Page 80 of Goode to Be Bad

Can we get a version of this in full light? Without the guitar? Damn.

I’ve never heard anything like this in my life. More!

I don’t know who this chick is, but she’s got the most amazing voice I’ve ever heard. When does her album come out?

I saw a video of her performing with Myles in Tokyo, and OMG! She’s my new favorite artist. Where can I buy her music?

And on, and on. Hundreds and thousands of comments. Some basic likes, some gushing comments. Some telling me to put on clothes for my next video. There was even a comment from a well-known Nashville producer: “Have your people call my people, we’ll get you signed.”

My eyes stung. “Great, they like me. You still had no right.”

He nodded. “I know.”

“And you don’t care?”

“I’m sorry, Lex. I know it was an invasion of your privacy. But your talentbelongsto the world. Not hidden in a fucking bathroom. I’m not going to let you squander the talent you’ve been given. I’m not going to let you hide in the goddamn bathroom just because you’re scared. You can hate me if you want. Never talk to me again. I knew the risks when I put it up. I accept them. Because youwantthis. I know you do. You just don’t think you deserve it. But you do.”

“Fuck you, Myles.”

He blinked hard. “I’m sorry, Lex.”

My phone rang and I answered without thinking. “Hey, is this Lexie Goode?”

I fought back sobs. “Uh, yeah. Who’s this and how did you get this number?”

“This is Benny Frey, and I represent RCA records in Nashville. I got your number from Mick, Myles’s manager. I’d like to speak with you in person to discuss some opportunities we have for you.”

“I…”

“I’d also like to congratulate you.”

“For…what?”

“Seventy-six million views in twenty-four hours. It’s a new world record.”

“It is?”

“You didn’t know?”

“I didn’t know…” I laughed bitterly. “Yeah, you could say I didn’t know.”

“You’re probably fielding a lot of calls right now, so I’ll let you go. But I’m going to text you my info and you get hold of me when you’re ready to talk. I know you’ll be getting other offers—talent like yours only comes along once in a really, really rare while, but I know I speak for all of us at RCA when I say we’d like the opportunity to match any offer you may receive.”

“Thanks?”

A laugh. “Call me, whenever, wherever. Or just look me up in Nashville.”

“Yeah, I…I’ll…I have to process things. But thanks for your call, Benny.”

I set my phone down, shaking. “What the hell was that?”

Myles laughed. “That was a top RCA exec hunting you down, hoping to be the first to snag you.” My phone rang again; I went to answer it, but Myles’s hand clapped over it, stopping me. “Advice? Don’t answer. Let them leave voicemails. I’d put it on mute, if not turn it off. It’s going to be ringing off the hook for days.”

I choked. “I don’t know what to do, Myles. Why did you do this to me?”

“You don’t have to do anything. You wait till the major players have their offers in. Mick is getting you an agent—not mine, someone else. So you’re on your own, not tied to me. Your agent fields the offers, brings you the best ones, and you accept or reject.”

It was hard to breathe. “You’re not making an offer? You and Crow have a label.”