by Maisey Yates
“Is it hard for you to give up control over something that you created?”
He gave her a wistful smile. “It should be but it’s not. I like focusing on the big picture. Besides, work can only give you so much satisfaction.” He sighed. “I’d canceled all my meetings and taken ten days off to get married and go on a honeymoon.”
“Sorry about that.”
“No, you’re right. If I really wanted to marry Pooja I would’ve proposed to her when she first threatened to leave.”
Ah, he can admit when he’s wrong.
Kathy returned with their burgers and they dug in with gusto. They chatted about their favorite books, movies and places they’d been. Divya was surprised at how much they had in common: they hated reality TV and loved witty historical dramas and suspenseful thrillers. He didn’t share her obsession with horror movies, but no guy was perfect.
They landed at the private aviation terminal at Teterboro Airport, right outside the city, in New Jersey. Divya knew from traveling with her parents that the main New York City commercial airports were very congested, so private jets used the smaller airports.
A tall older woman dressed in a business suit greeted them as they exited the plane. Ethan introduced her as his executive assistant Roda. Roda handed Ethan two rollerboard suitcases, a small box and the keys to a Mercedes roadster.
When they were seated in the car, he handed Divya the small box. “That’s for you.”
She opened it to find the latest smartphone and a black American Express card in her name. “Thank you. I promise to pay you back for everything.”
He waved his hand. “Please, don’t worry about it. Like I said, the last thing I need is more money.”
The catch in his voice reverberated through her. She knew well that money couldn’t buy what anyone really wanted, but Ethan seemed to resent his fortune.
The early September air was cool but the temperature was warm. “Do you mind if we go top down?” he asked. She stared at him, open-mouthed, then he pointed toward the top of the car. “It’s a convertible.”
Yet another thing she’d never done in her life: ride in a convertible. “Seems like fun. Let’s do it.”
He grinned. “I’ll warn you, it’ll mess up your hair. Most women hate it.”
She shrugged and twisted her hair into a messy bun. He pressed a button, and she looked up at the beautiful sky and took a deep breath. This is what freedom feels like.
“I have a condo in the city we can stay at,” he said as he put the car in drive.
Um, no. Given what had almost happened on the plane, she didn’t want to stay someplace on his terms.
“My brother is bound to check for us at any properties you own in the city. I can call in a favor.” She made a call on the new phone Ethan had given her, then instructed him to drive to one of the most luxurious hotels in New York.
It took them nearly two hours to navigate city traffic, but Divya barely noticed. She took in the sights and sounds of the chaotic city and savored the feel of the warm sun and cool air over her skin. She had been to New York before, but today she could really taste the smog in the air and feel the rhythm of the cars, people and bicycles.
She sent a WhatsApp message to her contact at Café Underground and crossed her fingers that he still remembered her.
It was night by the time Ethan pulled into the hotel driveway and handed his keys to the valet. Divya strode up to the check-in counter and asked them to call Rajiv Mehra. The clerk eyed her but delivered the message.
They didn’t have to wait long before an Indian man, impeccably dressed in a custom-tailored suit and French-cuffed shirt, appeared. He hugged Divya. “It is so good to see you. I called Gauri as soon as you contacted me. She insisted we have dinner tonight.” Rajiv sounded genuinely pleased to see her. She caught the look of surprise in his eyes at her clothing. “And I insist you buy what you need from the lobby shops and charge it to me.”
Divya hugged him. “You are such a good friend. I owe you big time.” She knew he’d be insulted if she offered to pay him back with money.
Her phone pinged and she looked down to see a message from Café Underground.
“I definitely want to see Gauri and catch up with you two, but could we get together tomorrow? There’s something I must do tonight.”
If Rajiv was annoyed, he was too gracious to show it. “Of course. How about lunch tomorrow?”
“That would be great. Thank you so much for putting us up and keeping it secret. You know how my parents can be.”
“How can I forget? You’re safe here.” He looked over Divya’s shoulder to Ethan. “Is this your friend?” He arched his brows and switched to Hindi. “Now I understand why I wasn’t your type.”
She smiled and shook her head. “It’s not like that.” She quickly explained everything that had happened at the wedding.
Ethan cleared his throat and Divya realized she’d been rude in carrying on in Hindi with Rajiv. She introduced the two men. “Rajiv owns the hotel.”
Ethan was duly impressed and said so without letting on that his own net worth was exponentially bigger than Rajiv’s. Divya liked that Ethan didn’t feel the need to advertise his success. On the plane, he’d changed into faded jeans and a plain T-shirt. No one would guess that he’d just flown in on his own private jet.
Rajiv handed them over to a staff member and invited Ethan to lunch the next day. Then they were led to a suite of rooms that made Ethan whistle.
“I’ve stayed in some pretty fancy hotels, but this is something else.” They entered a great room that included floor-to-ceiling windows with a bird’s-eye view of the city. A baby grand piano sat in the center of the room. There were two different seating areas, a small dining table, a bar and a kitchen. There were two bedrooms, each with its own sumptuous bathroom. It was all done in a warm, modern style with boxy furniture, wood accents and white linens.
