[EMY]
"Your name is really Angel?" I asked, blinking at the petite woman across from me.
My eyes were practically bowling balls at this point, ready to roll off the table.
Who would think that it was her real name?
She was tiny, violet hair in neat braids, freckles scattered over her cheeks. Cute, but plain — the kind of plain that producers would sigh at before sending her to a makeover team.
Nothing a little eyeliner and stage lighting couldn't fix, and of course, a bunch of surgeries and derma.
But her voice? Her voice was a weapon. It was idol material, through and through.
"Yes." Angel smiled shyly. "And you're . . . Emerald Light?"
I almost choked on my drink. "Ugh, please. Just call me Emy." I leaned forward conspiratorially. "By the way, order anything you want, my treat."
My wallet whimpered in despair, but I ignored it.
Good first impressions mattered, and I was the one who begged her to meet me here.
