He smiles at me appealingly, and it’s totally impossible not to smile back at him. Even though he did just refer to the greatest song ever written as “that scarf song”.
“It’s probably locked,” I say, still not quite ready to commit to this.
“Well,” says Alex with a grin. “There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?”
Twenty-Four
Giggling like two teenagers sneaking out of class before the teacher can catch them, Alex and I stroll casually over to the stage door and try the handle.
It opens.
We’re in.
The auditorium is pitch dark, with an ‘Overlook hotel’ feel to it; chairs placed neatly on top of tables, and the closed bar yawning spookily off to one side.
“We shouldn’t be in here,” I whisper to Alex, the silence of the empty space making me want to lower my voice. “We’re going to get in trouble if we’re caught.”
“What can they realistically do to us?” he replies, matter-of-factly. “We’ve paid a small fortune to be here. It’s not like they’re going to call the police on us, is it? And anyway, didn’t you say you want to take risks?”
“Well, yeah. I guess.”
I look around uncertainly. Now that my eyes have adjusted to the gloom, I can see the stage looming in front of me, a single mic stand right in the middle, almost as if it’s waiting for me. I watch as Alex goes over to inspect it, then moves off to the side of the stage, where the man in charge of the karaoke was standing the other night. Alex fiddles with some switches in a box there, and suddenly there’s a low hum of feedback as the mic bursts into life.
“Shhh!” I hiss, going over to join him. “Someone’ll hear us!”
“No, they won’t,” he says confidently. “There’s too much noise from the bar. And anyway, I’ve turned it down for you. So, what are you going to sing? Scarf song?”
My shoulders instantly shoot up towards my ears, my body suddenly rigid with tension.
“Um, no,” I mumble. “It’s ten minutes long. And I’m definitely not doingCruel Summereither. That would just betoocruel.”
I think for a moment.
“What’s your favorite song?” I ask, hoping it’s not going to be Mariah Carey, or something else with notes I’ll never be able to hit. “I’m taking requests.”
“Really?” His teeth flash white in the darkness as he smiles. “Okay, how aboutShallow?”
“Shallow? You’re a Lady Gaga fan?”
“Not particularly,” he says easily. “I just like that song. The lyrics especially.”
I close my eyes and quickly run through the first few bars in my head, trying to remember the words.
“Oh.”
My eyes fly open again. “That’s… that’s…”
That’s a song about my life.
Or … maybehislife?
Who would’ve thought I’d end up bonding over song lyrics with Alex Fox, rather than Jamie Reynolds?
“That’s a good choice,” I finish lamely. Alex just nods, which makes me wonder if he reallydidpick this song because the lyrics seem almost to be describing both of our lives right now, or if he’s just heard it on the radio a few times, and thought it had a nice tune.
He’s giving me no clues, though, as he goes back to fiddling with the switches in front of him.
“I’ve switched on the mic,” he says, after a few seconds. “But I can’t figure out how to work the karaoke machine, so you’re going to have to do it acapella. That okay?”
