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“Am I being challenged to a duel?” he asked.
Cal gave him a stony stare. “How dare you, sir.”
“What offense have I committed?”
“You can sing.” Cal looked dramatically around him at his brethren. “And you didn’t tell us.”
The semicircle let out a collective gasp, and Hayley snickered.
Nick took a step forward, looked at the ceiling, and heaved a huge sigh. He was thoroughly chewing the scenery as a man under the weighty burden of accusation.
“I do not deny it.” He glanced at Hayley. “Though I did not anticipate the betrayal of certain loose-lipped witnesses.”
Hayley took an elaborate bow while the crowd laughed. Cal bent down and opened the guitar case.
“Hang on,” Nick said. “I’m being punished, but it’s okay for you to hide that you can play guitar?”
“Everybody knows I play guitar,” Cal said. The crowd nodded solemnly. “Except for you. And you’re the new guy.”
“I see.” Nick watched Cal perch on the stool. “And what does the new guy have to do?”
“You will sing,” Cal said. “Now. With me.”
“Do I get to pick what we’re singing?”
“Nope.” Cal grinned cheerfully. “But I’ll take the first verse.”
“So you want me to sing, right now, in front of all these people, without knowing what song we’re doing?”
“He can singanything,” Hayley offered cheerfully.
Nick pretended to be shocked speechless, but she knew she was making this sweeter for him. “Well, okay then,” he said.
The room cheered as Nick joined Cal by the bar. Nick started laughing at the opening chords from the guitar, and Hayley got the joke as soon as Cal started singing. Nick had been “forced” into being Paul McCartney to Cal’s Michael Jackson, and they were about to sing their way through a fight over a woman as they covered “The Girl is Mine.”
They nailed it.
It was a simple, lighthearted song, and Cal strummed the guitar like it was second nature. Hayley could tell Nick felt the change in the room’s energy as he started to sing, but he didn’t slip into rock-star mode. Instead, Nick and Cal traded the melody in an effortless conversation. Hayley would have assumed this was all a setup, the product of at least one secret rehearsal, but she knew playing dirty would’ve taken the fun out of it—and these two were having a blast.
Cal launched into Mr. Big’s “To Be With You” for an encore, and everybody waved their smartphone flashlights in the air as they joined in for the chorus.
Here, in this room—this was how she wanted to feel all the time.
13
Nick eased himself onto a bench in front of Vivez Dance and tried not to groan. The bench was damp, his view was a dark parking lot, and he was too happy about getting off his feet to want anything better. Kevin handed him a beer, and Nick tipped the bottle toward him in gratitude. Kevin fished in his pockets for a lighter and a pack of cigarettes.
“Want one?” Kevin asked, lighting up.
“I’m good, thanks.”
“Hal hates these things.”
It took Nick a puzzled second to realize Hal was short for Hayley. Hal and Kev. Of course. Because they shared a life and a bed, and he refused to be irritated by the reminder.
“So I’ve gotta know,” Kevin said. “You really didn’t set that up?”
Nick glanced at him. “With Cal? No. Didn’t see that one coming.”
