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“This is so fun!” she announced during the saxophone solo. “I just love karaoke, don’t you?”
“Uh, seeing other people humiliate themselves trying to be a pop star is one thing,” I began, “but doing it myself is something else entirely.”
“You’ve sung karaoke before?” she asked, her tone high-pitched with shock.
“How in the world did you get that out of what I said?” I asked her, thinking back to the time Kaylee had made me get up to sing “Bohemian Rhapsody” with her at a friend’s wedding.
“You have!” Georgia declared, slapping the table. “I can’t believe it. I would’ve never thought you had that kind of fun buried deep within you.”
“Hey, I’m fun!” Suddenly, I found myself defending my disposition, rather than trying to dissuade her from hauling my ass up on that stage. “Fishing is fun. Hunting is fun. Singing in front of an entire bar full of people you may or may not know isn’t fun, Georgia. Especially when you sound like that.”
One of the girls broke into the bridge with such fervor it was as if she’d been the one to lose her true love from thoughtless words tossed on the wind. If George Michael could hear her now, he’d also be covering up his ears—and rolling over in his grave.
“Oh, come on, Beau,” Georgia pleaded. “It’s fun. I’ll let you pick the song.”
“Wait a minute.” I put both of my hands up between us. “When did you propose we get up there? I totally missed that first step.”
She giggled at me. “I like to get right to the point. We should go next.”
“We should absolutelynotgo next.” I finished my beer, thinking if I had much more to drink we’d have to get a ride home. It would take that level of drunk for me to have the courage to get up there, regardless of what the song was. My mind began to wander over the titles of songs I actually liked. I could never do that to a song I cared for. The other songs that came to mind, the ones that were routinely butchered at this sort of thing, were all a joke. Was it better to know I was making a fool of myself and embrace it or actually try to do a good job?
The song ended, and most of the patrons broke out into applause, though some were doing their best to ignore the entire train wreck and just keep their conversations going. Perhaps there were more people in this bar who were being jabbed in the ribs and begged to go up there.
Before Georgia could convince me, a couple of guys jumped up there and started singing “Jessie’s Girl.” It was clear they were drunk off their asses. I envied them. They might not remember this at all tomorrow.
“Beau?” Georgia reached across the table and took me by the wrist. It was an intimate touch, and I liked the feel of her slender fingers around my wrist. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
My mouth opened and closed. I had another verse and the refrain to either change my mind or convince her that it wasn’t a good idea. “I really don’t want to, Georgia,” I admitted.
“For me? Can’t you do me this one favor?” Her brown eyes were deep and glistening, her eyelashes fluttering at me.
“I think I’m still in the middle of the last favor I started doing for you,” I reminded her. She only grinned. That was when I found a word parting my lips I’d never expected to hear. “Fine!”
Georgia squealed and clapped her hands. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun! What shall we sing?”
“You pick.” This was also a mistake, I was sure. But she loved getting to choose the song.
As soon as the drunk guys stumbled off the stage, Georgia took advantage of our seats being located so close to the stage and leaped up to grab the mic before anyone else could. On the karaoke machine, she did a quick search and then grinned when she saw the song she’d wanted. I felt my stomach drop into my shoes as I took my place next to her. “True Colors?”
She smiled and said, “Get ready.”
“Fuck.” At least she wasn’t holding the mic in front of my mouth when I let that fly.
For the next three minutes and forty-six seconds, I inwardly cringed at the sound of my own voice. Georgia was actually quite a talented singer, especially considering how much she’d had to drink. She wasn’t drunk, but she wasn’t sober either. I wasn’t quite drunk enough to fully let go and commit to the song, but I was also far enough gone that I couldn’t quite control my voice. To my ear, I sounded a little like a semi-truck braking as it plowed through a herd of water buffalos.
When the song was finally over, not only did people clap, but several people cheered for me specifically—by name. God, I was never going to live this down. Georgia took a bow, which caused the cheering to continue. When she looked over at me, she was smiling so widely, I couldn’t help but smile back.
“Let’s go home,” I suggested, taking her hand and leading her off the stage.
A few minutes later, we made it into my house, my truck still at the bar. I didn’t want to take any chances. The headlights from the Uber flashed across the windows as Georgia stood there, looking at me.
All of her silliness from earlier was gone as she stared up into my eyes. “I had a great time tonight, Beau.”
“Me too,” I admitted, despite the karaoke.
“I’m not sure I’m ready for this to be over yet.” She took a step closer to me, biting her lower lip.
I knew what she was getting at. Neither one of us was drunk enough not to know what we were doing. I swallowed hard, though. I had a lot of respect for Georgia. I liked her. I didn’t want to use and abuse her. But at the same time, we would never have another chance, and it had been a long damn time.
