Chapter 19 – Elise
Chapter Nineteen
Elise
They spotted it from a block away—The Croon Room—announced in glowing, neon pink cursive above the door, framed by twinkling bulbs that blinked in time with an invisible beat. Graham reached forward to pull the door open for Elise, and a wave of music and bass met them like a welcome.
Inside, the space felt more club than karaoke bar—dim lighting, velvet walls, and the gentle thump of distant pop ballads pulsing through the floors.
The check-in area was tucked beneath a glittering chandelier, with a front desk staffed by a woman in a vintage bellhop uniform complete with cap and crisp red jacket.
She smiled politely, but Elise and Graham didn’t need directions.
The unmistakable sound of Broadway-level belting was pouring from a hallway upstairs.
They followed the music, winding up a narrow staircase lit with LED strips that shifted color with each step. As soon as they turned the corner at the top, a burst of cheers greeted them.
“Elise! Graham! Get in here!”
At the end of the hall, two open doors faced each other—rooms 11 and 12—each packed with cast members clutching microphones, harmonizing, or dramatically lip-syncing. It felt like a Broadway battle of the bands, except with more sequins and worse choreography.
Between the rooms, a pop-up bar was cranking out drinks at breakneck speed.
The bartenders wore neon suspenders and moved with the flair of theatre kids who never quite made it to the stage.
Everything glowed under the ultraviolet light—drinks, shirts, bracelets, laughter.
The air smelled like citrus and sweat and sugar.
Someone was already performing a rousing rendition of “Defying Gravity.”
The party had clearly been going strong for a while—and no one here was on their first round.
Nick burst into the hallway like he’d been lying in wait for a dramatic entrance. Arms wide, voice raised: “Finally! I was starting to think you’d ghosted us. And just in time—I require libations. This round’s on me!”
Marco followed, mid-eye roll, but smiling like a man well-acquainted with this level of drama.
Elise laughed as she and Graham eased into the flow of the crowd, which was somewhere between a stage door crush and a conga line.
They dodged an overly enthusiastic jazz square from a chorus member, accepted two glitter-smeared cheek kisses, and sidestepped a juggler (was that Steve? Of course it was).
Drinks in hand—Jack and Cokes across the board, plus neon-colored jello shots that would probably destroy their vocal cords—they made their way into one of the party rooms.
Inside, Romy was holding court like Patti LuPone reincarnated, belting a Broadway showstopper into a karaoke mic like the Tony voters were secretly watching.
The room had a low ceiling and was lit mostly by the projector, which was doing its best to keep up with Romy’s energy—flashing lyrics across the screen while a bizarre mashup of stock footage played in the background.
On three sides of the room, cushioned benches hugged the walls.
The fourth was the stage, complete with mic stands, slightly sticky hardwood flooring, and an energy that said, “We paid for four hours and we will use every minute.”
Elise, Graham, Nick, and Marco claimed a section of bench together, squeezing in shoulder to shoulder with their drinks. Elise took a sip and leaned back, the energy around her buzzing and joyful. The music, the laughter, the beat of the night—it was all perfectly, gloriously alive.
Nick scooted forward, nearly knocking over a jello shot in his urgency to spill tea. “Okay. First of all, you missed chaos.”
Elise tilted her head. “Good chaos or bad chaos?”
“Cast party chaos,” he replied, which obviously meant both. “The feuding Bennet sisters? Nearly went full WWE. Jen had to literally drag them outside like a guidance counselor at a middle school dance.”
“Oof,” Graham said, sipping his drink.
“But wait—Marcie.” Nick pointed dramatically across the room. “Marcie walked in wearing what I can only describe as a leotard and six-inch pumps. I have no idea who she’s trying to impress but she looks like she’s ready to star in Cabaret and fight crime.”
Elise spotted Marcie mid-laugh, surrounded by admirers and radiating unstoppable energy. “She is killing it.”
“Right?” Nick said. “If someone doesn’t kiss her before midnight, we have failed her.”
“And,” Nick said with mock gravity, “I’ve signed up for karaoke. My moment of glory approaches.”
Graham perked up. “What song?”
Nick grinned, devilish and unrepentant. “Oh no. No spoilers. I want to see your faces when it starts.”
Elise narrowed her eyes. “That’s… concerning.”
“You should be concerned,” Nick said brightly. “And you should definitely keep your cameras ready.”
Elise took a sip of her Jack and Coke, the plastic cup cool in her hand, and leaned closer to Graham—just enough to smell his aftershave.
“So,” she said innocently, eyes wide as she batted her lashes, “what are you going to sing tonight?”
