Page 89 of Grown

I blink, my vision blurring, and pray I’m seeing things. I spin again, glancing at the band behind me, and there he is. Playing drums. Even with the sunglasses and hoodie, I couldn’t mistake that smile.

He’s here. Onstage with me. Again.

I turn back to the crowd, and somehow, I keep up with the song, while my insides scream.

He’s here he’s here he’s here he’s here he’s here.

My eye twitches, the lights too bright and I’m too terrified to blink. I almost forget the modulation at the end of the song and go up an octave.

“Baby, ’cause you’re the one that I love

Baby, you’re the one that I need”

Fear keeps me moving. I spin again to sneak another look. Korey is grinning, having the time of his life. He looks... proud.

Don’t look at him. Don’t. Run!

I go up the next octave. And the next one. And the next one. My voice nearly cracks at the end.

How did he get in here? Did Louie invite him? Was this all a trap from the start? What if he takes me? What if he... he...

“Love on TOP!”

A roaring applause caps off the song and I sprint stage left, into the darkness, toward the back door. A pair of hands grabs me, and I scream.

“Enchanted! Holy shit! That was amazing!” Louie cheers, lifting me off the floor. “Do you hear that crowd! Look at them!”

Teeth chattering, I shake my head. I can’t go back out there. He’s here, he’s here, he’s here...run!Need to tell someone, but the words are stuck. My mouth moves but no sound comes out.

“Look, Enchanted! Look! They’re all on their feet.”

I peer over my shoulder, only to look onstage. The band set is empty. Korey’s gone. But the crowd... they’re cheering.A bubble of hope inflates. Maybe I really could be something without him.

“Hey? Everything OK?” Louie says, suddenly serious. “Look like you’ve seen a ghost. Want me to get your mom?”

My blood turns to ice, veins throbbing. Should I tell them? No. Mom can’t know. She’ll never let me out of her sight for as long as I live.

And then... I’ll never sing again.

Chapter 62

Legalese

“Korey Fields sent a copy of your contract.”

At Sylvia’s restaurant in Harlem, Mom and I meet Louie for our weekly strategy meeting. Mom wants to be more involved in my career moves. But this news took us both by surprise.

“Contract? What contract?” Mom asks.

Louie sighs, digging in his messenger bag.

“That’s what I thought. I let my lawyer take a look. Apparently, you signed to Korey’s label.”

Mom and I share an equally confused look.

“What label? What are you talking about?”

“You don’t remember signing any documents?”