The morning after the pilot stream felt like coming down from sugar high.
Amelia was in the kitchen, coaxing her own coffee machine into life while Chase sat at the island, checking his phone. He scrolled through the analytics, his thumb flicking past graphs.
“Vincenzo just texted,” Chase said. “He says the test audience metrics are ‘beyond projections.’ Apparently, the chat really leaned into the rant about battle passes. I’m a hit with the disgruntled gamer demographic.”
“And my bee theme thing?” Amelia asked, wincing as she poured the milk.
“He says ‘ABeeWin’ is trending internally. They’re already talking about the aesthetic for the next one—oversized glasses, specifically.” Amelia groaned, leaning her forehead against the cool surface of the cabinet.
Chase walked over and kissed the top of her head. “Think of it as a costume, Ames. Like AnimeVerse. Just… try not to throw any drinks at me this time.”
“As long as there are no Karin Kanzuki cosplayers around, we’re good,” she mumbled into his shirt.
Chase’s phone buzzed on the counter. He tapped the speaker icon. “Good morning, influencers!” Vincenzo’s voice filled the kitchen. “I hope you’re rested, because the data isn’t just singing—it’s a symphony. I wanted to drop a little signing bonus on you. A token of appreciation for a successful launch.”
“We already got the bonus, Vinny,” Chase said cautiously.
“Not money. I have two tickets—front row, VIP—for the Twenty One Pilots show in Philly. My people scraped your old social profiles, Amelia.”
Amelia froze, her spoon hovering over the sink. The excitement hit her before the suspicion did.
Chase looked at her, his eyes narrowed. “That’s a generous invasion of privacy, Vincenzo,” he said.
“I’ll go!” Amelia blurted out. “I mean… Thank you. That’s incredible.”
“Perfect. Enjoy the show. Oh, and Chase? Grey has some thoughts on the rollout strategy. I’m putting him on.” There was a brief click of static, and then Grey’s voice—dry, flat, and oddly rhythmic—came through the line. He spoke about “metallurgy” and “crucibles,” proposing a high-stress location shoot for a Halloween special.
“Dudleytown,” Grey said.
Amelia laughed nervously. “Okay, you got me. Great prank, Grey.”
“No prank,” Vincenzo cut back in. “It’s an El Viento property now. We acquired the land trust years ago under a pseudonym. No local police, no hikers. Just you, the cameras, and whatever the legends say is waiting in the trees.”
“But the stories,” Amelia stammered, looking at Chase. “The ‘Village of the Damned.’ People go insane there, Chase. They say it’s actually haunted.”
“Rumors are just unoptimized data,” Grey interrupted. “There are no ghosts in Dudleytown, Amelia. Just rocks and trees. However, the metrics love a ghost story, so we’re enhancing the environment. Audio cues, controlled stimuli, the works. Fear bonds the audience to the creator.”
Amelia’s breath hitched. They were turning a cursed forest into a theme park attraction for views. Vincenzo assured them it was the “safest forest in the Northeast,” claiming that if there were souls there, El Viento already owned them. Chase agreed, calling it a “controlled environment.”
They drove to the café, the “Haunted Forest” hanging between them.
Amelia suggested taking Tabitha to the concert, wanting to offer a real peace offering to the girl who used to be a stranger. Chase cautioned her, reminding her that they needed to keep the Viento connection close to the vest. Snakes was already whispering about “sugar traps,” and a VIP gift from a corporate overlord might be the thing that broke Tabitha’s fragile trust.
“Agreed,” Amelia said as they pulled up to Summers Brew. “I’ll feel it out. Concert talk can wait.”
They walked in laughing, the absurdity of the morning forcing a brief, manic levity. They were mid-way through a story about a disastrous college Model UN incident when they reached the counter. Tabitha was there, looking like she’d been waiting for them to ruin her peace.
She scribbled on a cup before they could even speak: BRIEFCASE & LUNCHBOX.
“Morning, Tabs,” Chase said, leaning over. “Still trying to be the fortune cookie of morning refreshments?”
“Use any markers to sign important paperwork lately?” she countered, eyeing his briefcase.
They talked about college, and Chase even admitted that his constant teasing of Amelia back then had been a defense mechanism. Amelia watched Tabitha’s face soften, the girl cataloging. But the moment was shattered when the door swung open and Snakes shuffled in.
