under his control

Kale POV Fuck... I had never felt so nervous, not until now. My hands were shaking so bad my guitar felt like it might slide straight out of my grip. I kept wiping my palms on my jeans like that was going to magically fix anything, but it didn't, and nothing was fixing this because my name was about to be called for California's Got Talent. My entire life, yeah, my whole stupid, desperate, all-or-nothing dream, was waiting on the other side of that black curtain that smelled like sweat, dust, and failed auditions. “Kale McDonalds.” Shit... that was me. I thought about running back to my dorm and back to being irrelevant, because throwing up on live TV was not exactly the career launch I had planned. I didn’t run anyway because I'd wanted this since I was a kid. So, I stepped out onto the stage trying to hold my feelings together. The damn lights hit first, bright enough to blind me, and for a second everything went white. I squeezed my eyes shut then opened them again, and that worked the magic... my vision cleared. I saw the audience clearly, and the judges too. There were three of them seated on a long table with serious faces. Glasses Lady on the left with her kind eyes and soft vibe. Man Bun in the middle already looked bored, like he was mentally somewhere else. Then the third judge, fuck... the man looked too good, like a Greek god. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his extremely large arms and a perfectly sculpted body that pressed over his shirt. My throat closed instantly. Then came the silence... every eye was on me. I totally zoned out, the camera clicking slowed, and even my heart that was beating so fast almost paused. I was definitely going to pass out. “You okay there, honey?” Glasses Lady asked gently, instantly pulling me back to reality. When I opened my mouth, nothing came out, just air, panic, and regret. Glasses Lady smiled and whispered something to the hot man, then she looked at me again. "Just calm down and sing, ok?" she said with a reassuring voice. I dragged in a breath, then I let it out, still shaking... okay, we're doing breathing, that’s good. I closed my eyes, forcing my focus on my guitar and voice, because if I kept looking at him, I was going to forget every lyric I’d ever written. My fingers found the strings. The first note was wobbly, weak, and almost died on impact. My brain immediately went... nope, we’re done here, but I kept going. The second note was better and the third was steady, by the fourth something clicked, and suddenly I wasn’t there anymore because I was back in my dorm at 2AM writing songs I’d never let anyone hear. I sang, and yeah, my voice cracked on alone, and for a split second I wanted to disappear, but I didn’t stop because it sounded real and maybe real mattered more than perfect. When I opened my eyes, the room was quiet. Not the bad kind of quiet but the good kind. The kind where you know people are actually listening. Glasses Lady looked like she was fighting tears while Man Bun was sitting up straight now, fully awake. The hot guy... he was leaning forward with arms on the table and eyes locked on me, still serious but different, focused like I was something he didn’t understand yet but wanted to. “Kale,” Glasses Lady said softly, “that was beautiful. It’s a yes from me. A big yes.” My heart jumped, and Man Bun nodded and said, “You’re rough, but you’re real. That matters. So yeah, it’s a yes,” and two yeses. Oh my God... two... My knees actually went weak, and I probably looked like an i***t just standing there, blinking like my brain had stopped working. Mr hot didn’t speak right away, he just watched me like he could see straight through every messy, hopeful, stupid part of me. “You’re untrained,” he said finally, his voice was low and calm. “You’re messy.” My heart dropped. “But,” he added after a pause that nearly killed me, “you’re a star.” He called me a star TF. “It’s a yes from me.” Three yeses, I did it, holy s**t. I actually did it. I wanted to scream and cry and call my mom and collapse all at once, but instead I just stood there and whispered, “Thank you." I somehow made it backstage, where everything was chaos, people hugging, crying, and someone throwing up in a trash can, but I barely noticed because I just found a wall and leaned on it. The three yeses and him calling me a star kept running in my head. I was still trying to process that when the air shifted, heavier. I didn’t even need to look up, but I did anyway, and yeah, it was him. Up close, he was even worse, taller, broader, real, and he smelled like roses for a man. He held a black card between two fingers and said, “Hey kid." I stiffened. “You’ve got something,” he continued. “Most people in there don’t.” He handed me the card, and our fingers brushed. It felt warm, slightly rough, and yeah, he held it there a second longer than necessary, and my brain completely stopped functioning. I looked down at the card... Jace Monroe, JMC Studios. Jace, so that was his name. “Come to my studio,” he said calmly. “Competitions waste people like you. I don’t.” My grip tightened on the card. “This is about music,” he added casually, "nothing else.” Sure, nothing else. Then he stepped back and walked off like he owned the entire place, and honestly, he probably did. I stood there staring at the card in my hand with my heart doing something fast and reckless in my chest. Fuck, what did I just say yes to?