In a Badger Way (Honey Badger Chronicles #2) - Shelly Laurenston Page 0,122

them in to compete against us. Not sure what some fancy musical prodigy can do, though. Maybe sing an aria my grandmother would love?”

Smirking, Coop replied, “Physics.”

“Huh?”

He didn’t bother to explain as Stevie had made the decision to go up on the stage with her two sisters.

While they skimmed through the karaoke machine’s offerings, Max’s wolverine friend pushed his way between Coop and Cherise.

“Hey, all,” he greeted the table. Then to Cherise, “My darling beauty.” Cherise smiled and waved around that damn straw in her mouth. He then nodded at Coop. “Dude.”

The wolverine caught sight of the Brunettis. Leaning across Coop, he took hold of Mary Marie’s hand. “My lady.”

“Hi ya.”

“I’m Dutch Alexander. And you are?”

“Mary Marie Brunetti. This is my sister Denise.”

“Lovely to meet you both,” he said, kissing the back of Mary Marie’s hand.

Denise tried to stick her hand out to get Dutch to kiss it, too, but an angry roar-and-snap from Mary Marie had her sister backing off.

“Oh, my God! Oh, my God!” one of Mary Marie’s other sisters pointed out. “They’re using the band and not the machine.”

Delighted, Mary Marie clapped her hands together. “This is going to be awesome.”

But Coop knew that when a She-lion said “awesome” she meant “ridiculously horrible.” Especially when she saw the piano player join the rest of the band. To Mary Marie this meant “aria time,” which would be a resounding failure at a wild dog event. Something the locals already knew.

Stevie stood at the front of the stage. Her sisters were on either side of her, each of them behind her own mic.

Looking shy and small, she lowered her head. But Coop watched her hands. She was a lefty but she used her right since that was the one the piano player could see.

She snapped out four beats with her fingers and the piano player began. He wasn’t playing anything remotely new. It was definitely a “classic,” but hardly classical. No, it was a one-time doo-wop hit that became a rockabilly hit when Wanda Jackson—the queen of rockabilly—came out with her own version of “Riot in Cell Block #9.”

Wanda Jackson had always had one of those awesome, growly voices that belied her tiny size. A song that was perfect for Stevie MacKilligan and her sisters, Stevie’s backup singers.

Gawking, mouth open, Mary Marie and her sisters couldn’t take their eyes off the stage. Or the way the wild dog crowd not only cheered but stayed on the dance floor.

“I thought I heard she couldn’t sing,” Mary Marie demanded, looking at Coop.

“I told you. Physics.”

“What does that mean?”

“Stevie always says that once you know how vocal chords work and how the laws of physics affect them, you can get your voice to make almost any sound you want.”

Dutch added, “She says she can’t sing and she’s right. Stevie can’t sing. But she can imitate anyone who can.”

“If you knew Wanda Jackson, who originated this version of this song, you’d see how much Stevie sounds like her. Right, Dutch?”

“Right, Coop.”

But that wasn’t all Stevie did. The kid had been on stage almost all of her life. Playing music herself or conducting entire orchestras of adults. And if there was one thing she had learned over all those years, it was stage presence.

And Stevie had stage presence in spades.

She owned that stage, singing to her audience. And her sisters weren’t schlubs either. They didn’t just back up their sister, they were right there with her, singing—and screaming, when the song called for it—and owning that stage. Plus, there were choreographed moves and some enjoyable sexiness to the whole thing.

When Stevie finished the last note, the entire room erupted into applause and a standing ovation. Something she was used to but the Brunetti Pride found endlessly upsetting.

But before the Pride could do anything, the crowd began to yell for more.

Stevie, grinning down at her audience, said, “Okay. One more. This is from Lillian Briggs. It’s just called ‘I.’ Enjoy.”

This song started with guitar rather than piano, and required Stevie to sing a lot faster, but she sounded just like Lillian Briggs. And again her sisters did a great job backing her up and dancing; the three moved to the edge of the stage as one unit to sing directly to the wild dog males who’d moved in close.

Leaning in to Dutch, Coop asked, “How did they manage to choreograph this in time for the show?”

“According to Max, after Stevie left her first career behind, she still needed to express herself musically—otherwise she’d get violent.