đ§ Song Recommendation: Wake Up In The Sky by Gucci Mane, Bruno Mars, Kodak Black.
...
Von immediately tried to avert his gaze, pretending to be interested in a rack of belts. But it was too late. He saw Julian's face light up with recognition. The boy said something to the sales clerk, grabbed his bags, and walked straight out of the high-end section toward Von.
"What's good, man?" Julian called out, his voice smooth and friendly.
Von turned, feigning mild surprise. He adjusted his grip on his pile of clothes. "Hey... You. What a surprise to see you here."
Julian stopped in front of him, grinning. He outstretched a hand. "Nice to meet you properly. I'm Julian."
"Von." Von shook the hand. It was a firm, confident handshake.
Julian looked at the pile of clothes in Von's arms and then back at his face. "You doing the LA haul? You must have qualified?"
Von nodded. "Yeah, I did. You too?"
"Yes, I did," Julian let out a breath, looking genuinely relieved. "Glory be to Jesus. I was sweating bullets in there."
"Right," Von said, a bit thrown off with his humility.
"Well, congrats." Von said as he turned to head toward the register. "I should probably pay for this stuff before my arms fall off."
"I'll tag along," Julian said cheerfully, falling into step beside him. "So, how does it feel? Making it through?"
"Feels great," Von said, placing his items on the counter one by one. "A bit surreal, but great."
"Tell me about it," Julian laughed. He leaned against the counter, looking at the ceiling. "I was a wreck. Honestly, I didn't really have a choice not to make it. My family... let's just say the pressure is on to go all the way and win. If I had flopped in the auditions, I don't think I could have gone home."
Von paused, looking at him. Julian's smile was still there, but it didn't reach his eyes. There was a genuine anxiety behind the designer clothes.
"What about you?" Julian asked, turning back to Von. "Are you nervous?"
Von thought about the question. He thought about his empty bank account, about Nana, about his dream to become a star, and this being his second chance. The pressure was immense, but it was a different kind of pressure. It was survival, not expectation.
He shook his head. "Not really."
Julian blinked. "Seriously? How?"
"Because," Von said, picking up the denim jacket. "If you spend all your time worrying about what the judges think, or what your family thinks, you forget to sing. You just have to do it for yourself first. If you enjoy it, they'll enjoy it."
Julian stared at him for a second, processing the words. Then, his shoulders visibly relaxed.
"Do it for yourself..." Julian murmured. He looked at Von with new respect. "Thanks, man. That's... that's actually really solid advice. I needed to hear that."
They chatted for a few more minutes while the cashier scanned the items. Von found out that Julian wasn't actually based in Miami; he was a student at the Frost School of Music, but his family lived in Los Angeles.
"Alright, that will be everything?" the cashier asked, popping her gum.
"Yes, please," Von said.
The cashier hit a button. The total flashed on the screen in bright red numbers.
$894.50
Von froze. 'Fuck.'
He stared at the number. He had mentally calculated around $600, maybe $650 tops.
$894. That was nearly everything he had. If he paid this, he'd be landing in LA with zero cash for emergencies, food, or transport.
The line behind them was starting to grow. Von felt the heat rise up his neck.
"Um," Von cleared his throat. "Okay. I think... I think I need to put a few things back."
He reached for the some shirts and one of the pairs of jeans. "I'll leave these."
"Why are you returning them?" Julian asked, frowning. "They looked good. Don't you want them?"
Von hesitated. He could lie, say he changed his mind. But he was too tired for games.
"I do," Von said bluntly. "But it's past my budget. So out they go."
He pushed the them toward the cashier.
"Wait," Julian said.
Julian reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, matte-black card with gold lettering. He slid it onto the counter, right over Von's hand.
"Use this," Julian told the cashier.
The cashier picked up the card, and her eyes widened. She looked from the card to Julian, and her posture straightened immediately.
"Mr. West," she stammered, abandoning her gum-chewing. "I- I didn't realize. Sorry for the wait."
"It's fine," Julian said with a breezy smile. "He's with me. Put it under the Family & Friends discount."
The cashier nodded vigorously. She tapped a few keys and screen flickered.
-50% DISCOUNT APPLIED
The new total flashed: $447
Von stared at the screen, then at Julian.
'A fifty percent discount? Who is this guy?'
"Wow, I'm very grateful for this," Von said quietly, not daring to refuse.
"Consider it payment for the therapy session," Julian grinned. "Besides, my dad owns a stake in the parent company of this chain. If I don't use the points, they expire. You're actually doing me a favor."
'A Young Master, huh?' Von thought, shaking his head.
He tapped his debit card against the reader. The transaction went through instantly. He was leaving with everything he wanted, and he was still nearly $200 under his original budget.
"Thanks," Von said earnestly once again as he grabbed the bags. "Really. That was... huge."
"What are friends for?" Julian said. He checked his diamond-encrusted watch. "Shoot, my driver is probably circling the block. I gotta run."
He pulled out his phone. "Let me get your number, though. We should link up when we get to the hotel."
Von recited his number, and Julian sent a quick text so he'd have his.
"See you in Hollywood, Von," Julian said, giving him a quick fist bump before turning and striding out of the store, looking like he owned the place, which, apparently, he sort of did.
Von watched him go with a complicated expression on his face.
"Rich, handsome, talented, humble, and super kind as well," Von muttered to himself, picking up his bags. "Kill me already."
He smiled wryly, shook his head, and turned to walk toward the food court. He had to find Zack and tell him that he'd just made friends with a young master.