Page 50 of Take a Moment

As we pass a side street, my attention is drawn down it to a hub of activity. It’s another bar, but the punters standing around smoking outside appear a bit more sober.

‘What about there, Sash?’

‘Seems all right.’ She peers along the street, trying to get a better feel for it. ‘Saves us walking any further, at least.’

‘Let’s take a look.’

We make our way towards the bar, nodding at the punters outside as we enter. It’s closer to a pub, with more traditional decor and upholstered furnishings that, while a bit tatty and worn, further add to the charm of the place.

‘It’s my round,’ Sasha informs me. ‘What would you like?’

‘I’ll just have a Coke, thanks. You have a proper drink though – if you want one.’

She nods her understanding and makes her way to the bar, while I make a beeline for the only vacant table in the place. I sit myself down on the fixed bench-style seating, facing into the room. It’s packed out with high-spirited Friday night revellers, giving it a warm and welcoming feel. The energetic dance track pumping through the ceiling-mounted speakers doesn’t quite match the decor.

It’s very much a bar that attracts all types. I’m just sizing the place up as a potential Friday after-work drinks venue for my team at work when a booming voice comes over the PA.

‘Right, then. Who’s up next? It’s…Shanice. Shanice, up you come.’

As the room breaks into whooping applause, my karaoke radar goes into overdrive. I crane my neck to get a better view of the other side of the room. There, I spot the owner of the booming voice, as well as a television screen emitting full ‘karaoke blue’. A beautiful woman in her twenties, jet black hair piled high on her head and wearing a figure-hugging gold dress, makes her way across the room. She plucks the microphone being offered to her from the karaoke compère and poises herself, ready to sing.

I watch with interest as the opening bars of a well-known upbeat Whitney Houston song begin to play. No one generally attempts a Whitney Houston number unless they have some level of vocal competence. I’m not disappointed. The second she starts to sing, it’s clear that Shanice was born for this. Her pitch is flawless, the strength in her voice evident but perfectly controlled, her breathing well measured. She moves seamlessly through the first verse and chorus, making it appear completely effortless.

‘It’s karaoke,’ Sasha excitedly states the obvious as she plonks our drinks down on the table. She shimmies her way round to sit beside me, keen to watch the action as well. ‘Are you going to sing? Youhaveto sing.’

Sasha’s merely verbalising the thought swimming round my mind since the compère called Shanice up. Karaoke is my thing. For me, there’s nothing more energising than a mic in my hand. It makes me feel alive – almost invincible. As I continue to watch Shanice, I feel the familiar uncontrollable urge rising inside me. Sasha’s right. Ihaveto sing.

‘OK, but what shall I sing?’ I ask her. ‘That woman is amazing. Maybe wait a bit before I put my request up.’

‘Rubbish. You’re as good as her. You just sing a different style of music. Ooh, wouldn’t it be cool if you could sing your own song – the one you wrote when you were recovering from your relapse – at karaoke one day?’

‘Ha, yeah. That’s never going to happen. It’s doomed to a life of concealment within my notepad app.’ I suddenly realise something. ‘Shit, Sash, I’ve never sung in public without plenty of drink in me. Not sure how I feel about doing it almost stone-cold, here, in front of all these people.’

I tune back in to Shanice’s singing; half the bar has now merrily joined in. Shanice herself is busting some serious moves as the song comes to its climax.

‘She should be on a stage, not doing karaoke in a city centre bar.’ I swallow thickly, now feeling quite intimidated. ‘What if they’re all like that in here?’

‘You talking yourself out of it? If it’s too scary without a drink for extra courage, don’t do it. No one’s forcing you.’

‘You’re doing that reverse psychology thing again.’

‘And?’ She chews her lip in anticipation.

‘And it worked. As usual.’ I give her a little wink. ‘Back in a sec.’

I get up and make my way across to the karaoke compère, propelled by Sasha’s triumphant hoot from behind me. He nods a greeting, while simultaneously managing the changeover from Whitney Houston to a current chart hit I recognise but can’t name. Shanice hands back the mic, before making her way back through her adoring crowd.

‘Evening, bab,’ he says to me. ‘Not seen you in here before. What you singing?’

I make my request, which is acknowledged with two thumbs up, then return to our table.

‘What did you put up for?’ Sasha asks before my backside has hit the seat.

‘You’ll have to wait and see,’ I reply, and she puts on a pouty face. ‘Might be a while. There’s a lot of people here.’

We sing along to the track that’s playing until it fades out and the karaoke compère’s voice booms through the mic once again.

‘Isaac. Come on up.’

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