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Throwing in a pose or two to get them riled up? Please.
Competing against authentic punk fans in the form of karaoke? Go ahead and hold that thought.
“What do you want to sing?” The words slink out of Cody’s mouth like this whole situation is not one big catastrophe.
Want to know why I don’t listen to punk music? Because it’s impossible to dance to. Literally not possible. Hell, I’m nowhere near as good as Nico or Stella, but when it comes to moving my body in time to the beat, I’m pretty decent. But alternative rock?Headbangingmusic? Not even the master hip shakers can pull that one off.
“Maybe… Holiday?” I kind of, sort of, not really know the chorus to that one so I could probably fake it till I break it.
“And now, performing none other than the notorious HOLIDAY by everyone’s favourite band…” A fellow Billie impersonator takes the stage and any hope of victory gets crushed under the vaguely familiar guitar intro.
“That one may be taken.” Cody shoots me an amused look, unused to seeing me as anything but cocksure.
The issue here is my inability to strategize. How can I put my best self on stage, give the audience an unforgettable show, when chances are I won’t even know the lyrics to the song I’m supposed to perform? And I’ll have to…headbangalong to it?
Jesus, my neck feels sore already.
Call it a flash of genius because suddenly a brilliant idea strikes my consciousness. What if we didn’tpick a punk rock song, what if we did…
“Uh oh. That look is never good.” Cody visibly shudders as he spots the Cheshire smile stretching across my face.
“Au contraire, mon frère. This look is what’s going to make our performancereallygood.”
“Next up, we’ve got theotherhalf of the team that has been dominating tonight… the Lavishing Leather Ladies!” The rowdy bar gets rowdier as Cody and I take the stage. Scanning the audience, I spot Trip and blow her a kiss for luck. I don’t see the returning scowl as the lights start to dim, but the shot of adrenalin filling my veins makes me believe it’s there.
As planned, Cody takes the right side of the stage while I take the left. Grasping the microphone in my hand, I tilt my head towards the ground. Cody mirrors my stance from the other side and we wait for the beat to kick in.
“…You’re insecure, don’t know what for,” I start us off and a hushed silence falls among the bar. “You’re turning heads when you walk through the do-or,” I pass the spotlight off to Cody who takes the lead without hesitation.
“Don’t need makeup to cover up. Being the way that you are is enou-ou-ough,” We swagger over to the middle of the stage, hands clapping boy band style, singing somewhat in harmony. “…Everyone else in the room can see it; everyone else but you, ooh.”
I hear Stella’s shriek as the One Direction tribute finally sets in. Killing the dead silence in the room, the shriek startles the rockers out of their pop shock and they slowly join in on our chorus.
“Baby, you light up my world like nobody else; the way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed; but when you smile at the ground, it ain’t hard to tell.” I pretend to flip my gelled spikes while Cody holds the microphone towards the audience for some crowd participation.
As one the bar sings, “YOU DON’T KNOW, OH-OH! YOU DON’T KNOW YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL.” Fully embracing the energy of the room, Cody and I launch into motion: chucking the microphone back and forth between one another, hopping in time to the music; all the while shedding clothing layers and tossing them to the screaming crowd. Somewhere in the three and a half minutes, Cody’s jacket and plain white t-shirt gets lost off-stage, while my red tie becomes a fan favourite for the group of girls screaming my stage name.
“BILLIE, WE LOVE YOU!” The chants have me slowly unbuttoning my black dress shirt; the screams getting louder as the buttons go lower.
As the last chorus comes around, Cody and I pull off one last stunt: finishing the tribute with a couple of backflips. Some form of higher power must have been shining down on us because we both manage to land them – something we’ve never managed to do during practice – and as the song comes to a close, we hold out our arms in triumph.
The rockers jump to their feet as Cody and I hold our positions, letting the mortals enjoy the sight of our sweat-soaked skin a little bit longer. Based on the glistening eyes in the audience, I’m ninety-nine percent sure the impromptu strip tease is cause for the standing ovation, but hey, victory is ours.
Lou
“Oh. My. God.” My roommate is barely able to form coherent words as she looks from me to the stage to me and back again.
“I know.” Apparently, I’m not immune to the sight of two shirtless varsity players either. Even from across the room, I can seesix-packsglistening under the spotlight. Actually, I’m pretty sure Cody is sporting an eight-pack, but my attention is too taken by dark hair and dimples to be sure.
The boys take a good five minutes making their way off-stage, girls and boys alike reaching out to touch the Greek sculptures passing through. My stomach unexpectedly tightens as I watch a gorgeous girl in fishnet stockings put her hand on Wes’ chiseled chest, lean in, and whisper something in his ear. Given the chance, I too would use those muscles as a support structure, but the thought doesn’t ease the ache inside.
Watching Wes like a hawk, I finally exhale when he responds with a smile and gently removes the stray hand from his bare chest.
“Why was that hotter than both Magic Mike movies?” Stella’s question pulls my attention away from Wes and Miss Fishnets.
“If I had to guess, it’s probably because they were stripping to your favourite song.”
Stella sighs with content, “Any man who takes his clothes off to the God that is Harry Styles can worship me any day.”
