Page 20

Catfish

Mia

“I feel absolutely ridiculous.”

I didn’t have to be able to see his face to know Aleks was smirking under that stupid mask he wore.

“You look ridiculous, too,” he said, in no attempt to make me feel any better about the situation. “But has anyone noticed you?”

I looked around at the bar that was filling up more and more as the evening progressed, genuinely shocked that no one had recognized me and caused a riot yet.

Then again, I wasn’t sure how they would recognize me when I was dressed like a maniac.

“We look like a couple out of The Purge ,” I said.

“Oh, we’ll definitely be the source of some nightmares tonight.”

“How and why do you even have these things?” I plucked at the oversized yellow eyeball on his green fish head mask, which he’d paired with a lightweight black hoodie and white shorts. All of his most notable tattoos were covered right along with his face, which just made him look like some big muscley dude in a mask.

As for me, I was still in my biker shorts and oversized t-shirt with The Night Game on it — one of my favorite bands.

Oh.

I was also wearing a cat head mask.

It was gray and white striped with a pink nose and outrageous whiskers. It was also rubber and hot as hell, but I’d pay the price of sweat if it meant not getting mauled in this bar that was quickly becoming packed.

The only person who had seen my face was the bouncer checking IDs at the door. I’d been shaking when I handed mine over, worried he’d recognize my name even if it was my legal one and not the pop star one. But he was an older gentleman with absolutely zero care in the world for anything past my birthday and the fact that my face matched the picture, apparently.

He’d slapped the bright pink wristband on me that said I was over twenty-one without so much as a second glance.

Aleks had ordered us a cab from Tampa to downtown St. Pete, our masks already in place as we climbed inside to a driver who didn’t so much as blink at our appearance — just asked where we wanted to go. Aleks assured me he’d likely seen crazier during Gasparilla, the pirate-themed parade that happened every January in Tampa.

I’d been so scared we were going to get run over by a crowd when the cab dropped us at the bar, especially since I’d insisted to my security team that they didn’t need to be with us when Aleks and I took off. I told them not to worry, that we would be fine.

Even if I hadn’t fully believed that.

Of course, James and Hunter didn’t care if I thought we’d be okay, they weren’t going to leave me completely alone. They gave us space, tailing us in an unmarked car, and now they were blending in with the crowd, but keeping an eye on me and Aleks.

But other than some people laughing and pointing at us or high-fiving us when we walked by them… nothing happened.

No one recognized us, and now, I was sitting at a high-top table for two with my childhood best friend as if we weren’t famous.

“What can I say? I’m into kinky shit,” Aleks answered.

I scoffed. “Seriously. Why the hell do you have these?”

“They’re from my rookie party in Seattle. It was a little hazing ritual. They made us wear these masks when we went out and we were tested to see if we could still land a girl to come home with us by the end of the night.”

I flattened my lips. “Charming.”

“You asked,” he said on a shrug. “The fish head was mine. The cat belonged to my roommate at the time, and when we moved out, he was going to throw his away. I told him I’d take it. I didn’t want to part with the memory.”

“How very sentimental of you.”

“Why don’t you go get a drink?”

I looked at the crowded bar with a bit of panic. “What if they recognize my voice?”

“They won’t,” he assured me.

I chewed my lip, debating.

“Come on,” he teased on a laugh, flicking my arm. “You wanted to go out. Well, here we are,” he said, sweeping his hand over the scene of the bar. It was an indoor/outdoor space, with a third of the bar giving off a club vibe complete with a dance floor and lights, a third of it feeling more like a dive bar with arcade games and pool tables, and another third of it acting like a park with outdoor tables and lawn games.

When I took too long to reply, Aleks smirked, moving to stand. “It’s okay. I’ll go.”

“No!” I hopped up immediately. “I want to do it.”

Aleks grinned and took his seat again. “Atta girl.”

“You want anything?” I asked.

“Surprise me.”

I popped off my barstool, shaking a bit as I made my way to the bar. I had to push my way through the crowd to get to where I could order, and I didn’t miss how people pointed and smirked at me.

“Nice whiskers,” a girl said to me on a laugh, holding up her shot she’d just ordered before she squeezed past me.

“You know Halloween isn’t for another two months, right?” a guy teased, but he did so with a drunken grin. “A for effort, though.”

Other than those teasing remarks, everyone left me alone. And to her credit, the bartender didn’t even seem fazed when she asked me what I wanted. It was like she’d seen crazier shit, and my cat mask didn’t so much as make her blink twice.

I ordered a vodka water with lemon and lime for me and a whiskey, neat, for Aleks. While I waited, I tapped my fingers on the wood of the bar, looking around and taking it all in.

All while not a single person gave a shit about me.

God , it felt nice, to be somewhat invisible. Even with a fucking cat mask on, I was no one to these people. I was just some weirdo at the bar getting drunk on a Friday night. I could just walk up to the bar and order a drink like a normal person.

I’d missed out on all of that.

My career took off when I was nineteen — something I prayed for and dreamed about. But sometimes, I wondered what experiences I’d unknowingly given up when I took this path, what rites of passage I’d never have access to. I’d written songs about going out, about being young and reckless, but the truth was that most of the parties I attended were ballgown attire and consisted of champagne more than shots of any kind.

With that in mind, I added two shots of tequila to my order once the bartender was back.

And when she told me my total, I balked.

Because it was that exact moment I realized I didn’t have any money on me.

I wasn’t used to carrying a purse with an actual wallet in it. Any time I did have a purse, it was for a fashion statement and to maybe hold my lipstick and mascara for touchups. I had a team who took care of paying for things for me, and most of the events I attended, we paid for in advance. There was no reason to take money out with me.

Even if I did have my wallet on me right now, what was I going to do? Pay with a card that had my name on it? The bouncer may have been oblivious, but would this bartender be?

