Beauty from Pain(65)

I put on the dress and Addison zips it for me. It’s tight but it squeezes me in all the right places. It’s a sexy dress and I’m hot in it, but instead of being proud of the way I look, I’m disappointed Lachlan isn’t here to see me. Maybe I’ll text pictures of myself to show him what he’s missing.


When we’re finished getting ready, we go into the living room where Zac and Ben are ready and waiting. Zac is up and at Addison’s side immediately, telling her how beautiful she is. Ben is staring at me and I begin to feel really uncomfortable. Even more so than I did when we met in the hallway. Somehow I feel more naked than I did when I was wearing only a towel.


I wish things weren’t like this between Ben and me. I wish we could talk and laugh like friends instead of constantly being swallowed up by all of this uneasiness.


The four of us leave the apartment building and catch a cab to the club so everyone can drink. I’m sure to take the seat in the front so I’m not stuck sitting with Ben in the back. Maybe it’s childish, but I don’t care. He doesn’t need the least bit of encouragement.


Ben holds the door for me as we walk into the club. As I walk past him, he leans close to me. “You’re exceptionally beautiful tonight, Laurelyn.”


It’s sweet the way he says it. I don’t know. Maybe I would’ve been interested in him if there had been no Lachlan. But there is a Lachlan. And he’s the only one I want. “Thank you, Ben. You’re very handsome tonight. Every girl in the place is going to swoon over you.”


“Except the one I want.”


Shit. Why’d he have to call out the pink elephant in the room?


I say nothing and walk to the table Zac and Addison have chosen close to the stage. Of course, they’re sitting together so that means Ben and I must sit together.


Since it’s New Year’s Eve, I’m guessing there’s going to be some real entertainment. Open mic has already started and there’s a woman doing an Adele song on the karaoke machine. She’s mimicking every note like Adele—I imagine she’s been singing in the mirror all week to get ready for her big performance.


“There’s a sign-up sheet if you want to sing. You might want to go ahead and put your name down. I’m sure the list is long since it’s a big night.”


I grab Addison by the hand and pull her from her chair. “Come on. You didn’t sing last time and you were the one chanting the loudest for me to get up on stage.”


Ben is right—the list is very long. Addison and I sign up, but I’ll be surprised if we’re called before midnight. I’ll probably be too drunk to remember how to sing.


Our waitress places a Sauvignon Blanc in front of me. I ordered it because it’s one of the wines I’ve come to enjoy since meeting Lachlan. I take a drink and I’m surprised how a glass of wine can make me feel closer to him, even when he’s seven hours away.


One after another, people take the stage. Some are decent while many are a disaster, but it’s all for fun and I think everyone in the club claps louder for the ones who suck. It’s called a pity clap.


About fifteen minutes before midnight, Addison is called to the stage, which means I’m next. She’s pretty drunk and I’m just hoping for her sake that she doesn’t screw this up.


She takes the guitar from its stand and sits on the stool before she puts the strap over her neck. She strums several times and I get a glimpse of how I must’ve looked on stage, minus the drunk part.


She begins to sing “You Were Meant for Me” by Jewel, and I’m not sure if it’s because she’s trying to send a not-so-subtle message to Zac or because it’s a song she felt certain she could pull off drunk. Regardless, Zac doesn’t take his eyes off her and I’m envious.


She finishes and the crowd claps wildly. As they should. She gave a great performance.


I’m called to the stage next and I take my place at the piano this time. There’s no damn way I’d sing this song if Lachlan were here, but he’s not and it’s my own little private joke with myself.


I lean into the mic and address the crowd because I can’t help it. I’m an entertainer. It’s in my blood. It’s what I do.


“Everybody ready to bring in the New Year?” The crowd responds loudly, letting me know they’re having a right nice time. “I toyed with this song on a piano the other day and decided I’d do my own rendition. I sort of liked the way it sounded.” I play a few notes as I speak to the crowd. “Hell, I loved the way it sounded, but I’m going to let you guys tell me what you think. This is ‘Private Dancer’ by the lovely Tina Turner.”