Kelly:I understand. I wish you the best too, Lark.
I set the phone down and just stand there in my kitchen, mug clutched in both hands, trying to process the emotional whiplash of the last hour. Vegas. Jack. Kelly. My career. My heart. Everything feels like it’s spinning too fast and I can’t quite catch my breath.
I turn to George, my potted plant on the counter that’s somehow thriving despite my complete negligence.
“George, buddy,” I say to the plant. “It’s like Wacky Wednesday or something. What other wild text or call is going to come through? Is Brandon going to apologize next? Is my highschool ex going to propose? Are aliens going to land and ask for my demo?”
George, mercifully, doesn’t respond. Just sits there looking unreasonably cheerful with his bright green leaves, like he’s got all the answers and isn’t sharing.
I take my coffee to the couch and curl up in the corner, my mind still racing. Two weeks until Vegas. Two weeks to prepare. Two weeks to figure out how to perform songs I don’t connect with, how to exist in Jack’s world without falling apart, how to prove to Maya and Tidal Records that I’m worth signing.
No pressure or anything.
Trivia night at the Black Lantern is always chaos in the best possible way. The place is packed but not slammed, that perfect level of busy where everyone’s having a good time without the stress of being in the weeds. Teams are scattered around the bar, huddled over their answer sheets, arguing in loud whispers about state capitals and eighties movie trivia.
Sarah’s running trivia for the first time tonight and absolutely killing it. She’s got the mic, her voice projecting over the crowd with this confident energy that makes me ridiculously proud. I usually handle trivia, but with everything happening with my music I’ve been training her up, and she’s a natural.
“Alright, question seven!” Sarah announces, and the bar quiets down. “In what year did?—”
“She’s so good at this,” Maren says beside me, leaning against the bar. We’re both watching from our post, taking advantage of the lull between questions when nobody’s ordering drinks.
“Right?” I grin. “I told her she’d be great. She was so nervous about it too.”
“You’re a good teacher.” Maren bumps my shoulder with hers. “So. Vegas. Formula One. Are we freaking out? Are we excited? What’s the vibe we’re going for here?”
I sigh, fiddling with a coaster. “I mean, it’s insane. This could actually change everything for me.”
“Itishuge,” Maren agrees, watching me carefully. “You don’t sound as excited as I thought you’d be.”
“No, I am! I’m excited. It’s just…” I trail off, trying to find words for the tangled mess of emotions. “It’s a lot. The timeline is crazy. Two weeks to prepare. And the songs they want me to do are the pop versions. The ones from the demos I recorded in Seattle.”
“The ones you didn’t love,” Maren fills in gently.
“Yeah. Those,” I say. “And I haven’t been sleeping well, which doesn’t help. Though on the plus side I’ve been really productive at three in the morning. I started working on a new song.” Jack-inspired, but that’s a conversation that requires wine and tissues I don’t have right now.
“Silver lining,” Maren says with a small smile.
“Exactly. Anyway, Maya says if this goes well, if I prove I can deliver this sound live, they’ll sign me. Official contract. So it’s worth it, right? It has to be.”
“It has to be,” Maren echoes, but she’s still watching me with that careful expression. Like she’s trying to read between my words.
“If I don’t completely bomb it.” I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “I mean, that’s the real concern here. What if I get up there and freeze? What if the stage fright kicks in and I can’t get through a single song? You know my track record with performing live.”
Maren’s expression softens. “Hey. You’ve been working on that.”
“Working on it doesn’t mean I’ve fixed it.” The memory of every failed performance makes my chest tight. “And this is Formula One. Thousands of people. Cameras everywhere. International coverage. If I freeze up there, it’s not just embarrassing, it’s career-ending before my career even starts.”
“You’ve had good performances too,” Maren says firmly, squeezing my shoulder. “You can do this. The stage fright is real, but so is your talent. And you’re going to get up there and prove it to yourself. I know you will.”
I want to believe her.
Sarah’s voice carries over the crowd again, reading out the next question, and we both turn to watch. Eddie’s team in the corner is having a heated debate about something, Marcus gesturing wildly while his teammate tries to shush him.
“Have you heard from Jack?” Maren asks quietly.
My stomach drops. “No. Nothing yet.”
“Lark—”
