Page 107 of Oh No! There's an Incubus in my Hot Spring
The interior is pretty standard dive bar-ish. Neon signs all around, a pool table in the corner closest to the door, the bar along the left side with a mirror so bartenders with their backs turned can still see their customers, and ancient band signs littered throughout. At the very back is the little stage with two big speakers on either side and a stand with a TV screen. A younger blond woman is singing “Living on a Prayer” and not doing too bad. Most of the audience is singing along with her to help drown out any mistakes anyway.
We find a four-person high top and we’re quickly attended by a woman in her late forties with a serious pushup bra and a V-cut T-shirt that she altered herself. There are pink rhinestones across the front that used to say ‘Love’ with a heart for the ‘o,’ but she cut right through it.
“What are we celebrating?” she asks with a smile.
Leonard claps his hands on Apollo’s and Irene’s shoulders. “We just finished our first week of work and our boss is taking us out to party!”
The waitress looks at me with an overly large grin covered in immaculate red lipstick. “Oh, boy, you’re the new hot spring owner, aren’t you?”
“I am,” I say, reactively holding my hand out for a shake. “Sylvia.”
“Nice to meet you, darlin’.” She takes the offer, giving me a dainty shake. “I’m Trisha, and I’ll be helping you all night until close at eleven.”
“Great, thanks,” I say, placing my credit card on the table for the tab.
She keeps up her stunningly large grin as she looks between us. “What’ll it be?”
“Four Rocky Mountain Specials!” Leonard declares.
“You got it,” Trisha says and she’s off before I can ask what that is.
We clap for the Bon Jovi enthusiast, and the DJ calls out for Bobby to take the stage for “Chop Suey.” Irene runs over to the DJ and comes back with a song book and several slips of paper for our requests.
There’s no Sleep Token in the list—not that I could do any one of their songs justice on the stage—so I stick to a classic: NSYNC’s “Bye Bye Bye.” Of course, I demand that everyone has to go up with me and sing the alternating parts. Karaoke is always better with more voices, in my opinion.
Trisha returns with a tray loaded with drinks and starts distributing them. Apparently, the Rocky Mountain Special is a shot of tequila with a lime and a Coors tallboy. This is pretty far outside my norm, but we’re celebrating.
“I have to keep it just to this,” I say. “I’m still not acclimated to your elevation, and I need to drive home after this.”
“You can always crash at my place!” Leonard offers.
Irene laughs. “Make sure you ask your mom first.”
He scowls. “Hey, I pay rent. I can have friends overnight without asking my mom.”
“Plus, Britt loves me,” I say.
Apollo raises his shot glass. “To Sylvia, for breathing life back into the spring.”
“To Sylvia! Thanks for the job!” Irene says, clinking our shot glasses.
“Yeah, seriously, so much better,” Leonard says.
I grin. “You’re all very welcome, and thanks to you for making it possible for me to even come out tonight.”
I raise my glass, tap it once on the table, and shoot it back. It’s not terrible, but I chase it with the lime anyway. Apollo blinks both eyes separately once he’s swallowed, and then shivers. I hand him the lime and show him that I’m sucking on mine. He shoves the whole thing in his mouth and chews it, making me laugh.
Irene runs all our song selections up to the front, and we order a couple baskets of fries and chicken tenders to help me soak up the alcohol. I slip off my stool and dance along to the songs I know next to our table, the buzz lowering my inhibitions. Apollo’s eyes rarely leave me, and the feeling of being this desirable has my blood humming. I’m sure my unintentional arousal only makes it harder for him to tear his gaze away when Leonard asks him a question.
“Sylvia and the Ghosties, come on up to sing some NSYNC!” the DJ calls.
I look at Irene and she gives me an innocent smile as she tugs on my arm. We jump up on stage and the flashing lights block out the room. I’m not looking out there anyway. I’m watching my friends, and my love, as we belt out the millennial boy band hit. Even Apollo starts to get the dance moves by the end of the song, and we’re all…in sync.
Apollo wraps his arm around my waist as we leave the stage, and it feels so normal to stretch up and give him a gentle kiss. He smiles, his blue eyes sparkling in the disco lamp, and kisses me again.
I munch on fries and chicken as Leonard does a surprisingly phenomenal job of rapping, and Irene hits us with a Britney classic, “Toxic.”Everything is perfect.
“All right, thank you, Irene! Now, let’s slow it down for Jason singing some Lady A.”
