"It means I help musicians make records."

The boys looked at each other.

Julian continued.

"I've heard a lot of singers."

Malcolm waited.

"You two are different."

Marcus looked suspicious.

"Different how?"

Julian smiled.

"You listen to each other."

He pointed at Malcolm.

"You don't try to overpower him."

Then Marcus.

"And you don't leave him behind."

The twins said nothing.

Julian reached into his wallet.

He pulled out a business card.

"I'd like to talk to you tomorrow."

Marcus stared at the card.

"Why?"

"Because I think you have something."

Malcolm looked at the restaurant.

"We don't have money."

Julian shook his head.

"I'm not asking you for money."

"Then what?"

"A chance."

The twins accepted the card.

But neither knew whether they could trust it.

They had learned that promises from strangers often came with conditions.

That night, they slept in the corner of an empty building.

Marcus held the business card.

"Do you think he's real?"

Malcolm looked at the name.

"Julian Cross."

"Do you think he can help us?"

Malcolm didn't answer immediately.

Then he smiled.

"Maybe."

Marcus leaned against him.

"Grandma would've liked that."

Malcolm looked toward the ceiling.

"Yeah."

He closed his eyes.

For the first time in months, the future didn't feel completely closed.

They still had no home.

No money.

No guarantee.

But they had something else.

A song.

And tomorrow, someone was finally listening.

Julian arrived fifteen minutes early.

He sat in the same restaurant booth where he had heard the twins the night before.

He had brought coffee, a notebook, and a contract he had no intention of showing them yet.

He wanted to know who they were first.

At ten o'clock, the restaurant door opened.

Malcolm entered.

Marcus followed.

They looked nervous.

Julian stood.

"Come in."

Marcus glanced around.

"Are we in trouble?"

Julian laughed.

"No."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because I asked you to come."

The boys sat.

Julian ordered breakfast for all three.

Marcus immediately protested.

"We can pay."

"I know."

"We don't want charity."

Julian looked at him.

"Good."

Marcus frowned.

Julian smiled.

"Because I'm not offering charity."

He pointed toward the food.

"Eat."

The twins hesitated.

Then they began.

Julian watched quietly.

They ate slowly at first.

Then faster.

He pretended not to notice.

When the plates were empty, he asked,

"How long have you been singing together?"

"Since we were little," Malcolm said.

"Who taught you?"

"Our grandmother."

"Any formal training?"

Both shook their heads.

Julian smiled.

"Good."

Marcus looked confused.

"Why is that good?"

"Because nobody taught you to sound like everyone else."

He opened his notebook.

"What kind of music do you like?"

The twins exchanged a look.

"Everything," Malcolm said.

"That's not an answer."

Marcus smiled.

"Then ask better questions."

Julian laughed.

He liked them already.

"What do you want?"

The question made them quiet.

Finally Malcolm said,

"A home."

Julian closed the notebook.

That wasn't the answer he expected.

Marcus continued.

"And school."

Malcolm looked at him.

"Maybe college someday."

Julian nodded.

"And music?"

Marcus shrugged.

"We don't know."

"Why not?"

"Because music doesn't feel real."

Julian leaned back.

"Neither does money when you don't have any."

Marcus smiled faintly.

"Exactly."

Julian told them about his studio.

He could arrange a recording session.

He could introduce them to people.