“Do not think about her underwear,” my partner states to my brother with a firm finger point. “Or her in a bikini.”
Jer lets his head fall slightly to the side. “Why would I think about her in a bikini?”
“Long story,” Bryn informs during her descent into the empty seat beside him. “One I’ll happily tell you while Ebony and Ivory over there get to the loading deck since they’re up after this dude.”
All of our stares momentarily swing to the pale, plump male proudly taking center stage to croon out “Rock You Like a Hurricane”.
“These songs choices just keep getting weirder and fuckin’ weirder,” Jer chortles on a shake of his head before flagging over the waitress.
I tuck the patch into my pocket and enthusiastically hop to my feet. “Let’s go, Bae!” Grabbing his hand leaves no room for objection. “We’ve got an audience to captivate.”
“Do some B.I.G.,” offhandedly suggests my brother. “Or The Mighty Mighty Bosstones.”
“Those are twoverydifferent fucking things,” Bryn loudly squeaks around snickers.
Joined by folded fingers, J.T. and I quickly skirt along the outside edge for the back table where the sign up and catalogue to search are guarded by an event employee. Once we verify J.T.’s on the list, we’re given a large binder to scan through, although our limited timing makes casual browsing not really an option.
“We just gotta make fast decisions,” I sweetly inform. “Pick a genre.”
“Rock.”
“I’ll pick a band.”
“Incubus,” lightly chortles my song partner from beside me.
“Fast or slow?”
“Fast,” he answers without hesitation. “Sooner we start, the sooner we get off the stage.”
Confusion crinkles my forehead as I pause my searching to ask, “Are you afraid of public speaking?”
“Publicsinging.” The corners of his lips curl upwards. “Huge difference.”
I giggle, shake my head, tap the choice on the page for the host to inform the DJ.
Post the selection, he investigates, “We’re not gonna dance too, right?”
“That would not be very Klingon of us.”
“Agreed.”
“Just channel your inner warrior meets rage runs into limited awkward movements.”
“So, Worf?”
More laughter precedes me promising, “I’ll make sure you survive out there.” A single squeeze is given. “I’ll make it so.”
The sweet reminder receives a wide grin that I unfortunately don’t get to fully appreciate courtesy of my vibrating cell in my back pocket. However, grabbing it is delayed due to us being ushered onto the stage next.
Hand in hand we stroll out together greeted with loud hoots and hollers.
Thankfully, the stage lights are a bit too bright to get hung up on the size of the crowd, making it that much easier for me to aid J.T. in forgetting that they’re there completely.
Opening notes to the popular song “Nice to Know You” have him visibly untensing as does the seeing the large, propped up screen where the lyrics will be scrolling for us.
Our heads begin rocking ever so slightly to the music.
Finding the rhythm.
