Chapter 5 - The Cable Behind the Booth
The DJ booth smelled like warm plastic and lemons from somebody's cleaning spray. I could hear the laptop fan buzzing under the music that wasn't playing anymore, just that low hum in the speakers. My hand was sweating around the microphone.
Vanessa didn't look at me when she got to the booth. She looked at him.
She leaned in close over the black skirt of the table, her lace sleeve brushing his laptop. Her smile was still on for the tables behind us, but her voice went low and fast. I was close enough I heard every word.
"Kill it," she whispered. "Shut the whole system down. Now."
The DJ didn't move right away. He was maybe thirty, with a shaved head and a wedding band that kept clicking against the table when his hand shook. His eyes cut from her to me.
Behind me, the ballroom had gone too quiet. I could hear ice shifting in a glass somewhere. Somebody's chair scraped. The fairy-light curtain behind the booth ticked a little in the air-conditioning.
Mr. Graham stepped forward off the dance floor. His shoes made a flat sound on the white panels. He wasn't yelling. That was scarier.
"Don't touch that power," he said to the DJ. He pointed at my pocket where my phone was. "Connect her phone. I want to hear her."
Vanessa turned her head sharp toward him. "Robert, don't do this. She's eight. She doesn't know what she's doing."
"I know exactly what I'm doing," Mr. Graham said. He kept his eyes on the DJ. "What's your name, son?"
"Marcus," the DJ said.
"Marcus, plug her in."
Marcus swallowed. He looked down at his mixer, at all the little green and red lights. His hand hovered over the power strip on the floor where an orange light glowed.
"Ma'am, I—" he started, looking at Vanessa. "If I kill the board mid-reception, I—"
"You work for us tonight," Vanessa said, still whispering, but her whisper shook. "I said shut it down. I'll take care of you after."
I felt my chest get tight. My mom always told me grown-ups notice when you breathe too fast, so I tried to breathe through my nose real slow. The microphone was heavy.
Mr. Graham put his hand flat on the edge of the DJ table. Not hitting it. Just there.
"Marcus," he said. "You heard the order. You connect the kid. Anything goes wrong with your equipment, you talk to me."
Marcus looked from Mr. Graham's hand to Vanessa's face. Vanessa's fingers tightened on the table skirt.
"You're going to listen to a child over your own bride?" she said. Her voice cracked up loud enough that the front tables heard. A woman in a blue dress near the screen leaned forward.
Mr. Graham didn't answer her. He looked at me.
"Lily," he said. "Come here with that phone."
I didn't move yet because Mom wasn't next to me. She was still down on the floor below the platform, with her hand up halfway like she didn't know if she was allowed up there.
"Let her up," Mr. Graham said to nobody in particular, but the DJ stepped back to make room.
Mom climbed the little black step onto the platform. Her shoe slipped once and she caught herself on the edge of the speaker. Then she was there, warm right against my shoulder, her hand on my back. I could feel her shaking through my cardigan.
"I'm here," she whispered to me. Just that. "I'm here."
Vanessa saw Mom step up and her mouth pressed into a thin line. She reached her hand out toward me, palm up, her nails white-tipped.
"Honey, give me the phone," she said, sweet now, loud for the room. "Let the adults handle this, okay? You're scaring everyone."
I stepped back half a step into Mom. Mom's arm came around me.
"No," Mom said quietly. "She keeps it."
Vanessa stared at her. "Claire—"
"She keeps it," Mom said again.
Marcus bent down fast like he wanted this part over. He pulled a black cable from behind the laptop, the end silver and flat. He held it out to me without looking straight at Vanessa.
"You got an adapter, sweetie?" he asked me. His voice was kinder than before. "What kind of phone?"
I fished my phone out of my skirt pocket with my left hand because I wouldn't let go of the microphone with my right. The case was cracked in the corner from where I'd dropped it at school pickup.
"Here," I said.
He took it gentle, like it was something breakable. He plugged the cable in. Vanessa made a small sound and started around the table toward us.
"Marcus, stop—"
"Stay there," Mr. Graham said.
She stopped. Her dress pooled around her feet. Up close I could see sweat along her hairline where her updo was pinned.
Marcus clicked something on the laptop. The laptop screen changed from his music list to a blue box that said HDMI 2 - No Signal, then Searching.
We all looked past the tables to the big black screen under the chandelier. For a second nothing happened. It stayed black and I thought maybe he'd killed it after all.
Then it blinked. A thin white flicker ran across the bottom, and the little light on the side went from red to green. The blue box on his laptop changed to show my lock screen — my photo of me and Mom at the county fair.
A lady near the back gasped. Somebody else stood up to see better.
Sound held. The speakers gave one soft pop and then quiet, and my breathing came back through the microphone loud in the room.
May you like
Marcus straightened up and lifted his hands off the board like he didn't want to be blamed for what came next.
"It's connected," he said.
