“Are you sure about this?” Rachel asked. She carried three bottles of wine in her oversize purse. She’d told us that she couldn’t go back to cheap wine. She simply couldn’t.
“Sal offered us a significant discount if I would make a video about our experience here.”
“And sometimes you get what you pay for,” Mom said.
“Maybe it looks better on the inside?”
And it did look marginally better on the inside, even if it reminded me of the dark, disco-ball-lit skating rinks from my teen years. Instead of a rink, though, there was a bar to one side, several café tables and chairs, and a stage complete with a monitor and microphone. Screens to the left and right catered to the crowd.
Well, to where the crowd was supposed to be. One woman stood onstage, and four other people sat out in the audience. The place felt dead.
It also smelled of smoke, even though the website had said the place was nonsmoking.
To be fair, they hadn’t said how long they’d been nonsmoking.
“How does this work?” asked Mom as she put her coat on a chair.
“Oh, we have our own room. Or we’re supposed to.” I put on my brightest smile and went to find Nita, the person I’d made reservations with yesterday morning. The rest of my party gathered to watch the woman onstage sing a pitchy version of “Man! I Feel Like a Woman!”
The surly bartender called for Sal, and the owner of the establishment appeared moments later, reeking of cigarettes and just as rotund and bald as I’d imagined a man named Sal might be. I introduced myself.
“Oh, you’re the Mom Scout!” he said with a chuckle. “And you’re going to make a video of the whole thing, right?”
I hesitated. Did I really want to promote a dive like this? What would people think if they came here on my recommendation? Then again, I supposed I could let the video do the talking? Buyer beware? Maybe all karaoke bars looked like this. I didn’t know.
Sal shrugged as if he knew what I was thinking. “It ain’t much, I know. I just bought it six months ago. We’re hoping to do a full remodel in the next year. You could mention that maybe?”
I agreed and paid him the corkage fee for Rachel’s wines with an apology. “She’s very picky, you see.”
“That’s a good quality for your friends to have,” Sal said as he gestured for me to follow him down a narrow hallway. “Then it means something that she likesyou.”
Now I felt bad for having apologized for Rachel. I didn’t want cheap beer or questionable wine, either. I should be applauding Rachel’s ingenuity.
I gestured for our motley crew to follow Sal, too.
“And here’s our best room,” Sal said as he opened the door. “Usually it’s booked on Thursdays for bachelorette parties and the like, but it was open when you called so I saved it for you.”
“Thank you for that,” I said as I gave him my best smile.
He showed us how to use all the equipment and where the button was to call for someone to bring us food or drinks. By the time I realizedhe was hanging around because he wanted a tip, Rachel had already figured out how everything worked and was singing a pretty good version of “One Way or Another.”
Resigned, I slipped Sal a twenty and told myself to focus on what a great video this would make. It would have to be better than the ones I’d recently put together. I pulled out my phone to catch at least a little bit of Rachel in action.
Mom surprised me by taking the stage next. She sang George Michael’s “Faith,” and I had to admit I felt much better as I sang along. Maybe all I needed was some time to pick my own heart up off the floor.
“Okay, Abi, what’s it gonna be?” Rachel asked.
“‘Lady Marmalade.’ The 2001 version.”
“Oh.”
“You’re damn right, oh. You’re Mya.” She pointed to Rachel before turning to me. “And you’re Pink. I’m doing both Lil’ Kim and Christina Aguilera.”
“Someone feels like flexing this evening,” Rachel said.
Abi gave her a half smile, and then she killed it.
We dissolved into laughter and hugs and took a wine break.
