Page 18 of The B!tch List

Rolling my eyes, I looked over to where Dusty Chalmers was about to queue up my music, Dylan Scott’sNobody. I gave him a nod and as the opening bars sounded out my phone began to ring in my pocket.

“Sorry.” I reached for it, pulled it out and glanced at the screen.

“Did you not see the notice,” Carter growled as he stalked back toward the stage. “It states that all phones be turned off.” He paused and held up his pointer finger. “And that’s off, not silent.”

Shit, give a guy a clipboard and he thinks he’s God. “Sorry.” I held up the phone and clicked on the screen to end the call, it was an unknown number anyways.

“Think you could turn it off?” he asked.

Before I had chance it started to ring again. Unknown number again. I ended it and then shut down my phone. When I looked up Nancy was grinning at me.

“What?” I asked over the mic.

“Nothing,” she shrugged, “I just can’t believe how unprofessional some people are.”

When my music started again, I chose to ignore her and stick to the task at hand. Even though I didn’t put my all into it, I knew I still sounded pretty decent. I had a gift, I knew that. Mom had always gone on at me to join Glee club at high school, but I was a teenager who’d wanted to get laid, so I’d left singing to karaoke or in the shower.

When I let out the final note, I looked over to Nancy, expecting to see her full attention. It wasn’t on me; she was busy pacing up and down with earbuds in and listening to something on her phone. I guessed it might be her song, seeing as she was drumming a beat against her thigh.

“Thank you,” Carter said as he raised a thumb. “Nancy, you’re up next.”

“That it?” I asked.

Carter tapped Nancy on the back and when she looked at him, he pointed to the stage.

“Oh, right okay.” She pulled out her earbuds and walked toward the stage.

“Carter, is that it?” I asked again.

He shrugged. “What else do you want?”

To tell me how amazing I was. To announce to everyone that I was who they had to beat.

“Nothing, I guess.”

“What’s wrong?” Nancy whispered, nudging me aside from the microphone. “Not enough adulation for you.”

“Shove it, Nancy,” I replied close to her ear.

“Rather not. Tried it and wasn’t that impressed.”

“Yes, so you say.”

“Shaw,” Carter yelled. “Can you get off the damn stage. It’s Nancy’s turn.”

“Okay, I’m going.”

I didn’t intend on staying and listening to her sing, but as soon as she sang the first words of Lady A’s ‘Can’t Stand the Rain’, I knew she was going to be good. She’d slowed down the tempo and with a raspy and haunting voice, made what I thought was a cheesy song sound hella cool. I couldn’t stop looking as she lost herself in the music, even if she was only singing a small part of the song.

I watched as her throat bobbed with each note and how her hands gripped the mic’ stand and it struck me how damn beautiful she looked up there. Her dark hair was swept over one shoulder and her pouty lips were almost caressing the mic as she leaned in and sang out the words.

“Good, isn’t she?” Carter nudged me as he leaned in close to whisper. “And guess what?”

“What?” My gaze was still on Nancy who was being high fived by Dusty.

“You’re not the betting favorite any longer, in fact,” he said, hitting his hand against his stupid clipboard, “I’d say you’re a little overrated.”

Did you ever have one of those days where you could quite gladly tit punch your co-workers? A day when everything you do gains a scowl or a sharp intake of breath, which is what makes you want to tit punch them. That was the sort of day that I’d had with Mrs. Baker who I worked for as a teacher’s aide. She’d even told me I wasn’t helping Janey Gualtierra blow her nose correctly—apparently, I was holding the tissue wrong.

---