Page 66 of Not Just a Trick Play

Amelia lights up. “Ah, Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller.’ Did you know it almost didn’t include the Vincent Price rap? Last minute addition.”

We exchange a smile, but it teeters dangerously close to the line we’ve drawn, and the alcohol is blurring the edges. She’s already swaying, hovering right at the cusp.

Lady Gaga’s “Bloody Mary” kicks in, and I take it as a cosmic cue to dial back the intensity.

“Hey, I’m not just a pretty face with a chocolate factory. My Wednesday Addams dance is on point.” I start flailing my arms around. “My nieces made sure of it, and nobody does it better.”

I have Amelia in stitches in seconds. “Impressive, Willy. Did you know Jenna Ortega choreographed that herself?”

“She did?” I feign shock. That’s one tidbit I was aware of, thanks to the niblings. I crank up the moves. “Come on, let’s see what you can do.”

She gives it her all, but enthusiasm clearly outpaces coordination here. Her attempts are closer to an interpretive dance that’s lost the plot. I’m dying, laughing so hard I’m practically crying, dodging an elbow that comes a little too close for comfort.

Our spectacle draws a crowd Milo bursts through, Minions, X-Men, and the rest of the team following, happy to watch me make a fool out of myself.

Armaan even knows the words and dances along, surprisingly adept as a dancing tent, and suddenly, our duo is a flash mob.

“This dance massacre needs some pain relief. Booze is the only thing that's going to help.” Moments later, a tray of B-52 shots materializes in front of us.

Logan squints at the creamy layers and makes a gagging noise. “No way I’m drinking that. Someone must’ve really despised the band to create something so shitty.”

“Actually, the drink came first,” Amelia states, her hand wavering as she raises the glass for a closer examination.

“And the band thought, ‘Wow, this is so gross it should be our name’? Fucking masochists.”

She chuckles, shaking her head. “Nope, they were named after those big, poofy hairdos that resemble jet bombers.” With a grin, she knocks back the rest of her drink in one go.

Milo snorts. “That’s as good as naming your kid Hoover because you’re proud of your suction power.”

Amelia glows, in her element. “And did you know ‘Rock Lobster’ was inspired by a disco projector? Fred Schneider thought it sounded like a lobster, so naturally, he made it into a song.”

Everyone erupts into laughter, and Amelia basks in it.

“She’s the queen of random music facts,” I add, grinning. Watching her in action? Absolute perfection.

“I am a treasure trove of useless music trivia,” she agrees.

“Not useless. Fun. It’s like a history class. Seriously, Sweets, you’d rock those tours.” I wink at her.

“What tours?” Hunter asks, sliding in and draping an arm over each of our shoulders, wedging himself between us. I give him a side eye, though I guess he’s doing me a favor—since, you know, boundaries and everything.

“I keep telling her she should do music tours,” I tell him. “I’m not kidding. Name any song.”

He looks at me dubiously before turning to Amelia. “All right, how about ‘In a Dream’?”

She perks up. “Oh, you’re going deep! That’s one of Lady Gaga’s unreleased tracks from back when she was still figuring out her style. It’s got this pop-rock vibe with piano and raw vocals. Definitely inspired by Queen and Bowie. She was mixing genres before anyone knew who she was.”

Hunter raises an eyebrow, impressed.

Amelia wobbles on her heels, but she’s on a roll. “Did you know she used to book her own gigs? Some venues would only speak with managers.” A hiccup. “The next day ‘Stefani’ rings on behalf of herself, with a dodgy posh accent.” She delivers this last bit in what I think is supposed to be a faux British accent, which makes her sound like Julie Andrews layered on top of Austin Powers.

Milo pulls out his phone. After a few of seconds of scrolling, he flips the screen toward us, revealing the Wikipedia page. “Nice!”

“See? She should be getting paid for this!” I crow.

Hunter chimes in. “Nah, we don’t want to lose Amelia. We like her!”

“You could do it as a side hustle,” I say. “Like I said before, you need to carpe diem that shit.”

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