“I’m Darby Daire, and I’ll be your emcee this evening. I understand we have quite the competition tonight. The winner of the karaoke contest will receive a $1,000 cash prize,” Darby pauses. The crowd murmurs about the large prize. “We also have the King and Queen of the reunion at stake. There is a tie for this right now, so if one of these teams wins tonight, they’ll be crowned King and Queen, take home the cash prize, and a weekend stay at the resort.”
The crowd claps.
“I wonder who our competition is?” I muse to Rand.
He shrugs.
“We have three celebrity judges with us tonight. First up is Mattix Bergeron, evening news anchor for our local independent television station.”
Mattix stands and waves to the crowd.
“Then, we have Zendra,” Darby looks at her notecards and frowns. “Okay. No last name. Just Zendra. Social Media… Influencer.”
Zendra pauses from taking selfies to stand, wave to the crowd like she’s Miss America, then takes another selfie with the audience behind her.
“And our third celebrity judge is Drake,” Darby sucks in a breath. Her blue eyes go wide. “Drake Dangerthorne, former lead singer of Volatilizing The Esthers.”
I grab Rand’s arm. “Oh my God! Drake Dangerthorne! I don’t think I’ve ever seen him out of makeup!”
Volatilizing The Esthers was a popular punk band nearly two decades ago. The band members dressed up in outrageous outfits and kabuki makeup. Even though you couldn’t see his true face, every woman between the age of 15 and 65 had a crush on Drake Dangerthorne - the ultimate bad boy of rock ’n roll.
We all try to get a closer look at his face as he comes to a half-stand and waves to the crowd. But the trucker hat, sunglasses, and unruly blond hair sticking out from under the hat make it impossible to see his true identity.
Once the crowd quiets down, Darby regains her composure. She picks up a glass jar from a nearby table. “To make this fair to everyone, we put the team names in a jar. When I pull out your name, it’s your turn. Let’s get started.”
She calls the first team to the stage.
The couple is dressed in regular clothes. They attempt “Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen and fail miserably.
Yuki throws back her wine. “Good Lord. I don’t think there’s enough wine in here for this.”
Lily chastises her. “Sugar, remember our conversation about this. You don’t get to complain if you’re not going to get up there and put your ass on the line. It takes big guts to do this.”
I laugh. At least the couple on stage looks like they’re having fun. I glance at my date in his Spandex lady clothes and big-haired blond wig. I can’t help myself. He’s adorable like this. And I know the only reason he’s doing this is to help me win. My body warms from the inside out. It’s a new feeling for me. This isn’t anxiety. Or fear. Or worry. It’s something different. Something I’ve never experienced before, but it feels like a drug.
“What’s that look on your face?” Rand interrupts my daydream.
I smile bigger. “Nothing. Glad you’re here.”
He kisses my cheek.
Darby calls a second team up on the stage that sings “Tequila” by the Ventures. “Sing” is a loose term because there’s no singing in that song. Just the word “tequila.” The crowd goes wild, especially when the guys do the Pee Wee Herman dance to it.
When they finish, they bow deeply and run off stage.
“That was pretty clever,” Lily admits as she whistles for the couple. “They’re going to be hard to beat.”
Chapter 40
“You’re the one that I want. Just as soon as I get out of these Spandex pants.”
-Rand
After the first hour of singers, we quickly realize who we need to beat. The Tequila Guys. Then, in the second hour, a couple shook their moneymakers to “Proud Mary” by Ike and Tina Turner. The woman even had fringe on her skirt that shifted around when she danced.
The rest of the crowd did lame ballads. And one guy quit halfway through Billy Joel’s “Piano Man,” much to the relief of everyone in the ballroom.
I survey the room. People are getting antsy. The booze is flowing. The drunker people get, the louder their whispered conversations are. I stayed away from the cocktails to be sharp for our big number and not fall on my ass wearing this getup. The closer we get to doing this, the more I regret the “no booze” decision.
