Share
MidReal Story
Static
Scenario:this story is in new york city in the year of 2020 a story about music and drama and family and love and lies and betrayal and fame and first love and step family and loss of a family member and my name is mohamed abdi and i am 19 years old and i wish to be a famous pop singer and rapper and songwriter and my parents died in a car accident so i live with my evil stepdad victor johnson he is 44 years old with light skin and grey hair and he has my twin step brothers adam and simon and they are 21 years old and adam is evil too like victor but simon is sweet and friendly and dumb and i diligently works at my stepfather's karaoke bar and one day i met the talented and very famous in the whole country pop princess named monica hoang she is 20 years old popular and she has a belly button piercing and her father is henry hoang the 41 years old powerful and rich ceo of sonic records a record label that signs pop and rnb and rap artists and monica is frustrated she isnt allowed to write and use her own songs
Create my version of this story
Mohamed Abdi
He is a 19yearold high school dropout who dreams of becoming a famous pop singer, rapper, and songwriter. He is determined, talented, and resilient. Mohamed works at his stepfather's karaoke bar and deals with an abusive stepfather, Victor Johnson. He has a close relationship with his twin stepbrothers, Adam and Simon. Despite challenges, Mohamed strives to achieve his music career goals. He meets Monica Hoang at karaoke, who later becomes his girlfriend after weeks of flirting.
Adam Johnson
He is Mohamed's twin stepbrother who is involved in his father's illegitimate business dealings. He is manipulative, cruel, and opportunistic. Adam resents Mohamed for existing and often torments him, contributing to the toxic household dynamics. Unlike his father, Adam presents himself as friendly initially but reveals his true nature over time. He partners with his father to exploit Mohamed for financial gain.
Monica Hoang
She is the 20yearold daughter of Henry Hoang, the CEO of Sonic Records. She is talented, ambitious, but frustrated. Monica wants to write her own songs but is restricted by her controlling father. Her curiosity about music leads her to karaoke nights where she meets Mohamed. Their chance encounters become the start of an unexpected romance as they bond over shared passion for music and mutual frustration with their respective family situations.
My name is Mohamed Abdi, I am 19 years old.
I live in New York City with my stepdad and stepbrothers.
My parents died in a car accident five years ago, so I had no choice but to live with my mum's husband and his sons.
My stepdad's name is Victor Johnson; he is 44 years old with light skin and grey hair.
He has twin sons named Adam and Simon; they are 21 years old.
Adam is as evil as our stepdad, but Simon is sweet and friendly like a dumb naively person who doesn't know what is going on around him.
My stepdad owns a karaoke bar, and I work there every day to help him with the bills.
I am a high school dropout, but I have big dreams.
I wish to become a famous pop singer, rapper, and songwriter.
I love music so much; when I am not working, I write songs and practice singing in my room.
I walk the streets of New York with my leather jacket on.
I see two men dancing, and another one banging on buckets.
I join them and start singing.
That's my song called "Someday," a song about chasing your dreams and making it to the top.
While singing, I play my ukulele.
People gather around us as we perform.
When we finish, they clap for us.
A man wearing a suit approaches me and hands me his card.
"Hi there, my name is Shawn. I am a producer at Sonic Records. You have a great voice; you should use it."
He says with a smile on his face.
"What's your name?"
He asks me.
"Mohamed Abdi."
I answer him.
He points at a bus ad with Monica Hoang's picture on it.
"Maybe you'll be as famous as her."
He says before walking away.
I enter the back door of the karaoke bar.
The neon sign is on, but it's not bright like before.
Martha and Diego are there.
Martha is at the empty bar wiping glasses with a dirty rag.
Diego is reorganizing the liquor bottles.
They both look up when they hear the door opening.
"Hey, Mohamed," Martha greets me with a smile on her face.
She shows me her bare ring finger and smiles sadly.
"Sorry to hear about that," I tell her, feeling bad for her.
She points at the empty tables and shrugs her shoulders.
Diego walks towards me with a bottle of whiskey in his hand.
He puts his arm around my shoulder and says, "Victor has driven away all our regular customers by raising prices and cutting corners on maintenance. The stage lights are broken, the wallpaper is peeling off, and the place smells like a dumpster. It's a miracle we still have any customers left."
I look around and see what he's talking about.
The stage lights are indeed broken, and the wallpaper is peeling off in some areas.
The place doesn't smell good either. This used to be a popular spot when my parents were alive, but now it's just a rundown karaoke bar struggling to stay open.
I remember how it used to be packed with people every night, singing their hearts out and having a good time.
Now, it's just a few regulars who come here because they have nowhere else to go.
I sigh and shake my head, feeling sad about the state of the bar.
The next day, I am standing on the karaoke bar stage.
I am singing my song "Someday" with a broom as my microphone.
Victor storms in, his face red with anger.
He snaps, "Mohamed, I don't pay you to fool around!"
I retort, "You don't pay at all."
He narrows his eyes and asks, "Are you sassing me?"
"No," I answer.
He warns me, "Watch it, boy. I'm the only family you have left. If it weren't for me, you'd be living on the streets. Don't forget that."
I look away, feeling guilty for talking back to him.
He reminds me of how he took me in after my parents died and how he's been supporting me ever since.
I know he's right, but it doesn't change the fact that he's a terrible person who only cares about himself.
A woman walks into the bar and asks Victor if we're open.
He tells her to enjoy the music and introduces Adam and Simon as they take the stage to sing "Word Up."
They are terrible singers, but they're having fun.
I walk into the lobby of Sonic Records, a big building with a shiny floor and a high ceiling.
The security guard looks at me suspiciously as I walk past him, clutching Victor's CD of "Word Up" in my sweaty hands.
I look around for the talent submission box, but I can't find it.
I see a clear plastic container near the elevator that's overflowing with demo CDs.
I guess that's where I'm supposed to drop off the disc.
Just as I'm about to do that, someone rushes past me and drops a book.
It's Monica Hoang, the famous pop star whose picture is on the bus ad I saw earlier.
She doesn't seem to notice that she dropped her songbook.
I bend down to pick it up and hand it back to her, but she snatches it away from me before I can give it back to her.
She seems upset that I touched her book, and she storms off without saying anything to me. While she was rushing past me, some of the pages fell out of her songbook and onto the floor.
I pick them up and notice that they're filled with handwritten lyrics and notes.
The lyrics seem to be about breaking free from something or someone and finding your own voice.
It looks like she's working on a new song, and it seems like it might be about her struggles in the music industry.
The doors close, and I look down at the pages in my hand.
Monica's voice is sharp as she says, "Can't you not look? The pages are private."
I hand them back to her and say, "You're Monica Hoang, the pop princess."
She snatches them from me and storms off.
I get out of the elevator and walk towards the reception desk.
There's a sign that says "Talent Search" with an arrow pointing to the plastic container filled with demo CDs.
I drop Victor's CD into the box, along with many others.
I walk past a group of people who are talking about their latest project.
One of them notices me and says, "Hey, you're that guy from the street. What brings you here?"
I shrug my shoulders and say, "Just dropping off a demo."
He nods and says, "Good luck with that."
I turn around and see Shawn standing behind me.
He's wearing a leather jacket and jeans, and he looks like he just came from a concert.
He says, "Hey there, Mohamed. What brings you here?"
I shrug my shoulders again and say, "Just applying for a job as a janitor."
He raises an eyebrow and asks, "A janitor? Why would you want to be a janitor?"
