mom, but he taught me how to drive, how to fish.
He never married until Mom, never had kids of his own.
But when he stepped into my life, he stepped all the way up.
In every way that counted, he was there.
When Mortimer wasn’t.
Sure Mortimer had tried calling me. I’d been avoiding his calls like the plague. His opinion was a post album release review I wasn’t ready to hear.
Daily rehearsals have me absolutely wrecked. Every muscle aches—even muscles I didn’t know I had. I’m not much of a dancer—I mean, I love dancing—but performing choreographed numbers while trying to stay on pitch is a whole other beast. Apparently, I’m not as fit as I thought.
“We’re going to need to get you in with a personal trainer,” Mark says, handing me a water bottle while my chest heaves and sweat clings to every surface of my body.
I nod, unable to form words.
“Hey pretty lady.” A melodic voice comes from behind me—soft and playful.
I turn and freeze.
Fuck.
I probably look like a hot, sweaty mess right now. While Ava Edwards stands there effortlessly cool, her signature platinum-blonde hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, dressed like she owns the world—which, to be fair, she kind of does.
Her eyes sweep over me, a cheeky smirk curving her lips.
“You’re Elena, right?” she asks, though she clearly already knows.
I nod, fighting back a wave of holy shit, she’s even more beautiful in real life.
“Yeah. Hi.”
“It’s so nice to finally meet you.” She grins, pulling me into a hug as if we’re already old friends. And I cringe, I’m sweating all over her. But she doesn’t seem fazed.
“Welcome to the madness,” she says, stepping back. “You ready?”
I laugh nervously. “I think so?”
She arches a brow. “Wrong answer. You are ready. Rehearsals look and sound great!”
“Thanks,” I breathe out, warmth spreading through my chest. “That actually means a lot.”
“I lost my nonna to cancer last year. We were super close, so when I heard your story on Rise and Shine, I felt this instant connection with you.”
Her words melt into me, stirring something vulnerable and soft. “Thank you, Ava. Really, that means so much and I’m sorry about your nonna.”
“And I’m sorry about your mom,” she says softly, shaking her head. “Fuck cancer, right?”
“Yeah.”
She smiles brightly, shifting gears. “So how’s it all going? Riding that post-album high—it’s the best feeling, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, definitely,” I admit. “I…didn’t expect everything to move this fast.”
She gives me a knowing look. “Well, your little dalliance with that love rat probably helped.”
Alex.
“You...know Alex?”
“Not personally,” she shrugs, “but enough. Serial womanizer, sub-par actor—always nominated, never winning. Handsome as hell but all ego. I mean, from the outside looking in.”
I’m momentarily stunned. To me, Alex is magnetic, charismatic. Sure, he loves the spotlight—but he is an actor. It came with the territory, didn’t it? Still, I find myself bristling protectively over the version of Alex I knew.
Or maybe that was just another role he played.
“Oh shit,” Ava quickly says, reading the conflict on my face. “Sorry. Sometimes my mouth runs faster than my brain. Anyway, enough about tragic exes—what do you like to do for fun, aside from hot actors?”
“Fun?” I laugh, easing up. “Drink, dance, eat.”
“You travel much? Any hobbies?”
“Travel? Not really,” I say, a bit sheepishly.
“I mean, I recently went to Sweden for the first time.” Memories of Alex sweep through me in a hot flash before fading into a dull ache.
“I would’ve loved to do more, but when Mom got sick and then passed…
” I trail off, the words heavy. “Life kind of got ahead of me.”
Ava gently grips my shoulders, eyes sparkling with determination.
“Girl, now’s your time. Enjoy yourself, break some hearts, ride the high of success.
When you’re at the top, the whole world’s yours.
We’re going to have a blast.” She grins, wickedly.
“And maybe when we go international, I’ll tuck you into my suitcase—pop that travel cherry. ”
I laugh, warmth bubbling in my chest, lighter now. It feels like the beginning of a new friendship with someone special.
I don’t know how Mark manages it. Between daily rehearsals, stage costume fittings, and promo photoshoots, he squeezes in a radio interview with The Manhattan Wave.
Exhausted doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Before we go live, Kylie’s at the producer’s side, running through my list of off-limit topics like a seasoned pro.
No questions about my father.
No personal questions.
And under no circumstances are Alex or Madison to be mentioned—or even hinted at.
I steal a glance at her, silently grateful, as they fit me up with headphones and seat me in front of the mic. The host shoots her a look—slightly annoyed but eager to get the segment rolling.
“Yo, music lovers, this is your boy Chad Baker, and you’re listening to The Manhattan Wave—your daily dose of what’s hot on the charts.
We’re in for a real treat today. In the studio with me is someone who shot into the stratosphere like a tiny little pocket rocket.
I think that’s what they call it in Australia, right?
” He chuckles. “That’s right folks—we’ve got the one, the only, Miss Elena Montgomery! ”
“Thanks Chad. And thank you, everyone, for having me.”
“A woman on the rise! Australia’s darling turned America’s sweetheart. Congratulations on an absolutely stunning U.S. debut. Talk me through where you’re at right now.”
“Gosh, cloud nine.” I grin. “It feels like a dream—please, no one pinch me.”
“Oh, I bet. And that accent—so charming! But you were born in New York, right?”
“Yeah, born here, raised in Australia.”
“What was life like down under?”
“Amazing. We lived by the beach—super laid-back. Well…except for the spiders. They’re huge.”
We banter a bit, swapping fun facts about Australia before easing into album details—favorite tracks, inspirations, stories behind the songs. The conversation flows easily, my nerves settling as the rhythm of the interview takes over.
Then Chad arches a brow, his tone shifting ever-so-slightly. “You catch any movies lately, Elena? What do you think of The Kingmaker? Have you seen it?”
Fuck.
My body stiffens at the mention of Alex’s film. Chad’s face full of smug pride waiting on baited breath for that viral ‘gotcha’ moment.
I glance instinctively at Kylie. She shoots Chad a look sharp enough to slice through the studio lights, then flicks her eyes back to me, her expression tight, unreadable. Is she warning me? Cueing me? I have no idea.
I swallow, praying my answer lands safely. “Chad, I’m about to head out on tour with the amazing Ava Edwards, and between rehearsals and prep I wish I had the time, I’m pretty sure I fell asleep in hair and makeup this morning.”
Chad barks out a laugh. “Well, you look great if I do say so myself.”
“Oh, that’s sweet of you.”