"Good game, Jameson. Y'all earned it. Barely."
I shook his hand. "You made us work for it. Almost had me sweating there."
"Almost," Jake agreed. He looked at Beau, sizing him up with a newfound respect. "That new guy of yours knows his shit. Where'd you find him?"
"Dallas sent him as tribute," I said.
Beau laughed, a relaxed, easy sound that fit right in with the noise of the bar. "I just got lucky with the dates, Jake."
"We'll get you next week," Jake promised, pointing a finger at me. "I'm studying up on obscure mammals."
They headed back to their table, defeated but gracious, and I turned back to my team.
"That," I announced, slamming my hand on the table, "is how it’s done."
"That was legitimately the most intense thing I've ever witnessed," Beau said, shaking his head. "And I've been to Dallas Cowboys playoff games in a luxury suite."
"This is better than football," Cassie declared, signaling Donna for another round. "The stakes are personal.".
"Who's up for karaoke?" Jerry announced from the stage, and half the bar cheered.
"Oh no," I said immediately. "Absolutely not."
"Oh YES!" Cassie grabbed my arm with a grip of iron. "We're doing 'Before He Cheats'! It is legally required!"
"We are not—"
"We absolutely are! It's tradition! It’s victory music!"
Before I could protest further—or escape—Cassie had dragged me up to the small stage area, shoved a microphone into my hand, and the opening notes of Carrie Underwood started playing.
And you know what? Four beers in, surrounded by people I'd known my whole life, with my best friend screaming lyrics beside me? I fucking committed.
"Right now, he's probably slow dancing with a bleach-blonde tramp..."
The bar lost its mind, singing along, stomping boots on the floor. I caught sight of Beau watching from our table, chin in his hand, looking at me with an expression that was half-amused, half... something else. Something softer.
When we finished—to thunderous applause and whistling—I stumbled off the stage, breathless and laughing, adrenaline still sparking in my veins.
"That was incredible," Beau said as I collapsed back into my seat. "I didn't know you could sing."
"I can't. I just fake it with enthusiasm and volume."
"It worked. I was captivated."
"Your turn!" Cassie announced, pointing a finger at Beau. "New guy has to do karaoke. It's the law. Look it up."
"There is no law that says—"
"Beau! Beau! Beau!" She started a chant, slamming her hand on the table in rhythm. Within seconds, half the bar had joined in.
He looked at me, slightly panicked. "Do I have to?"
"You really don't," I said, taking pity on him. "She's just drunk and demanding. It’s her default state."
"But I'll be disappointed if you don't," Cassie added, pouting. "And I'm very annoying when I'm disappointed. I will whine."
He sighed, drained his whiskey in one swallow, and stood up. "Fine. But I'm picking the song. No Carrie Underwood."
