Page 70 of The Coach

I glare at her. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

She intentionally tilts her head and grabs my arm. “I’m on the side of fun! We need this.”

She’s not wrong. But singing in front of a bunch of strangers with a voice that is…not good is not my idea of a fun time.

Mick turns to me, and I feel my entire face droop when she opens her eyes wide, tilts her head down and pokes out her bottom lip.

“Oh shit, that’s not fair.”

Robin laughs at what she’s witnessing. “Just wait until you have a daughter. Then you’re screwed.”

I can already picture it now that I remember babysitting Mick when she was little. No wonder I thought she was cute; I was able to give her back to her parents at the end of the night. “Fine,” I growl. “But no harmonizing.” I point my finger at Devon who lifts his hands in innocence.

“Fine.”

We make our way over to the stage, and to my horror, they have two microphone stands set up for us, facing one another.

“Fuck me,” I mumble under my breath, looking for the monitor that’s hanging from the ceiling. Words haven’t appeared yet, but the band starts a tempo I, and everyone else on the planet, already know.

I glare at Robin who sends me a thumbs up. Best friend, my ass.

Mick cups her hands around her mouth and yells, “Don’t break my heart, babe!”

As if.

Devon launches into the first line of Elton John’s oh-so-famous song about heartbreak, and I realize we have to swap lines.

I clear my throat quickly and look at the screen, open my mouth, and croak, “I couldn’t if I tried.”

Devon gets into it, grasping his microphone and belting his parts into it. By the time we get to the last chorus, there’s an audience around us, singing along, and Devon is feeding into every bit of it, whipping his hair around like he’s in an ’80s hairband.

A bra flies through the air and lands on my head, and I yank it off quickly before finding the culprit, and to my absolute horror, a woman who could easily be my grandmother’s age waves a hand at me.

I give a little wave back and drop the bra, discreetly wiping my hands on my pants as the end of the song nears, and Devon drops to his knees, ending the song with a flourish.

I wipe the sweat—yes, sweat—off of my forehead and go to find my girlfriend who owes me big time.

“You were amazing!” Mick says, jumping into my arms and kissing me. I let her because I’m a gentleman like that.

I set her down and grab my beer, chugging it until it’s empty. Thankfully, a waitress appears with our next round just then.

“So, should I be jealous?” Mick asks, leaning her elbows on the table.

“Jealous?”

“Yeah, of your new girlfriend.”

I growl and grasp the back of her neck, reveling in the way she squeals before I crush her lips to mine again in a hot kiss. “Don’t even joke about that.” I peck her lips again. “I’m going to have nightmares.”

“There’s hand sanitizer in my bag,” she says before she skips off with Robin. I look around, grab her bag and search through it until I find the little bottle and generously lather it on.

A song I recognize filters through the speakers, and I glance up just in time to see Mick and Robin standing back-to-back, ready to wow the crowd.

“How many drinks have they had?” I ask Devon who gives a pointed look to the glass-covered table.

“Yikes.”

The crowd screams at the opening notes, and Mick holds up the mic. “Let’s go, girls!”

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