Halo (Fallen Angel, #1)(49)

“All right,” I said, flopping on the couch. “What’s so important I ran out without any shoes?”

“Wait for it.” Imogen scooted closer, and after hitting a couple of keys on the laptop, she turned it in my direction. The video playing on the screen was shaky and focused on a floor, but in the background I could hear the opening notes of “Invitation” playing. The camera shifted suddenly then, zooming in on a piano and—

Me.

My feet fell to the floor as I jerked upright, stealing the laptop from Imogen. There I was, sitting behind the piano at Killian’s rehearsal room the day we’d performed for Brian and that MGA rep. Hold up… They’d been filming us? I thought Brian had been texting on his stupid phone the whole time, but he’d actually recorded us? Was that even legal?

A few seconds later, the rest of the band joined in, the sound a rich and heavy throb, but for some reason, the camera didn’t turn its focus away from me. Instead, it zoomed in, my face filling the screen as I sang.

I could only sit there stunned as I watched, so many thoughts running through my head, namely how Imogen had gotten the video. But the longer I watched, the more those thoughts disappeared and, always a perfectionist, I began to critique my performance. My voice was strong, though I noticed a few nerves right at the beginning, and I sang staring straight ahead in Viper’s direction, ignoring Brian completely. The camera never veered away to show the rest of the guys, which I found curious, because if Brian was taping this, surely it was for MGA, and wouldn’t they want to see the whole band?

But the song…damn. Viper and I had knocked that one out of the park, and even though I could hear a few things I wanted to tweak during our next practice, the overall effect was simply staggering. That song was a fucking hit.

“Look at you,” Imogen whispered, fixated on the screen. “You’re a star.”

I opened my mouth to lob a self-deprecating remark, but right then, the me on screen launched into the ending high note I’d ad-libbed, and I could only stare. The video cut off then, and Imogen took the laptop away.

“I told you that you needed to sit down,” she said.

Shaking my head, I forced words to come out. “How did you get that?”

“The Warden posted it on his Instagram last night, and now everyone’s freaking out trying to figure out who you are.”

“What?” My head began to buzz, the blood rushing to my ears, and I leaned over with my elbows on my knees and rubbed circles over my temples. “The Warden? Like the rapper? I don’t understand.”

“Crazy, right? He’s got, like, one hundred and fifteen million followers. My baby brother is about to be super famous.” She lifted the back of her hand to her head and leaned back dramatically, her long red hair spilling over her shoulder. “And here I thought it would be me. Le sigh.”

“How did the Warden get that video? And why would he post it? Holy shit.”

Imogen sat up, her hand resting between my shoulder blades in a comforting move. “Halo, this is a good thing. Breathe.”

“It didn’t even show the rest of the guys. I’m the one everyone booed in Savannah, so if this video’s out… Oh fuck.” There was no telling what kind of hate was being spewed my way if people saw this. Suddenly, I was unbelievably glad I didn’t have any social media accounts.

“Whoa, you’ve got it all wrong. No one’s booing you now, trust me.” Imogen clicked the video off and typed in the Warden’s Instagram. In his status, he’d written, Need this record, stat. #onrepeat. Then Imogen opened up the comments, and I moved away.

“No, I don’t wanna see that,” I said.

“Yes, you do, come back.” She grabbed my arm, and when I shook her off, she rolled her eyes and started reading off the comments instead.

To my utter surprise, the responses to the video ranged from “Wow! Who is that and where can I buy the song?” to “Genius track. Voice that’s half angel, half rock god. Dude’s gonna be huge,” and the more she read, the more I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Now, whether she skipped over the shit ones was anyone’s guess, and I was grateful if she had, but the sheer amount of comments and likes were mind-blowing. Over five million in less than twenty-four hours. Fuckin’ hell. Over five million? As in five million people had heard our song, had watched that video?

“Can you believe it? Mom and Dad are gonna freak,” Imogen said, shutting the laptop, a huge grin on her lips as she faced me. “Aren’t you excited? You don’t look excited.”

“Yeah…”

“You don’t sound excited either.”

I snorted. “It’s called shock. I mean, I didn’t even know I was being recorded, and now millions of people have seen it?”

“You didn’t know? Do you know who taped you, then?”

“It had to be TBD’s manager, Brian. But I don’t know how the Warden would’ve gotten a hold of it, unless Brian sent it to him, which is random as hell. I don’t get it, Im.”

Was this some kind of marketing ploy to fight back against the bad press we’d gotten after the show? Were the guys in on it too? Or, shit, did they even know?

“That is weird,” she agreed. “But also freakin’ awesome. This is it, Halo. Your big break.”