Page 23 of Take Me (Cherry Blossom Lake #5)

Mason

“ W elcome to Karaoke Night at Big One’s!

” I switch the mic to my left hand as I drag the costume box to the edge of the stage.

“For all our newcomers out there, welcome. We do karaoke a little differently here in Cherry Blossom Lake. Anyone want to fill in our new friends on how we roll at Big One’s? ”

I scan the room for a familiar face, a little dismayed when no one steps up.

It’s a smaller crowd than normal. Blame opening night of the high school play, plus an NFL playoff game and a harsh winter storm scaring tourists away.

A few of my regular singers sit hunched in a corner together, locked in a tearful discussion.

One woman’s getting divorced, and the other four have been giving her guidance all night, plus a steady flow of tequila.

Guess none of that group will be singing tonight.

When no one steps up, I forge ahead on my own.

“Karaoke Night at Big One’s means costumes, my friends.

We’ve got a great big box of ’em right here.

Not sure what song you might want to sing?

Come dig through the box and find inspiration.

I’ll give everyone a few minutes to get settled, maybe order some liquid courage and put your name on the list. We’ll kick things off in just a bit. ”

I set down the mic and hop off the stage to glance at the signup list. Damn. Not a single brave soul has put down their name, which is never a great start. It doesn’t happen often, and it usually means I’ll have to get things rolling myself. That’s what it takes to spark customers’ courage.

Sometimes I’ll get lucky and bribe one of my siblings to do it, but they’re busy with wedding stuff. Fluffing pew bows or folding wedding programs into origami penises or whatever the hell they’re up to.

But tonight it’s just me on my own. There’s a teeny, pinprick sting of abandonment needling my neck, but I order myself to man up. This isn’t a big deal in the grand scheme of things. God knows I’ve dealt with worse.

I’m scanning the room for somebody else who can help when the front door swings open and a familiar blonde head pops through.

Erika.

I break into a grin as I jog past the bar and head over to greet her. “I will give you ten million dollars and a pony if you take the opening karaoke spot tonight.”

Her mouth falls open, then closes. Scanning the bar, she frowns. “Slow night, huh?”

“I’m dying up here, Gentry.” My hopes surge a little as Trish Segal gets up and walks toward the signup sheet. But she heads for the bathroom instead, leaving me hanging again. “Pretty please with honey and sugar on top?”

“I don’t know.” Erika studies my face with more sympathy than the moment seems to call for. “Don’t you usually have a few people planted in the audience to sing when it’s slow?”

“Samantha Price and Bethany Lopez had a baby shower. Melissa Cantor has Covid. Jack Duncan’s driving his Uber shift tonight.” It’s odd that she’s dragging her feet. “Is everything okay?”

She doesn’t answer right away, and I notice she’s nibbling her lip. “Yeah, I just—I need to talk to you, okay?”

“Now?” That seems… ominous. There’s that needle in the back of my neck again.

“Not now.” She nibbles her lip some more. “Did you pick up Scrumpy from Annabelle’s when we got back to town?”

“She dropped him off at my place, but I missed her.” One of my bartenders called in sick as Erika and I were driving back to Cherry Blossom Lake. “Belle got him settled at my place, and Lucy and Harper came over to play with him while I hustled over here to sling drinks for a few hours.”

“So you haven’t talked to her?”

“Just a few texts.” Weird that she’s making a big deal of this. “She wants to grab breakfast tomorrow at Weirdoughs. Hey, you were just there with Hazel—did they get the blueberry scones back on the menu?” That’s Annabelle’s favorite.”

“I think so.” She seems twitchy and distracted, her gaze darting back to the empty stage. “Okay, I’ll do karaoke. But you’re doing it with me.”

“Deal.” That was easy. Maybe too easy.

Something’s upsetting her, and I have a hunch I know what it is.

I need to apologize properly for what happened in the shower. No joking around this time. I let my libido take over, and I’ve made things awkward between us. I need to sit Erika down and swear it won’t happen again.

Sure, it was fun—amazing, if I’m honest—and the thought of never touching her again leaves me kinda queasy. But I can’t take the risk of messing up this friendship. I’ll own my mistake, and we can move forward.

Later for that, though. It’s a conversation for when we’re alone. Right now, I’ve got bigger concerns.

“Why is everyone staring at us?” Erika whispers.

“We’re the hot new couple, remember?” I almost forgot we’re supposed to be dating. “People assume we’re dunking the dingus every chance we get. We should probably be licking each other’s tonsils or something.”

“Gross.” She steps closer and pastes on a smile that looks forced. “Do I look lovesick enough?”

“You look like you’re constipated.”

She rolls her eyes. “Like you’re so great at looking smitten.”

