"Whoa." Gina whistled, spraying chip crumbs. "That's the Natalie I know! So what's your plan? Fair warning—you can crash here as long as you want."
That pulled me back down from the brief lightness.
After leaving Richard, I had freedom. But freedom didn't pay bills.
"I need to figure out how to make money," I sighed, setting the milk on my knee. "When I left, I left behind all the cards Richard gave me, the jewelry, those accounts I couldn't even remember the passwords to. All I took was this suitcase and the cheap clothes I bought myself. I'm broke."
Gina stopped chewing and looked at me seriously. "Honey, if you need money, I can—"
"No." I cut her off, sharper than I expected. "Gina, you're my best friend, but I don't want to start by borrowing money. That feels like another kind of dependence." I took a breath and said what had been circling my mind all day. "I want to go back to singing at bars. Like before I married Richard."
Silence for a few seconds.
Gina's eyes widened. Then a brilliant smile broke across her face, and she actually slapped her thigh.
"You're going back to your roots? Natalie Green's picking up the mic again? This is the best news I've heard all month!"
She leaned in close, eyes sparkling. "You know what? This is fate! I have a friend, Landon, who just took over a decent bardowntown. He's desperate for a standout singer. How about it? You could try tomorrow night!"
The opportunity came faster than I expected. It made me dizzy.
"Tomorrow? Isn't that too soon? I... I haven't sung in forever." My voice betrayed my fear.
Two years as Mrs. Winston, I didn't know what I'd be like back under the spotlight. What if I screwed it up...
"Too soon?" Gina rolled her eyes. "Did money corrode your voice? Did those boring charity galas poison your vocal cords? Please. You're Natalie. You sang one song at freshman orientation, and half the campus couldn't sleep. It's settled. I'm texting Landon right now. You just need to pick a song that'll drop jaws, and..." She looked me up and down with a sly smile. "Wear something eye-catching. I've got a purple velvet dress that'll make you the center of attention."
Watching Gina frantically typing on her phone, the fear in my chest slowly gave way to anticipation I hadn't felt in ages.
I wasn't Mrs. Winston anymore. I was just Natalie.
Nothing could stop Natalie.
Especially not singing.
The next night,I stood behind the deep red velvet curtain backstage at Mustang.
Through the gap, I glimpsed the dim, noisy world beyond. Copper chandeliers swayed from the ceiling, illuminating smoke drifting through the air. On the small stage in the distance, an old jazz band improvised, and the worn wooden floor still bore dark stains from last night's spilled drinks.
I wore the purple velvet slip dress Gina had given me. It hugged my body perfectly, gleaming subtly in the amber light, the slit reaching my thigh—sexy and bold.
I looked at myself in the mirror—winged eyeliner, bold red lips, blonde hair in loose curls.
This wasn't the polished look Richard would approve of, but it was striking. It was what I used to like.
Landon was a man with light brown curls, green eyes, and a devil-may-care smile. When he saw me, he whistled. "Gina didn't screw me over this time. The stage is yours, beautiful. Show them what you've got."
I gripped the microphone, took a deep breath, pushed through the curtain, and walked out.
The lights hit. I moved to the mic, fingertips grazing the metal stand, scanning the blurred faces below.
The intro started, old rock, my choice. I opened my mouth, and even I was surprised by the sound, lower than I remembered, raspier, like an engine that hadn't run in years roaring back to life.
My body swayed with the rhythm. The purple velvet flowed like liquid under the spotlight, the slit revealing glimpses of my legs with each step.
For those seven minutes onstage, I owned everything. The chorus climbed higher, the crowd heated up, sweat slid down my neck, and the velvet stuck to my back. I felt every eye on me—surprise, appreciation, raw desire—whatever. The truth was, I was addicted to this feeling.
This was right. This was me.
