Page 31 of A Hard Sell

Thomas leaned over to peer through the window, then turned back to Luka. He smiled softly. “Good for them.”

“Excuse me.” They were interrupted by Morgan’s voice blasting from a speaker. The entire room of people cringed and covered their ears.

“Whoa, let me just turn that down a bit.” Morgan giggled into the microphone.

They turned to see him in the corner where the karaoke machine was set up, fiddling with the knob on the amp. He seemed a little unsteady on his feet.

“It’s time to kick things off,” Morgan announced as he righted himself, “with a littleSomebody to Love.”

“Oh, fuck,” Luka said, more loudly than he should have. “He’s about to butcher one of the greatest songs in history.”

“Let’s do this,” Morgan yelled, holding up a shot of tequila. He threw it back, then coughed a few times before wrenching the mic off the stand. He wailed the first note in a pitchy falsetto, then the backing track kicked in, and he somehow went even higher.

Luka looked at Thomas with wide eyes, ‘Help me’ written across his face.

Thomas shrugged. “Maybe he’ll be good?” it looked like he said, but Luka couldn’t hear.

It was too loud to engage in any conversation, so Luka suffered in silence as Morgan insulted every Queen fan that had ever existed, and those still to come.

Luka tried not to grimace too obviously. Morgan’s voice wasn’tawful,to be fair. He’d heard worse. The problem was he was oblivious to his limitations, and the higher the notes got, the more off-key he was. He was no Freddie fucking Mercury, that was for sure.

When the song was over and Morgan was done strutting and posing, he took a dramatic bow.

Georgia took the mic stand next. “Wow, thanks, Morgan!” she said, turning down the volume a bit more. “That’s a tough act to follow. I haven’t done this in a while, so wish me luck!” She launched into a lovely, soft folk-rock song, which allowed for conversation again.

Or, rather, it would have, if Morgan hadn’t made his way over. He mopped his brow with a napkin. “I don’t know how Freddie could do an entire concert with that much energy.”

The smell of tequila rolled off him. Luka bit his tongue before an insult spilled out.

“I suppose I’d better get in better shape before my band starts performing,” Morgan said with a put-upon sigh. He eyed Thomas. “Any pointers?”

Thomas shifted. “I used a personal trainer when I got started.”

“Hmm, that doesn’t sound like much fun, so impersonal.” Morgan pushed out his lower lip.

“Yes, personal trainers are famously impersonal,” Luka said.

Morgan glared at him but continued talking to Thomas. “I was thinking I could maybe join you for a workout or two, pick up some tips from someone who knows what he’s doing.” His gaze swept up and down Thomas’ frame. Luka wanted to puke.

“Uh.” Thomas blinked at him.

“Thomas was actually just saying to me”—Luka broke in, seeing Thomas was uncomfortable—“how he hardly has time to work out at all these days. He fits it in at five a.m.” Luka knew that Morgan refused to get out of bed before seven for any reason, and before noon only for work.

“Oh.” Morgan frowned. “That’s a little early for me…”

“You should check out that new gym that just opened up by the office. I’m sure you could meet with a trainer after work,” Luka suggested.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Great idea, Morgan,” Luka said, nodding.

“Thanks.” Morgan looked confused.

“And what are you going to sing, Luka?” Thomas asked, so smoothly that Morgan couldn’t even be sure how the conversation ended up not on him anymore.

“Oh, no, I don’t sing,” he said, hoping that was that.

“Sure you do,” Morgan piped up.

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