Page 2 of Everything In Between
“Have you decided on what you’re wearing for the VMAs next week?” Bethany asks, reaching for her phone. “I need to let Kelsey and the rest of the PR team know which designer you’ve settled on.”
Over the last few weeks, I’d been sent multiple dresses in exactly my size that I was encouraged to sport on the red carpet at the VMAs. I’m projected to win Song of the Year again for the third year straight, and I’ll be presenting the Best Hip-Hop award. All the up-and-coming designers want their names plastered across every fashion news outlet as I present myself at the award show.
Already, I’m exhausted by the idea. I’m thankful for the opportunity and the fans’ enthusiasm for the music I’ve released this year, but there’s nothing I’d like more than to watch the show from the comfort of my home, and thankful that’s exactly what I was able to do last year because I was rehearsing for shows. But this year, with my third nomination and invitation to present, Callum insisted I make an appearance.
“This is the big leagues now, cupcake,” he said when I voiced my desire to sit this one out too. “There’s no time to sit on the sidelines.”
“I think I’m going to go with the Agnelli,” I say absentmindedly, going for another Oreo and a large scoop of peanut butter as a comfort. A hint of anxiety pokes its head out of the shadows of my mind when I think about using up the last reserves of my social battery at the award show next week. “She’s the sweetest and least aggressive of the bunch we’ve gotten this year.”
“I agree,” Bethany says, tapping on her phone screen to note my decision.
This was a personal choice I made in the last few years, only choosing to wear up-and-coming designer pieces. Even all of my stage costumes are designed by smaller name designers. Not a single high-end named piece is on my set list. It would be easy for me to get my hands on a Versace or an Oscar de la Renta, but I wanted to give smaller designers a chance at the limelight. Cal was not the biggest fan of the idea when I brought it to the table, but after arguing about it and going back and forth, he finally relented. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve bested him in an argument over the years we’ve worked together. He would love me to be in the pieces designed by thebigger names, but I held firm on my request, not budging until he agreed.
In my opinion, the smaller designers deserved to have someone take a chance on them, like the label did for me all those years ago. Even Cal can’t argue with that sentiment.
Unfortunately, my small win with Cal was short-lived. He’s been even more of a pain ever since then. As if I need the daily reminder from him that he pulls the strings of my career.
The door to the green room flies open, revealing my twin brother standing there with outstretched arms. “Jersey Matthews, you’ve done it again!”
I roll my eyes and laugh as he takes the seat to my left, falling into the couch cushions with an audibleoof. Roman has always been one of my biggest fans. He’s an on-screen heartbreaker, landing all the big roles recently in Hollywood. His schedule is as grueling as mine, but he does his best to attend as many of my shows as possible. He’s recently finished filming next year’s summer rom-com, so his schedule has freed up for a little while.
“How’s Hollywood treating you these days, Roman?” Bethany asks.
“Great, actually. My agent is trying to land me a deal for a regular TV show. That would mean I’d be in LA for longer periods of time.”
I turn to him, surprised at this news. “You’d like that?”
He gives me an affectionate nudge. “Of course.”
Bethany swivels between the two of us in amusement. “The Matthews twins, taking LA by storm. Once again.”
I laugh and reach for another Oreo, offering one to my brother too.
“Did you know Hayes Vogt was in attendance tonight?” my brother asks, absentmindedly flicking through his phone and opening a social media app while polishing off the cookie.
I run my hands through my messy hair and ask,“Who?”
Roman looks at me like he can’t believe the question. “What do you mean,who?He’s only the greatest quarterback in the league right now.” I side-eye Roman like he’s equally insane for thinking I’d have any interest in this. He balks again. “Quarterback for the Milwaukee Majestics.”
I tilt my head at my brother as if to say,And?
He rolls his eyes. “Oh, for Pete’s sake. He made a cameo in J-Money’s music video and almost broke the internet.”
“Oh, yeah. I do remember that, actually. Which one was he?” I ask, thinking back to when the rapper released the video. I do somewhat remember the guy in the cameo—Hayes Vogt, apparently—catching my eye. Roman doesn’t need to know that, though. He was handsome and fit, but most of all, he looked like he was having the time of his life. His energy and enthusiasm made the entire video. It’s no wonder J-Money got a nomination. It was all anyone could talk about at the label for weeks.
He raises an eyebrow at me, unimpressed, showing me his screen as if I needed the proof. “He did a livestream right as he arrived at the stadium, trying to get your label’s notice to bring him backstage so he could meet you.”
“Why didn’t he DM me on Instagram?” I ask absentmindedly. “We bring celebs and athletes back all the time. Even internet celebrities. It wouldn’t have been a big deal.”
My brother shrugs. “Maybe he wanted the attention of more people. You know how athletes can be.”
I don’t know, actually. Having never been into sports, I’d have no basis for knowing their mannerisms or anything about them. I shrug, playing off my naivete, and stare down at my screen as a text from Callum comes in.
Callum
WE NEED TO TALK.
His message has anxiety plummeting through me like an avalanche. It’s never a good sign when Cal texts me right after a show—in all caps, much less—and Bethany’s comment from earlier rings in my ears. Typically, he’d give me the night to rest my voice and come down from the high of performing before hitting me with any business matters, but given I publicly rebelled tonight, there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s got steam blowing out of his ears.
