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I nod.
“But if you do want him to be your first… I can help.” Her eyes light up. “Think about it.”
“Sure.”
“And think about how we’re going to hide it from Brendon. Pretty sure he’d kill Dean for that.”
“Right.”
“You have any idea what he’s pissed about?”
“Brendon?”
“Yeah.”
“Who knows with him?”
She nods. “You think he’ll get over it soon?”
“I hope so.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Kaylee
Emma (now with hair in the perfect cool shade of red) and I (still dirty blond) arrive at the shop a few minutes after eight. Walker and Dean are quick about insisting we ride with them. And about making conversation. Mostly with Emma. Mostly about nothing important.
They get almost all the way to the 405 then turn left. On Sawtelle. Toward Little Osaka.
Oh no.
I turn toward Em. “Don’t tell me.”
“Don’t tell her we’re doing karaoke?” Dean teases. “Okay. I won’t tell you that, Kay.”
Karaoke. Ugh. I can’t sing in front of people. I can’t even sing in the shower if I know someone is home.
“We’re counting on you rocking some emo songs,” Walker says. “Really selling that pain.”
Emma laughs. “You can admit you’re jealous of guys who can pull off eyeliner.”
Walker chuckles.
“You two should do a duet,” Dean says. “Which of you is Aladdin and which is Jasmine?”
Uh…
“I won’t make a joke about wanting to ride your carpet.” Dean winks at Emma. Turns back to the road. Pulls into the tiny parking lot of the strip mall on the right.
The private room karaoke place is right there. I know it well. How could I not? It’s the only all ages place on this side of town. I can’t even begin to count how many parties I’ve been to at this place.
And how many times I’ve avoided singing or only joined in on the big, group numbers.
I love music. I love singing. It’s just I don’t love singing with other people around. It’s too personal.
Songs dig at my guts. They force me to confront feelings deep inside me. I’m not about to do that for show.
Especially not when my guts are such a mess.
Brendon.
Grandma.
My parents.
I don’t want to feel any of that. I want it far away. I want to forget everything.
I try to come up with something I can sing, something that will label me a good sport without making me feel anything, as we park and make our way to the karaoke joint.
It’s as divey as it’s ever been. Narrow halls with bright carpet. Beige walls. Blue doors.
Our suite is at the back of the hall. A shiny silver disco ball casts light over the powder blue couches. The song books are sitting on the low table, right next to a bunch of two liter bottles of soda and a large carafe of water.
Emma plops on the couch and pours us two glasses of diet. “So.” She hands me my glass then looks to Dean with a smile. “What are you singing?”
“Good things come to those who wait.” He winks at us.
She nudges me. See. He totally likes you.
I shake my head. This is a bad lie. I need to set her straight. Without giving away how badly I want to fuck her brother.
“What about you, Walker?” Emma sips her drink. “What kind of music do you like anyway?”
“Metal.” Dean laughs. “Have we never brought you to karaoke?”
“Never. Fuck you for that by the way.” She flips him off.
Dean laughs. “You close your eyes and listen to Walker you think James Hetfield—”
“Who?” Emma asks.
“Fuck, kids today.” Dean shakes his head. “Lead singer of Metallica.”
“Oh. Yeah. The Enter Sandman guys.” Emma sticks her tongue out. “I don’t like that stuff. Too loud.”
“Not enough boys in eyeliner?” Dean offers.
“I was thinking skinny jeans.” She nudges me. “But that’s an irresistible combination. Right, Kay?”
“Right.” Or Brendon in anything. Or nothing. Nothing would be ideal, really. Not that I’ll ever have the chance to see that.
“You should try that look.” She motions to Dean. “Some espresso would bring out your eyes.”
The door swings open. Ryan and Leighton step inside. Ryan looks slightly less glum than usual. Leighton is wearing her usual pleasant smile, the customer service one required for working at the front desk.
And there’s Brendon.
His eye catch mine. “Who’s up first.”
“James over here.” Dean nods to Walker.
Walker grabs the mic. “You mock because you’re jealous.” He grabs the keypad. Taps the song in from memory.
A moment later, the title card flashes on screen. Enter Sandman, As Made Famous by Metallica.
The room fills with the song’s epic intro. Only it’s practically polyphonic.
Then Walker is singing with his voice two octaves lower than it normally is. All gruff and angry a la the original song—everyone knows this one.
Emma lets out one of her full body laughs.
Leighton chuckles.
Even Ryan cracks a smile. “You do look jealous, Dean.”
Dean flips his brother off.
The tension in my chest eases. This is normal. Distracting even.
