Rise of the Zillionaire Star

Chapter 2: Parasite of the Industry

Jaylen stepped out from where he stood, his heart pounding in his chest like a war drum.

“Mia.” His voice cracked, more from the betrayal than the sight before him. Mia jerked back from Blake’s lips with zero shame in her eyes. Blake didn’t even flinch. If anything, his smug grin widened as he turned to face Jaylen, wrapping a possessive arm around her waist like he had won a trophy.

“Didn’t know we had an audience,” Blake said, smirking. “Hope you took notes.”

Mia’s expression was blank. There was no guilt and no panic on her face. Just mild irritation, like Jaylen had interrupted her manicure.

Jaylen stared and then took paces backwards, the disbelief still catching in his throat. “Mia… what the hell is this?” He asked fiercely. 

She let out a small sigh and pulled herself gently from Blake’s grip, walking toward Jaylen in slow and deliberate steps like she was approaching a child who didn’t know better.

“You shouldn’t have come here, Jay,” she said in a lowered tone. “I told you to stay in your lane.”

“My lane?” he repeated, stunned by her words. “You’re kissing him In public? After everything… after everything I’ve done for you?”

She tilted her head with her eyes narrowing. “What have you done, Jaylen? Huh? Freestyled in parking lots? Hung around real talent like a leech, hoping someone throws you a bone? Let’s be real…you’re not my partner. You’re a project. And I’m tired of funding it.”

The words hit harder than Blake’s fist ever could.

Jaylen staggered back. “You said you believed in me. You told me my voice was my lyrics and they meant something…”

“They do,” she said, sarcasm thick in her tone. “To broke impoverished kids on street corners with nothing better to listen to.”

The crowd that had slowly gathered around let out a collective "Oooooh."

A camera phone clicked on. Another started recording. People whispered and laughed like they were watching a live reality show unfold.

Jaylen looked around. The lights of the courtyard suddenly felt like a stage. Only he wasn’t the star, he was the punchline.

Blake stepped forward with his voice loud enough to cut through the laughter from the crowd. 

“Let’s not pretend here, Jaylen. You’re not an artist. You’re a fan with dreams bigger than your bank account. The industry has no room for pity cases.”

“Damn,” someone muttered from the crowd.

Jaylen clenched his fists. His entire body trembled. It was not just from anger, but from the shame and from the weight of every sacrifice he’d made to chase this dream. And now, with the whole industry watching, they were stomping it into the dirt.

A tall man in shades, one of Blake’s entourage shoved a phone in Jaylen’s face.

“Yo, say something for the gram, bro. Tell the world how it feels to get your girl stolen live.” 

The crowd erupted in laughter again.

Mia turned to walk away with Blake, but Jaylen found his voice.

“This isn’t over,” he said through gritted teeth. “You used me. You laughed at me. But you’ll see. I’m gonna…”

Mia spun around, her eyes blazing.

“You’re gonna what, Jaylen? Make another SoundCloud link no one will click? Wake up! You’re a ghost in this industry. A nobody. A parasite clinging to people with real careers. We’ve all just been too nice to say it to your face.”

And then…. smack!

Her palm met his cheek with a sharp crack. Gasps rippled through the crowd. The phones caught every angle. Someone laughed and yelled, “Ohhh she slapped the dream outta him!”

Jaylen stood frozen. The sting on his face was nothing compared to the searing fire in his chest.

Mia tossed her hair, stepped back beside Blake, and blew a kiss at the cameras.

“Do us all a favor,” she said coldly. “Disappear once and for all!”

And with that, she walked off, Blake’s arm draped around her like he had just claimed a medal. The crowd began to disperse, already uploading the footage to their socials.

Jaylen stood there, alone in the courtyard spotlight, a cracked dream bleeding out at his feet.

…….

By morning, the damage was done.

Jaylen sat on the ripped edge of his mattress in his crumbling apartment. The ceiling was leaking in two places. The single fan rattling above him was like it was on life support. His phone buzzed constantly on the cracked table next to him.

He checked his phone and he saw that It was the mocking video trending. Hashtags on t*****r surfaced, ‘T*****r: #UselessJaylen trending worldwide.’

He stared at the screen. The thumbnail was a freeze-frame of his mid-expression, caught somewhere between stunned and broken. Underneath the video was comment after comment.

 “LMAO dude thought he was somebody”

“He said he was gonna blow up. Well… he exploded, alright.”

“When your talent is 1% and your ego is 99%.”

 “Even the slap had more rhythm than his rap.”

His eyes blurred. He tried to scroll, to look away and to close the app, but it was like watching a car crash in slow motion, and he was the one behind the wheel.

His voicemail had twelve missed calls, none from friends. Just his landlord threatening eviction and a small venue canceling his weekend set. They didn’t want the “bad PR.”

He picked up the flash drive from the corner of the room. Its casing cracked from the previous night and clutched it tightly. His music career was gone before it started.  His face, his name was also a joke. His relationship was a fake right from the begining. His support system was nonexistent.

All he had was hunger and humiliation.

Jaylen dropped the flash drive onto the floor and stared at the cracked ceiling. His dream was dead right in his face.

And the world was dancing and cheering on its grave.

……..

Jaylen opened his phone again after some hours. The video now had 6.4 million views.

He scrolled down, and there it was, the top comment, ‘#UselessJaylen. Maybe next time, don’t dream above your budget.’

He locked the screen and sat in silence as tears slid down his cheeks.