Chapter 3 - The Music Dies
It took less than three minutes for the flawless machinery of Andre’s perfect night to completely unravel.
First, the deep, thumping bass of the DJ abruptly cut off mid-song, replaced by an awkward, screeching microphone feedback loop that echoed through the brick walls. Through the windows, I saw guests turn around in confusion. The DJ stood up from his console, folded his expensive audio cables, and began packing his equipment into heavy plastic cases while shouting something to the venue manager.
Next came the bar. The two bartenders behind the walnut counter stopped pouring mid-sentence as their digital point-of-sale terminals flashed a bold TRANSACTION DECLINED — ACCOUNT FROZEN error across the screens. One of the bartenders slammed the cash register shut, untied his linen apron, and tossed it onto the counter. I watched through the glass as they walked away from the bar entirely, leaving bewildered guests staring at empty taps and untouched bottles of premium bourbon.
Inside the main dining area, panic was starting to ripple through the crowd. The catering staff, who had been preparing to roll out a midnight dessert station featuring the five-tier chocolate cake, suddenly halted. The head caterer marched directly toward Andre, holding a clipboard high and speaking with sharp, agitated hand gestures.
May you like
Andre, flushed with champagne and the lingering high of his own arrogance, tried to wave the caterer away with an annoyed laugh. But the caterer didn't smile. He pointed firmly toward the exit, refusing to serve another slice or pour another drop until the missing funds were accounted for.
Through the glass, I saw the color drain entirely from Andre’s face. His mouth dropped open. He looked around the room, desperately searching for me—the woman he had just ordered out into the cold—realizing with sudden, crushing horror that the invisible scaffolding holding his entire social status together had just been kicked away.
