Page 99 of Pretty Black

“Three million, four hundred thousand.” His voice shook.

“You’re kidding.” My hands shook, taking the laptop from his hands to examine it myself. “It has to be a mistake.”

“It’s real. It’s the same on YouTube. It’s trending on some dance app which has us trending on the streaming services.”

“What the fuck does this mean?” I asked, unable to take my eyes off the big number.

“I don’t know.”

“Do the other guys know?” I asked, not sure where we went from here.

“River called me. He was already asked about it.”

“No shit.” I gathered my hair up and grabbed a pencil off the table to stick into a loose man bun, getting it out of my face. “What do we do?”

“I’m as new to this as you are.”

“Wait…do we make money off streams?”

“I think so?” He went back to the account and stared at it.

I hugged my knees into my chest and waited.

“Iris.”

“What?”

“We made nine thousand dollars on Spotify last night and could have made as much as thirty thousand dollars on YouTube.”

My heart stopped in my chest. “No.”

“Yes.”

“We made at least ten grand?” I’d never seen that much money in my entire life. I don’t think my mom made thirty thousand dollars in a year.

“We have to split it up. You know, however we decide to do that.”

I covered my mouth with both hands. “If we made thirty thousand dollars, that’s like six grand each.” I could have paid rent and groceries at my mom’s old place for a year with that kinda money. “My stepdad’s pay checks are half of that.”

“I know.” A smile broke out across his face.

I knew the money didn’t mean as much to him as it did to me, but this was unbelievable.

It was the beginning of the end, and probably the last time I felt normal.

THIRTY-THREE

PRESENT DAY

Caspian Locke

My heart jumped to my throat when the door clicked open. It wouldn’t be anyone else here so early. I tampered down my panic and took a breath, about to call his name, when a crash rang out.

“Iris?” I walked around the corner to find him slumped over the decorative hallway table.

He picked his head up, but there was something wrong with him. He looked pale and clammy, and his pupils were blown. He tried to use his arms to lift himself, but they wouldn’t hold any weight, and he slid to the floor.

I jumped at him, trying to catch him before his head hit the marble floor. I only slowed his descent, preventing him from hitting his head. “What did you take?”

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