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Turns out, if you want to have a night out on Valentine’s Day, you should probably plan ahead. Every restaurant in town is booked solid. So, here we are at Barbecue and Brews, where they are hosting a karaoke night.
I look down at the snug red satin cami dress that Brandee insisted I wear. It has a low-draped neck and spaghetti straps. I threw a short white leather jacket over it and slipped on a pair of nude stilettos.
“We’re so overdressed for this place,” I say.
Brandee shrugs. “Who cares? We look hot, and I bet we won’t have to buy a single drink tonight.”
She pulls open the door, and we are greeted by a rambunctious crowd of blue-collar men winding down from the workday. All eyes come straight to us.
Brandee beams at the attention as she grabs my hand and leads us to a table that sits front and center of the tiny stage, where a young man is setting up a tablet beside a microphone.
The waitress approaches our table and sets a menu in front of us.
“Taking yourselves out for Valentine’s, ladies?” she asks.
“Yes, ma’am,” Brandee answers.
“You’re in luck. We have a ladies-only V-Day special tonight. Fifty cent wings and two-dollar drafts.”
“Fancy,” I mumble.
“We’ll take a dozen of your hot honey wings and two pale ales, please,” Brandee orders.
“I thought we wouldn’t be buying any drinks tonight,” I whisper once the waitress has excused herself.
“It’s just to get us started.”
The wings hit our table, and I try to eat them without making too much of a mess.
Who orders wings when they’re all dressed up?
I finally give up and sip on the beer in the frosty mug.
By the time the emcee for the night begins calling names up to the stage to sing off-key renditions of cheesy love songs, we are two beers in. The second of which was sent over to our table by a couple of big, burly guys parked at the pool tables in the back of the bar.
“Let’s sing a duet,” Brandee urges.
“Uh, no. I’m not getting up there to sing in front of everyone,” I state.
“Why not? It’ll be fun.”
I shake my head. “I can’t sing,” I insist.
“None of us can. That’s the whole point of karaoke. Honestly, if you can keep time and sing on the beat, you’re a winner.”
She stands and trots over to grab a book of song choices from the table by the stage.
We fumble through the laminated pages as she throws out selections. “‘I Will Survive,’ ‘Sweet Caroline,’ ‘Don’t Stop Believin’,’ ‘Friends in Low Places’?”
“No.”
She frowns. “You’re no help. I’m just going to have to choose one for us.”
She writes a title down on a slip of paper, and before I can protest, she hands it off to our waitress, who delivers it to the emcee.
“There, it’s settled,” she announces.
“What song did you give him?” I ask.
