Megan receives a phone call after giving me a tour of the 1501 Compound. It’s time for her to rehearse for tomorrow’s show. “It’s gonna look like a bedroom in a way, but at the same time, we tryna get a mechanical bull,” she says of the set design. “I don’t know if they gon be able to get it, but if they can, we gonna put a bar on stage. Like some Coyote Ugly shit.”

We all head out into the Houston heat, and about 20 minutes later, I pull up at the address I was given for the rehearsal space. It’s inside of a shopping center, which is surrounded by two other shopping complexes. Inside, there’s a French bakery, a child karate center, a gym with a juice bar, and a Domino’s Pizza. I order cheese sticks to munch on before everyone shows up. Megan’s publicist, who’s been with us all day, gets a call from Farris and Megan, who say they’re inside the space that we still can’t find. Eventually, it becomes clear that there’s an entire backside of the shopping center, which is so big that it feels like a completely different one. Houston is supremely American in this way: stitched together by giant marketplaces filled with stores you never thought you needed until they’re in your field of vision.

When we get down to the basement of the space on the complex’s backside, Megan is still in the same fit, except now she’s traded her Gucci sandals for a pair of high-heeled boots. She sits down on the studio floor against the wall-length mirror. Perusing Instagram, she reads us a DM from a girl who thinks she just saw her walk into the studio we’re in. The fan wants to come take a picture, which Megan seems fairly open to, but she quickly forgets once her creative director shows up to assist her on her steps.

The rehearsal is a taste of what’s to come. The DJ puts on Ginuwine’s “Pony,” and Megan’s creative director, Devyne Stephens, guides her movements. “Here, like this, right here,” he instructs, while she prances. When “Big Ole Freak” comes over the speakers, she grabs an imaginary mic, looks in the mirror and stares squarely into her own eyes, lip syncing the lyrics and imagining herself in front of tomorrow’s sold-out crowd.

During a break, I ask if she remembers what her first show ever was like, which she mentions was at a strip club in Austin near SXSW in 2017. “I’m in there, and they don’t know who the hell I am,” she says, laughing. “They see a girl, and I guess they liked what I look like, so they were paying attention. But some people’s mouths were just open, looking at me, like, Whaaat. I did not know you was about to get up here and say this! After the show, everybody was like, What’s your Instagram? What’s your name? It was really crazy — I was so nervous. But now I’m way more comfortable performing.”