Page 97 of Deadly Obsession

He lets out a grunt and pouts when I break off the kiss. I pat his chest.

“You’re next.”

That frightened look from when we entered the bar returns.

“No. That’s okay. I’m fine. I don’t need to... um... sing.”

“Are you flustered?”

I can’t help the amusement in my voice.

“I don’t get flustered.”

“You’re flustered now. Why?”

“Because I can’t sing.”

“No one at karaoke can sing.”

“You can.”

I wave off his words and nod my head toward the man singingDon’t Stop Believin’right now.

“This guy is horrible, but he’s cute and a bit charming. Just use your good looks and everyone will love you.”

Chapter 22 – Elias

Ilied.

I’m a decent singer.

My mother taught me to sing along with piano lessons. Every Friday night—at least up until I was forced to shadow my father—Mom would rearrange the living room and setup a makeshift stage. Lance would play the piano, since he was better than me, and I would sing. Mom would sit on the couch, beaming at her two handsome sons, crying at our performances.

Now I realize she always cried because she knew it would all come to an end someday.

I haven’t sung since I was a teenager. Unless you count solo performances in the shower.

But I’m not as good as Sage.

She leads me to the front and introduces me to the karaoke DJ, a long-haired man dressed in a colorful outfit and red boots that remind me of the ones worn in thatBroadway showKinky Boots. He hands me a piece of paper, and I write down my song, making sure to hide it from Sage.

“No peeking,” I tell her.

She holds up her hands in innocence.

I assumed the DJ was going to put me at the back of the list, and we’d leave before I was called up to sing, but he enters my song next.

Now.

The song is playing now.

New York State of Mindby Billy Joel.

God.

Why am I doing this?

Sage sits on a stool with her back to the bar. Her hands are clasped, and her eyes are lit up with anticipation.