Chad
HE LOOKED LIKE A REGIONAL MAGICIAN who lives behind a bar.
"May I see your invitation?" the staff member asked politely.
The screen glowed.
And then—pixel by pixel—the digital invitation dissolved into smoke.
The staff member raised an eyebrow.
"And your name, sir?"
"Chad," he said, like that explained everything. "Chad Sterling."
The staff member checked the tablet. Scrolled. Frowned.
"I don't see a Chad. There's a Liam Sterling on the list—"
"That's my brother!" Chad's voice climbed half an octave. "Let me just call him, he'll clear this up—"
He tapped his phone.
FaceTime wouldn't open.
He tried again.
A message popped up on the screen, large enough for the staff member to see.
UNKNOWN: No calls for clowns.
The staff member's expression didn't change, but frustration flickered behind their eyes.
"Sir," they said, firmer now. "I'm going to need you to step back."
Chad edged toward a gap in the barrier.
The staff member shifted smoothly, closing it.
Chad ducked behind a pair of taller guests, attempting to use them as cover.
The staff member circled around. "Sir."
And then—finally—Chad saw her.
April.
Standing with Jiro.
About to walk the carpet.
His face changed.
"April!" His voice cracked. "APRIL! Tell them!"
She didn't turn.
"I'm her boyfriend! Just—April, get me in!"
He realized, suddenly, who she was standing with.
His expression shifted from desperation to awe.
"Wait—is that—JIRO?!" Chad's voice went up another octave. "April, introduce us!"
"APRIL!"