I explain to him that I need money to help pay for my stepdad's karaoke bar.
He nods understandingly and says, "Well, good luck with that. But if you ever change your mind about being a singer, let me know." I thank him and leave the building.
As I walk away from Sonic Records, I can't help but think about what Shawn said.
Getting signed to Sonic Records would be a dream come true for me.
But it's not that easy.
I enter Tom's pawn shop, and I see my parents' old piano near the window.
The price tag on it says $12,000.
Tom sees me and greets me with his usual friendly smile.
He's busy organizing some guitars on the wall.
I walk over to the piano and sit down on the bench.
I run my fingers over the keys, feeling the familiar ivory beneath my fingertips.
I remember playing this piano when I was a kid, listening to my parents sing along with me.
Tom walks over to me and asks, "You want to buy it?"
I laugh and say, "No, I just want to play it."
He smiles and says, "Well, you have to buy it if you want to play it."
I empty my pockets onto the counter and count out the money.
It's all loose change, adding up to $9.57.
Tom looks at the pile of coins and shakes his head.
"You're going to need a lot more than that," he says.
"How much?"
I ask him.
"$12,000," he replies.
I sigh and say, "I don't have that kind of money."
Tom nods understandingly and says, "Well, maybe someday you'll be able to afford it."
I nod in agreement and say, "Yeah, maybe someday." I start playing a new song that I've been working on called "Better Than This."
It's about feeling trapped in a situation that you can't escape from.
As I play, I think about how much I miss my parents and how hard it is to live with Victor.
But even though things are tough right now, I know that they will get better eventually.
After I finish playing, I stand up and say goodbye to Tom.
He thanks me for coming by and tells me that he'll see me next time.
As I walk out of the store, I feel a sense of sadness wash over me.
It's hard to believe that my parents' old piano is gone forever.
Tom calls after me, "Hey, Mohamed, wait a second."
I turn around, and he says, "If you ever want to play it again, just come by; I'll let you have a go for free."
I smile gratefully and reply, "Thanks, Tom. That means a lot."
I arrive at Sonic Records for my first day as a janitor.
I'm wearing the standard blue uniform and a name tag that says "Mohamed" in bold letters.
I make my way to the executive floor, where I'll be cleaning the offices of the top executives.
As I enter the office of Henry Hoang, the CEO of Sonic Records, I notice a framed picture on his desk.
It's a photo of him and Monica, taken when she was just a little girl.
I pick up the picture and examine it more closely.
Monica looks so happy and carefree in the photo, with her big smile and sparkling eyes.
As I turn the picture over to look at the back, I hear a noise behind me.
I turn around to see Monica and her friends walking into the office.
"What are you doing here?" she asks me.
"I work here as a janitor," I reply.
One of her friends looks at my ID badge and says, "That's probably fake. You could have just made it."
I shrug my shoulders and say, "If it were fake, would I put my real name and face on it?"
They all nod in agreement and accept my explanation.
Just then, a tall, handsome man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes walks into the office.
He's dressed in a black leather jacket and jeans, and he looks like he just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine.
"Who are you?" he asks me.
"I'm Mohamed Abdi," I reply.
He raises an eyebrow and says, "Mohamed Abdi? That sounds like a rap name."
I shake my head and say, "No, it's not. It's my real name."
He nods and says, "Well, nice to meet you, Mohamed Abdi."
I smile and say, "Nice to meet you too."
He introduces himself as Ethan Moore, Monica's British boyfriend who is also a famous rock singer.
I'm cleaning the music studio at Sonic Records.
I've been working here for a few months now, and I've gotten used to the routine of cleaning the offices and studios.
But today, I decide to take a break and have a little fun.
I walk into one of the studios and see a microphone standing on its stand.
I can't resist the temptation to tap it and say, "Hello, hello! Is this thing on?"
My voice echoes through the speakers, and I smile at my own joke.
"Hello, everyone! My name is Mohamed Abdi, and I am the future double platinum rapper and pop singer."
I start singing my song "Hands Up," which is about partying and throwing your hands up in a concert.
As I sing, I start dancing around the room, waving my arms in the air.
Just then, I hear someone behind me say, "What are you doing?"
I turn around to see Shawn standing there with a confused look on his face.
He must have heard me singing from outside.
"Sorry, I was just messing around," I say sheepishly.
"No, no! You were good!" he exclaims.
"I was recording you! Do you want to hear it?"
He plays back my voice through the speakers, and I can't help but laugh at how silly I sound. "It's not that bad," Shawn says with a smile.
"You have talent. You should let me record you for real."
I shake my head and say, "No way. That was just for fun. Besides, I don't think I'm good enough."
Shawn disagrees with me.
"You're better than half of my artists," he says seriously.
"I'm not kidding. Come on, let's do this for real."
He pulls up a chair and motions for me to sit down in front of the microphone.
"Okay," he says, "let's do this. Sing into the mic like you did before."
I finish recording "Hands Up" with Shawn at the sound board.
We worked on it for a while, adding some instruments and harmonies to make it sound more like a real pop song.
The lyrics are about partying and throwing your hands up in a concert.
I sing and rap my part, and Shawn adds some backing vocals to make it sound fuller.
When we're done, Shawn plays back the recording and says, "Wow, you have a great voice! It's like Monica's when she first started here at Sonic Records."
I smile and ask him if we can record another song from my notebook.
He apologizes but says he has to record another artist right now.
I tell him it's okay, and I go back to my janitorial duties.
At Tom's pawnshop, I hand over my first $100 payment from my janitor job.
I tell him that I want to pay for the piano, and he asks me how much I can afford each month.
I tell him $100, and he calculates that it will take me 5 years to pay it off instead of 19.
I sit down at the piano and start playing my song "Perfect Harmony."
Tom asks me to play it for him, and I agree.
As I play, I see Monica standing in the doorway of the store.
She looks at me with a surprised expression on her face.
I stop playing and ask her what she's doing here.
She tells me that she's shopping for clothes and wants to know if she can come in.
I tell her that it's okay, but she has to be quiet because I'm playing music.
She nods and sits down on a chair near the door.
I start playing again, and she listens intently.
When I finish, she claps her hands together and says, "That was beautiful! You're very talented."
I smile and thank her for her compliment.
She asks me what the song is called, and I tell her that it's called "Perfect Harmony."
She says that it's a great name for a song and asks if she can hear more of my music. I tell her that I have a notebook full of songs, but I don't have any recordings of them yet.
She asks if she can hear one of them, and I agree.
I start playing another song from my notebook, and she listens intently again.
When I finish, she smiles and says, "That was amazing! You have such a great voice."
I thank her again for her compliment, but then she makes a comment about the piano being ugly and dusty.
I tell her that this is my parents' old piano that Victor sold to Tom for a karaoke machine.
Her expression changes to one of surprise and regret when she realizes what she said.
"I'm sorry," she says softly.
"I didn't know. It's just that... well... it doesn't look like much."
"It may not look like much," I say defensively, "but it means everything to me. This piano has been in my family for years. It's all I have left of them."
Monica nods understandingly and says, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. My mother Anna died of cancer five years ago. She was the best mom ever."
"Come on," I say.
"I'll play a song for you."
Monica smiles and sits down beside me.
I start playing a song that I wrote called "Perfect Harmony."
It's a love song about two people who are meant to be together.
As I play, Monica starts singing along with me.
