SuperStar!

The door to the dressing room swung open again, immediately drawing everyone's attention. Heads turned as Bill entered, his entire appearance disheveled—his shirt slightly wrinkled, hair messy, and his usual composed demeanor replaced with exhaustion. His breathing was heavy as he stepped inside, not alone this time.

"I need water," he muttered, heading straight for the fridge without another word. He yanked it open, grabbed a bottle, and chugged it down as if he had just survived a desert trek.

Ethan, still recovering from the media ambush, barely paid him any attention. His focus was drawn to the two newcomers standing a few feet away. His expression softened as he smiled at them. "Hey, how are you guys?" he asked, taking a few steps closer.

The two were teenagers—a boy and a girl. The girl appeared to be hiding slightly behind her older brother, her posture shy and hesitant. Ethan recognized that nervous energy instantly and decided to approach them gently he didn't need anyone else passing out.

The boy spoke first, glancing at Bill and then back at Ethan. "Hello, uh—I saw him." He gestured toward Bill, who was still drinking water like it was his lifeline. Ethan, briefly distracted, stared enviously at Bill's chilled bottle before the boy's voice pulled him back.

"I just wanted to say thanks—for not pressing charges... and for the backstage passes. I really appreciate it. Seriously, thank you so much," the boy said earnestly, his voice carrying genuine gratitude. Then, nudging his sister forward, he added, "This is my sister, Claire. She's a huge, huge fan. She really wanted to meet you."

Ethan turned his attention to Claire, smiling warmly. "Hey, Claire."

The girl grinned shyly before blurting out, "Me like your hair."

There was a brief silence, then Claire giggled, clearly embarrassed. Ethan burst into laughter, and her brother groaned, rubbing his temples. "Claire, what's wrong with you?" he muttered.

Still laughing, Ethan waved it off. "It's all cool." Then, his tone turning more casual, he asked, "So, uh—about, y'know…" He gestured vaguely, prompting Jason to realize what he meant.

"Oh, about them?" Jason sighed. "Well, we left them. I already called my parents. My dad is outside, which reminds me—we should be going. Thanks again for everything!" He started tugging his sister toward the exit. "Claire, come on, let's go."

"Wait," Ethan called, stopping them in their tracks. He gently took Claire's phone from her hand, leaving her momentarily stunned. Turning the camera toward them, he held up the phone. "Alright—cheese!" He snapped a picture of the three of them together before handing the phone back to the now-giggling Claire.

"You're a cool guy, Jason," Ethan said with a smirk. "Don't worry about that girl."

Jason, shaking his head, quickly replied, "Oh, don't worry about her. I'm done with her." Then, as if a switch flipped in his mind, his expression turned dreamy. "I've found another one."

Ethan chuckled, watching the boy drift into a lovestruck daze as he and Claire exited. Little did either of them know that their paths would cross again in the future.

The moment they were gone, Bill, having finished his water, let out a long sigh. "About the press," he started, running a hand through his hair, "we need to do something."

Ethan, still feeling the effects of the earlier ambush, grabbed a bottle of water for himself, taking a few gulps before Rebecca, who was busy typing away on her phone, spoke up without looking at them. "Yeah, about that. We're going to need to restrict their access. From now on, we'll only allow maybe two or three press reps per show. They went way too far. You saw what they did to Taylor and Eminem too."

That caught Ethan's attention. He lowered his water bottle and frowned. "Wait—what did they do to Taylor and Eminem?"

Bill took a breath, about to explain, but Ethan's anxiety had already kicked in. "That's bad. How could you allow that? How are they? Did they get hurt?"

Rebecca snorted, barely looking up. "Ethan, calm down. Both of them are world-class stars. What happened to them was probably just another Tuesday night. They're fine."

Bill nodded in agreement. "Yeah, man, they're good. Taylor's already on a plane heading off to finish her album."

Ethan exhaled in relief but noticed the hesitation in Rebecca's voice. "And Eminem? What about him? Did something happen?"

Bill hesitated. "Well… about him, he's…"

Five minutes later…

Inside Ethan Jones' dressing room, Jessica walked in with a bright smile, excitement practically radiating off her. She clapped her hands together, barely able to contain herself as she called out, "Guess what! Guess what!"

Her enthusiasm, however, was met with an underwhelming response. The only people in the room were Rebecca, as usual glued to her phone, and Bill, rummaging through the mini-fridge, munching on a Twix bar.

Jessica's excitement dimmed slightly as she glanced around. "Where's Ethan?" she asked, eager to share her news.

Bill, speaking between bites of his snack, shrugged. "He went to meet Eminem. You know, for what he came here for in the first place."

Jessica sighed, a little disappointed. "Oh well, I'll just text or call him then." She shook her head before turning to Rebecca. "By the way, about the girl who came up with the idea for the song…"

Rebecca barely glanced up from her phone. "You mean Bella?"

Jessica's lips curled into a grin. "Yep, her."

The conversation continued between them, but meanwhile, Ethan was making his way through the dimly lit back alley behind the concert venue. He had pulled on an oversized jersey, his hood drawn low over his face, making sure he stayed incognito. The last thing he needed was to be mobbed by fans or ambushed by the press again.

The air was cool, the distant sound of the lingering crowd still audible in the background. He walked briskly, his hands tucked into his pockets, until he reached the location Bill had directed him to.

As he peeked around the corner, a sudden burst of bright light flashed in his face, forcing him to shield his eyes. His heartbeat spiked—was it a camera? Had the press found him?

The light moved closer, and as his vision adjusted, he realized it was the headlights of a sleek, black SUV rolling up in front of him.

The vehicle came to a smooth stop, and a moment later, the back door swung open. Inside, buried under a stack of papers, sat Eminem.

The legendary rapper barely looked up before saying in his usual deadpan voice, "Ethan, my man. Get in. The plane's waiting."