phone.
We all tip our shot glasses to one another’s in a silent agreement to killing our neurons. Sip beer… one… sip beer…two… sip beer…three… sip beer. Wow, I never realized how much like a Sesame Street character I sound. The Count would be proud of me. Caught in the moment, I imitate The Count after I finish. “Three shots. Ah, ah, ah.”
Lucas contorts in a baffled facial expression; he almost looks like he’s in pain. “Now, I have heard it all. Did you really just pull The Count out of left field?” He licks his lips. “And, a pretty damn good impression of him at that.”
“Indeed,” the only word I can muster.
“The who? The Count? Like Count Chocula?” Dar asks. Lucas and I howl in amusement.
“So, you paid for our cab last night?” I ask, wiping the liquor off the corner of my mouth.
“I did, as I plan to do the same tonight. That is, after you do one thing for me.” Lucas winks and squeezes my shoulders. I can think of a few things I would do for him. I’ve always had a weakness for someone who could sing, not to mention someone who looks like he does.
“What would that be exactly?” Impatiently, I hold my breath, waiting to hear his answer.
“Well, as much as I’m enjoying watching your face turn every shade of red and seeing your eyes go back and forth from hate and pleasure… I did have an ulterior motive for inviting you to come out tonight, other than to see you again. Dartanya told me you play?” He motions his head toward the stage.
“Mmm…hmm.” Dar did have a hand in this. I’ll remember that the next time she wants me to do the dishes. She loves to cook, but I usually clean up after her. I shoot her a hateful glare, but she bats her eyelashes innocently.
“Well, I figured you could play a song for me, and then I’ll give you back your phone.” Lucas takes my hand and ever so slightly brushes his lips against it, sending chills through my entire body.
I forgot about my effing phone; how is that possible? It was the reason I came here tonight. I guess my plan I began our evening with is now gone. I unsteadily weave forward and then backward, affected by the alcohol or Lucas, or both.
“I would actually love to,” I say, my head a little woozy. The only reason I can play without going into a full-blown panic attack is by using the coping mechanism my mother taught me. The fact my mom is gone still eats away at me. The only consolation I have is that I was able to meet Dar because of it.
As if I said her name aloud, Dar stands and pulls me to my feet. She slaps me across the ass. “Go get ‘em, tiger!” I rub the spot she hit, and I turn away from them.
I walk up to the stage more slowly than necessary, swaying my hips with each step. Lucas zooms past me, hops up on stage, and whispers something into the emcee’s ear that makes my palms start to sweat.
The emcee nods, acknowledging whatever Lucas had said and then begins to speak, “Guys and dolls, looks like we’re going to have a little cricket come up and chirp tonight.” For a brief moment, he bends over, holding his stomach as he laughs, but then he composes himself. “This beautiful woman with the red hair approaching the stage is Cassandra and is performing...” He pauses, covers the microphone with his hand and whispers to me, “What is it exactly that you’re doing, honey?” Normally, playing guitar makes me feel better. Why is this time different? I don’t know why, but I’m nervous. My stomach churns, and my palms sweat.
“‘Snuff’ by Slipknot,” I whisper.
The emcee uncovers the mic and announces the title. A small crowd slowly forms in front of the stage. Their curiosity must win and draws them out of their seats. Dar and Lucas cat call at me but remain seated in our booth. I take the guitar from its stand and begin to tweak it for my specifications. After sitting down on the stool, I adjust the microphone to my height. As the silver pole descends into itself, I realize
We all tip our shot glasses to one another’s in a silent agreement to killing our neurons. Sip beer… one… sip beer…two… sip beer…three… sip beer. Wow, I never realized how much like a Sesame Street character I sound. The Count would be proud of me. Caught in the moment, I imitate The Count after I finish. “Three shots. Ah, ah, ah.”
Lucas contorts in a baffled facial expression; he almost looks like he’s in pain. “Now, I have heard it all. Did you really just pull The Count out of left field?” He licks his lips. “And, a pretty damn good impression of him at that.”
“Indeed,” the only word I can muster.
“The who? The Count? Like Count Chocula?” Dar asks. Lucas and I howl in amusement.
“So, you paid for our cab last night?” I ask, wiping the liquor off the corner of my mouth.
“I did, as I plan to do the same tonight. That is, after you do one thing for me.” Lucas winks and squeezes my shoulders. I can think of a few things I would do for him. I’ve always had a weakness for someone who could sing, not to mention someone who looks like he does.
“What would that be exactly?” Impatiently, I hold my breath, waiting to hear his answer.
“Well, as much as I’m enjoying watching your face turn every shade of red and seeing your eyes go back and forth from hate and pleasure… I did have an ulterior motive for inviting you to come out tonight, other than to see you again. Dartanya told me you play?” He motions his head toward the stage.
“Mmm…hmm.” Dar did have a hand in this. I’ll remember that the next time she wants me to do the dishes. She loves to cook, but I usually clean up after her. I shoot her a hateful glare, but she bats her eyelashes innocently.
“Well, I figured you could play a song for me, and then I’ll give you back your phone.” Lucas takes my hand and ever so slightly brushes his lips against it, sending chills through my entire body.
I forgot about my effing phone; how is that possible? It was the reason I came here tonight. I guess my plan I began our evening with is now gone. I unsteadily weave forward and then backward, affected by the alcohol or Lucas, or both.
“I would actually love to,” I say, my head a little woozy. The only reason I can play without going into a full-blown panic attack is by using the coping mechanism my mother taught me. The fact my mom is gone still eats away at me. The only consolation I have is that I was able to meet Dar because of it.
As if I said her name aloud, Dar stands and pulls me to my feet. She slaps me across the ass. “Go get ‘em, tiger!” I rub the spot she hit, and I turn away from them.
I walk up to the stage more slowly than necessary, swaying my hips with each step. Lucas zooms past me, hops up on stage, and whispers something into the emcee’s ear that makes my palms start to sweat.
The emcee nods, acknowledging whatever Lucas had said and then begins to speak, “Guys and dolls, looks like we’re going to have a little cricket come up and chirp tonight.” For a brief moment, he bends over, holding his stomach as he laughs, but then he composes himself. “This beautiful woman with the red hair approaching the stage is Cassandra and is performing...” He pauses, covers the microphone with his hand and whispers to me, “What is it exactly that you’re doing, honey?” Normally, playing guitar makes me feel better. Why is this time different? I don’t know why, but I’m nervous. My stomach churns, and my palms sweat.
“‘Snuff’ by Slipknot,” I whisper.
The emcee uncovers the mic and announces the title. A small crowd slowly forms in front of the stage. Their curiosity must win and draws them out of their seats. Dar and Lucas cat call at me but remain seated in our booth. I take the guitar from its stand and begin to tweak it for my specifications. After sitting down on the stool, I adjust the microphone to my height. As the silver pole descends into itself, I realize
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