Her voice is beautiful, and it blends perfectly with mine.
We sound like we've been singing together for years.
When we finish the song, Monica turns to me and says, "That was amazing! You have such a great voice."
I smile and thank her for her compliment.
I ask Monica what the song was that she played before we sang "Perfect Harmony."
She tells me that it was one of her compositions.
I apologize for getting her songs wet, but she assures me that she saved them all.
She pulls out her notebook and shows them to me.
I look through the pages and see that they are all original songs.
I tell her that they are great and ask her why she doesn't sing them on stage.
She says that her father thinks she should use a professional songwriter because her songs don't fit the "Monica Hoang brand."
I tell her that she should sing her own songs because they are better than anything a professional songwriter could come up with.
I ask her if she wants to go somewhere special with me, and she agrees.
As we are about to leave, Tom stops us and asks Monica for an autograph.
Monica laughs and signs a piece of paper for Tom, then looks at me with a spark in her eyes as we step out into the world beyond the shop.
I lead Monica through the busy streets of New York City, watching her fidget nervously as she walks.
She's wearing a borrowed leather jacket and a hat to disguise herself, but I can still see the fear in her eyes.
We finally reach Central Park, and I lead her to a quiet spot near the fountain.
I set up our impromptu performance area and pull out my ukulele.
Monica stands next to me, clutching her songbook tightly in her hands.
"You ready?" I ask her, strumming a few chords on my ukulele.
I set up a cup on the ground for donations, and Monica looks at me hesitantly.
"I can't do this," she says.
"I'm not a street performer."
"Come on," I say.
"You've performed in front of thousands of people at your concerts. What's the difference?"
Monica sighs and nods reluctantly.
"Okay, fine. But just one song."
I start playing my ukulele, and Monica begins singing "Look at Me Now."
Her voice is powerful and soulful, and it echoes through the park.
People passing by stop to listen, mesmerized by her talent.
As the crowd grows, Monica's voice becomes stronger and more confident.
She starts dancing along with the music, twirling and spinning to the rhythm.
The crowd claps along with us, and people start throwing money into the cup.
As we finish the song, a cop walks up to us and says, "Sorry, you can't perform here. You need a permit."
Monica and I look at each other nervously, but I quickly say, "Okay, officer. We're sorry. We'll stop right now."
The cop nods and says, "Good. If you don't have a permit, you'll get fined."
I apologize again and hand the cup of money to Monica.
"This is your first earnings as a busker," I say with a smile.
Monica looks down at the cup and then back at me.
"Thank you," she says.
"But I don't want it."
She picks up the cup and walks over to a homeless man who is sitting on a bench nearby.
"Here," she says, handing him the cup.
"You need it more than I do."
The man looks up at her in surprise and says, "Thank you, miss. You're very kind."
Monica smiles and says, "It's no problem. You looked like you could use it."
I walk over to them and say, "Monica, you should keep some of that money for yourself. You earned it."
Monica shakes her head and says, "No way. He needs it more than I do."
I sigh and say, "Fine. But at least take $100 for yourself."
Monica hesitates for a moment and then says, "Okay."
She reaches into the cup and pulls out $100.
But then she stops herself and puts it back in the cup.
"No," she says.
"I can't take that much. It wouldn't be fair." The homeless man looks up at her with surprise in his eyes.
I sneak into the karaoke bar, trying to avoid Victor, Adam, and Simon.
I walk through the back door and make my way down the dark hallway.
The floor creaks under my weight, and I freeze, hoping that no one heard me.
But then I hear Victor's voice booming from the living room.
"It's midnight, you're late!" he yells.
I pull out my phone and check the time.
It's 11:57 PM.
I hold up my phone to show him the time, but he just glares at me.
I try to make my way to my bedroom, but Victor, Adam, and Simon follow me.
Victor snatches the invitation from my hand and reads it.
"It's an invitation to the Sonic Records mask ball," he says, handing it to Adam.
Adam smirks and says, "This is where they announce the winner of the talent search."
I demand that he give me back my invitation, explaining that Monica gave it to me.
Victor refuses, saying that I've already given Adam and Simon a chance to perform at the karaoke bar and prove that Sonic Records was wrong to reject their demo.
They laugh, doubting that I know her.
I storm into my bedroom and slam the door.
The next night, Martha and Diego surprise me with a sleek black mask and suit.
Martha explains that they got them from a costume store in Chinatown.
Diego offers me his car to drive to the mask ball.
I hesitate, explaining that Victor, Adam, and Simon will be there.
I don't have an invitation.
Martha reassures me, saying the mask is my ticket in.
"Just improvise," she says.
Diego encourages me to go and have fun.
I thank them for their help and put on the suit and mask.
I step into the night, ready to claim my place at the ball.
I adjust my black mask nervously as I stand in line outside the Sonic Records building.
Security guards are checking invitations at the door, and guests are filing in one by one.
Everyone is dressed in elaborate masks and formal wear.
My hands are sweaty inside Diego's borrowed leather gloves, but I try to keep my cool as I inch closer to the door.
Through the glass, I can see the lobby transformed into a luxurious ballroom.
Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and white roses adorn the tables.
Waiters in tuxedos carry trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres through the crowd.
I hold my breath as I reach the front of the line.
The guard glances at me briefly before returning his attention to the group of people ahead of me.
They're all wearing matching masks and seem to be together, so I decide to follow closely behind them and hope that no one notices me.
As we approach the door, I hear a commotion coming from the metal detectors.
Someone's setting off the alarm, and everyone is looking over to see what's happening. The guard at the door looks up, distracted by the noise, and waves us through without checking our invitations.
I exhale slowly as I step inside, pressing myself against a marble column to get out of the way of the crowd.
My heart is pounding in my chest, and I can feel sweat trickling down my back beneath my suit jacket.
I look around frantically for a place to hide until I can figure out what to do next.
The lobby is packed with people in elaborate masks and costumes, all mingling and laughing together.
I spot a group of people dancing on the other side of the room and make my way over to them.
The music is loud, and everyone is moving to the beat.
I join in, keeping my head down and trying to blend in with the crowd.
Just as I'm starting to relax, I feel someone tap me on the shoulder.
I turn around to see a guy in a black suit and gold mask looking at me curiously.
"Do I know you?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.
I shake my head, trying to keep my voice deep so he won't recognize me.
"No," I say, turning back around to face the dance floor.
He grabs my arm and pulls me toward him again.
"Wait," he says.
"I could swear I've seen you before."
I pull away from him and make my way through the crowd, desperate to get away from him before he figures out who I am. I push past people until I reach the edge of the dance floor, where I can finally breathe again.
My heart is still racing, but at least no one seems to be following me anymore.
As I look out over the crowd, I spot Monica standing near the stage with Ethan Woods by her side.
They're both wearing matching masks and formal attire, and they seem to be having a good time together.
Suddenly, the music changes and everyone starts switching partners for a new dance routine.
I watch as Monica looks around for someone to dance with, and then our eyes meet across the room.
She smiles at me, and I feel my heart skip a beat.
Without thinking, I start walking toward her through the crowd.
As I reach her side, she takes my hand and pulls me onto the dance floor with her. "I guess you are my partner," she says with a smile.
"I guess I am," I reply, mimicking the moves of the other dancers around us.
As we dance, I ask her if she's having fun.
She says she wasn't until now, and apologizes for being tense.
I finish her sentence for her.
"You're just relaxing and being yourself."
