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“Rosie’s obviously going to be the next Taylor Swift,” he said. “She’ll have her dad’s knack for lyrics and her mom’s musical talent, and her Uncle Nick is going to be her manager. You’ll want to go to those concerts, believe me.”
“Does Rosie know about this?”
“I wouldn’t want to burden her with her destiny at such an early age.”
Hayley laughed, settling into her seat. “I didn’t know Mel could sing.”
“She can do more than that. You know the song “Uninvited” by Alanis Morissette?” Hayley nodded. “Talent show, senior year, she forbids us to try and find out what she’s doing. That curtain went up, and there was Mel, at the piano, with half the show choir on stage. She’s got percussion, guitars, a couple of violins, and Vicki’s covering the high harmonies …” Nick got chills as he pictured it. “To this day, best musical performance I’ve ever seen on stage. We brought it back for the band years later, just her and the piano, and she still brought down the house.”
“Of course you had a band,” Hayley said. “That makes perfect sense.”
“Nothing big,” Nick said. “We never got around to recording or anything. Then Mel had Rosie, and you can’t play shows until one in the morning with a baby.”
She hesitated. “Was Vicki in the band too?”
A sick ache ran through him, like she’d just tapped a bruise. Mel had told her, obviously. Not Mel’s business, but that was okay. Hadn’t he been sitting in this seat a few hours ago, thinking of all the things he wanted to share?
This hadn’t been on the list, though.
“No.” He tried to sound casual. “Vicki was gone by then.”
“Mel and I were talking about the pictures in your study.” Hayley sounded apologetic; apparently he hadn’t been casual enough. “She mentioned her name.”
“Yeah, we ended up at different colleges.”
She turned playful. “Mel also said you looked great in a tux.”
“Oh, I looked amazing.” He happily changed the subject. “And let me tell you something: Tuxedos are not built for the electric slide. I don’t see how anyone can wear the shirt and the vest and the coat and not sweat all over the place.”
“I see how it is.” Nick turned to see Hayley smugly cross her arms. “You’ve been dancing for years, and you never told me.”
“That barely qualifies,” he said. “And you never told me you could sing.”
She started laughing. “It’s not a big deal.”
“The hell it’s not.”
“Come on,” she said. “I can’t sing like you.”
“But you sang for Icarus.”
“Yeah, but I was a singer the same way our guitar player could swing dance. Not a headliner that way.”
“And to think of all the karaoke Fridays,” Nick said sadly. “The microphone was right there.”
“I was busy bringing you drinks, genius. Besides, with karaoke you never know what key it’ll be in, or whether the words’ll show up. Not everyone loves a microphone like you do.”
“Well, be brave,” he said, “because you’re going to sing now.” He smiled at her. “This is my native language.”
Hayley played reluctant, but he knew she understood. “Okay,” she said. “You’re singing with me, though.”
“Of course.”
“And I get to pick the song.”
“Sure.”
“And you’ve got to tell me how you knew what to say to me last night.”