“Rajiv is some friend to put you up here.”
Divya nodded distractedly as she responded to a message on her phone.
“Friend of your family?”
She nodded. “Yes, our parents are close. My brother helped him get started with this hotel.”
“And yet he’s doing you a favor.”
“He owes me,” she said, smiling. “I’ll tell you about it later. Right now I need to go down to the shops and buy something to wear.” She grinned. “The stage manager at Café Underground remembers me and said he’d put me on the list to sing tonight.” Her heart raced with excitement.
Ethan grinned and pointed to one of the suitcases they’d brought. “There should be a variety of things in there you can use.”
Her eyes widened.
“My New York assistant, Roda, did some shopping while we were in the air. I guessed your size but hopefully they fit.”
“That was very thoughtful of you. Thank you. I’ll…”
He shook his head. “Please, don’t say you’ll pay me back. We’ve discussed this, haven’t we?”
She sighed. “I know you have lots of money, but I still feel like I’m taking advantage of you. We just met today. Let me at least help you figure out your love life.”
He raised his brows. “You think there’s something to fix?”
You don’t? She stopped herself from saying that out loud. “I’m a great matchmaker. I set up Rajiv and his wife and they’ve been happily married for three years now.”
“He has a wife?”
She tried not a smile at the relief in his voice. Had he been jealous of Rajiv?
“I’ve set up nearly all of my friends and most of the men my parents chose for me.”
His lips twitched. “Was Rajiv one of those men?”
She nodded sheepishly. “He was, until I introduced him to Gauri and he fell madly in love with her.”
“If you’re that good, wh
y didn’t you set up your fiancé?”
She laughed. “I don’t have a lot of friends in the US. Had he been based in India, I would’ve found him a woman who’d make him stop thinking about me.”
“I doubt a man could stop thinking about you.” Ethan’s voice was so low and throaty that her heart stopped. She looked away from his sparkling blue eyes before she lost her mind entirely and decided to add Ethan to her bucket list. “Let’s get dressed and get to Café Underground.”
They each chose a bedroom. Hers had a dark wood platform bed made up in white linens with low-standing side tables and a dresser. Her bathroom was bigger than the bedroom and included white-and-gray marble tile, a tall oval Japanese soaking tub and a glass-enclosed shower. She set the bag Ethan had given her on a luggage rack and surveyed the clothes. There was a deep maroon cocktail dress with a cowl neck that would do for tonight.
The assistant had even included makeup. Unfortunately, the colors were too light for her skin tone, so she just went with mascara and lip gloss. Her hands shook as she applied the mascara, and she had to wash her face and do it twice. She had dreamed of singing in a real club but hadn’t really thought she’d get the chance to make her dream come true. What if she tried to sing and nothing came out? Was her voice hoarse? She practiced a few notes. Was the sound strange or was it the acoustics in the bathroom? She took a deep breath and focused on getting herself ready. Tonight might be the only chance she had. She wasn’t going to waste time.
The shoes included with the dress were too large, but she stuffed some toilet paper in the toe caps. She didn’t want to be late to Café Underground.
When she stepped into the shared common room, Ethan was by the bar. He looked casual but stunning in dark jeans and a fashionably untucked black shirt.
He whistled appreciatively when he saw her. “You look amazing. You’re going to knock it out of the park.”
“I know the expression, but I doubt it applies to me. I’ll be happy if I don’t get booed off the stage. This place is for hard-core artists and music lovers. The audience is serious.”
He walked over to her and gently grasped her shoulders. “You’ll be great, Divya. Just live for yourself tonight.”
She took a breath and mentally repeated his words to herself. Tonight is mine alone.
The club wasn’t far from their hotel, so they took a pedicab. The seat was cozy and she tried not to focus on the feel of Ethan’s thigh against hers or the warmth of his body next to hers. She had a song in mind that she wanted to sing, so she went over the words in her head. It was a favorite of hers and she’d been singing it since she was a girl.
The pedicab driver skirted traffic, and got them to Café Underground in just a few minutes.
“This is where you want to make your debut?”
They were looking at a dark door with the words Café Underground flickering in neon lights above. She nodded reverently. It was exactly as she’d imagined it.
He opened the door and she took a breath as she stepped inside. The club was packed. A stage at one end of the room was empty but held a complement of musical equipment and was lit up with a spotlight. A bar on the other end was standing room only. The center of the room was dark and held high-top tables with barstools. All of the tables were full, and people crowded in between seats. The smell of stale beer hung in the air.
Divya’s pulse quickened. I can’t do this. Her parents never let her go out without a chaperone, and she wasn’t used to such crowds. She suddenly felt unsure of herself. How was she supposed to handle this?
Ethan elbowed his way to the bartender to ask how to sign up for open mic. Divya stood back. Ethan was taller and more easily able to lean over the bar to hear what the guy was saying. The bartender pointed to another man seated next to the stage. He was short and wiry, with thick black-rimmed glasses, a mesh shirt and leather pants that couldn’t be tighter if they were painted on.
