Page 70 of Falling for Them
She thinks for a minute.“‘Poker Face.’”
I laugh.“Because you don’t have one?”
“Yep.”
“Fair enough.Okay,” I say, “let’s do it.You’ll be doing Lady Gaga’s part?”
“I’ll be trying,” she says, rolling her eyes.“I might pass it off to you if it gets to be a strain.You up for that?”
“I give good range,” I say.
Laughing, we hop up on stage.The few people in the club start clapping like wild.They must be surprised to see me, a no-singing regular, up here.
Unless some of them recognize me.Nah.I’ve been coming here for months and nobody’s said a word.
The opening beat and synthesizer begins.A mixture of groans and cheers rises up from the handful of folks in the audience.But as soon as we start singing, me mostly performing the male back-up vocals, we convert even the hesitant audience members.Several have their phones out, filming.
Filming isn’t that unusual here, although it seems likeeveryoneis recording this.
Shit.Have they figured out who I am?
I push it aside.That’s a worry to deal with later.Right now, Ella’s happy.Her voice is absolutely perfect for this—she’s a natural contralto, and she sounds damn good.I weave the back-up lyrics, supporting her as she sings.During the bridge, she grins over at me and gestures I should take over the speaking part, so I focus on the words flickering on the lyrics screen and just let the crowd have it.
A couple more turns through the chorus, and the song ends.Ella and I hold hands and bow together.
More people have come into the bar.Definitely more of a crowd, now, as people finish dinner and begin to bar-hop.
They’re calling for an encore.I fucking live for this, the high of a performance well done, the joy of an enthusiastic audience.My heart feels lighter, jamming away in my chest.I want more of this, even though I shouldn’t, even though it takes me places I shouldn’t go.Places of addiction, of mistakes.
But fuck it, I don’t know how to hold back.I squeeze Ella’s hand.“You want to give the crowd what they want?One more song?”
Smiling widely, Ella nods.
“You got it, princess.”
“Sing again!”someone shouts from the crowd.
“Sure, one more song.Any requests?”Ella calls out.
“Yeah,” a woman in the front says.“How about something by Bastian Crown?”
Aw, fuck.Yeah, I’ve been made.
But Ella goes right on past it.“I’m not that familiar with his music.”
The woman laughs, like Ella’s told a joke, but someone else is suggesting another song.Hozier’s “Arsonist’s Lullaby.”
“Yeah, let’s do that one,” I say, grabbing any opportunity to dissuade talk about my name.“You know it?”
She nods.“Not great, but I can muddle through.”
As the opening chords ease through the speakers, I steal a glance at Ella.She doesn’t know who I am, at all.And I fucking love the freedom of that.She treats me like anyone else.
I’ll have to tell her at some point, but now is not the time.
Ella
The energy of the audience is different tonight than what it was the last time I sang here.They seem…hungrier.Like they have some kind of weird expectation.
