Page 18 of The Spotlight Effect

“What?”

“Shawn has been calling me this whole time.”

“Maybe we should go. I have to find my family anyways,” I tell her so maybe she doesn’t feel bad.

“Okay, I’ll show you where to go.” We clean up after ourselves before leaving the bathroom.

Me and Zara only make a few turns this time before she leaves me at the beginning of the VIP hall to go find Shawn before he freaks out too much more.

I look on the back of my VIP pass to find I’m supposed to be in suite A, and I find it.

I open the door to find a nicely decorated room, but no people inside. They must be leaving. I run through the building and out one of the side doors, frantically searching for my limo. It’s never good to be stuck somewhere at night. I finally find one run to it.

“Have a good night, ma’am,” the doorman says as I jump in before the door is closed and the car pulls off. I begin to feel relieved until I notice my family isn’t here.

“Wrong car,” a voice states. That voice sounds familiar. I look across from me to find Grayson Archer sitting right across from me. Shit. Oh my god. I freeze.

“Is there any way you can turn around?” I ask once I get the nerve to look up.

Grayson Archer is sittingacrossfrom me.

I’m in the wrong limo.

“Nope,” he replies, turning to the window.

“Why not?” I ask, confused.

“I have somewhere to be,” he answers.

“Can you take me home soon? My family will be worried,” I say.

“Yeah, I can take you home after,” Grayson says.

“Good,” I say and turn to the window too.

It’s quiet now. I feel awkward and all I’m thinking about is how Charlie told me to look at him during the show. Now he’s not speaking, and we’re both staring out a window.

“You know you freaked Shawn out when he couldn’t find Zara earlier,” Grayson speaks as if that’s my problem.

“What is she? Like his little lap dog or something?” I say, annoyed because he spoke to me like that.

“I don’t know, they have weird kinky shit going on, but that’s not my business,” Grayson says, and I nod.

“How did my sister win the sweepstakes anyway?” I ask him. I really need to know.

“She had the best song out of all the entries, plus your song was a direct copy of hers with a different title,” he answers.

That is not what I was expecting. She doesn’t even write music like what the fuck. “What made her song so special?” I ask, probably sounding super bitter.

“It was very lyrical and emotional,” he answers.

“Her song? The one written by Aaliyah Wimberly!” I say in surprise. That’s very odd to hear.

“Oh, really. Are you lying to me?”

“No, we really loved it. That’s why she won.”

“Well, you should know she can’t sing.” Lia can’t. She doesn’t have any performing talent in her body. She never sings, and when she does, it sucks ass.

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