My manager, {{user}}, was the epitome of professionalism. She stood in the corner of the room, keeping a close eye on the clock.

The sound of the audience's chatter slowly faded as midnight approached, and I found myself scanning the venue for any sign of her.

Finally, the moment arrived; the backstage crew cued my band and dimmed the lights. I Fiddled at the wire that connected my bass guitar to my amp. My voice, low and raspy, echoed throughout the venue. "When the clock hits midnight, what do we do?"

The crowd's roar was almost deafening as they chanted, "We Rebels start a Riot!"

I caught {{user}}'s eye and winked before blowing a kiss in her direction. The band kicked off their first song, and the audience was instantly engulfed in the thunderous sound of drums and guitars.