Seventeen Meet The Team
SEVENTEEN
Meet The Team
April
The club was called something April immediately forgot. Probably "Lux" or "Noir" or some other one-syllable word that cost extra to say out loud.
They didn't wait in line. Caleb walked up to the velvet ropes like he owned them, and the bouncer's face did this thing where it rearranged itself from absolutely not to right this way, sir so fast April was pretty sure he pulled a muscle.
Inside, the bass hit her like a physical object, deep enough that she felt it in her teeth.
The club was all purple light, packed with people dancing like their lives depended on it.
Arthur had already coordinated everything, and they were escorted past the main floor to a VIP section that overlooked the dance floor from behind a wall of velvet and exclusivity.
The booth was massive. Horseshoe-shaped.
The kind of space for seeing and being seen.
But tucked directly behind it, hidden by a heavy velvet curtain and a keyed door, was the real sanctuary.
An attached private lounge, sound-dampened and dim.
It had its own stocked bar, a low couch and a one-way mirror looking out at the dancers.
The moment the door clicked shut, the roar of the club dropped to a low, rhythmic thrum.
April's phone buzzed in her clutch.
Then again.
Then three more times in rapid succession.
She pulled it out. The screen lit up with notifications; texts from old coworkers, names she hadn't thought about in months, all with variations of the same panicked energy:
Stephanie: "APRIL. IS THIS ABOUT CHAD???"
Erin: "Girl did you SEE this song"
Katie: "You need to call me RIGHT NOW"
Alyssa: "Wait the Cupcake Song is about YOUR Chad??"
April stared at the screen. The song had been trending when they left the gala. Now it was everywhere.
Her phone buzzed again. Laura this time.
Laura: April. Is this song about CHAD.
Laura: Are you okay??
Laura: Did you actually meet Jiro??
Laura: You said gala.
Laura: Then Mateo’s.
Laura: Now a club??
Laura: WHAT is happening.
April blinked at the screen. That was a fair question.
"I need—" She cleared her throat, tried again. "Bathroom. I'll be right back."
Killian's hand was on her elbow immediately. "I'll come with you."
"I'm fine." She managed a smile that probably didn't reach her eyes. "Just need a minute."
Arthur was already standing, his eyes scanning the room. "We should—"
"I'm fine," April repeated, firmer this time. "I just need to... I'll be right back."
She didn't wait for permission. Walked toward the back of the club, following the neon signs that pointed toward the restrooms, her heels clicking against tile that was probably supposed to look expensive but mostly looked sticky.
The bathroom was all black marble and purple LED strips, trying very hard to be upscale and mostly succeeding if you didn't look too closely at the grout.
April locked herself in a stall. Counted to three. And then to ten.
The music was muffled here, just a distant thrum of bass that she could feel in her chest. Her phone buzzed again. She looked down at the screen. More texts. More notifications. A missed call from her mother.
Her mother.
Oh god.
April closed her eyes, leaning against the stall door.
Her mother still thought she was dating Chad.
April hadn't found the emotional bandwidth to update her on the fact that Chad was a cheating clown and her life had become a reality show she hadn't auditioned for and also she was engaged now. For real? Maybe? It was complicated.
The stall felt too small. Too familiar. It even smelled of lemon.
Her phone buzzed. Another text. Another notification.
Then she heard soft crying from the stall two doors down. Quiet, the kind of crying someone does when they're trying very hard not to be heard.
April stared at the stall door in front of her.
"Do you want company or privacy?" she asked, her voice carrying over the partition. "I'm in here having my own meltdown. We could coordinate."
Silence.
Then a wet laugh. "Company, I think?"
April unlocked her stall, stepped out. Texted Laura quickly.
April: brB someone is crying in the bathroom.
Her phone buzzed immediately.
Laura: …
Laura: Are YOU crying in the bathroom.
Laura: Because that’s on brand tonight.
April didn't answer. She knocked gently on the occupied stall. “I’m April. I have concealer and zero judgment.”
The lock clicked. The door opened. The woman was maybe April's age, dark hair falling out of what had probably been an elegant updo, mascara tracked down her cheeks in uneven lines. Her dress had a broken strap hanging loose at her shoulder.
"Hi," the woman said, then immediately started crying harder. "Sorry. God. I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize." April pulled tissues from her clutch, handed them over. "What happened?"
