“Yeah,” Finnley said quickly, pitching his voice too high. “Totally fine. I’ll figure it out. And I’ll take any help I can get to make it work.” He set his jaw. “I have to, because Ineedthis.”
Theo’s expression softened slightly, as if he saw right through the gloss and glitter.
“See you at rehearsal,” he said.
Finnley nodded, forcing his glittery smile back in place until he stepped into the corridor, the door shutting behind him. Then he sagged against the wall, his phone clutched tight.
Added to a group. Invited in. Wanted.
The relief was sharp enough to hurt, but underneath it, anxiety purred.
What if they regret it? What if I can’t keep up?
He pressed a hand to his chest, whispering to himself: “Shine hard enough, no one sees you shake.”
He prayed it would be true this time.
The door clicked shut, leaving a faint shimmer of glitter in the air. Max leaned back in his chair with a low whistle. “Well. That one’s a firework.”
Theo couldn’t shake off Finnley’s performance.That voice. That attitude.
He picked up his notes, scanning them with his usual precision. “Strong falsetto. Impressive control, considering thenerves. His upper register could carry a whole arrangement if we wanted.”
“Could carry a crowd too,” Max said. His grin was quick, wolfish. “Did you see the way he walked in here? The whole room tilted, and he knew it. Sure, he was hiding under a layer of vinyl and glitter, but underneath…” He let out a soft sigh. “That kid was shaking.”
Theo frowned slightly, tapping his pen against the margin. “He’s twenty-one. That’s the youngest we’ve taken so far. He’s never been away from home, by the sound of it. I’m not sure how he’ll handle the move. We’re talking a lot of pressure, not to mention expectations.”
Max tilted his head, studying Theo. “You heard it, same as me. Heneedsthis. That voice? That sparkle? He’s been waiting for a stage that won’t laugh him off it.”
Theo’s lips pressed into a line. “Need doesn’t always translate to reliability.”
“Sometimes it does,” Max countered, his voice sharp but not unkind. “Sometimes it’s the difference between a singer who shows up and one who sets the room on fire.” He leaned forward, voice lowering. “And Finnley? He’s combustible, in the best way.”
Theo’s gaze lingered on his notes, but his voice softened. “Okay, he has potential. I’ll go so far astremendouspotential. But he’ll need structure, not to mention support.”
Max’s smirk returned. “Lucky for him, he’s got you for the spreadsheets and me for the chaos.”
Theo sighed, exasperated. “God help him.”
Max chuckled. “Nah. God help the audience.”
Chapter Eleven
The office smelled like toner,stale coffee, and resignation, hemmed in by beige walls and beige carpet, populated by people living beige lives.
Or maybe that’s just my mood this morning.
Yeah, he knew better.
Zane Gallagher tapped invoice codes into a spreadsheet, the rhythm broken by the melody humming at the back of his throat. Not quite a song yet, but the bones of one, something he wanted to give wings. His monitor glowed blue, his designer boots scuffed against the carpet, and the button-down shirt his dad insisted on stretched tight across his shoulders, a torture in fabric.
“Morning, sunshine,” Carol from Accounts chirped as she passed his desk.
He flashed her the grin, the one that made people forgive mistakes, open doors, and assume he was exactly what they needed him to be: safe, pleasant, and uncomplicated.
“You always make this place brighter,” Carol added, smiling.
He winked, because that was also what they expected. “That’s my job, right?”
