“Orson first.” Cole says at the same time.
“No, Sienna,” I repeat. “Stage right. The internet loves her.”
“Orson,” Cole says. “By the statue. Trust me. Bromance brings donations.”
“SIENNA!”
“ORSON!”
“So uhhh, the voices are like, having a little meeting,” he announces. “But hey, no dead air on my watch!”
He throws both arms wide. “WHO’S HERE TO PARTY? EVERYBODY ON YOUR FEET. NO EXCUSES!”
Blaze pumps his fist, chanting, “SEAL THE DEAL.”
The front row echoes, “SEAL THE DEAL.”
No, no, no.
“SEAL THE DEAL.” The middle tables join in.
I watch the chat:
SEAL THE DEAL SEAL THE DEAL
this is my religion now
BLAZE FOR PRESIDENT
SEAL THE DEAL world tour!!!
The DJ instinctively drops a beat. The dance floor vibrates. Heels thud and champagne starts sloshing.
The pedestal of the carved sea lion trembles. Then trembles again. I clock it.
Blaze beelines toward Orson. “DR. O. High-five the sea lion. FOR THE ENERGY, BRO.”
Orson, rigid in his tux, blinks. “I don’t believe high-fiving wildlife represents—”
Blaze shakes his head. “Nah. Like this.”
He winds up and slaps the statue’s fin like it’s a game show winner.
CRACK.
The statue tilts. Gasps ripple through the room.
Blaze lunges forward and does the impossible. He catches it against his chest. The crowd cheers as if he rescued it from actual extinction.
He grins, triumphant—
Right as the base of the statue swings forward.
WHACK.
Direct hit to the foam cannon nozzle.
SNAP. PUFF. PFFFFF.
