Page 95 of Pucking Around

“That was nice of them,” she says, glancing their way.

“Parking can be a pain,” Jake mutters, helping himself to the pitcher of water. “Easier to take one car.”

Whether she buys our lame excuse or not, she’s quickly distracted by the arrival of Poppy and two more players.

“I better see the same turnout for our hospital benefit this weekend,” Poppy calls to the boys with narrowed eyes as she takes her seat.

Damn, that’s right. She hasn’t been subtle with her repeated nudges that we’re all expected to attend this fancy dinner and silent auction the day after we get back from Boston. These public relations events literally never end. I don’t know how Poppy finds the energy to do so much. It would run me ragged.

Pretty soon, the Rays have taken over half of Rip’s. The cover band is cranking out the tunes, as more people take their turn at the mic. Novy loses a coin toss with Langley and chooses to sing a terrible cover of a Backstreet Boys song. Then Poppy does a pretty great “Jolene” that has the whole bar whooping and cheering.

Glancing down the table at Jake, I see he’s still brooding, both hands wrapped around his second beer. I slide over and nudge his shoulder. “What are you doing, angel?”

“Contemplating the consequences of my actions,” he replies.

“What—”

“Hey, Hot Doc!” Langley calls from a table over. “You’re gonna sing, right? Daughter of a rock’n’roll legend, you gotta get up there and sing!”

“Yeah, sing,” Sully and Shelby cheer.

“Sing!”

“Oh no,” I call, raising both hands. “The gene totally skipped me. Believe me, if I get up there and sing, you’ll all need immediate medical attention.”

Most of the group laughs.

Before Langley can reply, the guitarist takes the mic. He’s a big guy, shaved head, maybe late forties. “Hey everyone, how y’all doin’ tonight?” he calls into the mic.

The crowd hoots and clinks beer glasses.

“Welcome to Riptide’s Bar & Grill,” he says to more cheers. “If you hadn’t noticed, this here is karaoke night at Rip’s, and we’re the Jacksonville 5,” he adds, waving at the band. “We’re gonna be up here playing for the next hour or so. The sign-up list is over at the end of the bar by Stacey—Stac, give the people a wave.”

A pretty blonde behind the bar gives a big smile and wave, holding up a tablet.

“But first—” He shields his eyes with his hand. “I’m told we’ve got Caleb Sanford in the house tonight.”

The Rays pound the tables.

“Yeah, Sanny!”

“Get it, Sanford!”

I go still, watching as even some of the regulars in the crowd go wild cheering for Caleb. Next to me, Jake groans.

“Sanford, come on up here,” the guitarist calls. “Come hold this for me while I chat up the pretty redhead at the bar.”

The bar crowd goes nuts as a lady in her mid-forties with red hair blushes. Meanwhile, our tables are still cheering for Caleb.

“Sanford! Sanford!”

“Get it Sanny!”

“Freebird!”

Caleb looks at me before leveling his eyes at Jake. Something is happening right now. The guys are in the middle of some contest. I can only assume it’s about me. I can tell by Caleb’s confidence and Jake’s spanked puppy look that Cay is winning. Slowly, he gets up from the table and the whole crowd cheers again. He weaves between our tables, patting Jake’s shoulder as he passes. Jake groans again.

Am I going to have to get in this middle of this?

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