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“Well, not so much as listening to classical music, rather playing it,Isuppose.”Iweighed my words. “GuessIshould mention thatIplay the piano.”
“Professionally?”
Inodded. “Iwent toJuilliardfor it.”
Itwas the first thing that gave him pause. “Andnow you’re in the music industry,” he didn’t ask but rather observed.
“Sortof.Iwrite jingles for ad commercials.”
Hisbrows furrowed. “Howold are you?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Andyou already graduated?”
Inodded. “Afew months ago.”
“Hm.”Hegrunted.
WhenIfound him staring at me suspiciously,Istraightened.Juilliardor not, it was atypical for a twenty-one-year-old to have such a career breakthrough.EachjingleIsold paid me anywhere from two thousand to ten thousand dollars.Dependingon the demand,I’dbe making six figures by next year.However,Icould hardly take full credit.
Despitemy parents’ chagrin,Jordanforced her dad to help get my foot in the door since he owned aPRand talent agency.Pairthat with my lifelong private piano lessons and an expensive education fromJuilliard,Ihad a competitive edge off the bat.
That’show society worked, right?Thosewith money could keep it within the family since they could prepare the next generation for success.
Despitereaping the benefits—and the path privilege had paved for my quick rise to success—Icould acknowledge the flaw in the system.Composerslike me worked tirelessly to create music, whereas thisDJhad played multiple originals throughout the night.Afterlistening to his music all night,Iwas convinced he would’ve surpassed me by miles if he had one-tenth of my resources.
However, without proper resources, his career might never take off.Deprivingthe world of this man’s endless talents was a depressing thought.
Hedidn’t seem bothered, much too intrigued by our conversation. “Howdo you know the bride and groom?”
Ifroze at the mention of my family.
WhenIdidn’t respond, he recounted, “Yousat by yourself at the ceremony.”
Iblinked, astounded that he saw me at the ceremony sinceIwas sitting all the way in the back.
“IfIremember correctly, you arrived after everyone else at the reception.”BecauseIwas knee-deep in mud, followed by a rigorous shower. “Youdidn’t sit at a designated table, either, and missed dinner altogether.”
Washe searching for me during the reception?
“Youwere alone at the bar for most of the night.Ididn’t see you speak to a single person at that wedding.”Whenmy eyes narrowed for a dirty look, he smirked. “Youwedding crashed.Itwas one of the things on your list.”
Atranquil look fixed on my face asIsuppressed the pain in my heart.Atotal stranger thoughtIhad attended my brother’s wedding uninvited.That’show muchIwas left out of the fold today.Technically,Milanhad also disinvited me earlier, soImight as well have crashed his wedding.Ihad unconsciously accomplished one task on my list.
Self-deprecation made me march to the open notebook sitting on the bench and cross off two items under theDJ’swatchful eyes.
Steala bottle of liquor from a bar
Shotguna beer
Crasha party
Myphone buzzed, saving me from the horrid reminders of the day.Iglanced down to read the text from the cab company.Theywere waiting for me in the parking lot.
“I’vegot to go.Mycab’s here,”Iinformed flatly and started gathering my items, slinging my mini back over my shoulders. “Thanksfor the beer.”
Ijumped when theDJstepped forward, brushing against my elbow.Theheat evaporating from the nearness of his body was unexpected. “Tellme your name,” he demanded.