Graham gave her a slow sideways glance, half-exasperated, half-entertained. “If I sing, you sing. Those are the sacred rules of karaoke.”
She shrugged, lips curving coyly. “Fine. Let’s do a duet.”
“Oh?” His brow arched. “Got something in mind?”
“Bohemian Rhapsody,” she replied sweetly. “You sing everything except the ‘let him goes.’”
He laughed—head tipping back, a warm, real sound that sent a tingle down her spine. “Wow. Generous. Very generous of you.”
“I try.”
“I don’t know,” he said, playing along, “that arrangement doesn’t really work for me. What about something from Grease?”
Her eyes sparked. “Oh yeah? You feeling more ‘Summer Nights’ or ‘You’re the One That I Want?’”
There was a pause, just a breath, but it was charged. She wasn’t really asking about karaoke, and they both knew it.
Graham’s smile deepened, eyes locked on hers. “Is that a trick question?” he asked softly. “‘You’re the One That I Want.’ No contest.”
Elise met his gaze, playful but earnest. “Maybe we should ease into it with something safer. Like ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart.’”
He didn’t miss a beat. “I will start wherever you want to start. Truly.” His voice dropped just enough to make her pulse jump. “Say the word.”
Her heart fluttered, caught somewhere between thrill and something sweeter. She turned back to her drink with a smile she couldn’t quite hide.
“Careful,” she murmured. “I might hold you to that.”
“I’m counting on it,” he replied.
They were still leaning toward one another, drink cups in hand, half-whispered jokes darting between them, when the current karaoke song ended to a cheer from the room. Neither of them noticed.
The next track queued up, and Nick sprang to his feet like he’d been shot from a cannon. “My turn!”
He grabbed the mic with the glee of someone about to commit a truly spectacular social crime. “Marco, you’re with me!” he called, and Marco, clearly in on the scheme, bounded up to the little stage with mock solemnity.
Elise blinked, glanced at the screen—and groaned audibly. “Oh no.”
“Kiss the Girl.” From The Little Mermaid.
Of course it was.
She didn’t need to look at Nick to know what he was about to do—but she looked anyway, and there it was: his absolutely devilish, I-will-be-causing-chaos-now grin.
He threw her a wink, then turned to fully face Elise and Graham—still on the bench—lifted a hand in a dramatic flourish, and adopted the posture of a narrator preparing to make fate happen.
Then he launched in with terrifying commitment.
The voice. The accent. Full Sebastian.
Elise covered her face with both her hands. Beside her, Graham’s eyes went wide as realization hit like a freight train.
He groaned. Audibly. Pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh no,” he muttered. “No no no no no—”
But he was laughing. Which only made it worse. Or better. Hard to say. Elise peeked between her fingers just in time to see him turn beet red and grin like a man being marched to the gallows by a very enthusiastic crab.
By now, the entire room had caught on.
Every head had turned, drinks were momentarily abandoned, and there was a collective breath-hold in the air—equal parts curiosity, delight, and please-let-this-happen anticipation.
Nick, of course, was unbothered by the attention. He was, in fact, thriving. Delivering a vocal performance that would’ve had Sebastian himself flinging off his shell and applauding.
Elise caught movement near the door—Avery and Morgan were slipping out. A beat later, they reappeared, now accompanied by Devon, Lex, Ed, and several more curious onlookers. The hallway buzzed with whispers and delighted laughter. Clearly, word was spreading.
And then—Marco.
With the precision timing of a comedic genius, he jumped in on the “lagoon creature” exclamations with such gusto that half the room flinched from surprise. The other half? Lost it. Fully.
But Nick didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. He belted the “Sha-la-la-las” with unwavering commitment. That line might as well have been etched in prophecy.
Elise turned to Graham.
His face was a stunning shade of crimson, but he was laughing—truly laughing—his whole chest in it, eyes crinkled, tears welling from the force of it all. When he finally looked at her, his laughter slowed, and his expression softened.
Their eyes met, and in the space of a heartbeat, something quiet and intimate passed between them. He leaned in as Nick launched into the bridge—half the room physically leaned forward with him, as if they might kiss her if he didn’t.
His voice was low, sincere: “Do you… Is it okay if I—”
Elise didn’t let him finish.
She closed the space. Kissed him, warm and sure, leaving no room for doubt.
The room exploded.
Cheers, applause, a dramatic gasp or two—Nick dropped to his knees in triumph. Marco launched into an encore verse for no reason whatsoever. Someone threw a jello shot in the air like it was confetti.