Page 41

“Order whatever you want,” Shelly crowed from beside me. She winked when I turned her way. “I have a feeling it’s all on the menu tonight.”

Her playful smile reminded me we had an audience. A very bored one. I glanced around, noting the open stares and surreptitious glances.

I cleared my throat. “What are you having, Shelly?”

“Nothing as delicious as tall, dark, and grumpy over there. I’m going to have to settle for steak.” Her exaggerated wink made me smile. “At my age, I need all the red-blooded satisfaction I can get. Don’t waste that young body you’ve got.”

Ignoring her advice, I glanced over the menu, settling on a pasta dish. The server came around to take our orders, scribbling furiously to catch it all. I felt sorry for the teen girl, she looked barely old enough to be working. Her usual crowd was probably more sedate than twelve jurors who’d been cooped up in a courtroom too long. A current of suppressed excitement ran through our group, ready for release.

We were on our best behavior through dinner, avoiding talking about the case and testimony, but it was hard. For the most part, it was the only thing we had in common. Shelly kept things lively asking random questions.

“Would you rather be rich and famous or have a huge impact on the world but be unknown?”

I glanced at Ty, curious how he’d answer. He was the only one of us who’d ostensibly experienced both.

“I played professional soccer for a few years. Soccer didn’t make me rich, and here it doesn’t make you all that famous, but it still garners a lot of attention.” He shrugged. “There’s a lot of downside to being noticed.”

I wondered if he was thinking of our trial as he said it, but he didn’t address it directly. Ever the rule-follower, our Ty.

“I’d pick impact over fame. Being unknown might be a perk,” he admitted.

To be fair, I’d probably pick the same, though the idea of never having to worry about job stability or rent again held its own appeal. Maybe not enough to trade my privacy. Having a nosey older brother was bad enough, I couldn’t imagine being subject to tabloids and paparazzi.

As dinner wound down, Shelly ushered us to the tiny hotel bar. Dark and dimly lit, it was probably usually a relaxing place to grab a cocktail. But our group filled it to capacity, and I groaned as I noticed the karaoke setup in the corner. Why had I hoped she’d been kidding?

I glanced at Ty, remembering our challenge from earlier. He grinned back, provocation in every line of his lips.

My mind raced, thinking of songs I could manage. There were precious few. Jimmy liked to tease that I could caterwaul like a howler monkey. Not the most flattering description, and closer to the truth than I liked to admit.

I glanced longingly at the bar. It might take a shot or two to gather the courage to sing in front of my fellow jurors. And Ty. Glancing at his broad shoulders, I gulped. Couldn’t forget about Ty. He’d been especially confident, challenging me to a sing-off. He probably had an amazing voice. The deep bass that reached into my heart probably translated beautifully into song.

The long-haired karaoke attendant invited us to fill out song cards, and I stared longingly at the door. Returning to my room held a lot of appeal. Taking a deep breath, I steeled my resolve. Maybe they had autotune? If the world’s pop singers could get a little help, couldn’t I?

Shelly interrupted my desperate thoughts with a jab of her elbow.

“You pick out a song yet?”

I shook my head. “What about you? Do you have a favorite?”

“I’ve always been a sucker for Def Leppard’s ‘Pour Some Sugar on Me.’”

I could picture it. Shelly could probably croon with the best of them.

She sighed, melting back into her seat. “The eighties, man. Those were the days. Big hair, fast sex, and good times.” She squinted at me from between slitted eyes. “Don’t waste your youth or those tits, Andi. Go for what you want.” She cast a sly look at Ty. “Everythingyou want.”

Mary got up to sing while I debated my song choice. I hadn’t spoken much with Mary, but I admired her for volunteering to go first. Then again, she was easily on the dark side of seventy-five and probably had a barren field of fucks to give for anyone else’s opinion.

She paused, inhaling dramatically before nodding to the attendant. My eyes rounded as I recognized the opening beats of an iconic Divinyls song, and she started to shimmy. Light sparkled on her rainbow sequin top, and I couldn’t hold back my grin as she belted out the first notes. Her rendition of “I Touch Myself” had the whole bar clapping and singing along, whooping and hollering for her.

In the break between songs, Ty settled down beside me with his song card, and I watched as he nibbled on his lower lip, deep in thought.

“Trouble picking a song?” I asked casually, wishing the bottom lip he worried was mine.

Had he been all talk? Was he as nervous as I was about showing off for our fellow jurors?

“You could say that. There are so many songs that would be excellent, but I think I’ve got the winner.”

He winked and pushed back his chair, folding his paper to bring it to the front. His stride didn’t even tempt me to watch his bubble butt move in those pants. Nope. Not me.