“Never venture, never win,” Kitty added, earning a glare from Mia.
“I need another drink.” I pushed back my chair and left for the bar before anyone could stop me.
At the bar, I ordered a soda. More alcohol would make this situationworse, not better. The only thing I needed was space, which was hard to find in a packed restaurant. Why was it so crowded anyway? Was karaoke really this popular? My palms were sweating, and I hadn’t even put my name in to sing yet. I scanned the restaurant and wondered if I could sneak out with no one noticing, but I knew I wouldn’t. I thought about Samson, and how he would laugh at me and probably make me sing that “Whip/Nae Nae” song he’d taught me the dance to last summer.It’s stanky leg, he’d say,not stinky leg.I took a long sip of my drink, and when I set it down, spotted Alex beside the stage in conversation with the DJ. The DJ nodded, and Alex filled out a karaoke slip before returning to the table. After Greyson’s performance, I couldn’t imagine he’d be in the mood for singing, even though he sang more than anyone I knew. Maybe he would sing a response to her. Another T-Swift song, “You Need to Calm Down,” perhaps.
I remained at the bar for the next two performances and returned when an older man in a three-piece suit and one sequined glove sang “SexyBack” with impressive enthusiasm. I promised myself I’d put my name in at nine thirty, only twenty minutes from now. When the song ended, Nina leaned over and said, “At least you won’t be as bad as that guy. Want to sing ‘Shallow’ with me?”
But before I could answer, the DJ’s voice came over the sound system. “Next up, we have Alex and birthday girl Jo, singing ‘I Believe in a Thing Called Love.’ Happy dirty thirty to the birthday girl.”
No, that couldn’t be right. I turned to Alex. He shrugged, a mischievous smile on his face.
“It’s not my birthday” was the only thing I could think to say.
Alex pushed his chair back and held out his hand to me. “White lie so you could skip ahead. It’s almost your birthday, after all.”
I stared at his hand, already feeling myself turn pink. “No.”
Nina shook my shoulders. “Yes!”
Alex pulled me to my feet. “It’ll be fine. I’m right with you.”
Mia and Kitty started chanting my name, getting the rest of thetable (except for Greyson) to chant along. I flushed all over, probably looking like a lobster in a tight blue dress about to be tossed into a pot of boiling water.
“I’m an awful singer,” I said as Alex led me over to the DJ booth.
“I’ve heard you sing before.”
“But that’s different. I get nauseated onstage. I might puke on you.”
“I’ll live,” he said. I looked back at the table, pleading for someone to rescue me, but they only kept chanting my name.
Alex took two microphones from the DJ and passed one to me. The microphone was slick in my sweating hands. Surely I couldn’t keep a grip on this for an entire three minutes.
“I don’t know the song,” I said.
Alex raised an eyebrow at me. “Everyone knows this song,” he said. “And I seem to remember you getting whiplash head-banging to this in the man van on the way to work.”
I stared at him, unable to speak.
“Just pretend you’re in the galley prepping for a beach picnic for an annoying primary,” Alex said.
“A galley with strobe lights, a stage, and dozens of strangers,” I said.
Alex’s face softened. “If you won’t do it for you, do it for me. I need a pick-me-up right now. And you owe me. I jumped off the yacht with you, you sing this song with me. Seems like a fair trade.”
I thought of how hurt he’d looked when Greyson shrugged him off, and how terrified he’d been when we jumped off the yacht. “That’s a dirty trick, you know.” He smiled, and I let him pull me up the steps, even though every cell in my body wanted to leap off the stage and escape to my car.
We stopped in the center of the stage, and I realized with relief that the lights made it impossible to see the faces of the audience, though I could hear Nina and the girls whooping. Alex squeezed my hand, letting go when the strumming of electric guitars filled the room. I could feel myself sweating already and didn’t know what to do with my body as thescreen counted down to cue us in with the lyrics. When the first verse began, I held the microphone up to my mouth and moved my lips, but no sound came out.
Alex, however, sounded amazing. His voice was loud and clear, and he seemed completely comfortable up here. That was when I realized what a horrible mistake getting onstage with him had been. I’d known he could sing, but he sounded like a baby angel on Christmas. I should’ve known he’d be a born performer, he’d spent his whole life watching his parents do it, and so I gave up on singing as I listened to him.
Alex caught my eye and turned away from the audience, singing directly to me instead. I tried not to read too much into him singing about touching and being touched. Standing there only made me feel more awkward, so when the chorus began, I tried to sing along, though my voice was barely above a whisper.
“C’mon, Jo,” Alex called to me at the instrumental break, “you know this.”
When the next verse began, he grabbed my hand and pulled me closer. We were chest to chest, only a few inches separating us. He looked completely in character as he sang to me about kissing every minute, every hour, every day, and in that moment, I wasn’t sure if he was singing to me, his karaoke buddy, or tome. His eyes were locked on mine, and it was impossible to be this close, to have him sing to me in front of everyone, and just stare back. The only thing I could do was sing louder. With each line my voice grew stronger, and Alex’s facial expressions became more enthusiastic. By the time the chorus started up again, his smile had taken over his face, and I couldn’t help it, it was contagious. I laughed as I sang with him, forgetting about the people watching us. He placed my hand on his chest, like he had that day we jumped off the yacht, and sang about the rhythm of his heart, but I could only feel mine beating wildly in my chest.
Alex let go of my hand and gave the best air guitar performance I’d ever seen. He nudged me with his shoulder until I joined in, and my fearturned to pure adrenaline. All the stress and tension of the last few months escaped me in the form of enthusiastic air-guitaring. My hair flew around my face as we head-banged to the music. We sang to each other and danced wildly. By the final rendition of the chorus, I was doing my best to match Alex’s over-the-top acting, which was impossible to beat. During the final instrumental break, he spun me toward him and held me close doing a two-step as if we were dancing in a ballroom, odd for a song like this, but somehow it seemed to fit (and I was grateful I’d already checked off item number eleven—attempt ballroom dancing—and had taken a few lessons).
