Page 2 of Siren's Heart

"The one and only." She nods, and Kayla's head whips back to me, finding me staring at our manager, now with mouth wide agape.

"You're telling me we're on the same fucking level as Mia?" My voice is so loud I almost shout, my voice an octave higher than usual, and my heart thumping in my chest like a kick-drum during a rock concert.

Mia is a fucking powerhouse. She has the whole world wrapped around her little finger, selling out shows within seconds, no matter where she goes or how big the venue is. I'm convinced her fans would be able to stop climate change within a week if she asked them nicely enough.

And we're supposed to replace her at this charity thing? No way in fucking hell. They are going to boo us off that stage. Unless…

"Please tell me she wasn't announced yet?" Kayla asks exactly what I'm thinking, and I make use of the feeling returning to my limbs and hurry to sit down next to her again.

"She wasn't."

The sigh of relief I'm pushing out almost blows away the papers haphazardly lying across the table. "Thank God."

"So, what do you say?" Her eyes jump from Kayla to me, and back to Kayla. "Does that sound like something you'd like to do?"

Even though I’m ninety-nine percent sure that she already booked the spot for us, I appreciate her asking us. Of course, we have a business relationship, but one thing I really value is that she takes clear note of our boundaries and will try to work with them.

The number one thing my parents were apprehensive about when I told them I'd like to get into show business was the fear of being forced to do things I wouldn't like by a manager who only thinks about money. I don't know what kind of good deeds Kayla and I did in our past life to deserve Naroa, but I'm so glad she's our manager.

She's competent and motivates us when we're at a low point, and she makes it a point to actually talk to us about taking projects. Like right now. And she never makes us feel bad about saying ‘no.’

I asked her about it one night after our last tour finale, over a shared can of beers in our dressing room. She had looked at me with a poker face, shrugged, and told me she was making enough money off us anyways, and it'd benefit her more to keep us happy in the long term than to make a quick buck. Then, she thankfully added that she considers us friends and enjoys working with us, probably because she saw my face fall, thinking we were only her cash cows.

"It does sound like fun," Kayla admits, and from the corner of my eyes, I can see a smile tugging at her lips. She turns to me, and I meet her eyes. "What do you think?"

"I think it's a yes." I grin at her widely, my cheeks hurting and fighting the urge to jump up and dance around the room. "We are going to have to fucking rock this!"

"Wonderful," Naroa says, clapping her hands together. "I’ll make sure to pass that right on. The two of you will have about a month to prepare. That means you need to create a remix of your songs and get together with Mike to create your choreography and learn it in and out until the big day. I hope you guys like Philly because you'll be spending a lot of time there and getting acquainted with the stadium."

Kayla and I shoot each other another look. Without a word, she raises her hand for a high five, and I happily give her one.

"I said it sounds like fun." With a satisfied grin, she leans back in her chair and crosses her arms in front of her chest. "When are we flying out?"

"Alright, so this is your apartment," Naroa says distractedly, pulling a key card out of the stack of documents she clutches to her chest. After she told us about the Philly match, we had three days to pack and, in my case, make arrangements for someone to water my houseplants before we flew out to Philly.

Our plane only touched down two hours ago, and I can’t wait for Naroa to show us our apartments and get to try out the bed. Traveling always manages to suck the energy right out of me, and I’m more than ready for a nap.

"I tried to find you places that would make you feel right at home. I hope you like it. If not, I’m sure we can arrange something else.” She hands me the card. “Here you go, Millie. The pin for the security system is the same as usual.” I nod, and she turns to face Kayla, handing her a different card. “Kayla, your apartment is five stories further up; I’ll bring you there now. Tomorrow, I'll get the both of you at ten, and we'll drive over to the stadium together so you can have a look around."

"Okay, I got it," I tell her, with a lazy mock salute, and unlock the door. When the code I type into the small pad works and it opens without a hitch, they turn their backs to me and walk back to the elevators.

“Have a good night!” I shout after them, but my attention is already on my not-so-humble abode for the next few months.

It's a pretty apartment. Big. With high ceilings and tall windows that face the setting sun, the Delaware River's waves sparkle in the last rays of evening light. The click of the door falling shut behind me is almost deafening in the giant room, echoing against the high walls adorned with landscape pictures that remind me of the ones at my house. Only mine are a bit higher quality, I think, as I step up to one of them. From this close, I can tell that they're only prints, not the real deal. What a shame.

Turning around, I'm already in the living room. Thank God, it doesn't have some kind of bougie-marble ground, but wood graced with fluffy-looking carpets instead. Naroa knows me well. I love to walk around my home barefoot or in socks, but stone turns my feet so cold I’m afraid they’d freeze off. The wood also gives the apartment a cozier vibe, which it desperately needs, considering that all the furniture is either beige, white, or light gray. It’s not the worst apartment I’ve stayed in, but it needs a homey touch.

I make a mental note to buy some colorful blankets when I have the time–maybe some pale pink pillows. I’m also itching to order some plants, but I have no idea where I’d put them at home.

Sighing, I continue my exploration. Looking around the corner, I find the kitchen. Just like the rest of the apartment, it's giant and has all the appliances you don't need in your regular life. I mean, come on, a giant, expensive stand mixer? When would I have the time to bake in the few weeks I’m staying here? And is that a rice cooker?

Back in the living room, I continue my investigation in an adjoining hallway. The first door opens to an office-looking room, with a desk facing the window and audio equipment stacked against the wall. There’s a keyboard and guitar right next to several microphones set up in a corner, and there is no doubt in my mind that the computer it’s connected to has the best recording software Kayla and I can operate. I chuckle. So, Naroa wants us to be productive, even at home–got it.

I close the door quietly and walk over to the next and final room. After taking a deep breath, I open it and… I’m underwhelmed. Just like the living room, it's bright and impersonal, but at least it has a soft-looking carpet next to the queen-sized bed. There's also a walk-in closet, already filled with the clothes Naroa had me send over beforehand.

Finally, I check out the bathroom. Compared to the rest of the flat, it's pretty dark, decked in grays and a few bright accents. The shower seems lovely, big and with two heads. Plus, there’s a lot of space for me to put my hair care, which I absolutely need. My hair is even more high maintenance than… well, me.

Then I catch something from the corner of my eyes and slowly turn to the last corner, a smile tugging at my lips when I realize what I’m seeing.

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