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As the music ended and the light dimmed, I headed toward our group. Before I made it more than two steps, the singer’s hand wrapped around my upper arm and tugged me back into the lane and the center of attention.
“Not so fast miss.” He raised the mic and spoke to the crowd. “I may look like a flashback to a kinder, gentler time, but I believe women should be as giving with their gifts as men. And so, I’m going to hand the microphone over to my lovely partner for the next song.”
With a thud, the mic ended up in my hand, the cord twisting between my feet as he gave me a gentle shove toward the center of the spotlight. My gaze rose, shooting though the light and into the darkness beyond to lock onto Ben, the forever Mocking Guy. His lips curled in a slight grin, a challenge issued with the mere cocking of his eyebrow.
Beside him, Lisbeth laid a hand on his arm and leaned in to whisper who knows what in his ear. His light grin grew, his brow dropping as he turned toward her and said nothing. Probably stunned anew by her shabby-chic beauty. Without replying he settled back on his plastic chair-bench seat and crossed his arms over his chest.
He was really looking forward to watching me fail.
My gaze slid back toward Lis, looking for support, looking for my friend. Only I looked too soon. Well, too soon for what I wanted to see.
You know those moments in life when you’re walking down the street and you glance up and see someone you haven’t run into in ages and their expression before their polite-person mask falls into place is not so welcoming? Well, that’s what I got. I got that moment. And I saw the ugly side of friendship.
I saw dislike and a hope that I’d fail.
There I was, dragged out of my nice little apartment to pretend to hit on men I had no interest in for her sad version of “research” and now at this warehouse of a bowling alley in a horrible neighborhood that smelled of over boiled hot dogs and stale beer. Trapped in this place because of yet another guy who wanted her and would do stupid things to have her. And because not only would she let him, but she’d love every minute of it. And there was no way she’d share the spotlight in a good way… no way unless it was to watch me fail.
I don’t think so.
We all have a past, things we’ve put away. And not all of those things are bad. Some are wonderful, wonderful things that just aren’t the core that moves our heart as strongly as something else.
But that doesn’t mean they aren’t part of you any more.
College had robbed me of something. It had robbed me of part of myself. Okay, that isn’t fair. I had given part of myself away to be the girl my high-school-slash-college sweetheart wanted me to be.
As he pledged his fraternity and became one of the Big-Man-On-Campus-In-Trainings, the idea of me being the nerdy girl I’d been in high school was unacceptable. He never said I was unacceptable, but I was more acceptable not being in choir. Or drama club. Or Latin debate. Yeah, I debated in Latin, you have a problem with that?
And so, those things got put away for the boy who eventually threw me away. But that doesn’t mean my heart didn’t remember them, didn’t long for them, didn’t long to sing.
My gaze slid back to Ben, looking to see that smirk of his so I could watch it fall from his face when the words slid from my lips in a clear, perfectly pitched melody. The music started –a perky oldies tune – and that’s when my confidence slid away instead. Ok, it landslided away, but who’s really counting. All I could thing was, It figured.
I didn’t know the song.
It was vaguely familiar in the way that kid who moved away in kindergarten is when you run into him as an adult. But, tune? Not really. Words? Not at all.
I must have shown the panic on my face, because Lisbeth’s hand came up to hide what I could only presume was a smirk and Ben leaned forward for what I could only presume was a better view of my humiliation.
The singer must have also seen my panic, because he stepped back into the sphere of shame – I mean the spotlight – and gently turned me toward the place where the scores were typically projected. Now, the words were there in all their glorious 50’s-ness. Throwing an arm around me, he whispered in my ear.
“Almost there. 3…2…1…”
And then it all came together. It was like getting halfway through a book and realizing you’d read it before.
The words and the tune were so simple, so easy to grasp, that I was belting it out before I knew what I was saying. What the words were saying. There was no way he could have done this to me, but the coincidence was too great to discount him being in league with Lucifer. I didn’t even see it coming until the moment before the chorus flashed on the screen. By then, my memory had caught up with the words. The very ironic words.
“If you want to know
If he loves you so
It’s in his kiss.”
At this rate, I was going to have a justifiable reason to kill him. Even his mother wouldn’t be able to blame me for this very public mocking.
There was no way after making me sing about kisses that he was going to keep me from writing about them. As soon as the crowd stopped clapping – ok, they were cheering. So I hammed it up a bit – I was going to demand my notebook back and storm out of this bowling alley like a modern day Scarlett O’Hara. Never to be mocked again.
Handing the mic back to the guy, I stepped off the brightly lacquered wood. As my eyes adjusted, I saw Lisbeth had put her happy face back on, clapping along with the rest of the group. Smiling as if there hadn’t been that moment where she wanted me to fail. I couldn’t help but wonder if it had been more than a moment.
Ben stepped forward, his grin a little wider than before, but he was brushed aside as Lisbeth rushed toward me.
“That was awesome,” she gushed. “I didn’t know you could sing. Why didn’t you ever tell me. You… you… hidden talents girl. I never know what you’re going to come out with next, JJ.”
The last word, the initials, were said in that sly way someone says something when they want people to ask about it. When they know the answer and can’t wait to share it. When they have bad news or gossip.
“Nice job.” Dane reached past Ben to high five me. “What’s the JJ stand for?”
I knew it was coming, knew I couldn’t escape it, so I figured I might as well just get it over with. The smaller the production made of something, the smaller the deal people thought it was. Usually. I kept my gaze on Dane, not wanting to see the mocking attack coming when I spit it out.
“Jenna Jameson.”
Dane’s eyes rounded, but he had the good grace not to say anything. My gaze slid toward Lisbeth and there it was again. That pre-mask look of triumph.
But it was Ben who couldn’t keep his mouth shout.
“You’re named after a porn star?”
And check back on Monday, October 26th for a special Halloween short story by Jenna about her character Cami!
Note: I have not personally screened these excerpts. Please heed the ratings and be aware that the links may contain material that is not typical of my site.
So, to those followers who have been watching my requests come in, you also know the initial response has been really amazing. I’m so excited about the number of fulls and partials already circulating!
