Page 1 of Bewitched By the Phantom
Chapter
One
Every time I check my email, it’s with the expectation of another bill, another notification that rent is due. Hell, at this point, I almost expect a medical bill from ten years ago to pop up, even if I haven’t been to the doctor in years. That’s just how life works sometimes. You open your email and get royally fucked by the world.
That’s not how it works today.
Claudia, Lidia, and Vivian all sit in various relaxed positions around the living room. We’d moved in together for survival mostly. In this economy, you gotta take what you can get, and though we’ve been working our asses off, we still don’t have anything to show for it. The longer this goes on, the more I worry that Hell Hath Honey was doomed before we ever started.
Which is bullshit to think.
We’re good. Like, name in lights, pyrotechnic budget good, but no one will give us our big shot. Competition after competition turned us down, and ultimately, the competition we’d been hinging everything on did as well. The Battle of the Bands, the biggest competition this side of the world. Sixteen bands compete. One wins. The winners get signed with the NYX record label, a huge deal even if the company is steeped incontroversy. The four of us don’t particularly believe in all those rumors, but it doesn’t matter anyways. We’d been rejected.
Until now.
“You guys,” I rasp, clicking open my email when I get a notification.
Claudia looks up. She’s our bassist and probably the most badass of the four of us. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her not fully gothed out. The woman wakes up like a Hex Girl and goes to bed like a vampire. Today, she’s dressed in fishnets and a mini skirt, her platform combat boots kicked to the side of the chair while she flips through a magazine.
“What is it?” she asks, studying my face. She’s the most socially aware of the four of us, too. Like, she legit always knows what someone is feeling. If it wasn’t so useful, it would be fucking terrifying.
“I got an email,” I breathe, my finger hovering over the message. “From the Blackout Circuit.”
Vivian sits up. “Well, what does it say?”
“I don’t know yet,” I reply. “I haven’t opened it.”
“Fucking open it!” Lidia growls. “For fuck’s sake, Chris! Don’t leave us all with our panties in a wad!”
I take a deep breath. “What if it’s another rejection?”
“Three weeks after the first one?” Claudia scoffs. “They wouldn’t reach out again just to remind us we suck.”
“They might,” I argue. “These big competitions are known to be cut throat.”
“Just open the fucking email,” Vivian snaps. “You’ve got my nerves fried after the last time.”
Ah, yes. When I’d made us go out to eat with money we didn’t have just to open the email and find out we didn’t make it. Yeah. I’d felt bad. This time though, we literally don’t have money for all that, so suspense it is.
“Alright, alright,” I grumble. “Just give me a second to gather my wits.”
I take a deep breath. Claudia is right. They wouldn’t be sending an email again just to let us know we suck. That seems inefficient, which mean this could be something else. Something bigger. Something lucky as hell.
I click the email and watch as the screen changes and lands on a message with a Blackout Circuit logo on top. My eyes scan the top, bug out, and I clap my hand to my forehead.
“What! What is it?” Claudia says.
“You’re fucking killing us with this suspense!” Vivian snarls.
Lidia just watches me, her eyes on mine as I scan the email. “Read it out loud, Chris.”
“It is our pleasure to inform you, that due to unfortunate incidents, another band has had to drop from the competition. While we wish them the best, we still have a spot to fill,” I read. “Thus, it is our pleasure to invite you to join us for The Battle of the Bands?—”
I don’t get to finish reading. They jump from their seats with a scream, cutting me off, the excitement filling the living room that feels more like death than anything actually lived in. Seriously. There’s even a mummified cockroach on the wall where the landlord had just painted over it. He’s white now and blends in like he’s trying to be a ninja. This whole apartment is shitty. But none of that matters right now. What matters is this official email in my inbox, and what it means.
“We did it!” I scream, jumping around with them. “We made it!”
“What do you think happened to the other band?” Lidia asks.
