Page 82 of Fun and Games
"And you want me to get up there and sing Disney songs?" I asked doubtfully.
"I guarantee you, it will not be the weirdest thing to have ever happened in this place," Mason said.
I scanned the room, taking in the skinny punks with dozens of piercings and the beefy bikers with bushy beards. My eyes fell on the table with the members of theworld freaking famousrock band Cherry Lips. I looked to Mason, wearing crisp, dark denim and a grey Henley, looking uncharacteristically as wholesome as the proverbial boy-next-door compared to this group.
"Sure," I said, throwing my hands up. "Why not. Let's sing Disney songs at a sketchy dive bar."
Mason waved at the bartender.
"Hey Walt," he called out. "When's the fun start?"
"'Bout twenty minutes," the bartender, Walt, answered in a gruff voice.
I took a seat at an empty booth near the back while Mason got us drinks. I tried not to look nervously over at the biker dudes. They were minding their own business, though, not even giving me a second glance.
I chided myself for being so judgmental. Just because they looked like a biker gang didn't mean they were bad people.
Although I did happen to catch one of the skinny punks bring his wrist to his nose, looking like he was snorting something. I quickly averted my gaze and focused on the stage. Mason came back shortly and handed me a bottle of beer.
"So do all these guys also get up and sing karaoke?" I asked.
"You'd be surprised at the level of talent Walt's got here," he said. "Some of them can do a pretty goodBohemian Rhapsody."
"Great, so I'm going up against one of the greatest rock singers of all timeanda bunch of hidden talent?" I groaned.
"Cerise probably won't get up and sing," Mason said. "It's too much like working your job on your days off."
"She probably also knows she would put the rest of us to shame."
"That, too," Mason agreed. "But no one will expect you to actually be good. It's all just for fun."
I played with the bottle of beer, sliding it back and forth along the table between my fingers, letting the condensation ease the glide. I'd never experienced stage fright before, but this sick feeling in my stomach must have been it.
The barrel-chested bartender got up on the low stage and spoke into the microphone.
"All right, who's first?" he asked.
I held my breath, hoping Mason wouldn't volunteer me. One of the biker dudes left the circle of his friends and headed toward the stage to the sounds of encouraging cheers. He pressed a few buttons on the karaoke machine, clearly well acquainted with it, and immediately burst out into a not-too-awful rendition ofDream Onby Aerosmith.
The cheering, hollering and hooting was contagious. The atmosphere in the place lightened up, until the bar patrons were all chatting with each other, no longer segregated into their own groups. Even I wasn't unaffected, joining in on the cheering and clapping as each singer performed their hearts out in the small, dingy bar.
"Your turn," Mason said as he pulled me out of the booth and gave me a small push toward the stage.
I shot him a dark look, but the cheering and clapping was for me this time, and oddly enough it helped calm my nerves.
To my surprise, the karaoke machine actually had some Disney songs. I choseI Just Can't Wait To Be KingfromThe Lion King, knowing that it was fun and happy enough that I wouldn't get all sappy and teary-eyed, unlike some of the other songs I liked to sing along to. It was also well known enough that I hoped the others would join in with me, like they had with some of the others.
The song started and I did my best to belt out the lyrics with gusto, knowing that enthusiasm would make up for my lack of singing ability. The other bar patrons did join in, and by the time the song wound down, there was a huge grin on my face and my rapidly beating heart was from a thrilling buzz, not from fear.
Mason greeted me as I stepped off the stage. I jumped into his arms with a beaming smile.
"Thank you," I told him. "That was really fun."
"I thought you'd enjoy it," he said. "Now I'm not the only person who has to suffer through your off-pitched warbling."
"Hey!" I protested with a laugh and poked him in the chest. "You're not any better, Mister Tone-Deaf. You want me to force you up there next?"
Mason winced.