She looks at me in surprise.
"How did you know?"
"Because I can see you," I tell her.
When the song ends, I thank her for the dance and call her amazing.
I tell her to be herself, nothing less.
I approach the DJ table, slipping through the crowd of people dancing and mingling.
I see Shawn standing there, and he looks up at me with a puzzled expression on his face.
"Can I help you?" he asks, eyeing my mask.
I hesitate for a moment before reaching up and removing my mask.
Shawn's eyes widen in recognition.
"Oh, it's you," he says, handing me a USB drive.
"I recorded our song. I put it under the artist name Static."
I take the USB and look at it curiously.
"Why Static?" I ask.
Shawn shrugs.
"I just thought it sounded cool. It's like static electricity. It's like a spark of energy that can't be contained."
I nod, feeling a surge of excitement at the thought of my song being released to the world.
"Thanks," I say, pocketing the USB drive.
"No problem," Shawn replies, turning back to his equipment.
As I turn to leave, I hear Adam and Simon's voices coming from the stage.
They're singing "Word Up" by Cameo, but their rendition is off-key and awkward.
The audience starts booing them mercilessly, and they quickly exit the stage. Shawn looks over at me with a confused expression on his face.
"Who were those guys?" he asks.
"My stepbrothers," I reply sheepishly.
Shawn shakes his head in disbelief.
"They were terrible," he says with a chuckle.
"It sounded like a goat giving birth."
I smile, knowing that tonight is just the beginning.
Standing backstage at the Sonic Records ball, I grip the microphone tightly in my hand.
Shawn gives me a nod of encouragement from behind the DJ booth.
My heart is pounding beneath my mask as I watch Adam and Simon slink off stage after their failed performance.
The crowd is booing them mercilessly, and I can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at their failure.
Shawn steps up to the microphone and clears his throat.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our next performer," he says, his voice booming through the ballroom.
"And now, for something completely different. Please welcome Static!"
The crowd applauds politely, and I take a deep breath before stepping out onto the stage.
I can feel all eyes on me as I make my way to the center of the stage.
I glance over at Adam and Simon, who are standing off to the side with Victor.
They look confused and angry, and I know that they have no idea who I am. The music starts, and I take slow steps toward center stage.
I pass by Adam and Simon, who stare at me in confusion.
As I reach the microphone stand, my hands start shaking uncontrollably.
I adjust the stand to fit my height, trying to steady myself as I prepare to sing.
I step up to the microphone, gripping it tightly in my hand.
Shawn starts the upbeat track for "Different," and I begin to sing.
My lyrics flow smoothly, weaving a tale of Monica's world of fame and my struggles with Victor and Adam.
The crowd claps along to the music, their energy infusing me with confidence.
As I scan the audience, I spot Monica standing near the front, her eyes locked on me as she claps along to the beat.
Adam and Simon watch me from the side of the stage, their faces twisted in anger.
Victor stands next to them, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
As the song comes to an end, the crowd erupts into applause.
I glance over at Victor, Adam, and Simon as they storm out of the room.
I know I need to beat them home if I want to avoid a confrontation.
I start to leave the stage when I feel a hand on my arm.
It's Monica, her eyes shining with excitement.
"Wait," she says, her voice barely audible over the music.
"Who are you?"
I smile, feeling a rush of adrenaline.
"I'm Static," I reply, pulling her into a deep kiss.
As our lips meet, I feel a spark of electricity run through my body.
Monica pulls away, looking at me in surprise.
"What was that for?" she asks, her voice breathless.
"For being you," I reply, turning to leave.
"Be yourself. Nothing less."
I race out of the building, pushing through the crowd of people who are still trying to figure out who I am.
Diego is waiting for me outside, and I jump into the passenger seat of his car.
"Go, go, go!" I shout, slamming the door shut behind me.
Diego peels out of the parking lot, racing through red lights as we make our way back to the karaoke bar.
I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting to see Victor and Adam chasing after us.
But they're nowhere to be seen.
As we pull up to the bar, I can see Victor's car parked out front.
My heart sinks as I realize that he must have beaten us home.
Diego pulls up to the side of the building, and I jump out of the car.
I race around to the back of the building and climb up the fire escape ladder to my room on the second floor.
I reach my window and pick the lock with a hairpin before slipping inside.
I quickly strip off my suit and mask, stuffing them into a bag and hiding them under my bed. I climb into bed and pull the covers up to my neck, trying to catch my breath.
Just as I'm starting to relax, I hear footsteps coming up the stairs.
I close my eyes tightly, pretending to be asleep.
The door creaks open, and I can feel Victor's eyes on me.
He stands there for a moment, scanning the room suspiciously.
Then, without saying a word, he turns and walks back down the stairs.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I hear the front door slam shut.
I know that I need to come clean to Monica about who I really am.
But for now, I just want to savor the feeling of being Static.
I wipe down tables at the karaoke bar, my eyes fixed on Monica as she listens to music through her headphones.
She's bobbing her head along to the beat, her eyes closed in concentration.
I can see her lips moving as she sings along to the lyrics, and I wonder what song she's listening to.
I take a step closer, trying not to draw attention to myself.
As I get closer, I realize that it's my voice coming through the headphones.
Monica is listening to "Someday," the song that I recorded with Shawn at the Sonic Records ball. My heart starts racing as I watch her reaction.
She looks so happy and carefree, singing along to my song like it's her favorite in the world.
I feel a surge of excitement knowing that she likes my music, but at the same time, I'm nervous about telling her who I really am.
What if she doesn't believe me?
What if she thinks that I'm just some crazy fan trying to get close to her?
I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down.
I remind myself that Monica is a kind and open-minded person who will listen to what I have to say.
I just need to find the right moment to tell her the truth.
As Monica continues listening to my song, I start wiping down tables again.
I try not to stare at her too much, but it's hard not to when she looks so beautiful and happy. Finally, Monica takes off her headphones and looks up at me with a smile on her face.
"Hey," she says, waving me over with a hand gesture.
"I need your help with something."
I walk over to her table and stand there nervously, waiting for her to speak.
"So," she says, looking up at me with a twinkle in her eye.
"I heard this amazing song last night at the Sonic Records ball. It was called 'Different,' and it was performed by this guy named Static. Have you ever heard of him?"
My heart skips a beat as I realize that Monica is talking about me.
I try not to show any emotion on my face as I respond.
"No," I say casually.
"I've never heard of him. But I'm sure he's a talented artist."
Monica nods, looking thoughtful for a moment.
"Yeah," she says finally.
"I think you're right. He must be really talented. Anyway, I was wondering if you could help me find him."
I raise an eyebrow in surprise.
"Find him?" I repeat.
"Why do you want to find him?"
Monica shrugs, looking at me with a mischievous grin on her face.
"I don't know," she says.
"I just feel like I need to meet him. He seems like a really interesting person."
I nod, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.
"Okay," I say, playing along with Monica's game.
"I'll see what I can do. But in the meantime, why don't we go get some coffee?"
Monica agrees, and we leave the karaoke bar together.
As we walk down the street, I can't help but feel excited about what's going to happen next.
I know that eventually, I'll have to tell Monica who I really am, but for now, I'm just enjoying the ride. We go to a small cafe down the street from the karaoke bar and sit down at a table by the window.
Monica pulls out her phone and starts typing away furiously while I look over the menu.
After a few minutes, she looks up at me with a smile on her face.
"Okay," she says.
