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Their dinner comprised a serving of noodles, much to Tyrone’s chagrin, as his typically
handsome countenance contorted with discomfort.
How could something as simple as noodles taste so unpalatable?
In that moment, Tyrone even found himself contemplating that perhaps mutton was a
more agreeable option.
Post-dinner, they embarked on a leisurely stroll through the bustling streets.
“Are you heading back?” Tyrone inquired.
Sabrina shook her head, her gaze resting upon him as she beamed, “I have a yearning to
go to the bar.”
After a contemplative pause, he responded, “Indulging in nighttime drinks isn’t advisable.”
“If you don’t, then I will.”
Be it due to concern for Sabrina’s well-being or his own health, he could not partake in the
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtconsumption of alcohol.
Noticing his continued silence, Sabrina huffed in frustration.
“If you won’t come, I shall go on my own!
Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the basement bar within the confines of the club,
carefully selecting a booth in which to take their seats.
Sabrina delicately savored a sip of her chosen wine, while a steaming glass of hot water
awaited Tyrone at his place setting.
The ambiance of the bar was bathed in dim, sultry lighting, with kaleidoscopic beams
emanating from the dance floor. On the stage, a spirited rock vocalist poured his heart into
his performance, captivating a throng of enraptured onlookers.
Rock and roll failed to resonate with Sabrina’s sensibilities, her musical inclinations leaning
toward nostalgic melodies of yore.
An inspired notion seized her, prompting her to gently nudge Tyrone’s arm. Curious,
Tyrone inquired, “What’s on your mind?”
“Take to the stage and grace us with a song,” she proposed with a glint of mischief in her
eye.
Tyrone momentarily froze, disbelief etched on his countenance. Recognizing her sincerity,
he replied, “I’m afraid I can’t do that. It’s generally not permitted for regular patrons to
ascend the stage…”
“Are you truly a run-of-the-mill guest? If memory serves me right, this establishment is
under Tyson’s proprietorship,” she remarked, arching an eyebrow.
Tyrone found himself grappling for a response, taken aback by her astute recollection.
In the midst of Tyrone’s phone call, Tyson was engrossed in a card game with his friend.
Upon glimpsing the caller ID, Tyson silenced his poker companion and answered the call,
“Hello, Tyrone, what’s up?”
Tyrone’s explanation was succinct, leaving Tyson puzzled as he mused aloud, “It’s rather
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmpeculiar. Why the sudden desire to take the stage and sing?’
“Cut the crap “Very well, I’ll contact them immediately.”
Tyson concluded the call.
“Tyrone? He wants to sing on stage?”
“That’s correct,” Tyson affirmed, dialing a number to make the arrangements.
“It’s rather out of character for him. What’s prompting this desire to perform on the bar’s
stage?” The man expressed his surprise.
Eddie curled his lip in derision, “What other motives could there possibly be
Naturally, it revolved around Sabrina!
Eddie couldn’t help but observe the profound transformation that had overtaken Tyrone in
the last six months. Tyrone was smitten with Sabrina to the point of overlooking Galilea’s
detainment. How could Galilea conspire with Rowell? He refused to believe that.
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