“For greatness,” he says.
The lights shift. The host announces Mark’s name. The crowd cheers.
Mark steps up to the mic, all tortured-artist energy. He closes his eyes, hands theatric.
He sings the first verse:
“She was my forever, The one I let slip through my hands, Now I'm standing in the wreckage, Begging fate for second chances...”
A whistle blows.
LOUDLY.
Right next to me.
“Dex!” I hiss.
But it’s too late. Cameras swing toward us. I duck.
The music wobbles. Mark’s voice cracks mid-note.
Before I can stop them, my teammates, my grown-ass teammates, climb onto the stage like a flash mob of feral hockey gremlins with a mission.
What the f*?
Chaos erupts immediately.
Colby grabs the mic and belts, in the worst singing voice I have ever heard:
“THIS MAN IS A LY-ER! L! I! A! R!”
The crowd ushes a collective gasp and then goes silent.
Eli jumps in with off-key harmony:
“He cheated first! Then made it worse!”
Dex is reading from a sheet of paper as he sings slam poetry style.
“Text messages. Suspicious DMs. Backup singer named Jenna. Don’t shake your head, Mark, we ALL saw the screenshots.”
Gabriel… dear God. Gabriel is doing an interpretive dance behind them. Slow, floaty arm movements. Hair blowing in the wind like he summoned his own fan.
Mark sputters. “STOP! You can’t! This is LIVE!”
Dex beams. “Great! Saves us uploading it later!”
Security tries to intervene. Gabriel throws up one hand and says in a stern dad voice: “We’re professionals. We're the Nashville Outlaws and we are living up to our name.”
Security hesitates.
They let them continue.
The crowd is screaming. People are filming from every angle.
Mark looks like he’s seconds from fainting.
Colby points dramatically. “Tell them the truth, Songboy or we continue!”
