He took her hand and led her toward a table. “Stay here, I’ll get us a drink.”
She nodded that she heard and understood him, but she was entranced by the people dancing in lines. It looked like a lotof fun. A moment later, Coleson slid onto the chair across her and placed a wine cooler in front of her.
“Figured you’d prefer that instead of beer,” he said.
Emmie picked up the bottle and took a tentative sip. She was pleasantly surprised. “Oh, I like this.”
He winked at her.
“Have you ever done that?” she asked pointing to the dancers.
“Once or twice that I remember,” he admitted. “Once or twice that I don’t.”
She laughed, and for the next couple of songs, she tapped her feet and sipped her drink. There wasn’t one person wearing Louboutins, or wearing a dress that cost more than the gross national income of some third world countries, and she was having fun just watching everyone. She wore jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers, and had never felt more comfortable in her life.
When the current song ended, the DJ took to the mic.
“We’ve reached the part of the evening where it’s time to belt out your favorite tunes!”
The crowd whooped and hollered.
“I’m gonna need those of you ready to continue this party to write out your choice and pin it on the note board!”
Something nudged her elbow and when Emmie looked down, Coleson had pushed a white binder closer.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“It’s time to pick a song.”
Emmie blinked. “To sing?”
“Yep. It’s karaoke time.”
“Are you going to sing?”
“I will if you will, baby.”
She smiled. “Deal.”
He scooted closer and they began to peruse together. It wasn’t long before he found one and grabbed the order sheet atthe back of the binder to write down his selection.
“I don’t know any of these songs,” she complained, flipped through the pages. “Oh, wait! I know this one.”
“Go ahead and write that down, then I’ll take it up to the front.”
“Okay.” She dutifully wrote down her name and the song, then held it out to him. “I’ve never done this before.”
“I know,” he said, rising and placing a quick kiss on her lips. “You’re going to be great.”
He headed up to the stage and placed both their sheets on the board. As he headed back to her, several people stopped him to talk and he smiled and answered before waving at them to continue his way to their table.
“We’re about tenth in line,” he told her.
Emmie loved watching ordinary people get up on stage and belt out tunes even though almost all were tone deaf. That didn’t matter. Every person who took hold of the microphone was fearless. They were havingfun, and that was what she wanted. Every day for the rest of her life. To not be miserable, especially with a spouse her parents had chosen. They wanted her to be them, but there was no fucking way.
Jacoby’s death had woken her up.
There was nothing left for her in New York.