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No, instead we get chanced out by some tiny Thai Tina Turner impersonator swinging a broom at us. She’s yelling in this high0pitched shrill voice that could shatter glass.
It’s enough that the stray dogs in the area are howling along with her.
And I’m pretty sure my head wants to explode like Mt. Saint Helens.
“No! You’re not welcome here! Ever!” She bops Liam in the chest as she yells. “You stole my best Celine Dion!”
And suddenly, I can imagine exactly where Myst picked up her special friend last night.
“Look, we’re all terribly sorry, okay?” I offer a genuine apology.
It isn’t enough, and she aims her broom at me next.
“Don’t care. You leave now. Never come back.”
As much as I want to piece everything together, I don’t want to get smacked in the tits by some angry Tina Turner singer in front of some foreign cabaret.
“Okay. Okay.”
We take our leave before she starts to beat on us.
I’m making my way back outside when I hear this scratchy voice from inside start singing. I’m straining my ears to make heads or tails of it, but I’m pretty sure it’s that song from Titanic.
You know the one I’m talking about. Don’t pretend you don’t.
Anyway, I hear that fucking song, and there’s, like, a light bulb that goes on in the back of my brain.
Holy shit.
“Guys, I think I remember being here last night.”
I remember feeling a tongue on my lips—and I don’t mean the ones on my face—and I remember how good it felt. I remember the Tina Turner impersonator on stage singingWhat’s Love Got To Do With It.
Oh, god.I was here.
And I remember who with, too.
The light bulb in the back of mind explodes, and I’m hit with more details of the night before. It hits like a tidal wave that threatens to drown me.
But now I remember.
All of it.
…oh no.
