Page 6 of The London Chance

Screech.

No. It couldn’t be.

I squinted in disbelief for a beat, then elbowed my way forward.

I stopped at the side closest to the karaoke machine and stood there like an idiot with my mouth wide open while Chance shimmied like a rock star on amphetamines, belting out lyrics in what had to be one of the best-worst renditions I’d ever heard of the song. He had a decent voice, soulful underneath the playful tone. He threw himself into his performance, flinging his arms in the air or toward the audience, cueing everyone to sing along.

And they did.

Tod pointed to Maxine and Angie dancing and singing at the top of their lungs on the opposite side of the pub, and motioned for me to follow him.

I couldn’t move. I was utterly entranced. And still shocked.

Thiswas the Chance I’d met on that damn app.Thiswas the man I’d been talking to, flirting with, and daydreaming about for months. I hated karaoke with a passion, but damn, I wasn’t going anywhere now.

By the time the song ended, everyone was dancing, singing along, and yes…Chance was their hero. He must have had a few songs under his belt because they knew his name. The crowd chanted, “Chance, Chance, Chance,” whooping and cheering when he took a bow, teetering precariously as he handed over the mic to the MC.

I followed him to the bar…along with Maxine, Ang, and a few dozen admirers. The bartender had a tray of shots lined up and ready to go. Maxi passed one to Ang and the other to Chance, raised hers to toast their new friend, then yelled, “Bottoms up, bitches” or something classy like that.

Crap. They were smashed.

I weaseled toward them and tapped Chance on the shoulder.

He wiped his mouth on his forearm and whirled to face me, bright-eyed and grinning like a madman. His grin faded when he recognized me. He cocked his head curiously and narrowed his gaze before stabbing his finger at my chest.

“Whatcha doin’ here? Did you come to see my show? I’m gonna get a job here. Like right here tonight at this playsh,” Chance slurred, swaying against Maxine when she snaked her arm around his slim waist. “This is my friend, Maxi. She’s so cool. And I hate to tell you this, but I like her better than you.”

Maxine guffawed. “Oh, honey, everyone does.”

Chance widened his eyes comically. “You know dis guy? ’Cause I know him too. He’s so hot, but he’s—I don’t know…not boring. But sort of boring. Ya know?”

“Roman? Nevah!” Maxine mock-gasped, setting her free hand on her hip. She could have been posing for an editorial shot in a fashion magazine in her silver sequined mini dress and platform heels. She was model-esque tall and slight with a giant afro, light-brown skin, and a face that would have made her the next Naomi Campbell if she’d seriously decided to give up eating for the sake of her career.

“Wait. You know him?” Chance hooked his thumb in my general direction. “Dis guy?”

“Mmhmm. He’s a lovebug under that tough exterior. You just have to get to—” Maxine gasped for real this time and squealed. “You know Roman and you’re American and your name is Chance and—you’re the date!”

Chance nodded ruefully. “S’true. S’me.”

I crossed my arms and glared. “How much have you had to drink?”

He wrinkled his nose and counted on his finger with one hand, then the other, pausing to wave at one of his new fans before scratching his chin thoughtfully. “I dunno. Sss very fuzzblur.”

Angie popped out of nowhere. “Fuzzblurr! Word of the day! Boy’s a bloody genius. Get him another drink!”

Okay, this wasn’t good.

“No, no. Time’s up. I’m taking Maxi home. We’ll drop you off on the way,” Tod announced, gently untangling his girlfriend from her new favorite stranger. “Let’s go, babes.”

Maxi shook her head. “But we can’t leave Chance. He’s more pissed than us.”

“I’ll take him,” someone who sounded like me said.

“Perfect. Problem solved. We’re gone. G’night, Roman, and thanks, man.” Tod patted my shoulder, steering Maxine and Ang to the exit, leaving me with a very inebriated Chance.

“Where’s your coat?”

“I lost it or…maybe I left it by the karaoke machine. I’ll get it. Oh!” His eyes lit up manically. “Come with me. We’ll do a duet! How about Sonny and Cher? Do you love Cher? I love Cher and I love…”