Page 77 of Coming In Hot

Nash backs him up. “No fighting in group. Period. End of discussion. Time to pay the piper.”

“So,” West asks with a wicked grin, “What’s it gonna be, Jax?”

As I watch Jax hesitate to buy more time, I can’t help but laugh at the predicament we landed in. Punishment karaoke. It had to be Brandt’s idea, I’m sure. He thinks karaoke is the answer to the world’s problems. If he could introduce it to the Earth Summit, the world’s leaders might find a way toward world peace.

McCormick scrolls through the karaoke tablet with the evil glee of a man who lives for drama.

“Oh,” he says, eyes lighting up, “Shallow. That’s the one.”

Jax groans. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. You get to be Bradley. Your boy over here’s Gaga.”

Fuck. Me.I push my chair out and straighten up, hiking up my pants. “Fine. But I’m going full Oscar performance.” Might as well own it.

“You better,” McCormick smirks. “Your glitter hearts depend on it.”

The karaoke machine crackles to life, and McCormick shoves the mic into my hand like he’s handing over a loaded weapon.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he grins. “Win your man back.”

“We weren’t even—” I start, but Jax cuts me off with a sigh and grabs the second mic like a man accepting his fate.

“Go big or go home,” Rhett calls, cracking up with Mandy.

The track starts. Low piano notes echo through the room. The opening line looms.

I glance at Jax. He’s already glaring at the lyrics screen like it personally betrayed him.

Taking a breath, I begin.

“Tell me somethin’, boy…”

My voice comes out steadier than I expect. Too steady, maybe. It’s almost… sincere. I don’t look at Jax when I sing it. I can’t. But I feel the room go still.

He exhales hard through his nose and picks up his line like it tastes bad.

“Aren’t you tired tryin’ to fill that void…”

McCormick’s whispering“Oh my god”behind his hand. Someone’s already recording on their phone. Riggs is stone-faced, but I see the twitch in his jaw—he’s holding in a smile.

And then it happens. The part.

My cue.

I close my eyes.

“I’m off the deep end, watch as I dive in…”

I sing, because yeah—no metaphor could be more accurate.

My voice breaks ondive, but I push through. Jax’s eyes are on me now, burning holes in the side of my face. Sweat blooms under my arms, and the stage lights feel hotter than torches.

We hit the chorus together, our voices not blending so much ascolliding—a little off, a little raw, but honest. Painfully so.

I look at him finally.

And I’m gone.