wasn’t. Well, except for the laughing gas. Do you happen to have any Novocain?” I add. “Because that’s the only way I’m getting up there!”
“Nonsense.” Katie pulls me from my seat and pushes me towards the stage. “It’ll be cathartic. You have all this pent-up tension, you need to let it all out.”
“In front of a room full of strangers?”
“Sure! Nobody’s judging you. I mean, if the wailing bachelors of Williamsburg can do it…”
Good point.
I take a deep breath. It has been ages since I sang a good karaoke number, and even though I’m not drunk enough for this – or even buzzed at all – I’ve been walking around all week feeling like I need to scream out loud.
Screaming, singing, it’s all the same, right?
“What did you pick for me?” I ask, feeling a tremor of nerves. “Tell me it wasn’t some crazy high Kelly Clarkson number.”
“Nope.” She grins. “Better.”
And then the familiar chords start playing, and I can’t help but laugh. “Meatloaf? Seriously?”
“I heard you humming along in the car that time. Show ‘em how it’s done.” Katie gives me another push, and I basically have no choice but to clamber up on stage. I squint a little, adjusting to the lights, but luckily, everyone is pretty much ignoring me.
OK then.
I grab the mic, and brace myself. Because Meatloaf? He’s next level. We’re talking full on, ‘Bat out of Hell’ pop-rock-opera dramatics, and something tells me that Katie didn’t pick the radio edit. But hell, if anyone deserves to blow off some steam right now, it’s me.
So I go for it.
Boy, do I go for it. I shout, I wail, I strut around that stage like the legend himself. And it does feel good. For a whole eight minutes, I’m not thinking about impending professional doom, or student loans, or the fact I haven’t had a decent date since I kicked Mr .Hot Pockets to the curb. It’s just me, the music, and a couple of dozen strangers. And it feels great.
“And like a SINNNNAHHH before the gates of heaven/ I’ll come crawling on back to YOUUUUUUUU.”
I hit the final note. Or, you know, somewhere near it, and punch my fist to the sky.
Silence.
I look out at the crowd, but they’re too busy drinking, and flirting, and doing other fun, carefree things to notice my triumph. There’s one tall guy by the bar looking sullen, and a bored waitress making her rounds.
Tough crowd.
“Way to go!” Katie cheers through the silence, whooping. I scramble down, and go to rejoin them, breathless.
“That song’s a workout!” I exclaim, gulping down a glass of water.
“You were a superstar.” They grin. “Seriously, if you feel like changing careers…”
I snort. “Unlikely, but nice to know I have a backup. If publishing fails, I can busk on the street corner for dimes.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Wes teases. “That performance was worth at least a quarter.”
“Then drinks are on me.” I laugh. “But seriously, I should probably call it a night. I have to work tomorrow, and clearly, there’s no topping that performance.”
“Good idea,” Katie says, “Drop the mic and go out on a high.”
I make my way to the bar to settle up my tab, still buzzing from my moment in the spotlight. Well, the flickering bulb hanging over the stage. So what if my life isn’t exactly the sexy, exciting adventure all my favorite romance novels promised? For a moment at least, I feel like myself again.
“That was an… interesting performance.”
I turn. It’s the sullen guy, who can hereby be renamed Handsome Stranger, because, hello. Up close, I can see he has broad shoulders and dark hair, and I’m pretty sure I would be swooning if his smile wasn’t so sarcastic.
“Thanks,” I reply breezily. “It’s hard to go wrong with the Loaf.”
The guy smirks. “The Loaf? You guys are close?”
“Besties. When I was younger, my mom had a boyfriend who was a massive fan,” I find myself sharing. “He would pull up to our apartment to pick her up for dates, blasting it full volume. Our neighbors must have thrown a party when they finally broke up.”
The guy just looks at me like I’m babbling, which maybe I am.
“Anyway,” I say, “He’s a lot of fun to sing. You should try it sometime.”
He curls his lip in a sneer. “No thanks. I prefer not to make a total fool of myself.”
I blink. What an asshole!
I’m tempted to just roll my eyes and stalk off, but instead, I can’t resist giving him a