Polite applause rippled through the opera house. She turned back to Darnell, and her voice shifted: still bright, still smiling, but with an edge underneath like sugar coating a blade.
"So, Darnell, do you think you can sing?"
It wasn't really a question.
"I... yes, ma'am."
"'Yes, ma'am,'" she repeated, drawing it out slightly. "So polite and humble. I appreciate that." She looked at her musical director. "James, let's give him Illuminate, the bridge section we just rehearsed. Full orchestra."
A murmur moved through the crowd. Several people shifted in their seats. In the front row, a woman in pearls leaned toward her companion and whispered something behind her hand.
James, the musical director, hesitated. His fingers tapped against his tablet. "Vanessa, that's... the range on that bridge is exceptionally difficult. Maybe we could start with something more age-appropriate?"
"Did I ask for alternatives?" Vanessa's smile never flickered, but her voice dropped half a degree. "This is my gala, James. My stage. And I think Darnell here is brave enough to try. Aren't you, sweetheart?"
Darnell's mouth had gone dry. Illuminate. The song he'd heard her rehearse. The song with the impossible note that wasn't real.
"I could try," he said quietly.
"Of course you can! That's the spirit." Vanessa squeezed his shoulder once, then released him, stepping back to give him space.