Page 6 of That Friendzone Feeling
“Nofucking way.”
“Butyou know they make you happy.”Hetakes the hand off his thigh and holds it out in an offer to pull me up. “Comeon.”
“Youonly ever want tostopme from singing.Whatthe hell’s wrong with you?”
Hecrouches down soI’meye to glinting hazel eye with him. “Youonly ever do things you’re good at.Trydoing something you’re shit at, just once.”Heshoves the mic at me again. “Andsee how much fun it is.”
“Youcan go drown in a vat of your own brew.We’reall very clear there’s only one musical talent in my family.”
“Aw.”Walkershrugs and thrusts out his bottom lip in a sulky pout as he stands up. “Myplan has failed.Sowho was next?” he asks the crowd.
Anenthusiastic man in a white suit and ruffled blue shirt thrusts his hand into the air. “Iwas.TheBeeGees. ‘Stayin’Alive.’”
Walkerhands over the mic and bounces off the stage to land beside me.
Islap him on the chest. “Whatwas that?”
Hesays nothing, just grasps my hand and steers us through the clapping karaoke audience and back toward the bar.
“Seriously,Walker,”Isay to his back and shoulders. “What’swrong with you?OfcourseI’mnot going to sing.Wereyou trying to humiliate me?”
Whenwe reach an empty space at the far end of the bar he drops my hand and turns to look at me.
“Ofcourse not.”Hishead tips to one side. “Iwas trying to cheer you up.”
Thedisco beat fills the corner of the room behind us.
“Well, you failed.Allyou’ve done is infuriate me.”
Hefolds his arms, the plaid pushed-up sleeves stretching tight around his biceps. “Didyou think aboutAnthonyonce just now?”
“No.”Iglare at him. “Ijust wanted to punch you in the face.”
“Well, if hating me made you forget about that whole sorry episode for a few minutes,I’lltake that one for the team.”
Inunison, we chant, “Together.Everyone.Annoys.Me.”Anda smile spreads across his freshly mown face at our long-running joke.
Backin business school, when a professor was teaching us the power of inspiring acronyms for the word “team,” the perpetually grumpy guy sitting on the other side ofWalkermuttered, “Together.Everyone.Annoys.Me.”
Welaughed like hyenas and got reprimanded.Andevery time one of us has used the word “team” since, we race to see who can say it first, and then we laugh like hyenas all over again.
Isigh and shake my head.Imight want to throttle him right now, but how didIget lucky enough to have a friend likeWalker?
Hedrapes his arm around my shoulders and turns me to face the crowd.Knowingour pub is making them happy can’t help but lift my spirits a little.
“Onlytwo hours till midnight,” he says.”Iknow we’re supposed to be in charge of this place, but we should allow ourselves one drink.”
“Oh, come on,”Isay over the crowd noise asIdunk two more sweet potato fries in our chef’s spectacular spicy dip. “Whydid you shave it off?”
Leonhad snagged a high table for us the second its occupants moved on and forced us to sit down, relax, and leave the run-up to midnight to him.Andhe just brought us a tray of snacks.
Ihadn’t realized how starvingIwas, but it has to have been ten hours sinceIforced half a small bag of chips past the lump in my throat.Perhapshunger is a signI’malready doing better with theAnthonything.
MaybeIcan grudgingly admitWalker’skaraoke scare tactic did take my mind off it.
“Itwas time for a change,” he says, selecting the biggest slice of zucchini bread. “Iwas tired of it being the butt of everyone’s jokes.”
“Ithadn’t bothered you before.Whywould it suddenly bother you today?”
