I grimaced. “Fine. Let’s go.” I swished the curtain back and strode into the little basement bar.
I was right. Gary, a fifty-something actuary from Wisconsin, was standing onstage with one foot up on the speaker, head thrown back, tunelessly screeching about how much he missed the rains down in Africa.
My eyes adjusted to the red lights slowly. Apart from Banoy, the bartender, the place was practically deserted, but that was normal for lunchtime on a Thursday.
Banoy waved at me from behind the bar as I walked in, giving me a big smile. “Hello, Susan!”
“Hey, Banoy. Have you had a chance to get up there today?”
“No.” He shook his head sadly and slid a diet soda onto the bar for me. “We’re too busy today, Susan. Maybe tomorrow.”
Banoy wasn’t allowed to get up on stage when there were people in the bar to hear him; it upset the singing enthusiasts too much. Not many people realized that karaoke was like a national sport in the Philippines, and nobody liked getting their delusions of grandeur crushed by a skinny old Filipino man who could murder any rendition of any nineties power ballad you could think of.
I’d heard him once; Banoy sang like an angel. His voice literally brought me to tears.
I wandered inside, weaving through the empty tables and chairs which were placed too-close together. Cressdrifted away from me, melting into the darkness around the corner from the bar.
A prickle shot down my shoulder blades. There was Donovan, leaning up against the velvet curtains in the back corner in almost total darkness. His deep emerald eyes flashed in the gloom, focused, poised, in full stalking-predator mode.
My stomach flipped when I caught sight of him; both him and Cress had changed into their battle leathers. The hard, tight midnight-black suit wrapped around his powerful legs perfectly, and the sculpted armor over his tunic highlighted every hard muscle, every taut and poised line in his body. Michelangelo would weep at the sight of such perfection—such powerful proportions, such a perfect balance of predatory beauty, feral grace, and supreme power.
Nobody seemed to notice him. Then again, there was barely anyone in here, only a couple of people slouched at the tables right in front of the stage. I recognized both of them—Timothy, a retired alcoholic with a penchant for very long blues songs, and Jackie, a stocky bus driving lesbian who enjoyed belting R&B classics. Jackie must have had a route to run later since she was still in her uniform; a very tailored and sharply pressed beige ensemble that gave off Gestapo vibes.
Aha! There she was. Hyacinth stood to the right of the stage, quivering with expectation and fingering her own bejeweled microphone she’d bought from home. Now that I looked at her, it was no wonder my broken brain had decided she was a mermaid. Hyacinth was probably my age—mid forties, or so, with a thick head of long, wavy dark-honey colored hair. She was curvy and always dressed to show it off, favoring fifties-style pin-up fashion. Today she wore a low-cut blue and white polka-dot dress, showing offher ample boobs, a waist-cinching, thick white patent belt, and a tight knee-length skirt that hugged her thighs.
My eyes focused on her huge necklace; chunky orange beads with a large resin starfish hung between her boobs. She always wore statement jewelry. Mindful that I only had one hour for lunch and I should wrap this up quickly, I marched over to her. “Hey, Hyacinth!”
She glared at me. “You’re not cutting in today, Susan. I’m next. Banoy has already programmed my song.”
I held up my hands in surrender. “I’m not going to cut in, Hyacinth. I would never dream of it. Besides.” I smiled. As soon as she called me a psycho, my delusions would be satisfied, and I could leave and go back to work. “You’ve got an adoring crowd to seduce with your siren song. You can’t let your fans down.”
“Ah ha.” Her eyes narrowed further; I could almost feel her picking me apart. “You’ve finally decided to put your cards on the table and challenge me, haven’t you? Took you long enough.”
A trickle of unease ran through me. Working to keep my face relaxed, I made my mouth move. “Whatever do you mean?”
She snorted. “Oh, Susan. Do you think I’m stupid? I can tell you right now, you’ll never beat me. My voice is pure magic. You might have a little talent, but you have maybe one-hundredth of my power, you know?”
The trickle of unease turned into a river of foreboding. “I don’t actually know, Hyacinth. But that’s quite mean.”
“Cut the crap.” She tossed back her hair. “I am a siren. My song seduces all who hear it. I don’t know who you are, but you’re a weak-as-piss version of me.” She squared her shoulders, thrust out her chest, and got right in my face. “You’ll never beme, Susan, as much as you might want to be.”
Oh, right. Hyacinth was as nuts as I was. This wasn’t new information.
It was time to go all-in. What did Cress say? Make a deal? Trick her?
“Well then, bitch,” I murmured, smiling sweetly. “If you think you’re so amazing, let’s make a deal.”
Her overplucked eyebrow rose. “I don’t need to make deals with you.”
“Oh, you’re scared, are you? Scared of a little competition when it comes to singing?”
She snorted. “I’m not scared. I’ll destroy you.”
I needed to taunt her a little more. “Youthinkyou will.” My lip curled in a smirk. “I’ve been holding back.”
Her jaw ticked. “You have not.”
“I have.”
