Page 97 of Tethered Souls
I try to think about who they’re talking about. No one I’ve heard tonight has been that bad. Perhaps this woman has taken up the mic while I’ve been in here? In that case, I should linger for a bit. Give her time to finish. I don’t want to make her feel bad, comparing herself to my standing ovation when I next take the stage.
“Roll up a bit of napkin and put it in your ears,” Woman Three says as they all move into the stalls. “That’s what I did.”
“Did it help?”
“Not really.”
“Fuck. And she’s going back on.” One of them groans as she pisses. “I want to go home so bad.”
“Well, you can’t. Rio was clear about what would happen toanyoneif we disrespect the Boss’ fiancee.”
“Is that guy really the Boss of the Shadow Domain?”
My eyes widen as I suddenly realize they’re talking about me. I’m the shit singer. But they’ve all been applauding me and asking for more...
A dumb-as-fuck grin spreads across my lips as the rest of the situation dawns.
“Yes, and the other guy with him? He’s rumored to have killed a hundred men, one of them with a toothpick. So no leaving, Beth.”
She groans. “Death might be better than this.”
“Not how he does it. That toothpick kill? He shoved it up the guy’s dick and waited for him to get sepsis. But look, it’s nearly ten. There’s probably only nine hours left max.”
My grin hurting my cheeks at this point, I exit the stall and then the bathroom without a sound. I linger in the hall until the trio starts coming out. Pretending like I’m heading in for the first time, I nod at them.
“Oh my gods, you’re such a great singer!” one exclaims, probably Woman Three.
“Thank you. I’m about to get back on! Why don’t you pick the first three songs for me?”
Her smile freezes, fractures.
I turn to the other two. “And you can pick the next sets!”
I barely manage not to laugh as I leave them horrified. I head in to wash my hands, then step out after I’ve finished and make my way back to the stage.
After Woman Three picks a song, I say into the mic, “Apologies if this is a bit worse than before.” I raise a hand to my neck as the entire club seems to die. Trying my best not to laugh, I add, “My throat’s a bit sore, but I’ll do my best. Please let me know when I should stop.”
And then I kill it.
Properly.
Fucking.
Kill.
It.
A set of goats playing bagpipes with quarters stuck in the pipes while the goats themselves were being tortured would sound so much better than me. And that’s on the first song. I get progressively worse, but still they cheer me and ask for another.
Varius eventually makes his way back to the table, where Khalid looks like hereallywants to kill me. But the rest of the bar is actually starting to genuinely get into it because they’re all so fucking drunk at this point – alcohol the only thing having helped them through the last hour.
Grinning like a fucking fool who’s loved by a man who can only express it in the most obscure ways, I hop off the stage for the last time. Making my way over to my fiance, I grab his hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
Khalid is on his feet in a second, and I laugh at how keen he is to leave. Being on duty, he hasn’t had a single drink, and I kind of feel bad for him.
“Are you sure?” Varius asks, his eyes soft despite how badly his ears must be ringing. But he genuinely means it. He’s willing to sit here while all the goats with bagpipes die just so I can live my dream.
My chest squeezes tight. “Yes,” I say softly. “I could really demolish a burger right about now.”
