A affluent businessman coerced a black waitress into playing the piano to belittle her, but as her fingers met the keys, the room was struck silent in amazement…
That piano became her escape. While other kids played outside, Deborah spent hours teaching herself to play. She mimicked the songs on the radio, then ventured into classical pieces she found in second-hand music books.
Her talent didn’t go unnoticed. She played at church, school recitals and community events. But recognition couldn’t mask the financial hurdles that loomed over her dreams.
By the time she turned 18 the reality was clear. A professional music career would have to wait. Scholarships didn’t come through, and family responsibilities took precedence.
Deborah packed away her concert ambitions, replacing them with the practicality of earning a living. Yet she couldn’t entirely give up. The piano was more than a dream.
It was her identity. When she moved to Raleigh a few years ago, Deborah sought out a job at La Fontaine, not just because of the pay, but because of the grand piano tucked into the corner of the restaurant. Even though she rarely had time to play it, just knowing it was there gave her a sense of comfort.
Music hadn’t left her. It was simply waiting. That night, as Leonard and his entourage took their seats, Deborah approached their table, balancing a tray with practiced grace.
Leonard ordered a top-shelf scotch and cracked a joke loud enough for the nearby tables to hear. Deborah offered a polite smile as she took their orders, her voice steady despite the strange energy radiating from him. Deborah, huh? Leonard said, glancing at her name tag.
Sounds like someone with a lot of hidden talents. The comment caught her off guard, but she nodded politely and stepped away to place their orders. She didn’t notice the knowing grin he shared with his companions, nor the way his followed her every move.
But Leonard wasn’t just observing. He was planning, and Deborah would soon find herself at the center of a spectacle she never asked for. The night carried on like any other, with the hum of laughter and silverware filling the room.
Deborah kept her pace steady, avoiding Leonard’s gaze as she moved between tables. She’d dealt with difficult customers before, but something about him felt different. Not just rude, but calculated.
His presence loomed like a shadow, making her uneasy in a way she couldn’t quite shake. By the time the appetizers were served, Leonard had already started his performance, though not the kind Deborah expected. He held court at his table, loudly recounting tales of his success and peppering in jabs about people who lacked ambition.
His entourage laughed dutifully while other diners shot annoyed glances in his direction. Deborah tried to stay focused on her tasks, but as she returned to his table with a bottle of wine, Leonard caught her off guard. Tell me, Deborah, he said, his voice cutting through the noise.
What do you do when you’re not carrying plates? Surely a young woman like you has dreams. His words stopped her mid-pour. Deborah hesitated, then gave a careful answer…
