And he opened his mouth to sing Taylor Swift’s “Cruel Summer.”
Jackson’s story slowly died from his lips. As one, they all turned to watch the singer move his hips, rotate his shoulders, shuffle his feet just perfectly. Vik’s hand found Mae’s under the table and held on tight.
This had been Jesus’s favorite Taylor song.
It was a difficult song to sing, and the dreamboat on the dance floor wasn’t doing it particularly well, but that technicality was canceled out by his enthusiasm. Along with the enthusiasm of half of the gays in the bar.
“At least Jesus lived through the Eras Tour,” Vik murmured halfway through.
“He actually said that,” Mae said with a tremulous laugh, “at the hospital.”
“Of course he did,” Ozzy said with a sad smile.
Mae had been uncertain about whether she’d sing tonight. She always had, before. But it was a vulnerable thing, if silly, singing karaoke, and she hadn’t been sure if she was up for it with Dell in the room. Even if he had already witnessed her solo dancing to Judy Garland.
But when the singer returned to his seat, giving his boyfriend a kiss on the forehead, Mae rose from hers. Walked over to Kiki, the karaoke jockey, and wrote her standard selection on a slip of paper. Like she had at least ten times before. Except this time, the slip of paper only readMae.
By the time she returned to the table full of people she loved, the moment that had settled over them during “Cruel Summer” had been mercifully broken by the next song, by the next exchange of stories, shouted over the sticky table.
Mae grew true Moonie’s-loose after one of their own approached the mic, Ozzy with a rendition of The Fugees’ “Killing Me Softly with His Song.” After she’d spent time on the dance floor, bumping hips with Theo, lip syncing and dipping low with Vik.
Once Kiki called Lily to the mic.
“What’s she gonna do, what’s she gonna do,” Ben chanted, drumming his hands on the table.
Mae, face flushed from the previous song, leaned over to speak into Dell’s ear.
“This one has the best set of pipes of anyone in here.” She wondered if Dell could feel her breath on his neck. If he had goosebumps, too. She knew she was leaning in too close, that she could’ve shouted it at a normal distance instead.
But there was something about Moonie’s that made you want to play with fire.
“Welivefor her performances,” she finished.
Even now, more than twenty-four hours since they’d departed from Greyfin Bay and his workshop, Dell still smelled like sawdust. So strong Mae almost sneezed with it.
As the music started to play, the big blonde woman stood with her hands behind her back, head down as the recognizable guitar intro echoed through the room. Goosebumps returned to Mae’s skin. Vik released a small groan.
“Oh,fuck me,” they muttered. “I am cooked already.”
By the time Lily stepped to the mic, singing the first lines of “Dream On,” the whole room had settled into a hush. Moonie’s knew to shut up when Lily was singing.
By the time she reached those high-pitcheddream ons of Steven Tyler’s youth, the whole crowd was on their feet.
Even Dell.
Tears stung the corner of Mae’s eyes; she blinked them away as the bar cheered Lily off the stage. Even the butch bartender gave a hearty clap, the highest sign of Moonie’s approval. Lily curtsied with a shy smile before retreating into the waiting arms of her partner at the bar.
“Now that,” Kiki said into the mic, “was one for the ages. And now let’s welcome up…Mae!”
“What!” Mae shouted. “Oh, this is some bullshit.”
But the rest of her table only laughed. Vik shoved her shoulder. “Go.”
Kiki handed over the mic with a kind smile. “You got this, babe,” she said.
Mae squinted into the lights. Attempted to take a breath.
Traditions could still live on. Maybe the shape of things changed, the walls painted new colors, but the foundation could still be there.
