“Karaoke time!” Gabe said. “Who’s with me?”
“Good Lord, I can’t with this sort of thing. I honestly don’t know how you can stand it,” Penny said to Gabe. “A man of your discerning taste in music.”
“One never knows when one might come across a hidden gem,” said Gabe with a smile.
“Better your ears than mine,” Penny said, getting to her feet and tossing back the remainder of her drink. “I much prefer the whines and whistles of the otters, however discordant they might be. I’m out of here. Thanks, all.”
Part of Harper longed to go with her, but she stayed out of loyalty to Tariq. Besides, Gabe was telling funny stories about an off-off-Broadway production ofPeter Panthat he was involved in long ago, and the wine—and lack of sleep—was making her feel mellow and lazy, loath to leave her seat.
For the next hour, they listened to one singer after another attempt to put their own spin on some classics. Amiddle-aged, paunchy man grabbed the microphone and crooned “My Way,” and though he was mostly off-key, Harper admired his gusto. Two young women sang “Oops!…I Did It Again.” Their singing was also awful, but they were as cute as could be. A gaggle of drunken fraternity brothers attempted a rap song but couldn’t keep up with the lyrics. Xochi showed off a decent set of pipes as she belted out“At last, my love has come along…”
The singing and cheering and good-natured jeering made conversation difficult, which seemed to suit Tariq fine.
What was up with him tonight? Harper wondered. She wanted to ask Tariq about what Joel had said about his need for money, but this wasn’t the time or place. Besides, he was unusually testy this evening, out of sorts. Evasive, even. This wasn’t like him.
Tariq rolled his eyes, and Harper saw that the next singer up was Asher Mason. The man with the Paul Newman eyes.
“That’s Delilah Mason’s brother, right?” Harper asked.
Tariq nodded. “The one and only.”
He started singing a Tom Jones song, “Delilah.”
The crowd chimed in on the chorus.
As the meaning of the song started to sink in, Harper realized she had never before paid attention to the lyrics.
“What is he saying?” Harper asked. “Do you know the words?”
“The song is told from the perspective of a man killing his unfaithful girlfriend,” said Gabe. “She stood there laughing…I felt the knife in my hand, and she laughed no more…”
“That’s awful,” said Harper. “I never realized how appalling this song is.”
“I especially like that the killer asks his victim forforgiveness, all while blaming her for her own death,” said Tariq, playing with the drinks menu on the table.
“Am I the only one who thinks it’s odd he chose that song?” said Harper. “I mean, his sister, Delilah, wasjustmurdered.”
“With a knife, no less,” said Tariq with a nod.
“It does show a remarkable lack of taste, doesn’t it?” said Gabe. “On the other hand, the man can sing. And even if he couldn’t, he’s gorgeous.”
Choice of disturbing song aside, Gabe was right: Asher Mason had a good voice, deep and resonant, and he was very easy on the eyes. The crowd cheered and hooted when he finished, and Asher ducked his head as though embarrassed by the attention. As Asher handed the microphone to the DJ, Harper noticed his eyes were wet with tears.
He glanced in the direction of their table, and Harper beckoned him over.
“Don’t—” Tariq began, but Asher was already heading their way. Tariq groaned.
Harper stood. “Asher Mason, right? I’m Harper Grae. You were really good up there.”
Asher quickly wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “Pardon me. It’s the name. My sister, Delilah. She…” He trailed off.
“We know,” said Harper gently. “We’re so very sorry. Please, won’t you join us?”
“Yes indeed, have a seat,” said Gabe. “Gabe Ruiz. I knew your sister years ago. My sincere condolences on your loss.”
“Thank you,” Asher said, nodding. He looked at Tariq.
“Please do join us,” Tariq said. “I am so sorry about your sister, Asher. Let me buy you a drink in her memory. Name your poison.”
