Page 65 of Revelation (The Josh & Kat Trilogy #2)

JOSH

T his is officially the most entertaining thing I’ve witnessed in my entire life.

Jonas and Sarah are doing a God-awful rendition of “I Got You Babe” by Sonny and Cher.

Sarah’s actually pretty good—she really comes alive up there.

But Jonas is so fucking terrible, the entire bar is on its feet, cheering him on.

But why am I surprised? Even when Jonas sucks at something, people love him for it.

In fact, now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure people love Jonas especially when he sucks at something, not despite it.

How Sarah gets my brother to do any of the shit she gets him to do is beyond me.

But there he is, standing in front of strangers, singing this ridiculous song to her at the top of his off-key lungs.

And, by God, he actually looks like he’s having fun.

Well, fun mixed with pain—utter, tortured, unthinkable pain.

But with Jonas, that’s just about the best anyone could ever hope for.

I put my hand into my pocket and finger the edges of the poker chip sitting there. Now would be a fantastic time methinks. We’re all nice and loose. I look at my watch. We’re not due at the laser tag emporium for another hour. All is going perfectly according to plan.

“Excuse me for a second,” I say, unclasping my hand from Kat’s. She doesn’t bat an eyelash—apparently too enthralled with the train wreck unfurling onstage to care about where the heck I’m going.

I move across the room to the karaoke DJ, wading through clapping, screaming, hooting people, all of them hurling love with both arms at Jonas and Sarah, and make my way to the DJ.

“Hey, man,” I say. “You ready to do that thing we talked about?”

“Whenever you are, bro. ”

“Okay. How about you do one song after Sonny and Cher for whoever else and then we launch into my thing?”

The DJ grabs the piece of paper I slipped him earlier (along with a fat tip that ensured there’d be no waiting all night long for anyone in our group). “This still what you want me to say?” he asks, looking at the short script I gave him.

“Yeah. Hey, can you hand me that scarf I stashed earlier?”

“Sure.” He grabs the scarf behind him. “Fucking hilarious, man,” he says, handing it to me covertly. “You think she’s gonna ham it up? Or will she chicken out?”

“Oh, my girlfriend never chickens out about anything—it’s not in her DNA. Did you see her doing ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’? She’ll ham it up for sure.”

“Cool. Okay. One more song after Sonny and Cher and then we’ll do it.”

“Thanks.” I stick the scarf in the waistband of my pants, hidden by my jacket.

The guy looks up at Jonas and Sarah, singing their adorkable hearts out, and chuckles. “Man, this guy’s horrible— absolutely atrocious. Pretty much the worst I’ve ever heard and I’ve been doing this a really long time.”

I look at my brother and grin. He’s totally outside his comfort zone right now—sweating bullets, moving across the stage like a gorilla with hemorrhoids. God, he’s awesome.

Out of nowhere, my stomach clenches vicariously to think about what he’s about to do next week. He’s taking a huge fucking step—the hugest step known to mankind—but, damn, he sure looks happy. Hard to argue a guy off doing anything that makes him smile that fucking big.

“Yeah, he’s terrible, huh?” I say. “Gotta love him.”

I head back to our table, my fingertips toying with the poker chip in my pocket, and sit back down next to Kat. She’s clutching Henn’s forearm, tears of laughter streaming down her cheeks.

Jonas and Sarah reach the slow finale of their song and the entire place erupts into a standing ovation.

When the song is done, Jonas dips Sarah dramatically, kissing her like no one else is in the room, and she comes back up red-faced and giggling .

The waitress pays another visit to our table. “Another round?”

“Yeah,” I say absently. “Why the fuck not?”

Jonas and Sarah make their way back toward our table while two young, toker-looking guys get up onstage and start singing “American Pie.”

“Awesome, bro,” I say to Jonas when they return to our table and plop themselves down. “I can die a happy man now.”

“Never again,” Jonas says. “That memory’s gonna have to last you your whole life long.”

“How the fuck did you get him up there, Sarah Cruz?” I ask.

Sarah shrugs. “I’m magic, Josh Faraday.”

“Sarah and I had a little bet and I lost,” Jonas says. “I’ll never bet against her again, I swear to God.”

I look at Kat and she flashes me a smart-ass grin, obviously telling me, “See? Never bet against a woman.”

“What was the bet?” Kat asks.

