Page 50 of Fate in Motion
Mel starts our last number, something upbeat and soulful, and when I glance out again, the vibe is electric. Even Carter’s feeling it. He’s leaning back in his chair now, arm draped across the back of the seat next to him, eyes crinkled from smiling. When our eyes meet again, he gives me the tiniest nod, and it hits me right in the chest.
We finish our last song to real applause, with none of that polite clapping just because it’s expected. This is loud, enthusiastic, and genuine. A few people even stand. I feel my face flush as I step back from the mic, glancing at Mel, who gives me a subtle holy shit, we just did that look.
We both take a small bow and head offstage, adrenaline buzzing in my limbs. The second we step behind the curtain, I let out a long breath and laugh. Mel does too, clutching her guitar like she forgot she was holding it.
“That was insane,” I whisper.
Mel nods. “I think we just leveled up.”
As our final note fades and the applause dies down, a middle-aged man in a tux with a slicked-back ponytail steps onto the stage, violin in hand. The mood shifts instantly, becoming quieter and more refined. I take that as my cue to slip off and find Carter.
He’s by the bar, looking so damn good in his suit it’s actually distracting. Mel and I make our way over, trying to blend in with the other beautifully dressed people lingering in the back with their overpriced cocktails.
“Hey,” I say with a grin as we reach him.
Carter turns around, eyes wide, looking borderline starstruck. “You guys were legit amazing. Like, actually amazing.”
Mel and I exchange a glance and say in unison, “Thanks, we know.”
We all laugh, but we keep our voices low so we don’t drown out the poor violinist now playing something haunting and slow. For a moment, we just exist in this little bubble of post-performance adrenaline and cocktails.
After a few quiet minutes, I glance between the two of them and whisper, “Okay, so I don’t want to get deep into this tonight. But let’s meet soon and start going over some real details. Rental spaces, costs, rough plans, and maybe even a name, though that’s honestly the least of my worries right now.”
Mel and Carter look at each other, and they both smile like they’re already on the same page.
Carter nods. “Yes. Obviously. We’ll talk it all through. It’s going to take time, months, probably, but we’ll make it happen. We can even bring in outside help.”
Mel jumps in without missing a beat. “As long as we’re the main event at our cafe’s open mic night. That is not up for discussion.”
I catch that little phrase,our cafe, and something about it hits me in the chest. It sounds unreal. Too good to be true. But I trust myself and I trust them.
I smirk. “Yes. And maybe Carter can join us on stage.”
Carter lets out a sharp “HA!” and shakes his head. “I’d need a full bottle of tequila to do that shit.” We all laugh again, quietly.
The violinist finishes his piece with a graceful bow, and polite applause trickles through the room. That was the last performance of the night, which means it’s time to relax finally, maybe mingle a little, and if we’re lucky, meet some sugar daddies willing to give us money just for existing.
Not the worst backup plan.
After the violinist walks off stage, the afterparty kicks off with music, drinks, and many stylish people. Mel and I are quickly swept into a whirlwind of introductions. Most of them are strangers, but a few offer us their cards, promising to be in touch. It’s surreal.
I keep looking around for Carter, but I don’t see him. He must’ve slipped away while I was being pulled in ten different directions. I lean over to Mel and say, “I’ll be back. I’m going to look for Carter.”
She gives me a confident smirk like, I’ve got this. I know she’ll represent us perfectly. As I walk away, I see her already jumping into a conversation with two well-dressed women, smiling and tossing her hair like she owns the place.
I head toward the hallway by the bathrooms, and that’s when I see Carter, talking to a tall, broad-shouldered man withbrown hair and light brown eyes. Carter looks…uncomfortable. Not in a scared way, but like he’s caught off guard.
I walk over and casually slip my arm around him.
Carter looks at me and, without smiling, gently moves my hand off his back.
Now that I’m up close, I realize who the man is. Coach McCormick. What the fuck. What a small world.
“Hey,” the coach says, offering a friendly smile. “Not sure we’ve met. Your performance with your partner was incredible. My wife and I were bopping in our seats, really impressive.”
Carter says nothing, his expression unreadable.
Coach turns to me and adds, “I should introduce myself. I’m Patrick. Not sure if you were able to see, but we were sitting at the back table with Carter.”