He approached the counter and slapped a matchbook from El Viento Securities down next to them. The cover was scratched until the letters were a white, paper fuzz. “School days are over,” Snakes said, his voice a low. “Gas can change the way the world looks, Wright. Don’t burn yourself up lighting a match just to see the path.”
“Snakes, not today,” Chase groaned, rubbing his temples.
The janitor ignored him, his eyes fixed on Amelia. “And you—don’t mistake a spark for a promise. The Registrar knows where to file it. Fiery passion can burn down homes.” He shuffled away.
“That was… ominous,” Amelia whispered, staring at the matchbook.
“Snakes thinks the lobby TV is listening to him,” Chase dismissed. “He’s a professional conspiracy theorist.”
Amelia shivered, thinking of the VIM cameras and the “Smart” technology they were currently tethered to.
“So,” Amelia said, leaning in. “If you liked Twenty One Pilots, I need to ask… How do you feel about Muse?”
Tabitha didn’t look up. “They’re fine.”
“Fine? Tabs, they’re space opera with guitars.”
They went back and forth – Gorillaz, Of Monsters and Men – bonding over the shared language of playlists.
Finally, Amelia played her card.
“You won’t believe it,” Amelia said, pulling out her phone. “The algorithm heard us. East Coast tour dates just dropped for Twenty One Pilots.”
Tabitha’s eyes widened. “Oh.”
“And,” Amelia leaned in closer, dropping her voice. “I actually have an extra—”
She stopped.
Chase cleared his throat. Once.
Amelia didn’t notice.
He cleared it again. Sharper.
She froze mid-sentence.
They locked eyes.
“I have an extra… feeling,” Amelia pivoted, her voice pitching up. “That they’re going to sell out fast. Scalpers and all that. We should keep an eye on it.”
Tabitha blinked. “Right. Scalpers are brutal.”
“Exactly,” Amelia nodded quickly “So we should… you know. Keep an eye on it.”
Chase relaxed his shoulders, taking a sip of his coffee.
Amelia cleared her throat. “But seriously. We should plan it. Or even just hang out before then. Listen to music. Compare playlists. Judge each other’s choices.”
Tabitha raised an eyebrow. “Judge?”
“Lovingly,” Amelia said. “Mostly.”
A hint of a smile grew on Tabitha’s face.
Amelia held out her phone. “Trade numbers? So we can coordinate. In case… you know, tickets become available.”
“Oh. Uh. Yeah.”
Tabitha handed Amelia her phone, mildly flinching when Amelia’s fingers brushed hers. Amelia typed quickly, handed it back with a smile.
“There,” Amelia said. “Now you can’t pretend we don’t exist between shifts.”
Chase made a wounded noise. “She pretends I don’t exist all the time.”
“That’s because you’re annoying,” Tabitha said, tucking her phone away.
Amelia laughed. “Okay. We should go. But text me. Seriously.”
Tabitha nodded once. “Sure.”
They left the café and stepped back out into the grey drizzle, the bell giving a soft, undecided note behind them.
“Why did you stop me?” Amelia asked as they reached the car. “I just wanted to do something nice for her.”
“Too soon, Ames. She’s suspicious. If you drop a VIP Viento package on her now, she’ll think we’re recruiters.” Chase started the engine, the wipers swishing back and forth. “I saw it when I first started coming in. I think she had a thing for me, honestly. That look where they insult you because they don’t know how to talk to you.”
Amelia snorted. “You think everyone has the hots for you, Wright.”
“I’m serious. But I kept a respectable distance. She’s like a little sister. A terrifying, judgmental, goth-flavored little sister.”
Amelia smirked, leaning back in the seat. “Careful. I was nineteen once, and I recall having a pretty massive crush on you, too.”
“That was different,” Chase said, tapping the wheel. “The math was different. Even then. With Tabitha? She’s a kid. I’m in my thirties.”
Amelia watched the city blur by through the rain. When she was a freshman and Chase was the “mature student,” the eight-year gap had felt like a canyon. But now, as they settled into this strange new career together, the bridge had finally been built. They were just… evolving.
“It is different,” Amelia agreed softly. “We’re just boring, responsible adults now. We buy coffee and chat with friends.”
“Exactly. No SilverTongue scandals allowed.”
They drove off into the rain, feeling safe in their bubble, unaware that back at the café, Tabitha didn’t see boring adults.
She saw the only story in town that was worth her time.