Page 47 of Destiny

Mom bumps his shoulder with her own. “Why don’t you have Marco down at your shop one day and show him around?”

“Oh, no. I wouldn’t want to impose—”

“It’s no imposition. I offered. How about next weekend?”

Marco looks over at me, and I give him an encouraging look. “I’ll watch the girls,” I offer.

“Well, then, I guess I don’t have any reason to say no.”

“Great. That settles that.”

“How’s everything going?” the server asks. “Still working on the combo platter?”

“Yes. Thank you,” I say while covering my mouth because there’s food in it.

“Got it. Why don’t you flag me down when you’re ready to order dinner.”

“We will. Thank you,” Marco jumps in to say.

“Okay, are we good on drinks for now?”

“Yes, thanks.”

Then, she leaves, and we have to devise something else to discuss.

“How are the plans for the open mic night going?”

“Open mic night?” Marco repeats.

“Yeah. My mom just told Micky and me that we’re going to start holding a weekly event for the kids around the area to come and showcase their talent.”

My mother crosses her arms. “I still can’t believe you aren’t going to sing.”

Marco turns to me. “Bea? Seriously? Come on! You’re so good.”

I feel the color leaving my face. “When did you hear me singing?”

“It was one time you were watching the girls. I came home through the front door, and I thought the radio was on . . . that’s how talented you are.”

“It’s no use, Marco. Trust me. We’ve had this conversation time and time again, and she always refuses.”

“Hmph.” He shrugs his shoulders, and I can tell that he is far from trying to convince me to do it.

“Anyway, do you have the stage built yet, Dad?”

“Just about.”

“Oh, you’re making it yourself? That’s awesome.”

My father just kind of grumbles.

“And I bought the microphones,” Ma says.

“So, is the night mostly just going to be for singing or—”

“Anything. Slam poetry, instrument playing, singing, whatever someone wants to do.”

“That’s really awesome,” Marco comments.

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