Page 63 of Flake It Til You Make It

“I don’t think it was for either of us.” Rocco could at least admit that.

“I’m glad we got that out of the way,” Taylor said, and his grin was bright. “Now we can really enjoy listening to these people butchering Mariah Carey.”

“They wouldn’t,” Rocco objected.

Taylor shot him a look. “Oh, there’s a reason I told them to make your drink strong.”

“Ouch. That bad?”

Something pulled Taylor’s gaze from Rocco and then he made a face. “Worse, even.” He pointed to the doorway. And sure enough there were Steve Mills and Mrs. Gucci Boots.

“Ugh, why?” Rocco questioned.

“Bad luck, I suppose,” Taylor said.

Rocco nearly suggested they leave now. Find something else to do—a bed, his mindsupplied,and both of us in it, naked—but before he could, Taylor turned to him and said, “I’m not letting them chase us out, okay?”

It was a good reminder that the lines between him and Taylor might’ve gotten blurred, but half the reason they’d started this relationship in the first place was to get Taylor the job he wanted.

“You got it,” Rocco said, taking a sip of his martini. “What other artists should I expect to be butchered tonight?”

“Oh, expect at least two off-key renditions of ‘Little Saint Nick’ by the Beach Boys and at least a few Brenda Lee and Jackson 5 copycats.”

“Sounds great,” Rocco said weakly. He liked Christmas music, but he liked it donewell. Why had he suggested this? Well, truthfully, he’d just picked an event from the list. It hadn’t mattered to him what they were doing as long as he could see Taylor again.

The mayor stepped on stage to a loud cheer. “Good evening,” she said into the microphone. “I hope you’re all excited to hear our town’s vocal stylings.” There were additional cheers and a few boos.

“Now, now, none of that,” she said with a grin. “We’re here to have fun. Our first caroler tonight is . . .” She paused, looking at the paper in her hand. “Is this right?” she asked the man running the karaoke machine, pulling the microphone away so the whole room couldn’t hear her. But it wasn’t a very big roomand after so long in office her voice just naturally carried. “This can’t be right.”

“It’s right. I’m definitely up first.” Steve Mills’ wife flounced onto the stage. That was the only way Rocco could describe it. She was dressed in a short, tight red velvet dress and sure enough, those same Gucci boots.

They were hot boots; Rocco could give her that at least.

But the mayor just stared at her incredulously, finally handing the microphone over as her song began to play.

It was, as Taylor had foretold, Mariah Carey’s seminal holiday hit, “All I Want For Christmas is You.”

It was not a song for an amateur, and unfortunately, from the first wobbly notes, it seemed Laura Mills was not of Mariah Carey’s caliber.

In fact, as the chorus hit, it got worse, and Taylor winced, taking a long drink of his beer. Rocco heard a few boos begin in the audience.

“Is this normal?” he asked Taylor, who shook his head.

“No. It’s not. Mona usually stops it if it gets too heated, or too mean, but she doesn’t look like she’s stopping it now.”

No, it didn’t. In fact, the mayor’s lips were set in a grim line, and she’d made no move to stop the song, or Laura Mills’ increasingly deranged and off-key wailing.

But apparently if the mayor wasn’t going to stop her, someone else would.

Rocco’s jaw fell open as Steve hopped onto the stage, a forced smile on his face, and tried to wrangle the microphone away. “Come on, honey, you told me you had this,” he hissed, loud enough and unfortunately for him, directly into the microphone. “You gotta stop. You’re making us all look bad.”

She vamped harder and then, pulling the microphone back, sang loudly, “All I want for Christmas is Heeeeaaaaaath.”

Rocco found Heath Kelly in the back of the room, and he was visibly wincing.

Either at how terribly Mariah Carey was being emulated or at Laura’s insistent attempts to interest him when he was clearlynotinterested in her. It was hard to say. Rocco was going to voteboth.

“Come on, you’re making a fool of yourself.” Steve tried to grab the microphone again, and his voice had gotten hard. Unrelenting. Nothing like the smooth, charming facade he normally wore.

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