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Bastian opens the door to the Dragon Star pub, waiting for me to enter first. Taking in a large inhale, I square my shoulders and walk in.
Bridget had been true to her word and came knocking a couple of hours after Bastian’s little lesson. She offered to drive, but Bastian overheard the conversation and flat-out refused, so I told her we would meet her there. She took his scowls and lack of warmth in stride, giggling and smiling wide. She gave us the name of the place and waved us goodbye.
The pub is small, intimate even, a dozen tables scattered around near the small stage at the far back, someone already on stage singing a song I don’t recognize… Which would be approximately ninety-nine percent of all songs ever written. The bar faces the opposing wall, an eclectic array of neon signs adorning the age-worn dark gray walls, and the few windows in the place are so grimy that you can barely see outside. Despite the less-than-desirable decor, the place is packed and the atmosphere is warm and lively.
My nerves feel electric, like I’m holding on to a live wire and can’t let go. I spot Bridget at the bar and she waves us over.
“Hi guys!” she says cheerily, pulling me into a hug and then quickly releasing me. She points to the man standing beside her. “This is Ritchie, my boyfriend,” she says with a wide smile. “Ritchie, this is Lucy and herfriendBastian.”
The way she emphasizes the word friend makes me want to die a little, but I swallow the embarrassment, waving hello to her boyfriend. Ritchie does not look like much, especially when I compare him to Bastian. His medium build, dull brown eyes, and shaved head make him easily forgettable. I’m not sure I would notice him in a crowd if we were never introduced. He barely gives me a glance, too busy staring at Bastian standing behind me to notice. Bastian does not help the situation much, giving a bored nod to both before turning to face the bar, trying to catch the bartender’s attention.
Bridget looks my way and gives her head a little shake accompanied by an amused eye roll, not looking at all bothered by both men’s lack of response. Her eyes shine with excitement when she starts talking again.
“I’m so excited for you,” she gushes, her hand finding my arm and squeezing. “Are you nervous?” Not letting me answer, she adds, “I already spoke to the MC and he says that if you already have a song picked out he can cue it up for you and you can be on stage in the next twenty minutes.”
The dread spilling into my stomach at an alarming rate must also be visible in my facial expression because Bridget’s smile drops. She lowers her voice and leans in. “Do you know what song you want to sing already?”
“No—yes, I mean… I do have a song. I jus—I just do not think I can do this,” I say, my voice falling quieter with every word spoken.
She stays silent for a few seconds, studying me.
“Boys,” she announces, threading her fingers through mine and pulling me away from the bar. “We’ll be right back, we just need to powder our noses.” She gives me a quick wink and tugs me forward. I am not sure whatpowdering our nosescould possibly be, but I do not ask questions as we slip through the crowd toward the women’s bathroom.
The music fades when the door closes behind us, and somehow it makes me breathe a little better. I watch Bridget strut up to one of the sinks, looking at herself in the mirror, adding volume to her hair with both hands.
“So,” she says while looking down, rummaging inside her red tasseled suede purse. “What’s your story, Lucy? Why was singing at a karaoke bar part of your bucket list?”
The real reason floats across my mind like a ghost seeking its grave.
I grew up in a cult where I was not allowed to sing outside of the church choir.
The truth is too bleak to share, so I decide on a safer answer. “I always loved to sing.”
“What stopped you?” Bridget asks while reapplying her mascara.
I shrug a shoulder, looking down at the scuffed bathroom floor and then back up. “Everything?”
When she giggles in response, it does not feel pointed, instead, it feels friendly and welcoming. “I feel that,” she says, dropping her mascara back inside her purse and fishing out her red lipstick.
I watch in silence as she applies a fresh coat, one lip, and then the next. She finds my gaze through the mirror and smiles. “You’ll do great, I just know it. Who cares about the crowd? What matters is that you’re happy and having fun, right?”
Her words settle softly onto my heart, dissolving into small bursts of bravery, making me nod and smile back at her.
“That’s the spirit,” she says with a giggle, capping her lipstick. She walks up and hands it to me. “Here. For some luck.” I blink up at her, a little surprised. “Take it,” she says with a small flick of her wrist.
So I do.
“I’ll give you a sec, okay?” her tone soothing while she squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll be right outside.” She opens the bathroom door, the music spilling back around me as she does. Then she pauses, looking back over to where I’m standing. “You’ll knock em’ dead, honey,” she says with a wink.
Twenty minutes later, I listen to the MC call me on stage. With my heart slamming against my chest, I walk up on shaky legs and sit on the stool already set up in front of the mic for me. The lights are brighter than expected, but I still manage to find Bridget cheering me on, sitting close to the stage, both men sitting on opposite sides of her. My gaze locks with Bastian’s and for a second I consider sprinting out of here and canceling the whole thing, road trip included.
Then I hear the melody start to play. Of a song I have listened to on repeat, for months now. One of Lenix’s favorite—and now mine. I know every single verse by heart. I could even sing it without the tempo guiding me through the notes. I keep Bastian’s gaze until the very last moment, his little nod of encouragement making my heart squeeze in my chest.
Finally, I close my eyes and begin to sing.
22
Listening to Lucy sing on stage, eyes closed, a soft soulful smile etched on her red-painted lips, feels like finally receiving the answer to a prayer I never even made. Goosebumps break out all over my arms and up my nape as her voice—quiet but clear and so eerily beautiful—surrounds me, like smoke carrying the scent of the divine.
