Ethan sat there in the huge van, the low hum of the engine filling the silence, as everyone instantly went quiet, eyes turning toward Rebecca. She, as usual, found herself in roles like this—handling situations that drew attention, that made people pause, that demanded authority or charisma—and she carried it effortlessly. Ethan's mind, meanwhile, drifted back to everything that had happened since Bill had permanently hired Vivienne. The memory of her coming up with that absolutely crazy idea made him shake his head in disbelief even now. It had forced him—Ethan, who should have been enjoying his much-needed break—to drop everything and rush back to work without hesitation.
This time, he didn't complain. He understood, maybe more clearly than ever, that he was a major factor in why all this planning and chaos was happening. And strangely enough, he didn't regret it. Being able to finish his first ever tour without any major situations outside his control, without any cancellations or setbacks, had meant more to him than he could fully articulate. Just thinking about it now brought a warm, almost glowing feeling to his chest, one that made him smile softly despite the tension lingering in the van. He might have been immature, stubborn, or even naive to push forward then, but he was fulfilled. Truly fulfilled.
He thought about the way Bill had canceled his plans—the visit to the house he wanted to see and maybe buy, the meetings with the finance team—all of it reshuffled to accommodate the whirlwind of preparations that came with shooting a video. And yet, this wasn't just work; it was a carefully orchestrated spectacle, every detail intentional. Makeup appointments, learning to lip-sync if even it was just at the beginners level, testing different lighting angles, choosing a color scheme for the video—it was all part of the intricate planning a major artist would go through to launch a surprise album announcement, Yes, the entire plan included his new album. It wasn't all stressful, though. Thanks to the preparation, he was finally going to meet Sydney earlier than expected, a thought that brought a small, excited flutter to his chest.
Ethan, sitting there in the van, found a goofy, almost boyish smile spreading across his face. The anticipation of seeing her again made butterflies stir in his stomach, each one reminding him just how much he missed her. He quietly praised himself for the little suggestion he had added to the video—partly because he thought it would make the video far more captivating, spark conversation, and get people talking, and partly because it had allowed him to feel closer to her even before they met.
Ethan sat there in the huge van, the low rumble of the engine mixing with the faint shuffle of movement inside, as everyone's attention shifted. For a moment, all eyes were on Rebecca, as was often the case in moments like this, but then something happened: they slowly stopped looking at her and turned to him instead. Each person's face told a different story.
Bill's expression was as composed as ever—he'd seen Ethan get like this countless times, a faint trace of amusement hiding behind his usual calm. Jessica and Stephanie shared a slight, knowing smirk, as if silently saying here we go again, while Rebecca herself looked utterly disgusted, though the faint twitch at the corner of her lips betrayed her affection—she loved him too much to ever stay truly annoyed. Dough, sitting quietly beside Ethan, simply looked bewildered, caught somewhere between concern and confusion. He already knew what was going through Ethan's mind at this exact moment—he'd seen it countless times before, the distant, obsessive focus that made Ethan disappear into his own head.
Stephanie, however, had never seen this exact look on Ethan before, and yet it was oddly familiar. She recognized it immediately. It was the same exact look her husband had worn when he was first pursuing her years ago—a love-struck, all-consuming kind of intensity. Occasionally, he still got that way now, and seeing Ethan like this made her smile softly to herself.
Rebecca just looked at him, her eyes steady as all the others began shaking their heads, muttering silently to themselves about this love-sick boy. She inhaled slowly, collecting her composure, and then said calmly, "Ethan? Ethan," calling him twice in that precise, measured tone, aware he might not hear her the first time. Her calm facade was perfect, professional, as always.
Before she could repeat herself, Dough, ever perceptive, lightly tapped Ethan on the shoulder. And finally, the superstar blinked, shook his head, and returned from La La Land to the van, leaving his private thoughts behind.
Rebecca made a small, deliberate coughing sound, drawing attention back to herself. "Good, now that we are all finally paying attention," she said, her voice calm but firm, and she shot Ethan a side-eye, which made him glance away in embarrassment, finally not caring who saw him like this. The moment was perfectly human, a small crack in the popstar's otherwise untouchable persona.
She began explaining the plan, her tone steady, authoritative. "So, let's start from the very beginning," she said, and everyone's expressions shifted to seriousness. Even though most of them were sure they already knew exactly what to do, whether from experience or prior discussions, Rebecca knew there were always details that needed to be spelled out—or some people who just needed to have the whole thing spoon-fed. (Yes, this part is about you, the reader.)
"So, we all know—the whole plan is essentially flair, right?" she continued, glancing around the van. Heads nodded in agreement—well, almost everyone. Stephanie looked momentarily confused. Truthfully, Rebecca didn't like the idea of an outsider listening in on these plans, but she reminded herself she wasn't really an outsider. And there was no way she would ever release information that could harm her husband.
Shaking the thought from her mind, Rebecca pressed on. "The whole plan is simple. It's essentially to cover up the fact that Ethan can't speak during the Grammys. We turn the entire award show into marketing for his new album."
