My morning might have been a bit of a disaster, but at least Ryan held me through the worst of it. After twenty minutes of snuggling against his chest, wrapped in his strong arms, I felt much better. It was like a tiny miracle. I’m sure sex would have lifted my mood even more, but there wasn’t time. Ryan was a real grownup with a real grownup job. When he went to work, leaving me unsupervised in his house, it was all I could do not to dissolve again.

Instead of being a morose and grumpy mess, I attempted to focus on my homework and be productive. The math homework assignment didn’t hold my interest long. The angles and lines weren’t speaking to me at all. It wasn’t half an hour before I got distracted from geometry by my guitar. I’d neglected it for over forty-eight hours and it was calling my name. Besides, there was a new song I was working on, and this morning I felt more inspired than I had in a long time.

It was a sad song, set in a minor key and with a lilting, range-stretching melody. The song had a vibe that was somewhere between a less melancholy, quirkier version of The Decemberists and a melancholier, less quirky version of Regina Spector. Throw in a bit of the folksy charm of all the Kasey Musgraves I’d been listening to lately and it really had a unique feel. I was loving the way it had developed while I’d been incubating it my subconscious. But before I could finish charting out the chords for the refrain, I was distracted a second time over by an incoming text.

I’d been expecting a text from Trina. Not Victoria-freaking-Priestly. I could barely believe she was talking to me. I agonized over my response for an inordinately long time.

Ok, so it wasn’t Shakespeare, but I successfully replied with a coherent sentence and not just a bunch of excited emoji. It was an achievement.

I stared at my phone, hardly believing my good luck. Victoria really wanted me to open for her? That was a HUGE deal. I did a little, painfully terrible happy dance.

I had a gig. A real gig. A gig that could lead to more gigs. And a record. And a tour. And then, after a little while, an actual career in the music business. My dream.

Victoria’s first band, Edelweiss, might be dead, but the new group Victoria had formed with members of her own band and Axial Tilt, was obviously destined for stardom. The group, which I learned last night had been dubbed Moonstone, had more combined street cred than could possibly lead to lasting stability (probably too much talent in one place). They had the built-in audiences of several successful groups, and one mega-trendy lead singer. Just one night of opening for Moonstone was basically skipping forward in time about five years. It might be a small, local bar, but the Lone Star Lounge would have actual, living and breathing humans in it tonight. For once, I was going to play for a live audience.

I texted Ryan with shaking hands. He called about two seconds later.

“Congratulations Rosie!” I could hear the smile in his deep voice.

I beamed, sitting on Ryan’s fancy-ass leather couch and feeling like I could take flight at any moment. Two days ago, I was sitting in my apartment, crying over a dead betta fish and feeling like nineteen was going to be the shittiest year of my life. And look at me now.

Is this what it feels like to have my dreams come true? I wondered. Because it definitely felt like all my dreams were coming true. My parents might be determined to make me fit into their mold, but I was doing just fine despite their best efforts to turn me into something I wasn’t. It felt so good I could barely stand it.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” I told him. “I’m so excited!”

Then, I heard Ryan take a deep breath. “What’s your cut?” he asked. There was a hesitant tone to his voice.

I blinked. “Cut?”

“Are you splitting the door fee with Moonstone?”

“I don’t… I don’t know. Should I know?”

Was I supposed to get paid for opening? I’d never been paid for singing before, although obviously that was the eventual goal. But Victoria hadn’t mentioned that…

My conversation with Ryan turned awkward in an instant. I felt profoundly confused. Ryan knew so much more about the industry than me. He understood way more than I did about the business of music and what questions to ask. Were we two people who’d slept together, that were maybe more than friends, talking about my exciting career development? Or, were we an agent and his client? Could we be both? Was that even a possibility?

I suspected that Ryan didn’t know the answers either. The moments stretched. It lengthened. It became worse than merely just awkward. It became uncomfortable.

Finally, Ryan spoke. “Rosie, I think you need an agent.”

“You’re the only one I know.”

He sighed. “I’m going to get so fired for this.”

“Ryan, I really don’t want to make things hard for you. You can say no.” I meant it. That was the last thing I wanted. I hated the idea of him getting in trouble over me.

“I could say no, sure, but I really don’t want to.” I heard him sigh. “Can you come down to my office Ms. Ross? I think we need to talk.”

I nodded into the phone. “Ok. I’ve got some apartment hunting to do with Trina. She can drop me afterwards. How about 3:30?”

“Sounds good. See you then.” Ryan’s voice took on a curious quality that I didn’t know how to interpret. “There are a few really important things I really need to tell you, Rosie, and they really can’t wait any longer.” Was this his business voice? It was… different.