When the song is over, there’s laughing and clapping and whistling. Then comes the booing, and it comes from Ella and her friends.
“Really? Booing?” Dree asks.
“You sucked,” Ella replies.
“If you can do better, get your ten-pound-overweight ass over here, Ella,” I challenge via microphone.
There are hisses, gasps, and an “oh shit”.
She saunters up in her bikini that she really is too “hippy” for. She can’t help she’s a big girl. Not a good combination for someone who eats Cheetos like she does. Always with those orange fingers.
“It’s Ellen but then, you knew that already, Jillian.”
“That’s what I said, Ella. Why do you keep correcting me?” I ask. There are snickers and Ella’s face gets red with anger.
“Pick a song. Any song,” I challenge.
“So you know, Ellen has a good voice,” someone shouts.
“It doesn’t matter. Can she entertain you? That’s the question,” I retort.
Dree, La, and I move over to the side and Ella picks a song I don’t know, by an artist I don’t know. When she starts to sing, I cower a little. She’s good. Really good. But she’s standing still like a deer caught in headlights. No entertainment value.
“Bor-ing,” I mutter.
“She sounds good, though,” La says.
I nod. “She does.”
I admit it. Why wouldn’t I? It’s the truth. But I’ve seen a band who shall not be named who can sing awesomely yet just stand there behind their microphones, not interacting with the audience—and it was the lamest two hours of my life and I regret the seventy-five dollars I spent on that ticket.
Ella’s done and they all clap and there are a few jeers, of course.
Leo steps up. “Obviously, Ellen wins the singing portion of the challenge. But Jillie, Audrey, and Isla win for entertainment.”
Ellen preens, and I snort.
“What?” he asks, all cocky and superior.
“She’s yourgirlfriend. Of course, you’re going to say she wins.”
“Jillie, you can’t sing for shit. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you,” he taunts.
“You are such a douche, Lenny.”
There are loud gasps. Audrey and Isla are laughing but shocked I said the nickname out loud.
“It’sLeo.”
I sigh and roll my eyes, throwing up my arms, as if exasperated. “That’s what I said. Why you and Ella keep trying to correct me, I don’t know.”
“Because you’re being a bitch.”
I turn to him and narrow my eyes. “What did you just say?”
“I said, you’re being a bitch,” Leo repeats.
“I’ll try to be nicer.” He wishes. I’m fuming mad and not thinking straight at all. Call me a bitch, will he? He wants a bitch? He’s going to get one.
