Over the next month, he didn’t leak the songs. That would be traceable. Instead, he made small, impossible bets on a offshore sportsbook that had started taking novelty wagers: "Will 'Espresso' hit #1? Yes/No." He bet his last $400 on "Yes" at 50-to-1 odds, because the zip file had it peaking in June.
He had two choices: delete the folder and forget, or use it.
His phone buzzed. A news alert: "Sabrina Carpenter announces surprise album dropping this Friday." billboard hot 100 zip download
“It’s me,” he said. “I don’t have a plan. But I wrote a song. A bad one. Do you want to hear it?”
He had seen the future. It was full of hits. But none of them, he realized, were his own. He pulled out his phone and dialed Maya’s number for the first time in five months. Over the next month, he didn’t leak the songs
It was only April now.
“Play it,” she said.
He paid off his mom’s mortgage. He bought a small recording studio in a converted warehouse. He didn’t buy a car or a watch. He just sat in the control room one night, the unopened zip file still on a encrypted thumb drive around his neck, and he listened to track 100—the lowest song on the chart.