"My—" The woman gestured vaguely at her shoulder. "My date was... he kept pulling me around the club. And then he got mad when I said I wanted to leave and he—" She touched the broken strap. "It just... it snapped."
April's jaw tightened. She dug through her clutch, found the safety pin she kept there. "Here. Let me help."
She worked quickly, pinning the strap back into place with the efficiency of someone who'd spent years solving small emergencies. "There. It'll hold."
"Thank you." The woman wiped at her face with the tissues, smearing mascara further. "God, I'm a mess."
"You're allowed to be a mess." April handed her another tissue. "Also, that guy sounds like an asshole."
The woman laughed, still wet, but more genuine this time. "He really is."
"So don't go back to him." April leaned against the sink, arms crossed. "Don't make yourself smaller so he can feel bigger."
The woman's eyes dropped to April's hand. To the ring catching the purple LED light like a spotlight. Her expression turned bitter. "That's easy for you to say."
April looked down at the ring. Twisted it slightly on her finger. Let out a breath that was almost a laugh.
"This?" She held up her hand. "This is a prank. Or it started as one. This morning I walked in on my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—with someone else. On his desk. On our anniversary."
"He told me it was an April Fools' joke. Which is when I realized I'd spent three years making myself smaller so he could be whatever he wanted."
The woman stared at her.
"A friend offered to help me get back at him. Fake engagement. But somewhere between this morning and right now it stopped being fake. Or maybe it didn't. I'm still figuring that part out.”
“Now I'm trying to make decisions for myself instead of letting someone else decide. Even if I'm making mistakes. At least they're mine."
"So how do you do that?" the woman asked, "Choose yourself?"
April laughed. "I have no idea. I'm literally hiding in a bathroom because my phone won't stop buzzing and everyone wants to know if the cupcake song is about my ex and I don't know how to answer my own mother.
" She met the woman's eyes. "But I think it starts with not going along with someone else's version of what happened. Even if I screw up."
The woman nodded slowly. Wiped at her face one more time. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay." She straightened, checking her reflection in the mirror. The strap held. The mascara was still a disaster, but her spine was straighter. "I'm going to tell him to go to hell."
"Good. Want backup?”
"No. I've got it." The woman looked at April, something passing between them. "Thank you."
"Anytime."
The woman left, shoulders back, heels clicking with purpose.
April stood there alone for a moment. Then pulled out her phone, typed quickly.
April: I'm fine. Mostly.
Laura would have questions. Everyone would have questions.
April put her phone on the counter, let it buzz.
The door opened. Two women walked in, already mid-conversation, their voices carrying over the sound of running water as they moved to the sinks.
"Did you see that song is already trending?"
"The Cupcake one? God, yes. I've seen like three different TikToks with it. Someone made a whole montage with sad clown filters."
April kept her head down, letting her hair fall forward like a curtain. They hadn't recognized her, she was just another woman washing her hands in a club bathroom.
"I need to know who the sad clown is in real life," the blonde said, laughing. "Someone has to know."
"There's a whole Reddit thread already," the brunette replied, capping her mascara. "People are pulling receipts. Someone thinks they found his LinkedIn."
"Whoever she is," the blonde continued, snapping her compact shut, "she's iconic. Like, imagine being so done with your ex that a literal celebrity writes a diss track."
The brunette grinned. "I hope she's having the best night of her life right now."
They left, still laughing, still discussing theories, the door swinging shut behind them.
April stood there. Her reflection stared back at her from the mirror. Everyone would know.
She wasn’t just April Feuller anymore, the woman who’d cried in a supply closet and eaten revenge cake there too.
She was a punchline. A headline. A hashtag. And somehow still standing.
Her phone buzzed again on the counter. She glanced down.
JAX: [SCREENSHOT]
#TheCupcakeSong – #3 on Twitter. Climbing.
She stared at it.
She picked up her phone, set it back down, and pressed her thumb into the counter.
April looked at herself. At the dress that fit her like armor. At the makeup she'd applied like war paint. The woman in the bathroom had asked how to choose yourself. It was time to find out.
She straightened her spine, fixed her lipstick with precision, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
She grabbed her phone, dropped it back in her clutch, and walked out of the bathroom with her head high.
???