Page 23 of Waiting for a Prince
“Dad asked me to call. He wants you to join us at the house for dinner on Thursday night.” Her tone was clipped, which told Sam plenty.
Jack is in the room, isn’t he?
“I’ll be there.” There was little point arguing.
“Fine. We’ll see you then. Love you.” She hung up.
Sam pocketed his phone, his heart heavy.
I’m not sure I can take much more of this.
Doing something about it, though, was out of the question.
Rebecca had an ace up her sleeve, and she wouldn’t hesitate to use it.
The only glimmer of hope on the horizon was his newfound friendship. At least with Mark he could relax, laugh, talk…
Breathe.
Chapter Eight
Friday, August 9
Mark staredat the poster on the door of Wetherspoons. “Karaoke night?”
“What’s wrong with that?” Sam grinned. “Unless you’ve got a voice that can break glass and bring every dog within a thousand miles running to you.”
Mark glared at him. “I’ll have you know I’ve got a good singing voice. Mr. Foster told me so.”
Sam snorted. “Our old music teacher? The one we used to joke was tone deaf?”
That earned him another glare. “Maybe we should choose a different pub. There’s the King Lud on the esplanade.”
Sam chuckled. “What, and deprive me of hearing you sing?”
Mark grinned. “You don’t get it, do you? IfI’msinging, so are you, sunshine.”
Judging by the way Sam froze, that thought didn’t fill him with enthusiasm.
He patted Sam on the back. “Listening to drunk people killing the lyrics is half the fun. You’ll be fine, honest.”
Sam didn’t appear convinced.
Mark opened the door and pushed him inside. “First round is on me.”
Maybe by the third round, both of them would have loosened up enough to grab the mic.
“This crowd need warming up a little,” Mark murmured after a middle-aged guy warbled his way throughLolaby The Kinks, and no one else followed him. He took a swift inventory of the bar’s patrons: At least two-thirds of them were in their twenties, and that boded well for his first choice of song.
“Go for it,” Sam said with a grin. “Knock ’em dead.”
Mark chuckled. “Don’t get too comfy. You’re gonna do a duet with me after this.”
Sam’s huge eyes and open mouth were enough to have him laughing.
He made his way to the guy in control of the laptop. Mark scribbled his name and the song title on one of the slips provided and handed it over. The guy took one look and smiled.
“About time someone sang this one.” He picked up the mic. “And now we have Mark, who’s going to sing….Let it Go.”
