"Open the door!" A voice yells from the hotel corridor.

Max isn't sleeping, but lifting her head from the pillow to see who is outside is an enormous effort. Yet the pounding persists, insistent on disturbing her meditation session —she's actually just lying in bed, the jet lag hitting too hard to close her tired eyes— so the girl has no choice but to shake off her sheets and get up to open.

The young woman opens her eyes wide and tries to cover herself with the closest piece of cloth she can find, because the door opens suddenly and she is only wearing a T-shirt and underwear, and although she probably knows who has broken into her room —not for nothing do they have a key to enter— she knows for a fact that she prefers that her private parts remain only to the imagination and not to anyone's image.

"Ugh," Max protests, rolling her eyes, her heart beating at a normal speed again. It was just Simon Cowell, to whom she really owes all the fame she's getting, but she really would rather he had respected her privacy and not walked in as if it were his home. Well, he was the one who had booked that hotel room... "What are you doing here? It's only eight in the morning," the young woman murmurs.

The man ignores her whining and grunts of exhaustion and walks into the room as if Max had invited him to do so. He slides the blinds and opens the window, claiming that this room needs ventilation, and Max has no choice but to put on some trousers to be more protected. She sits at the foot of the bed, still rubbing her eyes, and hoping that the reason Simon comes in at this hour in the morning isn't for some misfortune.

"Best time to start the day," the man smiles, moving a chair and sitting in it across from the girl. "How was the closing of the tour? Have you talked to Ariana?"

Notably in a better mood now that Simon mentiones Ariana, Max nods fervently. They have been exchanging messages all night, Max losing sleep by the timezones, but she already misses Ariana, who has become a good friend, and the rest of the team as well. Spending close to four months with them has made Max's heart a place for all of them. "It was the best concert we had so far. People even chanted my name so that I would come out and sing with her, can you believe it?"

Simon claps his hands. "You are good, you know that. It was a good decision to take you on a tour with Ariana Grande, no one better than her could have welcomed you to this world. I will be sure to send some gifts to her and her agent: it's a connection that we will be able to take advantage of in the future."

The man excuses himself for a moment to take a call, and Max just sighs to herself and looks away. Max had auditioned for The X Factor in London a year ago, and although she hadn't come close to winning, there was something about her that Simon liked. Since that moment, Simon Cowell has become her personal representative, as if he were sure that in Max he has a diamond, a star to explode, and for that Max is grateful from the beginning. However, she knows Simon's reputation, and although he is giving her good opportunities, she is also somewhat tired of him only talking about "connections" and "favours", when for Max they are real friendships and relationships.

Sometimes she wonders if she is too genuine for that kind of industry, but then she remembers all that she has struggled to get where she is, all that she would give and sacrifice to do what she loves, and she tells herself that she can become a shark if circumstances force her to.

"Excuse me, I had to take that. Well, I'm glad it was okay, then. I also hope you have had enough rest, because I bring news."

"You could have sent an email."

"Yes, I don't think so," Simon counters back. "I know you have been away this last year, but the last edition of Eurovision was recently held —don't make that face, you are English, after all— and once again the UK hasn't won, but I think what happened is better," her agent takes out the phone once more, clicks on his YouTube application, and the first video that comes out is the one he wants to show her. Max frowns when she sees that the winners are a group of young Italians, probably younger even than her, who sing rock, wear provocative clothes and sing about rock topics —or so she thinks, because she doesn't understand anything. Simon puts his cell phone away later. "They are signed in Sony Italy, but they are going to give a little tour in Europe that nobody knows about yet, so I beg you to keep quiet and not go to tweet it, we know each other. Their Italian representatives have heard that Sony England is also interested in their music and their potential, and since we are under the same label after all, they have agreed to let us run their affairs from now on."

Max blinks a few times, watching Simon's happy face, who has already risen from his chair and is looking at her expectantly, as if she has to say something. "Wow, congratulations, I guess. What exactly do I have to do with all this? I reaffirm myself: you could have sent an email."

