Chapter 30 Shaun
Shaun
One Week Later...
The place is packed. More packed than I’ve ever seen it. From behind the counter, I count almost fifty people, squeezed together like marshmallows, not that I can chuck any of them out; they’ve all paid to be here, to see him play.
For a moment there, I was worried we’d have to turn people away, but thanks to Freddie and I, we’re still down one table so there’s a bit more floor space than usual.
I scan the crowd for familiar faces. My parents are here, smooshed up against a window, my dad looking absolutely furious at the close-quarters seating situation. I give my mum a wave and she waves back over the heads of the crowd.
Andi and her team showed up early and, after lauding me with compliments about how great the place looks, scored seats in the front row. They sip on their coffees and trade bites of cake. Even from back here, I can tell they’re enjoying themselves. It warms my heart to see it.
Even Anna’s mother showed up, little Ethan sitting restlessly on her lap.
The crowd hushes as Anna steps up to the microphone in the corner and gives it a tap.
“Hello guests,” she says in a voice that could dent a tungsten brick.
Yikes. Maybe I should have done the introductions?
Too late now. “Welcome to Cream & Sugar café. We have some wonderful music for you to enjoy, performed by our very talented singing barista.” The crowd murmurs excitedly and Ethan claps his hands, bouncing on Milena’s lap.
“So please welcome to the stage, in his official debut, Freddie Young!”
There’s a smattering of applause and a few wolf whistles as Freddie emerges from the back office and strides up to the microphone, guitar slung over his back.
Bringing up the rear is Rory, who looks a little out of place—like an orangutan that’s been handed a pair of bongos and a tambourine.
When Freddie told me he’d be accompanying him after all, I didn’t believe it. But here he is, furious as ever.
The clapping dies down as Freddie steps up to the mic.
“Hey everyone, what’s up?” He radiates charm.
A few people whoop and cheer. “I’m Freddie Young, formerly known as the singing barista.
” Freddie shoots me a glance and I can’t help but smirk.
Anna and Ethan made the poster and I neglected to tell them about Freddie’s disdain for the pseudonym.
Call it revenge for all the times he called me Grumbles.
Freddie gestures to Rory, who has plopped himself down on a stool behind him.
“Backing me up is my brother, Rory, who’s asked that no one acknowledge him for the rest of the evening.”
Rory looks livid as laughter ripples through the crowd. Freddie’s pushing his luck. He spins his guitar around his body so it’s hanging in front of him and plays a chord, checking the pitch. Satisfied, he nods.
“Alright folks, I’m gonna start with an original song. Brand new. In fact, you’re the first people to hear it ever.”
Another whoop, this time from Ethan. Freddie smiles and starts plucking the strings with effortless grace.
“This is a song about keeping a promise to someone very special.” He meets my eye again and my hands start to tingle.
“Sometimes we all feel like we’re going nowhere or we don’t matter.
Like no matter how hard we work, we’re not special or important.
And it just takes one person to remind us how special we are. How important.”
I swallow.
“So yeah,” Freddie returns his attention to the crowd. “This is ‘Here to Stay’.”
Seamlessly, Freddie’s gentle plucking becomes more deliberate, his fingers dancing over the fretboard in an intricate ballet. The crowd is transfixed. No phones, no sly conversations. Everyone is under his spell, not least of all me.
I hold my breath as Freddie brings his lips to the microphone, and sings:
What do you do when you’ve lost your spark?
Nowhere to go when your head’s in the dark.
Quietly drowning in desperate tides,
I was adrift ’til you threw me a line.
Wow. The recording really didn’t do him justice. If gold had a sound, it would be this. Bright, glittering gold filling the air. I’m in awe.
He plays an intricate riff which falls into a gentle pre-chorus.
So drink up,
Cream and sugar in your cup,
However you like it.
The guitar crescendos. Freddie tosses a strand of hair from his face and edges back from the microphone, gearing up to belt out the chorus:
I’ll take my coffee hot,
Baby don’t waste a drop,
I’ll drink in the morning sun,
On a table for one.
If I have to wait in line,
To tell you that you are mine,
I’ll be here at closing time,
Can’t take me away, I’m here to stay.
The last note of the chorus dissipates in a gentle vibrato. I haven’t blinked in a minute. He’s not just good, he’s unbelievable. Proving my point, a few members of the crowd turn to their neighbours to mouth the word “wow.”
Freddie strums the guitar as Rory joins in with a steady, subtle rhythm on the bongos, tapping the tambourine with his foot on every other beat.
Blood running cold with nowhere to turn,
You opened your door and that’s when I learned,
There is no price I won't pay for your time,
And there’s nothing you need to give me for mine.
My heart swells as I absorb the lyrics, each line a glimpse into Freddie’s soul, and, I suppose, a reflection of us.
He repeats the chorus, adding new ornaments to the melody like sprinkles on a cupcake, before launching into an intricate guitar solo, over which he hums a delicate harmony.
Something in my periphery makes me tear my eyes away from Freddie for a second.
The only person in the audience not watching him is my mum.
She’s looking at me, her eyes brimming with tears, mouth spread in a radiant smile.
Her and Dad met Freddie briefly before he went to warm up.
If there was any doubt left in me that she wouldn’t approve of him, it’s gone now.
Her eyes say everything I need to know. Although what mother couldn’t approve of a man literally serenading her son right in front of her?
As the guitar solo comes to a close, Rory stops drumming. It’s as if the room goes dark and Freddie, spotlit, plays the final chorus to me and me alone.
I’ll take my coffee hot,
Baby don’t waste a drop,
I’ll drink in the morning sun,
On a table for one.
If I have to wait in line,
To tell you that you are mine,
I’ll be here at closing time,
Can’t take me away, I’m here to stay.
The corner of his mouth turns upwards as he repeats the final line.
Can’t take me away, I’m here to stay.
The final chord rings out and the crowd goes wild. I join in, shouting “bravo” and clapping as loud as I can. Freddie beams and holds out a hand to Rory who, despite looking like he’s having war flashbacks, gets his own surge of applause.
Over the din, I mouth “you’re amazing” to Freddie. He blows me a kiss across the crowd.
A few people clock on, heads turning to look in my direction. Some laughter and a few “awws” from the audience would normally horrify me. But here, in my little café, watching Freddie bring the house down with a song he wrote for me, there’s nothing I can’t handle.
I don’t care if the room knows it. I don’t care if the whole world knows it. I thought I knew what happiness was, and then he came along and proved me so, so wrong. So, I’ll shout it from the rooftops and sing it in the streets.
That’s my man up there!
And that, to coin a phrase, is pretty fucking rad.