I make a face at him, stalling for a moment, not because I can’t think of one, but because I’ll have to belt it. Confidently.Liza and me singing in our empty house is one thing, but this is an audience of strangers and a gifted musician. I prefer to blend in, and I’mgood at it.
I’m a little raspy like Jude at a higher pitch—sort ofunpredictably asthmatic—but there’s no other way to sing “Independence Day” except with a whole lot of gumption.
So I go for the chorus.
Sam shoots both fists straight up.
Craaaaaap. That’s what he wanted. Why didn’t I just sing a Christmas song?
“I knew it! I see you!” He jumps back on to the stage. I bite back a smile when he wags his finger at me. “No more hiding all that. Today’s your independence day.”
My mouth falls open, but before I can spiral, he goes into our usual run-through of “Check Yes or No.” He walks around to different spots getting a thumbs-up from Luis about the sound, followed immediately by announcing that our set list is out the window.
“Sam, that set list isn’t even twenty-four hours old! Why did we sort through all those songs if we weren’t going to use them?”
“I’m a creative soul, Lu Lu. You can’t box me in. I’ve grown as an artist. I have new ideas.”
“Since last night?”
“Are you worried?”
“I suppose not.” I take a deep breath and blow it out. It’s Sammy’s world, and I’m just visiting.
“We’ll do a lot of the same songs, but let’s be spontaneous. I’m only tellin’ you so you don’t panic.”
“When do I panic?” I haven’t, but it’s not out of the question.
“You usually don’t, but see? Best behavior. I know what I’m doin’. Random works for us, so let’s go with it. This way we can do a whole song or just a few lines and nothing has to be perfect.It’s genius. You should give me a big wet one right here.” He points to his cheek, and I give him my best blank stare.
I see his point. But I need to be prepared. I’m not a six-foot-four package of sunshine and Skittles. I don’t have his natural talent or charisma. I have nine years of school choir, six years of competitions, and a quirky obsession with old music. That’s it. Nothing special.
“You’re the genius.” I acquiesce. “Tell me what to do.”
“That’s the beautiful thing here, Smalls. This isn’t me. It’sus.It’s what we do! I’m throwin’ words and songs in this bucket over here—ones we already worked out—and then telling the kids to throw some in. It’s gonna be EPIC!”
You know, normally I’d panic right about now, but he’s so happy. No one knows me here, and he’s right. We do this all the time. Maybe this time there’s a hundred or more people, butwhatever. I’ll never see them again. It’ll be just like the grocery store, only I won’t be getting pushed in a shopping cart, so technically this should be easier.
I’mfine. One of my greatest talents is the ability to shift attention off myself and onto a bigger personality, and no one has a bigger personality than this moose.
It’s not the stage that scares me anyway; it’s the possibility of stinking it up that has me worried about my breakfast performing an encore. But I think I know how tomatchhis energy, as Liza insisted. Time to turn off the imposter syndrome and go into sister mode—which is bound to get weird since not one breath has ever escaped his lungs without flirting.
“Hey, Sammy. Get that thirst-trap sign out of your car.”
“Smalls, you don’t need a sign. I’ll unbutton my shirt and wear a cowboy hat for you anytime.”
I flutter my lashes and make a kissy face. “I know it, hot stuff. You can be any month you want on my calendar, but your social media handles are on the sign, right?”
“Yeah, they are.”
“Help me help you, pretty boy. Go get it.”
Sam hops over three steps to bring his bigger-than-life retractable sign to the side of the stage. “Are you sure this is okay?”
“Do you want to gain followers and get your music out there? You don’t have to do that here, but if you want to do a Requesto-Rando thing with the audience, I think we should use the sign. They’ll be pulling out their phones to follow you before you ever sing a note. What do you think?”
“I think you should be my manager.”
“Sure, Sammy. I always wanted to herd cats for a living.”
