Letty turns around with a bottle in hand. “Sup.”
“Hi, I’m Sunsh—I mean Faith.” I roll my eyes at my own stupidity. Hayden’s called me Sunshine so much these last two days, it’s starting to stick. I also really like the way it sounds coming from him. “I desperately need a job, so if you hear of anything, let me know.”
“I don’t know how long I’ll be sticking around, so you can have my job if I decide to leave.” Violet sips her drink through a straw.
“You just passing through?”
She shrugs. “I came to find my dad, but Kane says he’s not my father. He’s just letting me crash until I get back on my feet.”
“Nice. I’m just staying with my brother’s friend right now. I have no money to pay him or anything.”
“Where’s your brother? Can’t you stay with him?”
I take a sip from my bottle, wondering how much I should tell this girl I just met, but she seems like she’d understand. “He’s in prison.”
She nods, unfazed, as if I just told her he’s away on business. “It’s good of him to let you move in. Kane won’t take money from me, says he owes my mother or something. Feels like it’s his duty to care for me, even though I only arrived here a few weeks ago after leaving my foster family.”
“He sounds like Hayden.”
“I’ll keep a lookout for any jobs for you.” She gives me a sympathetic smile, as if she can sense I’m broken. And I get the feeling she’s been there too. “If you need anything—anything at all—I know what it’s like to have nowhere to go.”
“Faith!” a voice calls from across the room. It’s Chloe, who I went to school with—her eyeliner just as dramatic now, her voice still bright as a bell. “Come sing with us!”
I freeze, my bottle halfway to my mouth. “No, I couldn’t,” I say, shaking my head. “I haven’t sung in front of anyone in ages.”
“Sure you can. You love singing,” she insists. “You used to belt out songs at the top of your lungs in the girls’ toilets, remember?”
I laugh nervously. “That was different. That was high school and closed doors.”
“You’re waiting for someone, right? So sing while you wait.” She grins, already reaching for my hand.
Before I can protest, Yaz joins in. “Yeah, c’mon! You’re an amazing singer, Faith.”
“I really shouldn’t…”
“Faith,” Chloe says more gently now. “You’ll feel better. Trust me.”
That tugs at something inside me—because she’s right. I’ve felt like a shadow of myself for so long. Afraid to take up space and scared to be seen.
I nod, heart thudding, and let them pull me towards the little makeshift stage in the bay window, filled with mismatched amps, string lights, and borrowed instruments. I smile at Toby, the drummer—another familiar face from school. He taps his sticks in greeting.
I take the mic with trembling fingers. My mouth’s as dry as the local reservoir in a hosepipe ban. I stare out at the bar, but the lights above us blur everything into a golden haze. The first notes of a slow acoustic version of “Torn” by Natalie Imbruglia play behind me. A song we practiced at school in music class.
I take a breath.
And I sing.
My voice is quiet and unsteady, like I’ve forgotten how to be loud.
But then I see him.
Hayden’s standing at the back of the bar in the doorway to the stairs, meeting with a couple of patched members, but his eyes are on me.
Not like Nigel’s eyes. Not even like the boys at school who only saw my curves.
Hayden looks at me like I’m the sun coming out after the longest storm.
My nerves settle. My voice rises. I hit the chorus and close my eyes, letting the lyrics pour from me like they’ve been waiting to be set free.
