TRICKED

CHAPTER - 1

LYRA

Backstage, the pulsating beat of the music echoed through the air, setting the stage for the performance that awaited. The urgent voice crackled through the walkie-talkie on my right, slicing through the anticipation in the room.

My manager and best friend, a dynamic force of energy, tapped her foot impatiently, her expression a mix of excitement and determination.

"The music has started, be ready, I repeat, be ready," the urgent message commanded, underscoring the gravity of the moment.

I stole a glance at my reflection in the mirror, the red lipstick in my hand a bold statement against the backstage chaos. With a mischievous glint in my eye, I teased my manager by slowly smacking my lips, drawing out the tension between us. Her response was a signature glare, one that I welcomed with a smirk, savouring the camaraderie that defined our friendship.

"Lee, you need to go on stage, NOW," she commanded, thrusting my cherished purple and black glittery guitar into my hands. I mock-gasped, adding a touch of drama to the moment. "Cazzo! (Shit) Careful! She's precious, you know."

The air buzzed with a potent mix of nerves and excitement as I stood up from the chair, the weight of the guitar grounding me for the performance ahead. The stage beckoned, a realm where passion and music converged. As I took a deep breath, I couldn't help but feel the electricity in the air, the anticipation of the crowd seeping through the backstage walls.

The journey from the chaotic backstage to the spotlight on stage was a transition from the realm of anticipation to the realm of performance. With each step, the adrenaline coursed through my veins, and the cheers from the crowd became a distant yet powerful hum. The world narrowed down to the spotlight, the music, and the connection forged between performer and audience.

Little did they know, the backstage antics were just the beginning of a story that unfolded under the glaring lights. The music became a narrator, weaving tales of passion, rebellion, and the intricate dance between performer and instrument.

The stage was set, the audience held their breath, and in that moment, the journey from backstage to the spotlight became a novel-worthy symphony of emotions.

Kate, my manager and confidante, was the unsung hero of my journey in the chaotic city of New York. She wasn't just a manager; she was my best friend, my roommate, and the first person I had trusted when I arrived in the bustling city.

Despite being two years my senior, Kate and I were as different as night and day. A native New Yorker, she embodied simplicity with her black-framed glasses and an orange bob that brought to mind Velma Dinkley from the Scooby-Doo cartoon series.

In contrast to her naturally introverted, snarky, and bossy demeanor, I exuded an extroverted and, as Kate lovingly put it, "bitchy babe" vibe. It was a combination that seemed unlikely, yet miraculously, we became the best of friends.

Kate's iconic stony gaze was met with my laughter as I reassured her, "Chill, Kitty Kate. I know when it's the right time to show up. I created this music, after all." A playful pat on her shoulder accompanied the donning of my treasured guitar, the gem that accompanied me on every stage. With a casual bypass of Kate, I headed towards the stairs.

The relentless walkie-talkie interrupted our banter once again. "Backstage 01, where's Lyra? Make her go on the stage now!" The urgency in the voice blared through the device, prompting me to give Kate a mocking salute over my shoulder before ascending the stairs toward the main stage.

Positioned five steps down, concealed from the view of the eagerly awaiting audience, I adjusted my mic with a final check. A deep breath preceded the moment when I shouted into the mic, "Ciao, what's up, you people out there!"