Ethan made his way to the leather-pants guy, with Divya trailing behind. The crowd crushed around her and she found it hard to breathe. Ethan found her hand and squeezed it. They made their way to the stage and the man with the leather pants looked up. “Hey, you my Bollywood girl?”
She smiled. “Rick?”
“That’s me, baby.” He stood, leaned over and touched his cheek to hers. “Damn. You’re even better-looking in person than on video.”
“You are an even bigger flirt in person than on Zoom.”
He smiled widely. “I’m gonna try and get you on when I can. It’s a busy night, but chill. I got you.”
Ethan navigated them back to the bar. A band onstage introduced themselves, and the lead began strumming an electric guitar. The noise level in the room increased several decibels.
Getting a drink turned out to take almost an hour. It seemed very few people left the club but more joined throughout the night. Each performer got two songs, and the performances ranged from bands singing their own songs to a cappella versions of popular hits to solo instrumental and vocal performances. Divya’s feet were killing her, and by the second hour, she could barely stand.
“Your feet hurt?” Ethan asked.
She nodded. “I’ll be fine.”
He walked over to a table and she saw him handing over several bills. Ethan managed to get them two seats at a table where four other people were already seated. Divya knew money was no object for him, but it was the gesture that struck her. He paid attention to her, not just what she said but how she was feeling, how she was doing. How did an intuitive guy like that not have women lining up to be with him?
He tried to introduce them to their tablemates only to get shushed as they listened to the next band. He leaned over and whispered to Divya. “This crowd is no joke.”
She nodded. “Broadway and other industry agents and scouts come here looking for talent.”
A solo musician stood onstage and tuned his guitar. “Hurry it up!” someone heckled. The musician looked to be no more than a boy of eighteen or nineteen. He fumbled with the chords and his voice came out strangled. The crowd immediately began booing, and the kid hurried offstage.
Divya’s heart hammered. The room was getting hot.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be great.” Ethan squeezed her hand.
“You’ve never heard me sing. I thought I could do this, but I’m not sure…” The words died on her lips as he put a finger on her mouth. She had an insane urge to take that finger and suck on it.
But just as fast, he pulled it off her lips. “I’ve seen your determination. You’ve given up a lot to be here. You can do this.”
Tears pricked her eyes. Her family always told her how well she sang. Her parents paid for the best vocal teachers because she asked them to. Yet, none of them had ever believed in her the way this stranger sitting next to her did. He was still holding on to her hand, and she let his strength comfort her and calm the nervous churn of her stomach.
They sat and listened to the other musicians and with each new artist, Divya’s doubts grew. The crowd was merciless, exuberant with their applause and brutal with their heckling. At least five performers were run offstage before they even finished their sets. She knew to expect this. It’s what made Café Underground the place to test one’s mettle. But now that she was here, she wasn’t sure she could really do it.
Rick signaled to them. Divya looked up at Ethan, and he gave her a reassuring smile. “Go knock them dead.” She knew without a doubt no matter what happened, there would be one person in the audience cheering for her.
Her feet hurt and her legs wobbled as she made her way onto the stage. The easy part of doing a vocal performance was the quick stage turnaround. No instrument tuning or setup required. The hard part was the fact that there was nothing but her voice. As she stood at the microphone, the crowd grew restless. They weren’t going to be polite to her, like her family and friends. This wasn’t like it had
been on Zoom, when people were just glad to hear some music and connect with other people. And where Rick had had the ability to mute the crowd.
It was late into the night and the alcohol had been flowing for hours. They weren’t going to be easy to please. This would be the moment when she’d find out whether she had any real talent. She’d worked hard for years with the vocal lessons; her singing was the only thing that hadn’t been handed to her, and this was the moment she’d find out whether it, whether she, was worth anything. She took a breath and found Ethan in the crowd. He gave her a thumbs-up, and she began singing.
CHAPTER FIVE
Ethan didn’t know what to expect, but even without ever having heard Divya sing, he knew she’d be great. What did surprise him was her choice of songs. She started with Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah.” It apparently surprised the crowd too, because as she escalated her voice into the first chorus, a hush blanketed the room for the first time all night. She closed her eyes as she sang the verses, varying her pitch to the crescendo of the words. With no instrumental accompaniment, her voice sounded pure and clear. It filled Ethan’s soul with joy and arrested the audience into silence.
At the end of the song, the entire club burst into applause. Ethan stood, clapping as hard as he could. She wasn’t just good. She was Whitney Houston, Aretha Franklin good, with a rich deep voice that was pitch-perfect. He’d never heard anything like it.
The deal had been for her to sing two songs. For the second song she chose “Country Road,” and the crowd went wild. This time she didn’t stand still. She picked up the microphone from the stand and walked the stage. The crowd joined in with her, thrilled with her nostalgic choice. The other vocalists had all chosen more popular, contemporary songs.
When she waved to leave the stage, the crowd stood and shouted “Encore!” That was also a first all night. They’d liked other performers but hadn’t asked anyone to stay.
Rick shook his head, but at the grumbles of the crowd he relented. “One more, but that’s it,” he bellowed and they all cheered.