Bill muttered under his breath, shaking his head slightly. "Despite the fact we only have one song down already, no producer, … but sure, let's do this." A ripple of laughter ran through the van, light and teasing, breaking some of the tension.
Rebecca didn't flinch. "We already have the name of the album, the lead track… and even though we are announcing it now, it doesn't mean we're in any hurry to release it," she continued, her voice calm, precise, the kind that could command a room without raising an octave. Then she paused, leaning slightly forward, returning everyone's focus to the plan. "But we're getting off track. Marcus, Devon, and Dough will be beside Ethan all night, adding to the marketing stunt. When you all reach the venue, remember to pose for the cameras, but no one—and I mean no one—should answer any questions."
Dough and Ethan nodded in unison, perfectly understanding their roles, while Marcus and Devon listened attentively from the front. Thanks to the plan, they had been allowed to enter the Grammys using the last two available quota spots, a privilege normally reserved for private security. Normally, those guards would be stationed at entrances or roaming the perimeter, keeping press and fans at bay. But tonight? They were seated inside the venue, surrounded by stars, a front-row view of the action, and both were ecstatic beyond belief.
Rebecca turned her gaze to Ethan, her expression softening just a fraction. "Well, it's not like we have to worry about you speaking," she said, the corner of her mouth twitching into a small smile. Dough, who had been trying desperately not to laugh, quickly covered his mouth with his hands, shaking as he fought to contain himself. The van erupted in laughter, the sound bubbling up and filling the space, while Ethan, ever mischievous, began poking Dough. Dough laughed harder now, hands dropping, a wide grin spreading across his face as he said, "Sorry, boss."
Rebecca, still smiling, lifted her tablet and waved a hand to regain focus. "Okay, okay, we aren't done yet. While the plan, in general, is easy, it still requires a lot of preparation. Let's check if we're still on track." She opened the tablet, tapping a checklist with practiced precision. "On my end, we've secured our seating arrangements. We'll be near Billie Eilish and Taylor, with Olivia Rodrigo's team seated behind us. We reached out to both Billie and Taylor's teams about the marketing plan and your inability to speak due to it, Ethan—they've fully cooperated. As for Olivia, we haven't had a reply yet, but we're prepared in case any situation arises."
Everyone nodded, absorbing the information. Rebecca's eyes swept over the rest of the team. "For the label executives and award show executives who will speak to you during breaks…" Her gaze landed on Jessica, who returned a confident nod. She had already briefed the executives, ensured they understood the plan, and prevented any potential misunderstandings. The Grammy executives themselves had been informed of the concept—and they loved it taking away any possibility of them thinking he was disregarding the award. Despite the fact that many big celebs abused the grammy they felt it would be best if Ethan despite his level who was still at least 2-3 years in the industry to not offend a giant like the Grammys especially since he has not actually received the award yet even though they already had confirmation he would get at least 1 or 2 tonight.
Rebecca nodded, moving forward. "As for the other stars, you all should show no facial expression. I don't care if it's your favorite star or someone you admire—we need this to work." Her eyes landed on Dough, sharp and pointed. "Make sure you make a mental note of who is who so we can contact them after and explain the whole thing." Dough nodded solemnly, taking the responsibility seriously.
"And for the award show itself," she continued, eyes moving toward Bill, who tapped his chest pocket, a hint of pride and calm in his gesture. "Don't worry, I have my speeches ready." Rebecca simply nodded, acknowledging his preparedness.
She was about to continue when Marcus's voice cut through, calm but excited. "We have arrived." Rebecca's body shifted instantly, the calm façade replaced with swift efficiency. "The video is ready, Ethan. Remember, we need the car shot with you and Sydney to edit it fully." Ethan nodded, focused. Dough added, "Miss Sydney has agreed to it and will be waiting for us."
Rebecca's mind raced for a moment, a flicker of panic crossing her face. What am I forgetting? What am I forgetting? Her head moved back and forth almost frantically as she ran through her mental checklist. Then, a soft hand touched her forearm. She looked up to find Ethan smiling reassuringly at her, his clear blue eyes meeting hers, silently conveying, Don't worry. I got this.
Instantly, her tension melted. She inhaled deeply, the panic retreating. Vivienne began speaking to Dough and the others, reminding them they would not join Ethan and the main four for any photoshoots. The expressions they needed to convey had already been agreed upon. The rest of the team began final preparations: Stephanie ran through last-minute checks, Bill pumped himself up quietly, Jessica adjusted her attire with meticulous care.
Ethan moved toward the door, ready to step out, when Rebecca gently held his hand. He looked down at her, searching her face for guidance. She smiled softly, her voice calm but firm. "I'm not going to say much. I know you're ready. You've done more than this before. Just remember the image you are going to portray tonight. Remember these three words…"
She leaned in slightly, her gaze steady, letting the weight of them sink in:
Superstar. Detached. Powerful.