My neck felt red hot as I stammered, “Um…”

She cocked a brow at me, an annoyed expression taking over her face even as she nodded at the next person and got started on their order.

Panicking, I looked back at the table where Aleks sat.

And again, I knew the bastard was smirking under that damn fish mask as he held up two twenty-dollar bills.

I rolled my eyes, assuring the bartender that I’d be right back. I muttered excuse me’s to get to Aleks through the crowd, swiped the cash out of his hand, pushed my way back to the bar, paid, grabbed our drinks, and carefully maneuvered my way back to our table.

By the time I made it, I had sticky hands from our drinks spilling a bit, and I was sweating under the mask, my breath labored.

“Cheese and rice, that was a production,” I said, picking at my shirt to let some air in.

“Welcome to the world of getting things yourself.”

“No one recognizes me.”

“Told you.”

I smiled even though he couldn’t see it, finagling the straw of my cocktail into the mouth of my mask and taking a long pull.

I immediately grimaced, chills breaking out over my arms. “Ugh! This is disgusting!”

Aleks barked a laugh as he lifted the bottom of his mask to take a sip of his whiskey. “If you were wondering what you missed out on at college parties — here’s your taste of it.”

I was still grimacing even as I took another long pull. With a shiver, I shook my head and then held up the two shots of tequila. “I got these for us.”

“Wow. We really are going for the college experience.”

“I’ve never done shots at a bar before.”

“ What ?” He laughed. “How the hell is that possible?”

I shrugged. “I was focused on music when everyone else was focused on partying. And then I was going to parties where shots weren’t exactly a thing. It was more like… champagne fountains and expensive bottles of wine.”

“What kind of tequila is it?”

“I don’t know. I just said tequila.”

“Jesus,” he said, shaking his head as he picked up one of the shot glasses. He held it up to me as he lifted his mask and prepared to drink it. “Here’s to not puking on the spot.”

He didn’t give me time to voice my concern over that toast before he clinked his glass against mine and threw the shot back, giving me no choice but to follow suit.

I coughed as soon as I did, nearly gagging as the alcohol burned its way down my esophagus.

“Oh my God,” I hissed, chasing it with my cocktail — which was only marginally better. “That was awful. Why does anyone do that?”

“To get drunk as quickly as possible.”

“It was terrible ,” I said.

But once the burn settled, I felt a swimmy smile on my face, the urge to dance taking over.

So, I grabbed Aleks and hauled him to the bar to do another.

· · ·

“Catfish! Catfish! Catfish! Catfish!”

The chants rang out all through the bar as Aleks rubbed my shoulders, both of us eyeing our opponents across the green turf.

“This is it, Strings. One chance. One shot to win the game.”

“Okay, Eminem. Relax.”

“Do you hear that? The crowd going wild? That’s for you . Sink this, and they’ll go ballistic. Sink this — and we win .”

A laugh barreled through me. But then I nodded, over and over, rubbing my hands together and bouncing a little on my toes. I’d never been competitive in anything athletic — not a single day in my life.

But apparently, get me drunk, put me in a cat mask, and pair me up with a pro hockey player in a game of lawn pong, and I become a different person.

We had one trash can left to eliminate, and when I picked up the dodgeball, it felt weighted with expectation in my hands. Aleks had just barely missed it on his turn — the ball swirling around the rim before popping out, much to the dismay of our growing admirers and the relief of the two muscle heads we were playing against.

Those beefy guys taunted me now as I stepped up and braced myself to throw, but I tuned them out, focusing instead on the humming buzz flowing through me.

It was the same adrenaline I got before I ran out on stage to start a concert, that anticipation that something great was about to happen and I would be a part of it.

I let it fill me up, let myself sink into it like a warm, hidden oasis.

I took a breath. I let it out. I wound up with the ball in my hand… and I let it fly.

The chants went silent as soon as the ball was launched, and it seemed that ball flew in slow motion across the turf. Even the people playing games next to us had stopped to watch, to see if this was it, if we would take home the gold.

The red ball soared in a perfect arc, and when it hit the rim of the trash can, there was a collective oh that rang out from the crowd. I bounced up on my toes, clapping my hands together and screaming, “GET IN THERE!”

It bounced, teasing all of us.

And then it fell right into the trash can.

Everything happened at once: the crowd screaming, beer flying around us, someone running through the middle of the little yard pong court and tearing their shirt off.

And me jumping into Aleks’s arms.

He spun me as soon as I landed, my legs wrapped around his strong center and him holding me effortlessly with one hand as he thrust the other into the air in victory.

Just when I realized that the one hand he had holding me steady was firmly on my ass, just when I started to react to the way a very sensitive part of me was flush against his heat — we were being surrounded.

Aleks dropped me to the ground but kept me close, his arm possessively hooked around me as we handed out high-fives and accepted people roughly palming our heads through our masks and giving us a good shake. There were dozens of people claiming they had downs and would play us next, but I tugged at Aleks’s damp shirt, proof that he was as hot as I was from playing a sport in this dreadful Florida heat with a rubber mask on our head.

I loved that I didn’t even have to say it. He knew by that one little motion that I needed a break.

“Alright, I think it’s time we step down from the throne and let other people play,” he announced to the disappointment of the crowd. But he just waved off their pleas, grabbing my hand in his and tugging me toward the bar.

We both chugged a water, and then I did a shot while Aleks left me only long enough to run to the restroom and back.

“Are you as sweaty under there as I am?” he asked, tugging on my mask.

“Oh, I’m absolutely disgusting. I’ve gone from a cat to a swamp monster.”

I could hear him chuckle even through the rubber, and he fished out more cash for the bartender before he had my hand in his again.

“Come on,” he said. “I know somewhere we can go.”