“Oh, the details aren’t important,” Sarah says. “But let’s just say I held onto my title in the underwater breath-holding Olympics.”

We all look at each other and make a face. Clearly, this is a sexual innuendo of some sort, and God knows we don’t wanna know.

“Well, you were awe-inspiring, big guy,” Henn says.

“Hey, Kitty Kat, you haven’t gone in a while,” Hannah says. “What are you gonna sing next?”

“Oh, I dunno. You wanna do another duet, Josh? A little ‘Islands in the Stream,’ perhaps? Or am I flying solo?”

“Yeah, a duet for sure,” I say, the hair on the back of my neck standing up. I can’t let Kat go up there again and ruin my little plan. “But let’s give it another song or two, okay? I’ve got drinks coming for us.”

Kat leans back. “Sure. So, hey, Henny, how long are you in town? You and Hannah wanna do dinner with Josh and me Sunday night before Josh heads to the airport?”

“Sorry, leaving tomorrow. I’ve got a job in Munich, actually.” He looks at Hannah. “But after that I’ll be home in L.A. for a good long stretch. Maybe you and Hannah can come visit Josh and me together and we can all go out in La La Land?”

Kat looks at Hannah for confirmation. “Great,” she says.

“Hey, maybe you should think about opening Golden PR in Los Angeles instead of Seattle,” Hannah suggests. “Maybe you could do PR for the entertainment industry.”

“Well, that’d be pretty stupid,” Jonas pipes in, sipping his Scotch.

“What would be stupid?” Henn asks, clearly feeling defensive on behalf of Hannah. “Sounds like a great idea to me.”

“No, I mean, it’d be stupid for Kat to move to L.A.,” Jonas clarifies. “What would be the point of Kat moving to L.A. right when Josh is moving back home to Seattle in a couple months?”

Fuck me. My stomach lurches into my throat and my eyes bug out. This isn’t the way I’d intended to tell Kat about my upcoming move. Shit. I didn’t even think to warn Jonas I hadn’t told Kat about the move.

“What?” Kat asks, her eyes blazing with instant excitement. She whips her head to look at me. “Is he serious?” She clutches her chest, obviously overcome. “ You’re moving to Seattle ?” She’s practically shrieking with joy.

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

“For good? You’re moving here... for good? To live ?” Yep, full on shrieking. She’s acting like she just won the showcase showdown on The Price is Right.

“Yeah. Um. I’m moving home. Just got a place.”

She’s bouncing happily in her seat. “When? This is awesome. A dream come true.”

“In a two or three months, probably.”

“Really? Oh my God. Why didn’t you tell me? Did you just decide today? Why didn’t you tell me? This is incredible news. Oh my God. I’m elated.”

“You didn’t know?” Jonas asks, his face etched with obvious confusion.

Kat takes in the expression on Jonas’ face and her entire demeanor changes on a dime. Boom. She knows something’s up. Just like that. Thanks, Jonas.

“No, he didn’t mention it to me,” she says slowly, her eyes drifting warily to mine. “Why didn’t you mention it to me, Josh?” she asks, her tone edged with obvious apprehension. “Were you planning to... surprise me?”

Oh shit. This isn’t good. This is really, really bad. “Uh...” I begin .

“How long have you known?” she asks quietly, understanding dawning on her. “You said you already found a place?”

Shit. I’ve totally fucked up here. I’ve really, really fucked up.

“I’ve known for just a little while,” I say. “Let’s talk about it later, okay?”

She swallows hard. “How long have you known, Josh?” Her lip trembles.

I look at the group. They’re all staring at me.

“Did you know when I said that thing about the long distance thing being brutal? Did you know then?”

Shit . “Let’s talk about it later, babe,” I say, trying to sound charming and smooth. “Don’t get all worked up about it. I was just waiting until it was for sure.”

A strange cocktail of emotions flashes across her face in response to that comment—like she’s not sure whether to be extremely disappointed or relieved. “Oh, it’s not for sure? That’s why you didn’t tell me?”

“Well, no. Actually.” I swallow hard. “It’s for sure. I’m moving.”

“Oh.” She shifts in her seat. Her cheeks flush. “That’s great. So you’ve already made... plans? You’ve got a place?”

“Let’s talk about it later. What’s everyone planning to sing next?”

