Page 34 of Hang the Moon
He shut the door behind her, following her into the kitchen, where he went straight for the cabinet beside the sink and grabbed a crystal vase from the top shelf. He turned on the tap, filling it with several inches of water. “I wasn’t sure whether you’d prefer pink or red.”
“Pink’s my favorite color.”
Brendon beamed at her. “You ready to head out?”
“Still won’t tell me where we’re going?” She grabbed her jacket off the bar and slipped it over her arms, tying the belt around her waist. Beneath it, she had on a pair of black cigarette trousers and a striped boatneck tee, her flats sensible in case they had a far walk ahead of them.
Brendon was dressed in what she’d begun to think of as Pacific Northwestern attire. Jeans, a navy dress shirt unbuttoned over a tee that readBeam Me Up, Scotty,a pair of brown leather boots, and a black North Face rain jacket she’d seen on so many people she was pretty sure they handed them out when you moved to town. Her light pink trench stuck out like a sore thumb.
He pretended to lock his lips and throw away the key. She had to hand it to his commitment to keep her in the dark.
“Let’s go,” she said.
***
Without any rain in the forecast, Brendon suggested they walk.
At the corner of Queen Anne Avenue North and Denny Way, Annie asked, “Still won’t tell me where we’re headed?”
He pointed across the street.
She frowned at the nondescript bar he was pointing at.
“You don’t see the sign?” He led her across the street, one hand resting lightly on the small of her back. “Look.”
A sandwich-board sign set outside the bar read,Hey, all you Whitney Wannabes and Halsey Hopefuls. Show off your singing skills at karaoke every Saturday and Sunday from six to close.
“Got to love the alliteration,” she joked, backing away slowly. The color drained from her face as she jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Funny joke, Brendon. Want to tell me where we’re actually going?”
“Not a joke.”
“Karaoke? Getting up onstage and blustering my way through a song in front of a bunch of strangers?” She shuddered. “Hard pass. I don’t sing.”
“And I’m not asking you to. Do you remember the promise I made you yesterday? I think the exact words I used werehumiliate myself.”
The hallmark of almost all his favorite romantic comedies was a musical number, and nine times out of ten, its purpose wasn’t to impress. It was towoo.
Patrick running from the security guards while singing on the bleachers in10 Things I Hate About You.
Lloyd holding the boom box playing “In Your Eyes” by Peter Gabriel over his head inSay Anything.
Robbie strumming his guitar as he walked down the aisle of the airplane, serenading Julia inThe Wedding Singer.
Annie wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sing. Public speaking was one thing. He could work a crowd. But carry a tune? Stay on pitch? He had no ear for music. He couldn’t even hum on key. Hell, when he was in college, the RA had posted a sign on the bathroom door telling the whole dorm that, in addition to jacking off in the communal shower, singing there was strictly prohibited. He knew who that sign had been meant for, his proclivity for belting out the chorus to Adele’s “Rolling in the Deep” during his early morning showers no secret.
Humiliate himself was right. But in the movies, no one cared if you sucked, because it wasn’t about talent or technical skill. It was about effort, enthusiasm. About doing the unexpected.
Her eyes were bright and her smile broad. “I didn’t think you were serious.”
“I told you I always keep my promises.”Allhis promises. “Ready to go watch me humiliate myself in front of a room full of strangers?”
Annie barked out a laugh. “Do you even have to ask?”
The inside of the bar was delightfully kitschy. The booths were decorated like huts. Palm trees in brightly colored ceramic planters, strings of neon lights, and tiki statues were scattered about on most surfaces. Hibiscus flowers, plumeria, and birds of paradise covered tables and swayed from the ceiling.
“Welcome to Hualani’s,” the hostess greeted them, reaching for the stack of menus. “Two?”
Annie’s head swiveled, taking in the Polynesian tiki bar theme. “Could we get a table near the front?”
