Page 120 of Windlass

Stevie snorted with suppressed laughter. Emilia flashed her an innocent smile as she walked back to the couch where the rest of them were gathered around Ivy’s computer, looking for what Stevie could only assume was the most embarrassing music they could think of for her and Morgan to sing.

“‘Oops I Did it Again’ would be a good one” Stevie heard Lilian say.

“Classic,” Emilia agreed.

“What if,” Stevie said loudly, “someone who actually enjoys singing went first to warm things up?”

“You lose croquet, you get no say.” Stormy blew her a kiss.

“Ivy?” Stevie gave Ivy her best puppy eyes.

Ivy glanced at Lilian before her lips curved into a contemplative smile. Stevie relaxed a fraction of an inch. Perhaps there was hope.

“I suppose you’ve earned it,” Ivy said, standing to take the candlestick from Stevie’s hand. “Give me ‘Dancing in the Dark’,” she shot over her shoulder at Stormy.

Because of course she would.

Stevie plopped down next to Angie and breathed a sigh of relief not to be the one standing framed before the fireplace. Ivy, unlike Stevie and Morgan, didn’t look like a human sacrifice as she readied herself. The lights Stormy and Lilian had maneuvered to create a spotlight brought out the gold of Ivy’s hair, and she lowered her head, letting the smooth waves fall forward to frame her face.

Stevie gave a catcall. It seemed appropriate.

As Stormy hit play, however, and the ’80s beat filled the room, Stevie amended her perception of Ivy. Ivy was really, really into Springsteen. More so than Stevie had realized. She had the whole foot-tapping, finger-snapping, hip-rocking, shoulder-shaking thing down. And it was hot.

Stevie eyed Lilian, who looked a bit like she’d been slapped and handed a signed blank check.

Adorable.

Ivy could also sing. Stevie nodded along with the beat, a thrill of elation piercing her for no reason other than she was with her friends having fun, sitting next to the woman she loved, and watching one of her best friends get utterly eye-fucked by a Springsteen impersonator. It was glorious.

They burst into applause when the music died out. Ivy bowed and kissed Lilian soundly on the lips before holding up the candlestick, cheeks flushed and eyes bright, her smile outshining the spotlight.

“Who’s up next?”

Stevie and Morgan both made themselves as tiny as possible, something Stevie was significantly better at than Morgan.

Emilia took the candlestick. Morgan groaned.

“‘I Want It That Way,’” Emilia said.

“Classic,” said Stormy.

“Springsteen’s classic,” Ivy said. “Backstreet Boys are peak millennial culture.”

“Hate to break it to you,” Lilian said, apparently recovered from Ivy’s onslaught of sex appeal, “but we’re about to be classics. We’re getting old.”

“Ancient,” Stevie added. “Too old to sing, certainly. Vocal cords all rusted.”

“Shut up, Stevie,” several people fondly said at once.

Emilia had also clearly watched music videos as a teen. Stevie leaned back and enjoyed her rendition as Emilia got into her boy band days.

“Who do you think she had a poster of?” Stevie whispered to Angie.

“The one who looks like a lesbian.”

“Does that narrow it down?”

After Emilia Stormy brought down the house with DNCE’s “Cake by the Ocean,” which she dedicated to the newly engaged couple, Lilian sweetly but predictably sang ‘Ivy’ by Taylor Swift, and then Angie was up. Stevie suddenly had a rush of sympathy for Morgan and Lilian.

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