"I've posted on all my social media accounts asking Static to come forward. Let's see if he responds."
I nod, feeling a surge of excitement at the thought of Monica trying to find me.
We spend the next hour sitting in the cafe, sipping our coffee and waiting for a response from Static.
Finally, after what feels like forever, Monica's phone dings with an alert.
She looks down at it excitedly and then shows it to me.
"It's Perez Hilton," she says, grinning from ear to ear.
"He's asking if I know who Static is."
I laugh at the absurdity of it all and shake my head in disbelief.
"This is crazy," I say to Monica as she continues typing away on her phone.
"You're going to find Static in no time." As we wait for more responses from other celebrities and fans alike who want information about Static's identity, Monica starts brainstorming ideas on how best approach this mystery singer without giving away too much too soon - after all there were plenty people out there willing enough already so no need make things harder than necessary!
"Maybe we should create a fan page for Static," Monica suggests, her eyes lighting up with excitement.
"That way, we can gather all the clues and sightings in one place."
I chuckle, trying to keep my voice steady. "Sounds like you're turning this into a full-blown investigation."
I help Simon clean up the broken glasses while he rambles on about how he figured out who I really am.
As we work, I glance out the window and see a group of people putting up posters across the street.
They're Monica's audition posters, plastered with her name and face.
I can see the excitement in her eyes as she watches them work.
"I knew it was you," Simon says, his voice filled with excitement.
"I saw your shoes at the ball. The ones with the crowned letter M. You always draw that logo on your shoes."
I nod, realizing that I had been careless with my disguise.
But I hadn't expected anyone to notice such a small detail.
"You're Static," Simon says, his eyes wide with wonder.
"I can't believe it."
I smile, feeling a sense of pride and accomplishment.
"Yes," I say.
"I'm Static. And I'm glad you figured it out."
Just then, Victor storms back into the room, his face red with anger.
"Who's going to pay for these broken glasses?" he demands.
I sigh, knowing that I'll have to cover the cost.
I empty my pockets and hand over all the money I have, including the savings I've been keeping for my parents' piano. Victor takes the money without saying a word and walks away.
I sneak into the theater where Monica has booked a venue to find Static.
I make my way backstage, where I find her pacing back and forth nervously.
"Hey," I say, approaching her.
"You okay?"
She nods, taking a deep breath.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little nervous."
I place a hand on her shoulder, trying to reassure her.
"You'll be great," I say.
"Just be yourself and have fun."
She smiles, looking up at me with gratitude in her eyes.
I turn to leave, but I'm stopped by a voice behind me.
"What are you doing here?"
I turn to see Adam standing there, looking at me with a puzzled expression on his face.
"I'm here for the audition," he says, holding up his guitar.
"I'm going to perform as Static."
I raise an eyebrow, wondering why Adam would want to pretend to be me.
But before I can ask him any questions, he turns and walks away.
I watch him go, feeling a sense of confusion and unease.
What is Adam planning?
And why does he want to pretend to be me?
As I stand there trying to figure out what's going on, I hear a voice behind me.
"Where have you been?" it says.
I turn to see Victor standing there, looking at me with a scowl on his face.
"I've been looking all over for you."
"I was just getting something from my room," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Well, come with me," Victor says, turning and walking away.
I follow him, wondering what he wants from me.
As we walk through the theater, I notice that there are people everywhere, all of them talking excitedly about the audition. We reach the main room where the auditions are being held, and Victor leads me over to a small door hidden behind the stage.
"This is where you'll be staying," he says, opening the door and gesturing for me to go inside.
I step into the room, which is little more than a janitor's closet.
There's a small table in the corner with a chair next to it, and a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling.
"Wait here until I come back for you," Victor says, closing the door behind me and locking it.
I hear his footsteps echoing down the hallway as he walks away.
I try the door handle, but it won't budge.
Why did he lock me in here?
And what does he plan on doing with me?
Suddenly, I hear footsteps coming down the hallway again.
The door opens and Victor steps inside, followed closely by Adam and Simon.
"What's going on?" I demand, trying to keep my voice steady despite my fear.
"You're Static," Victor says, his eyes narrowed in anger.
"We know all about your little secret."
I pound on the door, demanding to be let out.
But Victor just laughs and walks away.
I hear the sound of a key turning in the lock, and then there is silence.
I slump against the cold wall, trying to figure out what to do next.
Suddenly, I hear a faint noise coming from under the door.
I look down and see a piece of paper being slid underneath.
It's my songbook, the one that I wrote all my original songs in.
I flip through the pages, remembering how much time and effort I put into writing each one of them.
As I turn the page, I see a note written on the back cover.
"You'll stay locked up here until Adam performs as Static," it reads.
I crumple up the paper in frustration and throw it across the room.
How am I supposed to stop Adam now?
Just as I'm starting to lose hope, I hear footsteps coming down the hallway again.
The door opens and two girls come rushing in.
They're Monica's friends, Ashley and Kim. "We heard you were locked in here," Ashley says, her voice filled with concern.
"We had to help you."
Kim pulls out a hairpin and starts working on the lock.
After a few minutes of fiddling with it, she finally manages to open it.
"We have to hurry," she says, glancing nervously over her shoulder.
"Victor could come back any minute."
I grab my songbook off the floor and follow them out of the closet.
We run through the winding hallways of the theater, dodging people along the way.
We finally reach the front of the building, where I can see the karaoke bar across the street.
I run inside and find Monica standing there with a poster in her hand.
"Congratulations Adam - Our New Star, Static," it reads.
I look around the room and see Victor, Adam, Simon, and a bunch of other people celebrating.
My heart sinks as I realize that Adam has already performed as Static.
I feel a wave of anger and sadness wash over me as I realize what has happened.
I rush upstairs to my room and start packing my suitcase.
I grab my ukulele and head back downstairs.
As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I see Victor standing there with a smirk on his face.
"Hey party pooper," he says, blocking my path.
"We haven't introduced Static yet."
I push past him and continue walking towards the door. "Mohamed, where are you going?" Monica asks, running after me.
"I can't stay here," I reply, not looking back at her.
"I'm done."
"Please don't go," she says, grabbing my arm.
"Just one favor. Stay until I introduce Static."
I sigh and nod reluctantly.
"Okay," I say.
"But then I'm leaving."
Monica smiles and hugs me tightly before turning to face the crowd of people gathered in the room.
"Everyone," she says, her voice booming through the microphone.
"I'd like to introduce you all to the real Static."
The crowd starts cheering and clapping as Adam storms over to Monica, looking furious.
"You can't do this!" he yells, grabbing her arm.
Security steps in and holds him back as Monica continues speaking.
"Please welcome Static to the stage!"
I hear my name being called over the speakers, echoing through the theater.
My heart starts racing as I stand backstage, trying to gather my courage.
Monica's voice rings out again, calling my name.
I take a deep breath and run up the stairs to where she's standing.
"How did you know?"
I ask, out of breath.
She smiles, her eyes shining with excitement.
"I figured it out when you said 'I'm not a star' at the mask ball. It was one of the lyrics from your song 'Someday.'"
She places a hand on my shoulder, urging me forward.
"Now, go out there and perform. Sing 'Hands Up' for me."
I look out at the stage, my heart pounding in my chest.
Then I turn back to Monica and take a deep breath.
"Okay," I say, stepping out onto the brightly lit stage.
The crowd erupts into cheers as I make my way to the center of the stage.
