Chapter One

Harmony

Everybody thinks they know me.

That’s the funny part.

They know my father’s platinum records.

They know my mother’s wild past.

They know the mansion.

The money.

The interviews.

The gossip blogs.

But nobody knows Harmony Daniels.

Not really.

When people hear my last name, they already have a story written in their heads before I even open my mouth.

Rich girl.

Industry princess.

Spoiled.

Connected.

The girl who can get a record deal with one phone call.

If only they knew how badly I hated all of it.

I stood outside The Underground with my guitar strapped across my shoulder and stared at the neon sign glowing above the entrance.

My heart hammered against my chest.

This was my favorite part and the scariest part.

The moment before I walked inside.

The moment before anybody could judge me.

Tonight I wasn’t Harmony Daniels.

Tonight I was H.D.

No famous father.

No retired adult-film-star mother.

No family reputation.

Just me.

Just my voice.

I pulled my hoodie tighter and stepped through the doors.

The smell of sweat, liquor, and ambition hit me immediately.

Musicians crowded every corner.

Rappers rehearsed lyrics under their breath.

Singers practiced scales.

Everybody here wanted the same thing.

A chance.

A real chance.

The kind nobody could hand you.

The kind you earned.

“You’re up next, H.D.,” the host called.

My stomach instantly flipped.

I nodded and climbed onto the stage.

The lights felt hotter than usual.

Maybe it was nerves.

Maybe it was because tonight felt different.

I wrapped my fingers around the microphone and looked out at the crowd.

Nobody recognized me.

Perfect.

Exactly how I wanted it.

I closed my eyes.

Took a breath.

And started singing.

The first note floated through the room.

Then the second.

Then the third.

When I opened my eyes again, conversations had stopped.

Phones lowered.

Heads turned.

People were actually listening.

Not because of my family.

Because of me.

And for the first time in my life…

I felt free.

 

Chapter Two

Ja’Quan

I didn’t come to The Underground looking for anything special.

I came because I needed air.

Real air.

Not the kind inside a studio where everybody wanted a hook, a verse, a favor, or a picture. Not the kind inside VIP sections where people smiled too hard and lied too easy.

I needed somewhere nobody expected Ja’Quan King to be.

But then she stepped onstage.

H.D.

That was the name the host called.

She looked nervous at first, like she was trying to disappear inside that hoodie. Pretty, but not in the loud way most women around the industry tried to be. She had this quiet glow about her. Like she didn’t need attention, but attention found her anyway.

Then she opened her mouth.

And the whole room changed.

Her voice hit me straight in the chest.

I forgot about the drink in my hand.

Forgot about the messages blowing up my phone.

Forgot about the fact that my manager had been calling me for twenty minutes because I’d skipped out on a label event.

All I could do was watch her.

She sang like she knew pain personally.

Like heartbreak had sat beside her.

Like dreams had kept her awake at night.

When she finished, the whole place went crazy.

I didn’t clap right away.

I just stood there, staring.

Because talent like that didn’t walk into rooms by accident.

My boy Rico leaned close to me. “You know her?”

I shook my head. “Nah.”

“But you want to.”

I smirked, but I didn’t deny it.

Before she could disappear offstage, I pushed away from the wall and made my way through the crowd.

She was packing up her guitar when I reached her.

“Yo,” I said.

She looked up.

Her eyes caught mine, and for a second, she froze.

Not in a groupie way.

More like she knew exactly who I was and wished she didn’t.

“You killed that,” I told her.

“Thank you.”

Her voice was soft, guarded.

“You got music out?”

“No.”

“You signed?”

“No.”

“You looking to be?”

She zipped her guitar case. “I’m looking to be heard.”

That answer made me smile.

Most people would’ve thrown a demo at me before I finished talking.

But not her.

“What’s your real name?” I asked.

“H.D.”

“That ain’t what I asked.”

She lifted her chin. “That’s what I answered.”

I laughed under my breath.

Okay.

She had a voice and attitude.

Dangerous combination.

“I’m Ja’Quan.”

“I know.”

“You don’t seem impressed.”

“I’m not easy to impress.”

I stepped closer, studying her face. Something about her felt familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

“Well, H.D., you impressed me.”

For the first time, her hard expression softened.

Just a little.

“Goodnight, Ja’Quan.”

She walked past me before I could say anything else.

I watched her leave, disappearing through the back door like she hadn’t just turned my whole night around.

Rico came up beside me laughing.

“Man, she curved you smooth.”

I looked toward the door.

“Nah,” I said. “She just made it interesting.”

And for the first time in a long time, I wanted to know somebody who didn’t seem to want anything from me.

I didn’t know her real name.

Didn’t know her story.

Didn’t know why she was hiding behind initials.

But I knew one thing.

H.D. wasn’t just some singer from an open mic.

She was trouble.

The kind I wanted to write a song about.