He looked over at them, then back at me, realizing this wasn't the standard script. My friends weren't just background noise; they were the gatekeepers. If he couldn't handle their sharp wit or earn their respect, he wouldn't even make it to the next round.
The neon hum of "The Velvet Lounge" was the only thing louder than the rain slicking the pavement outside. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and aged whiskey. I sat at a corner booth, watching him through the rim of my glass. He was all charm and polished shoes, the kind of guy who thought a drink and a smile were enough to buy a lifetime. Why Mona Wannabe Lyrics
He blinked, his smirk faltering just a fraction. "I'm listening." He looked over at them, then back at
I didn't smile back. I leaned in, the low bass of a slowed-down track vibrating through the table. "You want my future? Forget my past," I said, my voice cutting through his practiced charm. "I’ll tell you what I want—what I really, really want. And it isn't just a pretty face in a booth." The neon hum of "The Velvet Lounge" was