Chapter 80: Fast Success
<đ§ Song Recommendation: Billionaire by Travie McCoy ft Bruno Mars>
...
"Number 10?" Von repeated and grabbed the phone from Emilyâs hands, his eyes darting across the brightly lit screen.
There it was, rocketing upwards with a green arrow next to its title. Masquerade was officially sitting at Number 10 on the Musify New Releases Daily Top 50.
"I donât understand," Von stammered, his exhaustion entirely forgotten. "Yesterday it was at eight hundred thousand streams. How does it jump to Number 10 overnight?"
Emily snatched her tablet, her fingers flying across the screen as she opened her backend analytics dashboard. What she saw made her gasp out loud.
"Itâs not just Musify," Emily said, her voice rising in pitch. "Itâs everywhere. Look at this!"
Von had a look and he had gained 600k streams in the past 24 hours across all platform.
"But how?"
Emily couldnât answer him herself, but she was busy with her phone for a while, searching. After a few tense minutes for Von who who hoping it wasnât a glitch, she looked up with a wide smile.
"Itâs Ticktock! Someone made an edit using song, it got viral and now thousands of others have discovered your masterpiece. Masquerade is trending!"
Von immediately understood. This wasnât the first time Ticktock played a major role in promoting a song. He had seen a fair share of such occurrences in his past life, and he was truly grateful to be at the center this time.
Now it was all down to how long it was gonna last.
***
Indeed, the hype hadnât been temporary, as the next three weeks were a chaotic, euphoric blur.
As May bled into the heat of a June, Masquerade stopped being just a song on a chart; it became an inescapable cultural phenomenon.
Walking down the streets of Queens, Von could hear Patchâs heavy, thumping bassline rattling the windows of passing cars. Bodega owners had it playing on their radios.
Teenagers on the subway were loudly quoting the rap verses to each other. It wasnât just a track anymore; it was an anthem for anyone who felt overlooked, underestimated, or used.
The immediate impact of the success was staggering. Emilyâs phone, which had previously only received automated rejection emails from industry gatekeepers and radio promoters, began ringing so incessantly.
Major radio stations that had completely ignored their independent release email a month prior were now practically begging to play the track. They didnât have a choice.
They were being forced to adapt by the sheer volume of aggressive fan requests clogging their phone lines and spamming their social media accounts.
The digital landscape shifted just as violently. Features and collaborations started rolling in like a wave for Von.
Prominent indie artists, verified producers, and even a few mainstream rappers slid directly into Vonâs direct messages.
They were addressing him as a peer , sending fire emojis and asking if he was open to doing remixes or hopping on their upcoming albums.
Von would stare at his screen late at night in sheer disbelief, watching big accounts beg for a fraction of his current momentum.
But the most satisfying change for Von wasnât the digital numbers or the radio play. It was the gigs.
Exactly a week after that miserable wedding disaster in Long Island, Von stepped out of the black van into the sticky evening air
But this time, he wasnât carrying his own heavy amplifier, and he wasnât standing in a sterile banquet hall.
He was standing in the back alley behind the iconic Bowery Ballroom in Manhattan. Out front, a line of screaming fans wrapped entirely around the city block, held back by metal barricades and security.
The venue held six hundred people. Emily had booked it as a tentative test of his real-world pull. It had sold out in exactly four minutes.
When Von walked onto the stage that night, heâs had one of the best experiences of his lives, as hundreds of others sang back every single word with him.
That was one of many of such nights Von got to experience with the new momentum. All of a sudden, it felt like he was speed-running the game now
While Von was experiencing the euphoric ascent of independent stardom, the atmosphere inside a twenty-million-dollar mansion in the Hollywood Hills was noticeable toxic.
Julian West sat on a custom-made Italian leather sofa, staring blankly at the wall. He had just finished a scripted, hour-long interview with a premier pop-culture magazine. He had smiled, laughed at the journalistâs terrible jokes, and played the perfect, humble pop prince.
But now, he had a scowl on his face.
Valerie, his senior manager assigned directly by West World Records, stood awkwardly near the marble fireplace. She was a seasoned industry veteran, but right now, she looked like she would rather be anywhere else in the world. She held a silver tablet against her chest like a shield.
"Give me the final numbers for the month," Julian demanded, reaching out to pour a glass of sparkling water from a crystal decanter.
Valerie cleared her throat. "Julian, we need to look at the overall picture. The debut was really strong. We dominated the opening weekâ"
"I asked for the numbers."
She sighed after being interrupted, looking down at the screen. "A month after release, Always Love You is sitting at nine million streams across all major platforms."
Nine million. To any normal artist, it was a staggering, life-changing number. But Julian wasnât meant to be a normal artist.
"Nine million..." he repeated. "We hit eight million streams within the first ten days. Are you telling me that in the last twenty days, weâve only gained one million streams?"
Valerie didnât meet his eyes. "The momentum... stalled. The initial marketing push brought in the casual listeners, but the replay value hasnât sustained itself. People are losing interest in the track. The radio spins are keeping it afloat, but the engagement has dropped significantly."
Julian felt a pain in his chest. It was like being told his song wasnât good. "And the end-of-month charts? The New Release board?"
Valerie hesitated. This was the part she had been dreading all morning. "We ended the month at Number 7 on the New Release chart."
"And Varley?" he questioned again.
"He... finished four places above you. He secured the Number 3 spot."
Only silence was left in the room. It was a total, unmitigated disaster. The West World Records machine had spent nearly a million dollars on this single, only to be out-streamed by a street busker without a label.
"Damn it!"
Julian hurled the glass across the room and it shattered against the marble fireplace, sending shards of expensive glass and water raining across the Persian rug.
Valerie took a step back.
"Itâs him!" Julian roared, his polished demeanor completely shattering. He grabbed handfuls of his perfectly styled blonde hair, pulling at it in sheer frustration.
"Itâs all because of him! He humiliated me on live television, and now heâs humiliating me on the charts! We spent so much on this launch! How is he beating me?!"
He kicked a small side table, sending a stack of magazines flying. He looked around the room, hunting for something else to break.
"Julian, please, calm down!" Valerie stepped forward, raising her hands placatingly.
"Throwing a tantrum isnât going to fix the metrics. Itâs nothing you can control. You have to understand, Masquerade didnât beat you because itâs a better song. It became popular because of a stupid trend on Ticktock. He just got lucky!"
Julian stopped pacing and glared at her. Valerie was still talking.
"These internet trends burn bright, but they die fast. Hopefully, the trend dies out by next week, and his streams will plummet. But we canât focus on him. We have to focus on our own campaign."
Julian scoffed. "What campaign? The song is dead in the water."
"No, itâs not," Valerie countered. "On the bright side, the PR team just pulled a miracle. We got you a prime-time guest spot on Late Night with Colin this Friday."
Julian paused. Late Night with Colin wasnât just another podcast. It was the premier late-night television show in the country. Broadcasting to over seven million live viewers, the show had the power to dictate national pop-culture narratives.
The host, Colin Gork, was known for viral interview segments that often trended worldwide the next morning.
"Colin Gork?" Julian muttered, his frustration cooling slightly. He wasnât entirely interested at first. An interview wouldnât magically fix his streaming numbers.
But then, as he stared at the shattered glass on the floor, a thought slowly materialized in his mind.
If Vonâs entire success was built on a fragile, unpredictable internet trend, then that trend was his greatest vulnerability.
Julianâs lips slowly curled into a cold, calculating smile.
"Valerie," Julian said, his voice returning to its smooth cadence. "This might just be exactly what I wanted. Call the PR team. I know exactly what weâre going to talk about on Friday."
