Blessed Tragedy(23)
Things with Matt definitely weren't as easy as they could have been. Then again, he and I were never close; I was the much younger sister always getting in the way.
I breathed a sigh of relief when Mike sat down next to me. It was a small gesture, but to me, it told me that he was on my side when it came to talking to Matt about our dad. He reacted much the same as Mike had, telling me I was out of touch and the only thing wrong with Dad was that he was tired from taking care of mom when she was sick and now grieving his loss. Mike didn't let on he'd said the same thing at first and he backed every observation I made, to the point of telling Matt I was probably the only one of us in the best position to actually see what was going on. By the time Matt stood to leave in a huff thirty minutes later, it was apparent that this was going to be a battle Mike and I fought on our own; Matt was perfectly content to let Dad live his life however he saw fit. That saddened me but didn't surprise me.
“So, you wanna head home or hang out?” Mike asked after we watched our oldest brother walk out the door. I think, no matter what we knew the outcome was going to be, it still surprised us he was so unwilling to even hear me out.
“Well, I have nothing better to do and I've never just hung out with you, so yeah, let's hang.” I looked sheepishly over at my brother. “Is it weird that I want to spend a Saturday night with you?”
“Nah, I'm a hot ticket around here,” he laughed.
“If that's the case, why were you sitting at Dad's house on a Saturday night and not out with one of the many women lining up to spend time with you?” I leaned over to bump my shoulder against his and flinched momentarily when he wrapped his arm around me.
“Blew them all off. Told them I had a date with a younger woman who wasn't going to be around for long.” Looking at Mike, really looking at him for the first time ever, I didn't doubt for a moment he would be the type of guy women fought over. He was charming, funny, had a smile that could light up the room and broad shoulders that made you feel safe to be with him. Add flattering and only a little bit conceited and I started to wonder why he was still single at thirty-two.
Before I could think of a witty comeback to his comment about a date with a younger woman, a rotund man with a baby face dropped a black three-ring binder on our table. “Gonna be a busy night, make sure you get your entry in early,” he said without looking at either of us. Great, I tell Mike we need to hang out and it's karaoke night. This should be fun.
“You going to sing tonight?” Mike asked, that devilish glint in his eye told me he was up to something.
“Probably not.” I emptied my beer glass, knowing there was little chance I would walk out without singing. If Mike pressed the issue, I'd wind up doing it to make him happy.
“Come on, you know you wanna,” he goaded. “Not to mention, best of the night takes the hundred dollar prize. It'll be fun.”
“And how, exactly, will it be fun? And how is that even fair? I'm pretty sure there's not enough beer in this place to make me screw up.”
Yeah, it was an arrogant statement but it was true. Karaoke was one of the most miserably painful excuses for entertainment I could think of. Most people needed a healthy dose of liquid courage before getting up on stage; the irony being that by the time the song started, they were too obliterated to perform, no matter how good they were sober.
“Plus, I'm pretty sure I'd be disqualified even if I did go up there.” It was a last ditch effort. Mike was on a mission and I was his secret weapon.
“Take a look at the rules, there's nothing in there that says 'you can't be the lead singer in a kick ass band' or anything like that.” I looked my brother square in the eye and realized the boy was definitely buzzed. It was rather amusing but I had a feeling that was only going to strengthen his resolve.
“Mike, I don't feel comfortable getting up there and taking money that someone else could really use.” Another morsel of truth. No matter how much I was irritated by the unknown nosy people of Lexington, I would feel like a greedy bitch if the person who came in second was doing this because they needed the money.
“So, after it's all done, you give the money away. I just want to see you sing again and I want everyone in town to see it too. You're amazing and we never gave you enough credit for that.” Okay, I really hoped Mike didn't get drunk with the plethora of women hoping to cash in their proverbial tickets because if he was this sappy buzzed, I could only imagine him full-on drunk. Maybe that's why he was single.
“Will you shut up if I say I'll do it?” He didn't need to know he'd found my weak spot. Buzzed, drunk, or whatever the reason, hearing him compliment me did me in.
