Chapter 2

Shana

Sitting in Central Park, I try to enjoy watching all the hustling people, but I'm a mess. I never should have told my sister about the auction. But I had a moment of regret after I went to that fancy club and signed the contract.

I learned about The Black Door from haunting money-making forums. I'm always trying to earn extra cash to fund my dream of living here, being able to get an agent and starting to go on auditions. But, I just know if I can get in front of enough people, they'll see my talent and drive and I'll eventually get that big break.

Ever since I was five years old and sang my first solo in church, I've wanted to be a performer. I remember that moment of pure terror that turned into the ultimate rush once the piano started playing and I let out the first notes. There was no stopping me after that.

I've done countless open mike nights, karaoke contests, pageants, and talent shows. There's no one in town to take lessons from, but I follow online videos to improve my breath control and practice during every single second of spare time. Which isn't much since I'm always hustling for part-time jobs in addition to my full-time job at the diner.

There just aren't any real opportunities back home to help me turn my talent into a career. The only place to actually sing nearby is at the local bar on weekends. It's not that I don't appreciate my friends and family's support, always showing up to cheer me on and give whatever tips they can; I just want more. I have to at least give it a shot, and that means getting to a place where there are proper agents to help me get auditions. Even just being a backup vocalist would be enough of a start, and I believe in my talent.

But I can barely afford to live in my small Oklahoma town, let alone New York City. Until I saw that posting for The Black Door online, I was beginning to think it might never happen. I thought it was too good to be true, but after reading about the life-changing experiences of several girls, I was convinced.

One massive payout for a measly night of my life? I could finally stop borrowing gas money from my sister so I could drive up to Tulsa to perform open mike nights there. I could pay everyone back for their belief in me.

When I stood in Ms. Calloway's office and signed the contract, it seemed worth it, but then I started wondering if this was really the right thing for me. Well, too late now.

I sigh and take a sip of my overpriced, frothy caramel latte, too nervous to take a bite out of the street vendor hot dog. I can hardly afford these little luxuries, but I almost feel like this is my last meal.

"Oh, stop being silly," I say out loud.

The people passing on the jogging trail don't even glance at me for talking to myself. I love New York already. I can't wait to live here. If I go through with this, I can.

It's not like I'm giving up all my ideas of love and romance. I can still have that, right? And I have to have a first time, eventually. It would probably suck regardless of who it was with, so why not make a fortune at the same time? Once I'm a big, famous name in the music world, it will hardly matter.

It was plain foolish to expect my big sister Melanie to agree with me, but I hadn't expected her to go so ballistic about it. Then she had to tattle to Caleb, as if my oldest and best friend needed to know. My face stings at the betrayal. I can't even turn my phone back on to distract myself with a game while I wait for the auction to start because he's already left me about three hundred voice messages. Not to mention the countless texts I don't want to deal with.

So, I won't look at them, I decide, nodding my head while staring at the dark screen. Who does he think he is, anyway? He's always been bossy, scaring away anyone who might want to take me out to a movie, acting like I belong to him. But the frustrating man refuses to claim me. I wish he would.

I force down every sweet thing he's ever done for me because it's easier to stay mad or else I'll go back to having second thoughts. Thinking about what my first time could be like if it was with him instead. It's a good thing he isn't here because Caleb would try to talk me out of it. According to the few messages I listened to before I shut off my phone, he'd be carrying me onto a plane like a sack of flour if he was here.

But he's safely back at home, so this is happening. I really do want to do this. And while twenty-one isn't old by normal standards, I should have a contract by now. The pop music world craves youth.

I shiver, thinking about who might be at the auction tonight. Those men also crave youth, and according to Ms. Calloway, inexperience. She assured me I'll make a killing, even after the club takes their percentage. That's what I need to think about—not how magical my first time could have been with Caleb—but what kind of apartment I'll be able to rent, the studio time I'll be able to afford. Costumes to wear to perform at all the bars in this amazing city. Professional vocal coaching and the freedom to go to endless auditions.

That'll be worth one night. Right?

I head back to my hotel to shower, then force myself to eat a light dinner before heading back to the club. I've gotten myself pretty hyped up, almost excited to get the ball rolling and have to skid to a stop and duck behind a tree just as I walk up to the club.

"Damn it," I hiss.

Caleb's pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, just about ten feet from The Black Door's front entrance. I curse my big-mouthed sister and overbearing best friend. Just the sight of him, tall and broad-shouldered in a dark blue t-shirt that hugs all those muscles he's so proud of, makes me question my sanity. His brow is furrowed over his otherworldly blue eyes, and his black hair is messy, like he's been running his hands through it.

I know that look. He's pissed. And determined to stop me from making this leap. He won't think twice about throwing me over his shoulder and running away from the club. I wait for his back to be turned as he eats up the sidewalk with his long legs and I sneak down the alley to the back entrance Ms. Calloway instructed me to go to.

The muscular bouncer opens the door and ushers me inside, where I realize my heart is pounding. A part of me yearns to run to him, to beg him to take my virginity instead. But no, he's never flirted with me or let me know that my crush was reciprocated. I need this money if I want to become a singer, and I'm not going to let my feelings get in the way of my dreams.

As soon as I'm in the dressing room behind the stage, I take out my phone and turn it on to send him a text.

You're too late. Just go home.