"Oi, Theresa, you didn't just wake up. Obviously I have a place for you, I always do, right? The thing is that they are still not too well known in Europe, for that they will tour, much less in the United States, where you are practically a star. So what we have thought is that there is a collaboration between you: you help them to know the tricks, the secrets of this world, letting yourself be seen on the networks with them, letting the paparazzi see you together, so that they also win something of fame in the United States; and in return, I give you a way to increase your popularity in Europe and a vacation in Italy afterwards."

The girl blinks again. She doesn't know if she does not understand the connection between them, or is that what she wants is to rest after a long tour. "I don't really understand everything. I get that you want me to gain popularity, but how will a group that has just come out in Europe help me? And why are you so interested in them being famous? Every year hundreds of singers from The X Factor come out across Europe and only a low percentage end up succeeding."

Simon looks at her as if Max has lived on another planet. "When you listen to their music you will understand. The public loves them, social networks burn every time they upload photos, they have won a festival, damn. I admit that they don't have a conventional image, but perhaps with time we can mold them to a more pop and youthful audience," Max frowns again, because unfortunately she knows Simon Cowell's history with certain musicians, but she does not say anything because she does not want to argue. "I haven't spoken with them yet, only with their team, but they are young people, a little younger than you, and they speak English well. You will be able to communicate with them without problem, and, if you become their friend, all the better!"

The girl flops onto the bed, obviously mentally exhausted, and lets out a huff that Simon seems to ignore. "I just finished a tour of almost four months, I arrived last night at this hotel instead of going home, and the first thing you want me to do is go on a European tour with these guys who I don't know at all. I get it, you want me to drop dead."

"Don't be so dramatic, Theresa—"

"It's Max," the girl growls, tired of Simon calling her by her first name. It makes her look older.

"—What I was saying. The tour will be somewhat modest, humble, but you will have the best facilities. The hotels are already booked, the rooms too, there are some other interviews planned for them and some for you. You know it's not in your best interest to suddenly disappear when you've just gained a lot of your popularity. At heart we're just doing you a favour," says Simon, coaxing her a bit, because all Max really wants is to make a living from what she does. "Also, to reward your high popularity ratings, we had thought about making you the next artist on a European tour. Think about it: sing in Milan, London, Madrid, Paris... All of that will be yours and you can conquer the whole world if you want."

Max opens her eyes and mouth wide, reaching up to cover it. Simon takes it as an indicator of happiness, because Max doesn't usually get carried away by her emotions frequently, and the man smiles with her because he knows that if his client is happy, so will be his business.

"Would you really do that? I still have only a couple of singles on the market..."

Simon nods. "The popularity polls will speak for themselves once this tour is over. If the networks claim your name, in addition to doing concerts, you will have your debut album."

"Oh, my God!" Max momentarily forgets that Simon is only her manager, not her friend, and hugs her tightly because she's a little closer to fulfilling her dream and, despite everything, she knows that Simon can make it happen if he wants to, so that they have to keep each other happy. "Well, it's not exactly how I planned to spend my vacation, but this can't be too bad, can it?"

"Of course not," Simon claps his hands again. "Just remember, you have to get people talking about you. That they are happy with the record company is a priority, because if this goes well, things can be very big, Theresa."

This time the girl ignores her full name because she's too excited thinking about what might happen if all that goes well. She would finally have an album to her name, she would fulfill her dream of writing her own songs, she could even collaborate with some artists whom she already knew thanks to her tour in the United States. It all sounds so good that the next thing she does is ask when to start.

"Today," Simon responds, gathering up his things and hinting to Max that not just today, but right now. Max quickly gets out of bed, alarmed that she is neither dressed, nor has she eaten breakfast, and that she badly needs a coffee before dealing with her day. "They arrived yesterday morning in London from Holland, where Eurovision took place. They have had time to rest, see a little around the hotel and become a little familiar with the people who are recognizing them on the streets. Of course, they have already been informed that you will be joining them, and they have been quite grateful that someone like you offers to help them enter the world of music. Don't worry because you will have your time to get dressed and eat something, they aren't here yet. We have booked the hotel lounge so you can have a first conversation and have some contact," Simon puts on his sunglasses as if to go out, even though the London sky is full of clouds through the window. clouds. "If you have any questions, you know how to contact me. When we meet again I hope you tell me about the great relationship you are creating. Arrivederci!"