“Want me to grab your ass?”

She swats me away, exasperated. “More people are staring now.”

“Maybe they think we’re about to start bonestorming on the bar?”

Almost on cue, I catch two women bending their heads toward each other. They’re whispering something and glancing at us. Since they’ve had several beers, their volume control leaves something to be desired.

“Did you hear they’re sleeping together?”

Great.

I mean, great!

It’s better than everyone feeling sorry for us, right?

Erika’s gaze swings back to mine. “I guess doing a romantic duet would be the right move.”

“Good plan.” I shoot her a salacious eyebrow wiggle that earns me another eyeroll. “Might as well give our fans what they want.”

She snorts. “We have fans now?”

“We’ve always had fans.” My karaoke duets with Erika are the stuff of legends. “You’re thinking ‘Islands in the Stream’?”

“Only if you’re Dolly and I’m Kenny.”

“You drive a hard bargain, lady.” Like we’d do it any other way. It’s one of our regular numbers. We’ve even got costumes. “I just need to remember where I put my boobs.”

“You washed my beard after Kaleb spilled beer on it, right?”

“I did you one better. I’ve got a new beard in back.”

“You know the way to my heart.”

One of the tourists at the corner table gets up and digs through the costume box. He wanders away without signing up. “We’ve gotta make this a good one,” I murmur.

“And by good , you mean bad , right?”

“Obviously.” When we’re extra awful, nobody minds going after us. It’s a trick that’s worked dozens of times.

Erika grins. “We’ll be so terrible they’ll line up in droves to step over the low bar we’ve set.”

“I’ll tell Ramon to get the song ready.” My DJ’s been shooting me nervous glances all evening, like he’s not sure I’ll be able to save this dud of a show. “We can put on our costumes in back.”

“Can I go pee first?”

“Seems better than doing it on stage.”

“Not really,” she muses as she wanders away. “At least when I’m Kenny Rogers, I can pee standing up.”

I troop back to the stage and make sure Ramon knows what to do. Checking the mics, I hand one to my manager and ask her to handle announcements from here.

Then I bust ass to the back room of the brewery where I locate my Dolly Parton wig and rhinestone cowgirl top, complete with melon-sized enhancements. The scent of fresh hops and earthy malt instantly puts me at ease. So many things I love about owning a brewery, but this is the best part.

Not just the smells, but the way I’m in charge of it all. I can make people smile with a pint or an event like trivia night or Lagers and Learning or just horsing around for Karaoke Night.

For a kid who didn’t have much control growing up, it’s pretty damn awesome to be where I am now.

Once I’ve found all the parts of my outfit, I dig up Erika’s costume. Her beard rests on top of her eighties-style sports coat. There’s the chest-hair toupee we found at a thrift store three years ago.

I’m changing my clothes when the side door swings open and my two oldest brothers stride through. Kaleb and Jake look edgy and grim, two guys on a mission to confront the family clown.

Since I’m the clown here, I freeze. “What is it?” Uneasiness churns in my gut as I glance between them. “Is it Mom? What happened?”

Please say she hasn’t relapsed.

“Mom’s fine,” Jake grumbles. “Kaleb just came from the vet.”

Oh, God. “Something’s wrong with Ribsy?”

“No.” Kaleb crosses his arms. “She was just getting her shots.”

Back in the bar, Ramon cues up the song that kicks off every Big One’s karaoke night. “Sing a Song” by The Carpenters pumps through the sound system as Erika bounds through the door.

“Crap, he’s already cueing us up!” She snatches the beard from my hands before noticing my brothers. “Oh, shit. What’s wrong?”

Jake frowns. “You’re performing?”

“It’s our Kenny and Dolly number.” I don’t love the look they exchange. “Can you tell me whatever’s going on while I finish putting on my boobs?”

Kaleb frowns as I wriggle myself into the bustier, then slip on my pink satin jacket. “I’m not sure now’s the right time,” he says.

“Shit,” Jake mutters, watching Erika put on her beard. “We’ve kinda gotta talk to you both.”

I look at Erika as I pull on my wig. “Kaleb just came from the vet and now they’re acting all weird.”

Erika blanches behind her thick facial hair mask. “Ribsy isn’t sick, right?”

Kaleb frowns. “No, but?—”

“And Orfy and Scrumpy are both okay?”

My brothers are nodding but still looking twitchy. “It can wait,” Jake mutters, and Kaleb agrees. “Break a leg.”

“Thanks.” I pivot so Erika can stick on my fake eyelashes. She’s managed to put on her costume, so all that’s left now is me grabbing my skirt. “A little privacy, please, gentlemen?”

Jake rolls his eyes. “Like everyone here hasn’t seen it.”

Good point.