The Rally

Victor watched Mirage through the window into the DJ booth. She was smiling brightly at the DJ as she answered questions about her show. She wore a t-shirt advertising herself, over a pair of jeans, biker boots, and a cropped leather jacket, her hair slicked back into her signature ponytail, complete with pink-tipped extensions, and looked every part of the rockstar that she was.

“She is holding up,” Vice murmured. “She is strong, our Mira.”

“Mmm,” Victor wanted nothing more than to cancel the rest of her tour and take her home where he and Vice could keep her safe from the outside world that was too often cruel to her. But Mirage lived for her music, and being up close and personal, seeing the faces of her fans, was doing a lot to rebuild her confidence after twelve months of media harassment.

He had taken control of Mirage’s phone and was fighting the desire to ring the burner phone number, to see if Mr Rich would answer, and then spewing some of the vitriol he was feeling toward