There is no time for the young woman to add anything else, because Simon is leaving the door as fast as he has entered, and Max looks in the mirror and sees that her face is surprised but tries to get on the positive side of all that: they are young people, with whom she probably has hundreds of things in common, they might even teach her some Italian —Max has always wanted to go to Italy and conquer some hearts— she could see her dreams come true if she put in a little bit of effort. And with that thought, Max dresses, because there is nothing that excites her more than getting what she wants.

She doesn't dress too elegant because she is in a hotel, she does not expect paparazzi to see her, and because seen the outfits of young Italians, perhaps they would see her too pompous. So she just puts on a long-sleeved shirt and shorts —London isn't too hot, but the hotel's heating is too high— and goes downstairs to the dining room, her heart pounding again because she doesn't know what to expect and because she knows that a lot is at stake with this.

Although she tries to think positively, she cannot help but see what bad things could happen, which is no small thing: they could not raise the popularity of both figures, they could not hit it off —which would honestly be something more frustrating for Max than the fact of not gaining followers— and all this would mean that her desire to release an album and sing in front of people of all nationalities would disappear. She knows that behind Simon's happiness there may also be a storm, because that is what she has seen happening to Louis, and that has not made her particularly happy. She wants to think that Simon is a man of his word, she doesn't want to think that her contract may be done and that there will be no one left who wants to welcome her like him.

So she goes down to the dining room, trying to shake off the accumulated fatigue that haunts her, pouring herself a steaming cup of coffee and pulling out her own phone to find out more about these young Italians. She soon discovers that they are called Maneskin, that they are made up of three boys and a girl, and whose ages are between twenty and twenty-two years old. There is Damiano —Max repeats their names out loud because she doesn't want to look like a clown when it comes to calling out Italian names—, the singer of the band, and Max's eyes widen a little more when she sees his outfit —he closely resembles to his atypical rock-star band mates— and his high cheekbones, which make him undeniably attractive. Max thinks he's probably the leader of the band. Then in the next scene there is a boy, Thomas, and the only girl, Victoria, who play guitar and bass, and Max likes the way they blend in on stage. Finally a boy with enviable hair appears, Ethan, reads Max, who plays the drums.

"My God, it's her."

Max does not listen to anyone, because she is too absorbed in learning the names of the components and listening to the words of some of their songs in English —because it is still too early to listen to music in Italian— nor does she see that at the door of the dining room there are four people watching her, although without knowing what she is doing.

"She's going to think we're acting like real idiots if we keep looking at her from here," Damiano reproaches. However, he then softens his face and giggles. "But yeah, it's her!"

Victoria and Ethan watch with small smiles as Thomas and Damiano jump into the outside room, clearly excited to meet Max. The truth is that the four members of the band already knew Max before they were told that they were going to tour with her, and clearly it is the two boys who want to meet her the most. They have been following all her covers, the singles she released and her twitter account had been followed for a long time, so all this was a big surprise for them.

"Come in now, you stupid," Victoria mutters as she pushes Thomas away and Ethan takes care of Damiano.

The two boys stumble forward, losing their balance, and suddenly stop moving when Max raises her head and waves at them. Victoria and Ethan high-five, and Max automatically notices the presence of the four Italians, who are even more attractive in person. It seems strange to Max that none of them wear makeup, because in the performances she has seen they all have eyeliner and eyeshadow, and now they wear more common clothes and they can even look like normal young people and not future celebrities.

"You must be Thomas, Damiano, Ethan, and Victoria —I hope I said that correctly," Max excuses herself with a friendly smile. "I imagine my accent will suck, but I promise to try to get it right. I am Tessa Maxwell."

