Zay leaned forward with his hands on his knees and his eyes locked on the screen.
“Two hundred and one,” she whispered and refreshed the page for the third time.
Zay leaned in closer. “You serious?”
“Dead serious. It was like . . . one-fifty not even three minutes ago.”
They both stared at the screen and watched the view count climb. Although the video wasn’t The Ether Division’s first—not even their best—it was theone. The one they’d shot with a borrowed camcorder in a half-lit parking lot behind a strip mall on Detroit’s west side. No choreography, no budget—just verses, truth, and cold breath in the air. Grainy footage, real emotion, but honest bars.
The people watched, and they loved it.
“This one hittin’ different,” Zay said, unable to look away. “It got energy.”
She grinned. “I told you to trust that spot by Dexter.”
Zay laughed and leaned back. “You did. That echo off the wall was crazy. Made it feel like a cypher.”
She blushed then hit refresh again.
“Four-twenty,” she whispered.
They both screamed into her pillow to muffle the excitement.
Zay snatched it away from her. “Nah, you don’t get to hide the joy! This is our win!”
She grabbed the mouse to the computer again, then froze.
“Oh my God.”
He leaned forward. “What?”
She pointed at the screen and her jaw dropped. “Royce 5’9 just commented.”
“Nah, . . . not Royce 5’9?” he asked, blinking rapidly.
“Yes!” She bounced in her chair. “That’s his real account! He said, ‘Y’all got that raw Detroit sound. Keep pushin’.’”
Zay stood up and put his hand on his head. “Ain’t no way. Ain’t no way!”
“You said he’d never see it!”
“I said I ain’t think he’d see it tonight!”
They both jumped up, laughing and shouting, and spun around in the room like he just got handed a deal.
“Princess!” Suddenly, the voice boomed through their joy like a record scratch.
She and Zay both froze as they listened to her father’s footsteps thunder down the hallway.
“Closet,” she whispered. “Now!”
Zay quickly turned, leaped twice toward her closet, and ducked. Princess trailed behind him and pulled the door shut just as her bedroom door flew open.
Her father stood at the frame with one hand on the handle. He had that same look he always wore after a long shift: pressed shirt loosened, tie in his pocket, and his eyes sharp as a tack.
“What in the world is all that noise up in here?”
Princess stood in shock at her closet for just a moment before she quickly improvised and backed toward her bed. “Sorry, Daddy. I was . . . just watching a video.”
