AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Right, I know it doesn’t look like the flashiest of places, despite its name, but it has a great atmosphere. It’s the perfect place to start the party, don’t you think?” She winks at me and I give her a shaky smile in return. I look around. She’s right though. The crowd’s cheering and supportive. They sing along with the ones on stage. Really, it’s the perfect place for me to do this. My challenge. Nobody knows me, and I know, I justknow, that getting out of my comfort zone will give me a rush of pride.
Freedom.
I take out my envelope and shake it in the air. Monika puts her hand over her mouth, her eyes popping. “Noo.”
“Yes.” I confirm with a teasing smile and show them all what my challenge says.
Emma squeezes my hand gently. “You don't have to if you don't want to.”
“Yeah, I do. What, you think you cannot stand my voice?” Emma chuckles and shakes her head. Prue and Monika follow, and then the four of us are giggling. It works, the pressure’s leaving my body like melting ice. It feelsgood. “Right,” I say. “I’m going to take the stage and you can all encourage me. See you on the other side.”
I walk toward the bar and steal another glance at the stage. As a child, I loved singing. And when I was a teenager, my dreams were fueled by my crush on the BB Brunes and my total adoration for Zaz.Mon Dieu, I wanted to be like her. I joined this band and we were really getting somewhere, but during our first concert, I got stage fright. While they were playing and waiting for me, I fled the venue. God, they were so angry with me, and I can’t blame them. I was never asked back. My shyness stood in the way, like it’s always stood in the way.
So, in the end, I joined the church choir and I’ve been a member for many years now. I crawled further into my shell of religion and quiet days and nights in.
“Hi.” I wave at the DJ, a young woman with short, spiky purple hair who’s standing behind a computer. “Do you have any old, French songs? Like Françoise Hardy, perhaps Tous les Garçons?” The woman blinks before she curls her lips into a smile. “You French?”
“Uhm, yes.” The DJ smiles even further. “I love those old songs. Great choice.”
She blows a pink bubble with her gum as her eyes dart around the screen. Then she nods. “Yup, got that one. An old classic, can’t wait to hear you sing it. You’re up after Meatloaf.”
I thank her with a smile and check the stage, where a man and woman are now just starting to dance to “Paradise by the Dashboard Light.” God, I’m nervous. But there’s no way that I’ll be too chicken this time. I turn to look at the girls who are chatting and smiling. The fun’s contagious.
“Angélique?”
I swirl my head around in surprise, and I frown when I look at a familiar tall, muscular frame.
“Wyatt? What areyoudoing here?”
His smile widens into a big grin. “The same thing as you, I guess? How are you, and your friends?”
“Yeah, I’m good. We’re good.” I point out to the round table at the other side of the stage and immediately regret it.
He follows my finger, of course he does, and nods. “Cool. Listen, I—”
“Why?”Merde. I have thought about this and knew exactly what to say, but now Wyatt’s standing in front of me, the words don’t come out. Instead, I only manage to blab, “I need to know. Did you do it? And why?”
At least he has the decency to look guilty, I’ll give him that. Wyatt shrugs and shakes his head, but doesn't reply. It makes me angrier and more frustrated. “I told you that I’m a tourist, that I’m meeting friends here. I’m—” my breath hitches and I don’t really know what I want to say. I wanthimto talk, damn it.
“I’m just following orders, Angélique. That’s my job.” His tone is clipped, yet shame sips through his words.
“Orders? Yourjob?” Is this guy for real?
“Yeah. Please believe me that the guy you met won’t hurt you. Myemployerwon’t let him. If things go as planned, you’ll be back on a plane before you know it. Then this will be just a memory.”
“As planned? A memory? You’re speaking in riddles…I have no clue what’s happening to me.” Okay, that came out pretty desperate. Perhaps that’s simply how I feel, when it concerns a certain sex god.
Does this have to be a memory?
Oh, shut up, heart.
“Can you please—” I’m cut off by the DJ who hands me the mic.
“You’re up.”
Wyatt eyes the microphone with surprise, but doesn't comment. Instead, he downs his drink and pats me on the shoulder. “Listen, I think you're a nice girl. Why don't you enjoy the rest of the night with your friends. If you want to know what’s going on, meet me in the lobby of your hotel whenever you come back tonight. I’ll wait for you.” And just like that, he turns and disappears into the crowd, leaving me standing there like a fool, mouth open, eyes wide.
“Come on girl, don’t chicken out on me now.”