I can feel my legs shaking beneath me as I grip the microphone tightly in my hands.
The opening beats of "Hands Up" pulse through the speakers, and I launch into the lyrics, singing with all my heart.
I work the stage from one end to the other, dancing and performing for the audience.
As I sing, I can feel the energy building in the crowd.
They're clapping and cheering along with every word.
When I finish the song, I take a bow, grinning from ear to ear.
The crowd roars with applause, whistling and cheering for more.
I look over at Monica, who's beaming with pride.
She motions for me to continue, so I launch into my next song, "Someday."
This time, I slow things down a bit, singing with a softer tone and focusing on the lyrics.
As I sing, I can see people in the audience swaying along to the music, their eyes closed in appreciation.
When I finish, there's another round of applause before I move on to my final song. "Perfect Harmony" is a duet that Monica and I have been working on together.
We wrote it during one of our late-night songwriting sessions at her house.
It's about two people finding love and happiness together, despite all the obstacles that stand in their way.
As soon as the backing track starts playing through the speakers, Monica emerges from stage left and joins me at center stage.
We stand facing each other, our eyes locked as we begin to sing.
Our voices blend together perfectly, harmonizing with each other in a beautiful way.
The crowd watches us intently as we perform, mesmerized by our chemistry on stage.
Monica's father Henry is sitting in the front row, his eyes fixed on us with a mixture of surprise and admiration.
As the final notes fade away, I realize that this moment is everything I've ever wanted.
Standing hand-in-hand with Monica under the bright stage lights, I can feel the thunderous applause wash over us.
The audience rises to their feet in waves, starting from the front where Henry Hoang sits with an unreadable expression on his face.
Monica squeezes my hand and pulls me into a deeper bow.
My heart pounds in my chest as I scan the crowd, searching for familiar faces.
I spot Victor and Adam storming toward the exit doors while Simon remains seated, clapping enthusiastically along with everyone else.
Security guards move to block the exits, preventing anyone from leaving until the show is over.
As the applause dies down, I notice Henry Hoang making his way onto the stage.
"That was quite the performance," Henry says, his voice calm but firm.
"You've got a lot of explaining to do, young man."
Monica steps forward, her grip on my hand tightening.
Henry Hoang steps closer, his eyes fixed on me with a piercing intensity.
He examines me for a moment before reaching into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulling out a contract.
"Here," he says, handing me the contract.
"This is a recording contract. We're offering you $100,000 as an advance. In return, you'll have full creative control over your music and performances."
Monica bounces up and down beside me excitedly.
I take the contract from Henry, scanning its pages with trembling hands.
As I read through it, I notice Ethan storming out of the theater.
Monica releases my hand and chases after him.
I watch through the exit doors as they stand in the hallway, arguing in hushed tones.
Their voices rise and fall, punctuated by gestures of frustration and anger.
Finally, Monica's voice cuts through the noise.
"I have feelings for him too," she says, her words echoing back into the theater.
Ethan turns and walks away, leaving Monica standing alone in the hallway.
She returns to the stage a moment later, her eyes shining with tears but a smile on her face.
My hands tremble as I sit at the conference table in Henry's office, staring down at the thick contract laid out before me.
Monica stands behind my chair, her hand resting lightly on my shoulder.
I flip through each page carefully, scanning the fine print and making sure I understand all the terms and conditions.
The contract outlines everything from royalties and touring requirements to creative control and marketing strategies.
It's a lot to take in, but I'm determined to make sure I know exactly what I'm getting myself into.
As I read, I notice that there are several places marked with a small X where I need to sign my name.
I pick up the golden pen that Henry provided for me and hold it poised over the first line.
Security guards are still holding Victor and Adam downstairs until this is all settled.
Simon waves at me through the glass wall of Henry's office, giving me a thumbs-up. Taking a deep breath, I lean forward and press the pen to paper.
My signature flows across each marked line as I sign my name with precision and care.
With each stroke of the pen, I seal my future and embrace the unknown.
I set the pen down after signing the final page, my hand trembling slightly.
Monica steps forward from behind my chair and wraps her arms around me in a tight embrace.
I feel her tears dampen my shoulder as she whispers words of encouragement in my ear.
Henry clears his throat, drawing our attention back to him.
He extends his hand across the table, offering it to me for a firm handshake.
Through the glass walls of Henry's office, I see security finally releasing Victor and Adam from their hold downstairs.
They storm out of the building without looking back.
Simon waves at me excitedly before running after them.
I stand up from the conference table, my signed contract laying before me.
Henry's firm handshake feels like a seal of approval, his weathered hand steady against mine.
As I look out the floor-to-ceiling windows that line the office, I see the breathtaking view of the New York City skyline.
It's a sight I'll grow accustomed to seeing every day as I work with Henry and his team to bring my music to life.
Monica squeezes my shoulder one last time before stepping back.
Henry walks over to his desk and pulls out two items from a drawer: a small access card and a sheet of paper with a schedule printed on it.
He slides them across the polished mahogany surface of the conference table towards me.
"You'll need this access card to get into the building and our studios," he explains.
"As for the schedule, we start recording next week. Be here bright and early on Monday morning."
I pick up the access card and hold it in my palm, feeling its weight and solidity.
It's surreal to think that this small piece of plastic will grant me entry into a world I never thought I'd be a part of. I clip the card onto my shirt, where it catches the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows.
The schedule is filled with times and dates for recording sessions, meetings, and promotional events.
It's overwhelming but exciting to see how much work goes into bringing an artist's vision to life.
"Thank you," I say to Henry, my voice filled with gratitude.
"This is more than I ever could have imagined."
Henry smiles warmly at me, his eyes shining with genuine enthusiasm.
"We're excited to have you on board," he says.
"I think you have great potential, and we're going to do everything we can to help you reach your dreams."
As I stand there, looking out at the city below and holding the access card in my hand, it finally sinks in that this is real.
I pull the check from the pocket of my leather jacket, still unable to believe it's real.
I've been staring at it for the past hour, trying to wrap my head around the reality of it all.
Monica steps into the hallway, a soft smile on her face.
"Hey," she says, approaching me slowly.
"I wanted to talk to you about something."
"Sure," I reply, tucking the check back into my pocket and turning to face her.
"What's up?"
She takes a deep breath before speaking.
"I know this might sound crazy, but I wanted to be honest with you. My relationship with Ethan... it was all staged."
I raise an eyebrow, intrigued by her confession.
"It was for publicity," she explains.
"Our teams thought it would help boost our careers if we pretended to be together. But I didn't want to keep lying to you."
I nod, understanding her reasoning.
"So, what does this mean for us?"
She steps closer, her eyes locked on mine.
"I was wondering if you'd like to be my boyfriend for real."
My heart skips a beat as I process her words.
"Really?"
I ask, barely able to contain my excitement.
Monica nods, a blush creeping up her cheeks.
"Yes. Really." I pull her into my arms and press my lips against hers in a passionate kiss.
It's our first real kiss as a couple, and it feels like fireworks are exploding inside me.
As we break apart for air, Monica smiles up at me with sparkling eyes.
"I'm so happy," she whispers.
"Me too," I reply, holding her close once more.
The karaoke bar is quiet as I pack up my belongings and prepare to leave for good.
Simon stands nearby, watching me with a mix of sadness and excitement in his eyes.
"You're really leaving," he says softly as I zip up my suitcase and set it on the floor beside me.
