Page 13 of Something like Desire

I adjust my sunglasses and the large straw hat to ensure as much of my face as possible is covered, then shift the floral arrangement so it blocks me even more—even though my mom is totally absorbed in her date and Nicholas still probably has no idea what I even look like. It’s not like they’ve had time for deep conversations or photo sharing, considering they can barely keep their hands off each other.

They sip water between bursts of conversation and laughter, then finally stroll over to the buffet table. Nicholas loads his plate with seafood, while Mom piles hers high with chicken and a huge serving of salad. From where I’m sitting, I can’t hear a word they’re saying, but judging by their wide grins, they’re getting alongwaytoo well. If Maren were here, I’d reluctantly ask her to do the voices again, then would probably regret it after a few lines of her impersonations.

Someone two tables over sighs loudly, and it perfectly echoes how I feel. I glance over and see a man sitting with both elbows on the table, his fists clenched. His sunglasses hide his eyes, but I’m certain they’re sharp and focused, glowering even, because his thick eyebrows are drawn down and together in a tight scowl. He pushes his wavy brown hair off his forehead and tugs at his beard. I consider moving a few tables away, even though I’ve got the perfect setup right where I am. Angry people make me uncomfortable—years ago, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and ended up with a drink thrown at me that was meant for someone else.

The man takes an expensive-looking camera out of his backpack and snaps a few photos—and I might be paranoid, but I’m pretty sure his lens is aimed at my mom and Nicholas.

The guy playing guitar makes his way off the stage and a forty-something man with a straw fedora and a Hawaiian shirt takes his place. He shades his eyes and looks out across the sea of tables.

“Good afternoon, everyone! I’m Chris and I’m hoping there are some singers among us. Karaoke is about to begin! Please use the app pictured on the screen to lock in those requests.”

He gestures to the screen to the left of the stage that has the app name,PitchPop, written across a large music note icon. I eye my mom and Nicholas. She’s nudging him playfully, probably encouraging him to sing her something. Hopefully he’ll refuse. I’d rather not barf up my fries.

I check out the angry man again. His camera rests on the table now and he looks down at his phone, types something, and seems to relax a little. Maybe he’s here for the karaoke and was mad it didn’t start on time or something. Andy’s always telling me about some of his friends who are diehard karaoke fans—the kind of people who practice all night, never miss a week, wear full costumes to look like their favorite musicians, wigs, makeup, all that stuff.

The guy with the straw fedora sings “Build Me Up Buttercup” and although his voice is pleasant, it’s a little too sunshine and rainbows for the mood I’m in right now and it’s distracting me from figuring out what move I want to make.

“And now, please welcome Raaaaaachel to the stage,” the host booms, his voice rising like a wrestling announcer hyping a championship match.

A buzzing, electric-ants sensation prickles against my skin. Rachel? As in:my mom?She’sthe first one to volunteer...? Mom knows she’s tone deaf, refers to herself as the worst singer in the entire state of California, and has confessed to lip synching “Happy Birthday” when a crowd sings to me or Gia because she doesn’t want to curse us on our special days.Thatwoman is going to sing for the entire restaurant full of people? Holy tequila. That’s one way to clear a room.

Mom’s face turns red. “Me?” she asks loudly.

The karaoke host grins widely at her. “Rachel Callen?”

Mom nods and a small wave of relief washes over me. She hasn’t switched to her maiden name.

“Yes, don’t be shy.” The karaoke host gestures for her to join him onstage.

Mom shoots a look at Nicholas, who holds up both hands as if to say, “Don’t look at me.” So, if Mom didn’t text in a song and Nicholas apparently had nothing to do with it, who signed her up?

Mom gets up, slowly pushes in her chair, and trudges toward the stage. She hesitantly climbs the stairs and joins the host on the stage. She says something to him, but he just smiles again and shakes his head. Mom cautiously takes the mic and a familiar intro resounds. The screen lights up with the title before I can put my finger on it. “Unfaithful” by Rihanna.

A tingle of satisfaction runs up my spine even though Mom’s blushing an even deeper shade of crimson and looks like she wants the floor to open up and swallow her.

Someone here is savage.

But besides me and Nicholas, who even knows who she is? We’re hours away from home. And honestly? If I’m here to sabotage her relationship, why didn’tIthink of this idea first?

I glance at Nicholas. He rubs his temples and begins slowly surveying the room with a scowl on his face. Well, it seems like he’s definitely off the suspect list.

The only other person who stood out to me today is the angry man, so I turn to look at him, but a waitress is clearing his untouched plate of food and glass from the table he was sitting at and he’s nowhere to be seen.Bingo. Who the hell is that guy? And why does he want to expose her? Did Gia hire someone to help me? That would explain him taking photos. Documenting evidence. Very private investigator-esque.

I wouldn’t put it past her to doubt my sabotage skills. Or any of my skills for that matter.

I send her a text.

U hired someone? He’s kinda hot but scary-mad.

Her reply comes in right away.

Who’s hot? And no. What r u talking about?

If Giadidhire someone, she’d admit it and probably brag about her connections, so I believe her. But if she didn’t hire him, whoishe? Does Mom have a second, angry, and much younger lover? Unfortunately, at this point, I wouldn’t be shocked.

Mom’s standing onstage as the words light up on the screen. She has her mouth open as if she’s trying to decide whether to play along and sing it, or walk off the stage and leave the buffet crowd with some unanswered questions.

She chooses the latter. With a bright red face, she rushes off the stage and back to her table with her head bowed. She slumps in her seat. Nicholas leans over and whispers something to her and they both start looking around the room. I pull on the brim of my hat so it sits lower on my face. Then Mom frowns and leans over the table to say something to Nicholas. He scowls at her and stands up, leaving the restaurant with her trailing behind.