Page 26 of The Deal Maker

“I don’t think so if we want to win,” Duke says with a low chuckle. Why does that do things to my insides? It’s like everything is melting from the timbre of his voice.

“Can you sing?” I ask. I realize after the fact that I made it sound kind of snooty. “Sorry, I meant that as a normal question. Do you like to sing?”

“Not really. I avoided choir like the plague growing up.”

Blowing out a breath, I say, “I guess we’ll just have to endure three minutes of torture and call it good.”

“You don’t like singing either?” Duke asks, and I fall into step with him.

“I usually just mouth ‘Happy Birthday’ when we have to sing to people for birthdays. It’s better for all if they don’t have to hear me sing off key.”

Duke smiles and I have to say I’m not mad at the cute little dimple in his right cheek. “Well, maybe there aren’t that many people awake at nine o’clock in the morning.”

I’m hoping he’s right, until I step around the corner of one of the buildings and see that the town square has at least four rows of chairs set up in front of what looks like a mini stage near the giant waterfall. There are two microphone stands as well as a few speakers on each side of the platform.

I guess they’re going all out for this activity.

A few people are already sitting in the seats and it looks like several are close enough to hear.

Just as we’re about to walk up on stage, a couple in their mid-fifties steps up. The man grins and says into the mic, “Good morning, Willow Cove. We’re going to sing ‘Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing.’”

Duke taps my arm and waves for us to walk around to the other side of the platform, where there’s a book of musical suggestions. At least we don’t have to come up with our own.

The only problem is that when Duke flips through the pages, I don’t recognize any of the songs. He reads one off here and there, while trying to hum a few bars to help me know what it is, but I don’t recognize any of them over the sound of the couple singing.

“What about ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart?’” Duke asks.

“That one actually sounds familiar.”

“It’s an older song, but I know it better than most of the newer ones.” He shuts the book right as the couple in front of us finish. They did a fantastic job and their voices blended together so well. I’m nervous about what’s going to happen between Duke and me. There will be no meshing or harmonizing or whatever it’s called in music.

The couple bows and walks off the stage. Duke waves for me to go first. At least the heathen has some chivalrous qualities within him.

I take the microphone to the right and Duke stands next to me. He glances at me, but I’m pretty sure I’ve just got the deer in the headlights look. How do people perform in front of thousands when I’m struggling to function in front of twenty?

“I think we should apologize for what you’re about to hear,” Duke says into the microphone, snapping me out of my trance. “We don’t have the talents that the Judsons just displayed, but you’ve now been warned.”

The small group chuckles and I glance out at them, seeing Hope’s grinning face from the back row, her phone poised to record. The traitor. I’m never going to live this down. How did she know I’d be here?

The song starts and I do my best to read the screen, but it’s coming out as more talking rather than singing. I try to add a songbird-like quality to my words, but it turns out I sound more like a bullfrog.

There’s a lot of cringing, and I’m ready to stop singing when I hear Duke take over for his part.

He’s equally as bad, his voice cracking when he has to go up another octave.

I don’t know why that should make me feel better, because we’re here, trying to work on a contest together. Hopefully we don't lose points for lack of talent in certain areas.

Duke smiles over at me as he continues to sing, or what we’re trying to pass off as singing, and I can’t help but think this will be something I’ll never forget. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the crowd is armed with squishy tomatoes to throw at us afterward.

It gets so unbelievably bad that we might be run out of town with a pitchfork. Okay, not to that extreme, but people are shifting in their seats and avoiding eye contact with us. That’s called second-hand embarrassment.

There’s a section where we have to sing together, and I’m pretty sure Duke’s voice just cracked again. I lose it, unable to keep the laughter from my so-called singing.

Once we finally come to the end of the song, there’s some half-hearted clapping along with several people saying they’re glad we’re done.

Me too, guys. Me too.

I can’t stop laughing, though. My brain is giving me mixed signals on what I’m supposed to do. One part of me knows that laughing this loudly is not socially acceptable, which is what I’d been trained to do since birth. Look and act the part and things will be okay.

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