"I am," I reply, looking around the familiar space one last time.
"It's time for me to move on."
Simon nods understandingly and reaches out to hug me tightly.
"I'm going to miss you so much," he whispers into my ear.
"But I'm also really happy for you. You deserve this."
I wave goodbye to Simon as I walk out of the karaoke bar for the last time.
"You're now a dancer at Sonic Records," I tell him, grinning from ear to ear.
Simon's eyes widen in surprise, his mouth dropping open.
"What? How?"
"I put in a good word for you with Monica," I explain.
"She talked to her father, and he agreed. You'll be dancing on stage during performances and earning a good amount of money."
Simon's face lights up with excitement as he processes the news.
"Thank you so much," he says, pulling me into another tight hug.
"I won't let you down."
As we hug, Adam and Victor approach us, their faces twisted with anger and resentment.
"What about us?" they demand in unison.
I pull away from Simon and turn to face them, my expression cold and unforgiving.
"Fuck you both," I say bluntly.
"Simon's the only family who ever supported me. The rest of you can rot for all I care."
With that, I turn on my heel and walk out of the building, leaving them behind forever. The taxi pulls up outside my new house in New York City, a small but cozy place that I bought with most of the $100,000 contract money.
I have $30,000 left over, which is more than enough to get started on this new chapter of my life.
I pay the driver and step out onto the sidewalk, looking up at my new home with a sense of pride and accomplishment.
The house is a one-bedroom bungalow with a small front yard and a picket fence surrounding it.
It's not fancy, but it's perfect for me right now.
I pay the driver and head inside to start unpacking my belongings.
First things first, I need to buy some furniture and supplies for the house.
I grab my wallet and head out to do some shopping.
After a few hours of browsing through stores, I finally have everything I need: food for the pantry, alcohol for the fridge, toiletries for the bathroom, a bed frame and mattress for the bedroom, a TV for the living room, and a couch to sit on. It takes me another few hours to unpack everything and get settled in, but eventually I'm sitting on my new couch with a cold beer in hand and a smile on my face.
I raise my bottle in a silent toast to new beginnings, ready for whatever comes next.
I relax on my new couch, scrolling through social media on my phone.
The news of Monica and I going public with our relationship is all over the internet, with entertainment sites and gossip blogs sharing photos of us holding hands outside Sonic Records.
My phone lights up with a text from Monica, letting me know that our first official couple photo shoot is scheduled for tomorrow morning.
I send her a quick response, telling her how much I'm looking forward to it.
I switch over to my Instagram account and see that Simon has sent me a direct message.
It's a video of him at the dance studio, practicing his moves for an upcoming performance.
He looks so happy and carefree as he spins and leaps across the floor, his smile lighting up the room.
I watch the video twice before responding with a heart eyes emoji and a message telling him how proud I am of him.
I pin the signed contract to the wall beside my vision board, running my fingers over my artist name printed in bold letters.
It's surreal to think that this is my life now - a life filled with music, love, and endless possibilities. The doorbell rings, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I get up from the couch and make my way to the front door, wondering who could be visiting so late in the evening.
When I open the door, I'm surprised to see Monica standing there with a big smile on her face and takeout bags in her hands.
"Hey," she says, stepping inside and setting the bags down on the kitchen counter.
"I brought dinner. I figured we could celebrate our new beginning together."
My heart swells with love for this beautiful woman who has brought so much joy into my life.
Monica and I sit cross-legged on my new living room floor, surrounded by Chinese takeout containers.
The city lights twinkle through the window, casting a magical glow over the room.
We share spring rolls and sweet-and-sour chicken, savoring the delicious flavors and each other's company.
Monica tells me about her day at the studio, working on new music and collaborating with other artists.
I tell her about my furniture shopping adventure and how excited I am to finally have a place of my own.
As we eat, Monica accidentally drops a noodle on her shirt, leaving a small stain.
She laughs and dabs at it with a napkin, making me smile at her carefree nature.
It's moments like these that I cherish - just us being ourselves, no cameras or pressure.
Just two people enjoying life together. Monica pauses mid-bite, sets down her chopsticks, and looks at me with an intensity that makes my heart skip a beat.
"What are you thinking?" she asks softly, her voice filled with curiosity.
I take a deep breath before answering, wanting to make sure I say exactly what I mean.
"I was just thinking how lucky I am to have you in my life," I reply honestly.
"You bring so much joy and love into every moment we share. I don't know what I would do without you."
Monica's face lights up with happiness at my words, her eyes shining brightly.
"I feel the same way about you," she says, reaching out to gently touch my cheek.
"I'm glad you feel that way," she continues, her voice soft and sincere.
I walk into Sonic Records, my leather jacket and black jeans making me stand out amidst the sea of suits and ties.
My black boots click against the polished marble floor as I follow Monica through the bustling hallway.
We stop at a large wooden door with a brass plaque that reads "Henry Hoang's Office."
Monica knocks twice before opening the door and gesturing for me to enter.
The room is filled with a group of people seated around a long conference table.
Monica leads me to the front, where an older man with kind eyes and a warm smile greets us.
"Hello, Mohamed," he says, extending his hand for a firm handshake.
"My name is Henry Hoang, and I'm the founder of Sonic Records. It's a pleasure to meet you."
I shake his hand confidently, my voice steady as I introduce myself.
"My name is Mohamed Abdi. I sing, rap, write songs, and play piano, guitar, and ukulele."
Henry nods approvingly, gesturing for me to take a seat next to Monica.
As we sit down, I notice the curious glances from the other people in the room.
Some of them whisper to each other, their eyes fixed on me like I'm some sort of celebrity.
Monica squeezes my hand under the table, offering silent reassurance that everything will be okay. Henry clears his throat to get everyone's attention.
"Good morning, everyone," he begins.
"I'd like you all to meet Mohamed Abdi, our newest artist. He has incredible talent and potential, and we're excited to have him on board."
The room erupts in applause as Henry continues speaking.
"Monica here discovered Mohamed's voice and was determined to find him," he explains.
"She went above and beyond to track him down, and we're thrilled that she did. We believe Mohamed is going to make a big impact in the music industry, and we're honored to be a part of his journey."
I nod my head in appreciation, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.
Henry turns to me with a smile.
"Welcome to the team, Mohamed. We're looking forward to seeing what you can do."
The room falls silent as everyone waits for my response.
I take a deep breath before speaking.
"Thank you for this opportunity," I say, my voice filled with gratitude.
"I promise to work hard and make the most of it."
The meeting continues with discussions about marketing strategies and upcoming projects.
As it comes to a close, Monica leans over and whispers in my ear, "We did it."
I smile back at her, feeling a sense of pride and accomplishment.
After the executives file out of the conference room, I remain seated at the large mahogany table with Monica beside me.
The late afternoon sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow over the room.
Feeling bold and confident after our successful meeting, I start humming the melody of our song from the theater performance.
Monica's eyes light up with recognition, and she slides her chair closer to mine.
I gesture towards the room's excellent acoustics, suggesting we take advantage of the space.
Without any accompaniment, we begin singing together, our voices blending in perfect harmony as they echo off the glass walls.
A janitor passing by in the hallway pauses his work to listen, mesmerized by our impromptu performance.
It reminds me of my own past, when I would sing on street corners for spare change.
Our song fills the room with a sense of joy and connection, creating a moment that neither of us will ever forget.
Monica and I sit in the recording studio, our notebooks open on our laps as we finalize the lyrics for "Me and You."