“Yep. But I get to pick the song.” There was that twinkle again. I had a feeling I was going to regret this night before we got home.
As Mike thumbed his way through the three inch thick binder, I pulled out my phone. I hadn't talked to Colton at all today and I wanted to know how things were going in Florida.
Me: Shoot me. Mike has me at the bar. Convinced me to do karaoke.
Colton: LOL, have fun with that. Whatcha singin?
Me: That's the best part. He is picking.
Colton: Want video.
Me: Not f*cking likely. Well, knowing people around here, Google it in a few hours, I'm sure it'll be posted.
Colton: More problems?
Me: Just the pic from yesterday. Wish they'd let me be.
Colton: How's dad?
Me: Not sure yet. Talked to Mike tonight, tell you about it later.
Colton: Okay. Btw, you know Tanya's gonna kick your ass over the hair, right?
Me: Yep.
Colton: I think it's hot.
Me: Good. Because you know everything I do is done to make you think I'm hot.
Colton: You could wear a burlap sack and I'd still think you're hot.
Me: Too itchy. Mike's apparently picked, gotta run. Ttys.
From the moment Mike walked back from the stage after turning in my slip, I swear the man was bouncing in his seat. I tried to get him to tell me what song he picked several times but he refused to tell me; his excuse being it was the only way to level the playing field a bit.
Five horribly off-key, out of time songs later, I felt someone walk up behind us. I turned around to see none other than Garrett Dietrich reaching over to shake Mike's hand.
“Hey Maddie, didn't expect to see you again,” he said, pulling me into an awkward hug. I shouldn't have been surprised by the gesture since we had dated for a while in high school before realizing we were better off as friends, but it still felt too familiar. Too intimate. And I'll be damn if it didn't make my heart skip a beat or two.
“Well, we had a break and I had some stuff to take care of here,” I sputtered. There had to be something in the air around here that caused me to lose my mind. I was this person I didn't recognize. Not Maddie, not Rain, more like a diluted version of both of my personalities. “It's good to see you again. You care to sit with us?”
Shit, why did I ask him that? The last thing I need is to spend time with Garrett. At least Mike's here. Shit, Mike thought it'd be funny to bring me to the school and fail to mention that Garrett was the band director. What in the hell is he going to do?
“Need another drink?” Garrett asked, noticing I had drained yet another pint of beer. There were far too many ways I could get myself into trouble if I kept drinking, but I'll be damn if I could think of a single reason at that moment.
“Sure, grab me a good micro.” I watched as Garrett disappeared into the swarm of people as the DJ called my name to come to the stage.
You wouldn't think I'd get nervous performing in a hick bar but I wanted to puke for just a second or two. I'm pretty sure that's just how I'm wired. I live to sing and I love performing but I hate those moments when everyone is looking at me, anticipating what's to come. The song title appeared on the screen in front of me and I threw my head back laughing. This was going to be fun. I tilted my head to each side cracking my neck and winked at Mike, who'd made his way front and center.
The problem with Kiss Me Deadly by Lita Ford is there's no intro. No time to prepare once the play button is hit. On the other hand, Lita Ford was my secret role model growing up. Mom wanted me to be Mary Lou Retton and I wanted to be Lita.
In a bold move, I nodded to the DJ to start the song and I jumped off the low stage. These people wanted a show, my brother wanted me to show everyone what I can do, who was I to deny any of them? I danced my way through the crowd, growling out the lyrics in true badass rocker chick fashion. I saw a spark of recognition in a few people's eyes, but that could have also been the liquor making them glaze over.
When the song ended, there was a moment of dead silence. That's about the scariest reaction out there. If people jeer, you know they hated it. If they scream and clap, they loved it. But silence? There's no telling what they think. Lucky for me, the cheers and whistles started. Not so lucky for me, they were accompanied by flashes from camera phones. Knowing there was nothing I could do to change the fact that I would never again be anonymous in my hometown; I did what anyone would do. I grabbed my beer and gave my brother a hug.