24. Chapter 21 | Elle #2
"If you wanted... if you thought it was safe enough... you could sing too." His voice was careful. "People would come for that. But only if you want to. Only if it's safe."
Silence.
Elle's heart pounded.
My voice. He's asking for my voice.
The thing that made me famous. The thing that could destroy me.
Everyone watched her, waiting.
Dom's hand found hers under the bar. No pressure. Just: I'm here. Whatever you choose.
"Yeah," Elle heard herself say. "I'll sing."
Dom's hand tightened on hers.
Papa Louie nodded slowly. "You sure?"
"No." The word came out thinner than she meant it to. "But I'm doing it anyway."
She pulled the ledger toward her, grabbed a pencil, and started writing before she could change her mind.
Lists forming under her hand. Music schedule. Food coordination. Bar setup.
Every skill from producing The Sable Hour. Every trick for managing chaos.
But this time for fifty people, not thirty million.
Her pencil skipped twice before she found her grip. She pressed her palm flat against the paper, took a breath, and kept writing.
"We'll need other musicians first," Elle said, still writing, not looking up. "Build energy. Papa Louie early. Then local players. I'll go last—the finale. That's when people are most invested. When they'll give the most."
Papa Louie started naming musicians. Elle wrote them down.
Dom pulled the ledger closer. "We need at least three hundred. Two months' new rent plus cushion for when I can't fight."
"Can a party raise that much?" Elle asked.
Papa Louie was quiet. "Maybe. If enough people come. If they give what they can." He looked at his swollen hands. "If I can play all night without stopping."
"You won't be alone," Dom said. "I'll book six other acts at a minimum. You play one set, rest, then play another."
"And I'll handle security," Dom added. "Make sure nobody gets rowdy, nobody bothers the musicians, nobody walks off without paying."
Elle looked up from her lists. "You're really going to do security work?"
"Already started." Dom pulled business cards from her pocket and showed Elle. Simple, clean design—CJ's work. "Got three bookings already. Church events, community gatherings. Pay's not much, but it's steady."
Elle's throat tightened. She's building something. A future that doesn't depend on getting beaten in a ring.
"You're really good at this," Dom said quietly, nodding at Elle's lists.
Elle looked up.
"I produced shows for thirty million people. I can produce one for fifty."
She went back to her lists.
Not invisible anymore.
Taking charge. Taking action.
This is my family, and I'm fighting for it.
An hour later, they had a plan.
Saturday, August third. Music at eight. Food all night. Suggested donation at the door, but no one turned away.
Oretha would spread the word. CJ would make posters tomorrow.
Dom started making calls—musicians, neighbors, CORE folks who might help.
Elle kept writing lists. Food supplies. Borrowed chairs. Ice. Cups.
The numbers on the page blurred once, twice, before she blinked them clear. She ignored it and kept writing.
Papa Louie appeared at her shoulder and set down a glass of water.
"You don't have to do this," he said quietly.
"Yes, I do."
"Elle—"
"There's no other way. Not fast enough." She looked up at him. "And I'm tired of hiding."
He studied her face and then nodded.
"All right then. We do it together."
That night, Elle lay in the dark with her head on Dom's chest.
Neither could sleep.
"You were shaking," Dom said quietly. "When you were writing."
"I know."
"You're terrified."
"Yes."
Silence. Dom's heart beat under Elle's ear.
"If someone recognizes you—"
"Then I run."
Dom sat up fast. "We run. Together."
"No." Elle sat up too. "If I'm exposed, I run. Alone. You stay with Papa Louie and CJ."
"That's not how this works—"
"This is your home—"
"You're my home." Dom's voice cracked. "Wake up every morning and see your empty chair? You think I could do that?"
"You'd still have—"
"Nothing. I'd have nothing that matters."
Elle's hands found Dom's face in the dark. "I brought danger here. If it goes wrong, I disappear, and you stay safe."
"You don't get to make that choice for me."
They stared at each other in the darkness.
"Let's just get through the party," Elle whispered. "See what happens. Then we'll figure it out."
"That's not good enough."
"It's all I can give." Elle started shaking again. "Please let me do this. I need to matter. I need to fight for you instead of you always fighting for me."