Shawn, the sound engineer, adjusts levels at the soundboard while we take turns practicing our parts.
When we're ready, Monica enters the glass-enclosed booth to record her verses first.
She sways to the upbeat pop melody, her voice filled with emotion as she sings about the thrill of falling in love.
I watch from outside the booth, nodding my head along with the beat.
When it's my turn, I step into the booth and pour my heart into my verses.
Monica stands outside, watching me through the glass with a smile on her face.
She gives me a thumbs-up when I finish, indicating that everything sounds perfect.
For the chorus, we stand close together in the booth, sharing the microphone as our voices intertwine in harmony.
We run through several takes until Shawn is satisfied with the recording.
Finally, he plays back the final mix for us to hear.
I sit at my laptop refreshing the Billboard charts webpage while Monica paces behind me.
Our song "Me and You" has been steadily climbing the charts on various streaming platforms, and we're eager to see its official ranking.
After what feels like an eternity, the page finally updates, and our hearts leap as we see our song at number eleven on the Billboard Hot 100 chart.
Monica lets out a triumphant scream, jumping up and down in excitement.
I can't help but join her, feeling a mix of elation and disbelief.
We've worked so hard for this moment, and it's surreal to see our names alongside some of the biggest artists in the industry.
As we celebrate, notifications start flooding my phone with fans sharing our song and commenting on our cover photo.
It's overwhelming but thrilling to see how much love and support we're receiving from listeners around the world.
The next day, Monica and I arrive at Sonic Records for a meeting with Shawn and Henry.
As we walk into the conference room, we're greeted by a surprise celebration.
Shawn presents us with platinum plaques commemorating "Me and You" reaching over a million streams on various platforms.
We take photos together for social media, beaming with pride as we hold up our plaques. Henry hands me an envelope containing my first royalty check from the song's success.
I open it with trembling hands, amazed by the amount printed on the check.
Henry explains that each stream of our song translates into a fraction of a cent in royalties, but with millions of streams, those fractions add up quickly.
He congratulates us on our achievement and expresses his confidence that our song will continue to climb the charts.
As we leave the building, paparazzi snap photos of us from across the street.
Monica smiles brightly for the cameras while I try to compose myself under the sudden attention.
I take a moment to soak it all in, knowing this is just the beginning.
We arrive at an upscale Italian restaurant in the heart of Manhattan.
Monica leads us to a private corner booth, where we're greeted by the soft glow of candlelight and the aroma of freshly baked bread.
The waiter presents us with menus, and Monica orders a bottle of expensive wine that I've never heard of before.
She assures me it's excellent, so I trust her judgment.
As we wait for our wine to arrive, we share appetizers and engage in conversation.
Monica tells me stories about growing up in the music industry, from her early days performing at local talent shows to her first major tour at sixteen.
She shares funny anecdotes about life on the road and the lessons she learned along the way.
I listen intently, still amazed that this is all real.
When our wine arrives, Monica pours us each a glass and we toast to our success.
The waiter returns to take our order, and Monica recommends a few dishes that she knows are delicious.
I follow her lead, feeling grateful for her guidance in this unfamiliar world. As we wait for our food to arrive, we continue talking about everything from music to our personal lives.
Monica asks me about my childhood and how I ended up singing on street corners.
I share my story with her, and she listens with genuine interest and empathy.
When our entrees arrive, I'm overwhelmed by the array of fancy silverware on the table.
Monica notices my confusion and gently guides me on which fork to use for each course.
I appreciate her patience and kindness as she helps me navigate this new environment.
As we enjoy our meal, a waiter recognizes Monica from afar and approaches our table with a shy smile on his face.
He asks if he can take a selfie with her for his sister's birthday present.
Monica laughs softly, nodding her head.
"Of course, I'd be happy to," she replies, standing up to pose for the photo.
As the waiter snaps the picture, he turns to me and says, "You know, my sister loves your song too; she's been playing it on repeat!"
I lean back in my chair, watching the waiter walk away with a spring in his step.
The crystal chandelier above us sparkles, casting a warm glow over the room.
Other diners steal glances at our table, whispering to each other about who we are.
Monica reaches across and squeezes my hand gently.
Her silver bracelet catches the light from the candles, sending tiny reflections dancing on the tablecloth.
I look up at her and smile, grateful for this moment and for her guidance.
When our main courses arrive, I struggle to pronounce the name of the pasta dish I ordered.
The server chuckles kindly and tells me it's okay, that even he had trouble with Italian names at first.
I thank him sincerely and watch as he walks away with a friendly smile on his face.
As we continue our meal, a young girl approaches our table with her parents in tow.
She looks about ten years old and has a shy expression on her face.
Her mother introduces her as a huge fan of Monica's music and asks if she can take a photo with us. Monica stands up immediately, greeting the girl with a warm hug.
I follow suit, remembering when I was once that age and looked up to musicians as idols.
Monica notices my reaction and smiles knowingly.
She takes charge of the situation, posing for photos with the girl while I stand beside them, feeling grateful for this moment.
As the girl walks away beaming, I realize that our music has become a part of people's lives in ways I never imagined.
I lean back in my cushioned chair, watching Monica twirl pasta on her fork with practiced grace.
She tells me about the first time she performed on stage at age seven, singing a rendition of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" for her family's annual holiday party.
I sip my water slowly, mesmerized by how her eyes light up as she recounts the memory.
When our dessert arrives, we decide to share a tiramisu.
Monica cuts into it with a delicate touch, and I watch as the mascarpone cheese oozes out.
I try to pronounce the name of the cheese but end up stumbling over it.
Monica laughs softly, reaching across the table to wipe a smudge of chocolate from my lip with her napkin.
"You're doing just fine," she assures me, her voice warm and encouraging.
I chuckle nervously, "Thanks, I'm still getting used to all of this."
Monica leans in slightly, her eyes serious now, "You know, you belong here just as much as anyone else."
I raise my wine glass with a steadier hand now, the crystal catching the soft light of the restaurant.
Monica mirrors my movement, her eyes sparkling with pride and affection.
The clink of our glasses echoes softly, drawing the attention of a few nearby diners who whisper to each other and point discreetly in our direction.
I take a sip of the wine, its rich flavor coating my tongue.
It's expensive, but I can finally appreciate its quality without feeling like an imposter in this world.
Monica reaches across the table to squeeze my free hand gently, her touch warm and reassuring.
I look up at her and find myself smiling genuinely, feeling a connection that goes beyond mere gratitude.
As we finish our dessert, the waiter approaches our table once more, this time carrying a sleek black folder in his hands.
I stare at the leather folder, my fingers tracing the embossed logo of the restaurant on its cover.
The waiter stands nearby, waiting patiently for me to open it.
I flip it open slowly, revealing the neatly typed bill inside.
My eyes widen slightly at the total, but I quickly compose myself, not wanting to show any surprise in front of Monica.
She leans forward slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of the numbers, but I angle the folder so only I can see them.
Monica's diamond necklace catches the candlelight, sending tiny reflections dancing across her face as she tries to get a glimpse of the bill.
Even with my recording contract and steady income, seeing the prices on the menu still shocks me sometimes.
But I've learned to handle these moments with grace and confidence, just like Monica has taught me. I reach into my wallet and pull out my credit card, placing it on top of the bill.
The waiter nods discreetly and takes the folder from me, disappearing into the back of the restaurant to process our payment.