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need to get you some star-quality threads. That street-guitarist look’s so over.”
    “What’s wrong with jeans and a T-shirt?”
    “You look like a roadie, not the main attraction.”
    Melody favors hip-huggers and hoochie-mama tops, so I’m leery of what she thinks would be a step up, but I agree to do some shopping with her while we’re in the Haight, which has a ton of funky boutiques and second-hand stores. She rinses off while I try the number again, and when it rings endlessly, I command myself to stop dialing it every ten minutes and to wait for Derek’s call.
    Melody takes three times longer to get ready than I do. When she announces she’s done, she’s exuding a cloud of floral perfume and wearing a hot pink tube top and low-rise jeans so tight I can make out the mole on her butt. She inspects herself in the mirror with satisfaction and turns to me. “Are you going to dry your hair?”
    “Nah. It’ll dry by itself once we’re in the sun.”
    “Tell me you at least brushed it.”
    “Yes, Mom.”
    “I suppose that’s a step in the right direction.” She goes to her closet and fishes out an Oakland Raiders baseball cap and tosses it to me. “There’s your disguise.”
    “What, my knit cap’s not fashionable enough?”
    “I’m going to burn it. It’s gross.”
    “No, it’s not. I wash it.”
    “Everyone on the street knows that cap, so it’s not much help if you want to go incognito.”
    “I seriously doubt I’m going to get mobbed.”
    She considers me like I’m from another world. “You really have no idea how big you are, do you?”
    I shrug. “Apparently not big enough to get any respect from you.”
    “I’m an exception. You don’t want an entourage of suck-ups. More like real friends who’ll arrange for the oil-rubbed shirtless boy toys to follow you around like puppies.”
    “I think you’re confusing me with eighties Madonna or maybe Lady Gaga.”
    “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”
    Melody’s mom has already gone to work, so we have the apartment to ourselves. We agree to do my usual routine for old times’ sake – bagel shop, Peaches & Cream for coffee, and then some shopping.
    It’s weird how different it all feels now I have some cash in my pocket. I’m wearing new sunglasses I picked up from a street peddler in New York for twelve bucks and Melody’s hat, and I might as well be invisible next to her. She’s like some kind of queen bee who’s backlit by nature’s spotlight, whereas I’m about as high profile as an economy sedan. I’m okay with that, and in fact, it’s a relief that nobody seems to know or care who I am.
    Until I see Todd coming out of his doorway, toting his mountain bike, as usual. He does a double take and waits for me, a big stoned smile on his face, his dreadlocks longer than ever.
    “Yo, I never thought I’d see you around here again,” he greets me.
    “Why not? Best coffee in town,” I say.
    “You back for good or passing through?”
    “Here for the day. I have to go to L.A.”
    “Nice. You got a private jet yet?”
    I give him a sidelong glance. “What are you smoking? I won a TV singing contest, not the presidency.”
    “Seriously, though. What’s it like? Being all famous?”
    “I don’t know. Better than living on the street. But other than that, same ol’.” Which isn’t entirely true. I’ve got a few thousand in my pocket, a car’s picking me up at the airport, and I’m going to be sitting with some of music’s biggest celebs tomorrow night. Whenever I think of it, I get a skitter of nervousness, so my solution is to not think about it.
    “It was hella cool to see you representing up there. Nobody else came close. You were the bomb.”
    I think about Derek and Jeremy, and how close the contest probably actually was, and smile shyly. Strange as it sounds, I’m almost embarrassed that I won. It doesn’t make any sense. Just like nothing in my life does at the moment.
    “Off to work?” I ask,