“Aren’t you up?” she asked, gesturing at Dev, who was waiting on stage with two microphones and the lyrics to “Lips of an Angel” pulled up on the screen.

Danial lingered in irritation for a moment before walking over to Dev, taking the mic in an unsteady hand. The opening guitar chords reverberated around the cavernous room as the two of them moved in tandem, closing their eyes and raising their voices to match the intensity of the chorus. Danial seemed lost in the music, shout-singing so loud that the backing track was nearly drowned out. He briefly bounced off the stage to grab his half-empty gin and tonic from the table before running back for the bridge. Enzo leaned in and whispered again, something derisive about how her friend shouldn’t drink so much next time.

She laughed along and nodded, because he was right. But despite the quality of the performance, she had to admit that seeing Danial up there sent a pang of nostalgia directly into her heart. He looked just like he had at Dev’s twenty-first birthday. That year, Dev had rented a huge bar down in Brooklyn and hired a jazz band to play covers of all of his favorite songs. At one point, Danial had joined them on stage for a rendition of “New York State of Mind,” one that brought the whole house down. He had taken it seriously, practicing for weeks beforehand, usually in Paul’s apartment for him and Alex.

She remembered how nervously he flitted around that party in anticipation of his big moment, occasionally dashing off to the men’s room for a little last-minute rehearsal. She remembered the roaring applause when he finished, the way Dev ran up on stage and practically lifted him off the ground in a bear hug. She remembered the rented suit Danial wore, the one he meticulously protected all evening because he could not afford to lose his deposit. And maybe most of all, she remembered the two of them dancing late into the night, spinning and laughing under the colorful lights.

“Babe,” Paul interrupted her thoughts, pointing to the screen. “We’re up.”

He made a show of helping her up out of her chair, presenting her with a flourish as they walked to the stage. They took the mics from the pair leaving it, Alex making a point to take hers from Dev.

“Let’s hear it for the dress!” Paul exclaimed, gesturing toward the meager crowd to give her a round of applause.

“Yes, please clap for the dress, because I can’t promise much in terms of vocals.” She laughed, twirling the hem slightly. The complete silence from the audience indicated that very few of them likely spoke English.