THE PROPHECY || t.s.

01. lights, camera, bitch, smile

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"Where are we supposed to go?" Slate asked as our security guards started driving us closer to the stadium building. The times we'd been to the stadium before had been times when we were more like normal people; sitting in the stands with everyone else, before I became part of Echo Heart, and back when our family outings mostly revolved around going to football games so Slate could see what his future looked like as an athlete after high school.

Being twelve years older than me, I could only really remember life from when Slate was in his last years of high school and beyond. He'd been the quarterback of his school's football team and had earned a football scholarship to UCLA, which had led to us and our mom moving into the heart of Los Angeles. Slate graduated from UCLA with a degree in sports management, and had almost immediately been recruited to play as the quarterback for the Los Angeles Chargers. Our mom had been over the moon when she found out, and as Slate started his football career, Mom had started working twice as hard to get me involved in the life of stardom as well.

In all honesty, it was my relation to Slate that had secured me an audition for Echo Heart. Slate Silver was a name known nationwide for securing the Chargers multiple wins, and being his little sister had gotten me in more recording studios than I could count on one hand. Obviously, once Echo Heart had taken off in the music industry, I no longer needed Slate's fame to thrive; I'd begun to create my own. Still, the fact that we were famous siblings meant that having security surrounding us when we attended highly populated events wouldn't hurt anything.

"Becca said that there's a back entrance we should go in," I said. "I think that's what Tree told her we should go in, and then Mark is supposed to walk us to the VIP tent." I nodded towards the front of the car, where Mark was sitting in the driver's seat.

He nodded in agreement. "That's what I heard, too, Miss."

"Alright," Slate said with a shrug. "Mark, do you have any idea how to get to this back entrance?"

"I believe it's right up here, Mr. Silver," Mark replied, as we turned down a narrow backroad behind the stadium to where there was a large array of golf carts and an opening into the building. "Though I'm not sure exactly where we should leave the car."

"We can get out and just wait here for you," Slate offered. "If you want to try to figure out where to park the car, that is."

Mark looked at us with wary eyes. "Don't leave this area. Miss Swift has security guards here, too, but I don't need to go chasing around the stadium for the two of you. Got it?"

"Got it," Slate and I nodded in unison before stepping out of the car. I knew why Mark was concerned; our mom had probably put him up to making sure that Slate and I stayed out of trouble and just did what we needed to do in order to get the good press that Becca had expressed me needing so badly.

Surprisingly, my mom had eaten up the story that Becca fed her. She didn't seem to have too many questions, other than the obvious one of who would be accompanying me to the concert as my plus-one. Slate was the easy choice, as long as he was free; he was older than me, a full-fledged adult, my brother, and a football player. He'd told me in advance that he would have to leave by ten o'clock so that he could make it to football practice in the morning, and our mom had seemed to be okay with that, as long as I promised her that I wouldn't stray from the security guards and that I knew where to meet them if anything went wrong and when I needed to be picked up from the concert.