The entire bar is boisterously singing along to the final chorus of “American Pie.” But I feel anything but festive. My stomach is churning. My chest is tight.

“Have you put your house on the market yet?” Kat asks, her chin wobbling.

Oh shit. This is a catastrophe. Why didn’t I foresee how badly this would go down?

“Uh. Yeah, actually, it sold last week.”

“It already sold ?” Her face turns bright red and her eyes prick with tears. “How long was it on the market?”

“Can we talk about this later. In private?”

“How long was it on the market?” she asks between gritted teeth.

“About three weeks.”

The two “American Pie” guys depart the stage to raucous applause .

“And now,” the DJ says into his microphone, reading from the piece of paper I gave him earlier. “I have a very special treat for you.”

“Kat, we’ll talk about it later, okay? Here.” I pull the poker chip out of my pocket and plunk it into her palm. “Please. I’ll explain everything to you later. Right now, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

She looks down at the poker chip, her eyes filling with tears, and I know I just made matters worse, not better. Much, much worse. Oh Jesus. I’m an idiot.

I stand and motion to the DJ to tell him to stop, but he doesn’t see me because he’s looking at the fucking piece of paper in his hand—the paper I gave him and asked him to read into his goddamned microphone.

“We unexpectedly have a superstar among us tonight, folks,” the DJ says, reading from my script. “The one and only Rachel Marron .”

People at nearby tables are looking at each other quizzically, clearly not recognizing the name.

“Poor Rachel’s endured some death threats recently, so she’s here with her devoted and stoic bodyguard Frank Farmer—former Secret Services detail for the President of the United States.”

There’s a tittering in the crowd. People are starting to get it.

I look at Kat and my heart squeezes. “Babe,” I say. “Please don’t leap to conclusions. It’s not what you think. Just enjoy the poker chip.”

“Under Frank’s watchful eye, Rachel’s agreed to sing her signature song for us. A heartfelt rendition that’s sure to make you weep.”

The place is going crazy all around us.

“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me. You already sold your house. You didn’t want me to know you were moving here?”

“So let’s hear it for Rachel Marron everyone!”

Everyone in the bar hoots and screams.

“You’re not excited to live in the same city with me? To see each other every day? You don’t wanna go to the dry cleaners and the fish market?”

“Looks like she’s feeling shy, folks. Let’s get her up here, huh? To perform her classic hit, ‘I Will Always Love You!’”

The place explodes with excitement.

But Kat looks like a wounded deer in headlights right now .

My heart is breaking. What have I done?

“Babe, you’re totally misunderstanding the situation,” I say. “I’ll tell you all about it later. Right now it’s poker chip time. Enjoy it. This is your biggest fantasy.”

“Come on, Rachel!” the DJ calls. “Come on up here with your bodyguard!”

Kat looks down at the poker chip in her palm, a pained look in her eyes, and it’s abundantly clear acting out her bodyguard fantasy is the last thing on her mind.

I pull the scarf out of my pants and hold it up, trying to make her smile. My heart is beating a mile a minute. I’ve fucked up. Oh, fuck me, I’ve royally fucked up. I’ve got to get control of the situation. Make it better. I’ve got to charm her back to being Happy Kat.

“Remember the last scene of the movie—when Whitney wears the scarf on her head?” I coo. “I brought the scarf for you, babe. So you could look just like her.”

Kat’s dumbstruck. She looks at the poker chip in her hand again, tears filling her eyes.

“Kat, come on—be my Whitney, baby. I’ve got it all planned. We’re doing the song here and then I rented an entire laser tag place for the six of us. It’ll be everyone else against you and me, baby, all night long—I’ll protect you. I’ll be your bodyguard .”

“Rachel?” the DJ says. “Are you coming or not? Your fans are waiting. Last chance.”

“Sing here, then laser tag, and then I’ll take you home and let my feelings override my stoic sense of duty.” I smile, trying my damnedest to charm her.

“Rachel? Last call.”

She abruptly snatches the scarf out of my hand, wraps it around her head a la Whitney, and marches in a huff toward the stage, determined.

Thank God. She’s playing along. This is gonna be okay. That’s my girl. She’ll understand when I explain it to her. She’ll totally understand. I let out a huge sigh of relief, slide my sunglasses on, and follow my beautiful Whitney to the stage, my heart pounding in my ears.