Dom pulled her close while she shook.
"Okay," Dom whispered. "But afterward, we're talking about this for real."
"Okay."
"And you're not running alone. I don't care what you say."
Elle didn't answer, just clung tighter.
They lay back down, Dom's hand in Elle's hair.
Saturday, I sing. Saturday, I choose to be seen. Saturday, I find out if I can have this family and this voice, or if I have to choose between them.
"Whatever happens," Dom whispered, "I'm with you."
Elle pressed closer, listened to Dom's heartbeat. Steady. Sure.
Eventually, Dom's breathing evened out, asleep.
Elle lay awake in the dark.
After a while, she heard it - soft sounds through the wall.
CJ. Crying.
Elle slipped out of bed carefully. Dom didn't stir. She pulled on Dom's robe—too big, sleeves hanging past her hands—and crossed to the door.
The hallway was dark. A sliver of light showed under CJ's door.
Elle knocked softly. "CJ? Are you awake?"
Silence. Then, "Yeah."
"Can I come in?"
"I guess."
She opened the door. CJ was sitting on his bed, back against the wall. His face was red. The book Ruth had given him sat unopened beside him.
Elle sat down on the edge of the bed, not too close, giving him space.
"Can't sleep?" she asked.
"Keeps thinking about it." His voice was thick. "What happens if we lose the bar?"
"We're not going to lose it."
"You don't know that." He looked at her. "What if not enough people come? What if they don't give enough money? What if—what if Dom gets hurt again and can't work?"
Elle's throat tightened. "Then we figure something else out."
"Like what?"
Good question.
"I don't know yet," Elle admitted, "but we will. Together."
CJ was quiet. "Are you scared? About singing?"
Elle could lie, tell him she was fine, that it would be okay.
But he deserved the truth.
"Terrified," she said.
His brows rose slightly. "Really?"
"Really. Every time I think about standing up there, I forget how to swallow."
"Then why do it?"
Elle looked at him, this boy who'd been told he was a burden, who thought apologizing for existing would make things better.
"Because you're worth being scared for," she said. "You and Dom and Papa Louie. This family. This home." She reached out, took his hand. "I spent two years running and hiding because I was afraid. And you know what? I was alone the whole time. Miserable. Safe, maybe, but completely alone."
She squeezed his hand.
"I'd rather be terrified with you than safe without you."
CJ's face crumpled. Fresh tears spilled over.
"I'm sorry," he choked out. "I'm sorry he did this. I'm sorry I'm—"
"Stop," Elle's voice was firm. "This is not your fault. You didn't make Lewis into a cruel man. You didn't make Michaud raise the rent. You didn't do anything wrong."
"But if I wasn't here—"
"If you weren't here, Dom would be half-alive. I wouldn't have anyone to teach. Papa Louie wouldn't have anyone to pass his music to." Elle's voice softened. "We'd have more money and emptier hearts. That's not a trade I'd ever make."
CJ looked at her, hope and hurt warring on his face.
"You really mean that?"
"Every word." Elle pulled him into a hug. He clung to her. "We're family. That means we face things together. The scary things and the beautiful things and everything in between."
They sat until CJ's breathing eventually steadied.
"Miss Elle?" His voice was muffled against her shoulder.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you for checking on me."
"Always." She pulled back, met his gaze. "Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?"
He nodded, looking younger than fifteen.
Elle shifted to sit against the headboard. CJ curled up beside her, his head on her shoulder like a child seeking comfort.
She started humming quietly, nothing recognizable, just sound and warmth.
CJ's breathing slowed and deepened.
Elle kept humming until she was sure he was asleep.
Then she slipped out carefully, closed his door, and stood in the hallway, steadying herself.
"We have to make this work. We have to."
She went back to Dom's room, slid back into bed.
Dom stirred. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. CJ needed me."
Dom's arm came around her, pulled her close. "Is he okay?"
"He will be."
They settled into each other, Dom's warmth at her back, CJ sleeping safely down the hall, and Papa Louie in his room downstairs.
"This is what I'm fighting for. This is what matters."
Elle closed her eyes, still scared and uncertain, and finally let herself drift toward sleep.