"Can we call you Max? Wikipedia says that—"

Thomas is interrupted by an elbow from Damiano, who tries to hide it but Max sees it clearly and stifles a laugh. "I see that you have taken the trouble to investigate me beforehand. The public knows me as Tessa, but yes, call me Max, I would prefer it. Make yourself comfortable, come on," Max urges in a soft tone, surprising herself because she's not uncomfortable at all; in fact, the interaction between the boys makes her laugh. "I have also looked for you, don't feel ashamed," she shows them the screen of her phone, and the four Italians look at each other when they see that Max saw their performance in Eurovision. "I've been living away for a while, so it has been practically impossible for me to find out about the news on the other side of the pond; but from the looks of it, you are on fire now. I don't understand anything of what you are singing, but I have to say that the determination with which you step on the stage is surprising, you totally ate that stage up in front of millions of people."

"That's very nice of you, thank you," Ethan speaks for the first time, lowering his head in thanks, and Max smiles.

"Even if you don't see the two of them jump so much of joy, don't be fooled by appearances. Ethan and Victoria are big fans of yours, too. In fact, we've been listening to all your covers and your songs since we were told you were joining us on the tour," says Damiano, and Max sends another smile to Ethan and Victoria, who returns it after a few seconds of staring at her.

Suddenly, Max's phone vibrates in the hands of Damiano, who had been the one who had received it to check the video of their performance, and inevitably his eyes go to the screen, where a number saved as "Ari" insists that someone answers the phone. Max apologizes and presses the button to stop it, mentally preparing herself for the talk Ariana will give her as soon as they talk the next time for hanging up on her.

"That was Ariana? Ariana Grande?" Damiano's eyes widen, and suddenly Victoria and Ethan are more interested, because Ariana Grande is already big words.

"Yeah, and she'll probably be mad at me 'cause I hung up on her without giving her any kind of explanation."

"Call her back," Victoria speaks for the first time, and Max turns quickly because she hadn't imagined her voice that way. "We will leave the room so you can speak."

Max shakes her head fervently. "No, no. Don't leave. I'll call her right now. She is much more focused on the music scene, surely she has heard about you."

The brunette presses the notification, and quickly the voice call turns into a video call, and Max sees herself on camera as she waits for the other girl to answer the phone. When she does, she is surrounded by white cushions, with only the light from her phone lighting up the room, and with a perspective of her face that doesn't do justice to how she looks in photos. "You really hung up on me like that, girl? It's twelve at night, I'm calling you to say good morning and how you answer me is by ignoring me."

"Ari, you might want to turn on the light and stop just pointing at your forehead: we have guests," Max informs her friend, who frowns at the uncertainty, but does as Max recommends. Then the Englishwoman raises her phone, her face popping out of the camera and pointing at the Italians, who are smiling broadly and smiling at the camera. "Ari, say hi to Maneskin. They are Damiano, Victoria, Ethan and Thomas. We will be together these days, so maybe when you call me you'll want to put on some more clothes."

"Oh, I know them! Congratulations on winning, guys. I've read a lot on Twitter about Maneskin, a lot of my fans drool on the TL because of you."

The English singer apologizes shortly after, claiming that she must make plans with the band, and Ariana understands this, as she is too tired to stay awake. The four say goodbye to her briefly, still somewhat surprised that Ariana Grande found out about their existence, and when Max hangs up the phone the four of them look at each other and make sounds of shock and euphoria.

"Well, what have you seen of London so far? I'm not from here originally, but I do know the city quite a bit. I'm getting the feeling that maybe Thomas and Damiano would prefer the nightlife scene, and that Victoria and Ethan prefer quieter plans —you can correct me if I'm wrong," neither says anything to the contrary, so Max assumes she's right. "Well, then you two would like to know that the Tate Modern is open and it's not too far from here. They are showing a not very well known collection of Picasso that may interest you: it's a quiet place and you will love it if you are interested in art. And if you are not too tired, at ten o'clock we have an invitation in a private pub: Louis is giving a party and there are five tickets with our names."

"Louis Tomlinson? From One Direction?" Max nods innocently. Damiano whistles, impressed. "What are you throwing us into, Theresa?"