Page 46 of Hot Doggin'
He follows me up on stage, and when the introduction starts to play, our table erupts in laughter.
I guess it’s a little funny to see two big scarred guys like me and Mac impersonating Dolly Parton, but “Islands in the Stream” felt appropriate. That’s what we are, no one in between. Our feelings can’t be wrong. Tonight I just want to sail away with him, to another world. Where we rely on each other. Just like we always have. My ride or die. My partner in crime and in karaoke. The man I fall asleep beside every night and wake up next to each morning. The man whose dick I can’t wait to get my mouth on as soon as I find an excuse to get the fuck out of here.
Of course, the guys howl and throw chips at us as we butcher the lyrics. Like they can do better. I call bullshit.
But the bigger commotion, bigger than being off-tune or tone-deaf, is when a man from the bar walks over to our table and asks Tex to dance. The little blond eagerly jumps from his seat to join the guy on the dance floor. He loves to dance and show off. Loves being the center of attention. I guess anyone that pretty deserves to be.
But it doesn’t sit well with Mandy.
Even from my position on the stage, I can see the murderous intent in his eyes. His wounded pride and jealousy screams like a bullhorn.
After coming to terms with the way I feel about Mac, if I saw him dance with another guy, I would lose my ever-loving shit. I would lose it all over the place and all over the guy. How Mandy can sit there and pretend like it doesn’t bother him baffles me.
Tex twirls and two-steps in his cowboy boots across the scuffed wooden floor, and I know every stomp of his heels is felt in Mandy’s battered heart, evidenced by the pain in his dark eyes. I hate that he’s hurting, that he’s longing for someone he feels he doesn’t deserve and can’t have. I can tell Tex is interested in him, and if he would just believe in himself and give love a chance, he might just find it.
Then again, that’s pretty funny coming from someone who’s afraid to reach for the same thing in front of the eyes of his friends.
Mandy and I both need to be taught the same lesson. We both need to grow a pair.
The song can’t end fast enough, and when it finally does, we rush to our seats and finish off the last of the nachos, now cold and soggy.
“Congratulations,” Rhett teases, reaching for the last nacho. “You sing as bad as you knit.”
“You’re hilarious.Looking,”I add with a cough. “Who’s up next?”
Jax, who’s been steadily knocking back drinks all night long as he glares at Pharo, tips his chair back, looking glassy-eyed and unstable as he wobbles to his feet. “I’m next.”
Leaning into Mandy, whose gaze is focused on Tex as he reclaims his seat, I whisper, “Why don’t you ask him to dance?”
He snorts. “In what world would a guy like him want to dance with me?”
“Well, besides your fantasy world, this one. He wouldn’t say no to you if you asked him.”
“Yeah, because he’s a sweetheart, and we’re friends. He wouldn’t want to embarrass me, which is the same reason I won’t ask him. I don’t want to embarrass him either.”
His words make me feel angry and on edge, and I have to fight the urge to shake him until his teeth rattle. “One of these days, Mandy, I hope you wake up and realize what you’re worth before everything good in your life is gone.”
He’s about to respond, but the most unholy sound filters through the mic and scratches the eardrums of every available patron in the bar.
Jax is singing, or trying to sing, “I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys. He must be drunk off his ass or he wouldnever admit to knowing every word by heart, which he clearly does because he’s not even looking at the lyrics on the screen. Probably too far gone to even read them.
“Jesus Christ,” Pharo groans. “You’ve got to be fucking shitting me. Somebody go save his dumb ass.”
When nobody moves to intervene, Pharo scrapes his chair back loudly and rushes to the stage, pulling the plug out of the wall connected to Jax’s mic.
“The fuck, man?” Jax asks defensively, looking like he’s ready to throw down.
Pharo stands his ground, crossing his arms over his considerably wide chest. “It’s like listening to a sick and injured cat struggling to escape from a wet burlap sack. You fucking suck. And you’re welcome, I did you a favor. I did all of us a favor.”
I kick Mac under the table and nod toward the exit. “Time to go.” The excuse I’ve been looking for to bail all night long just presented itself in stunning clarity.
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
MCCORMICK
Strippeddown to nothing but my boxers, I brush my teeth a second time and study my reflection in the mirror. I’m just wasting time in here, fucking around because I don’t have the balls to get in bed with him. All night I’ve built up this blow job in my head and now it’s this big thing, this main event, and I’m the star of the show. I feel a little sick to my stomach.
