Page 51 of Take a Moment

Sasha and I look eagerly around for the next singer but no one seems to have claimed the identity of Isaac.

‘Come on, Isaac,’ he tries again. ‘Don’t be shy. Friendly bunch, we are.’

Finally a man makes his way across the room, earning himself a smatter of applause for what’s perceived to be his bravery. He briefly engages in conversation with the karaoke compère, then walks off again.

‘OK then. Turns out Isaac’s a little worse for wear.’ The compère chuckles through the mic, triggering a collective ‘boo’ from the punters. ‘Change of plan. Let’s have…Alex.’

I blanch. Surely not yet. I haven’t yet warmed up to the idea of singing in almost full sobriety.

‘It’s you,’ Sasha squeals.

‘Hang on. It might not be me.’ This is blind optimism on my part. ‘It could be another Alex – a guy or a woman.’

‘That’s true.’

We sit back and wait for someone else to make their way to the mic, but no one appears.

‘Not again.’ The karaoke compère sounds perplexed. ‘I’ll try once more. Alex – the young lady who just requested the Killers – up you come.’

‘Shit, that is me.’ I feel an instant sense of panic.

‘Oh, I love it when you do that song.Go, quick.Before you miss your turn.’

I hesitate a moment longer, then autopilot kicks in, overriding my instinct to sink into my seat and pull an Isaac. I get up and cross the room. As I do, the karaoke compère spots me and expresses his relief publicly.

‘So great you can join us, Alex. Give her a show of appreciation, everyone.’

The bar erupts into raucous applause, making me want to walk straight past the makeshift stage and out the main door. Of course, I don’t. Because as much as I’ve been called too soon and I haven’t had enough to drink to settle my rather overexcitable nerves, I stillreallywant to sing. It’s been so long. Back in Glasgow, karaoke was a regular thing. Dom was never a fan, but I didn’t need him to be. A private karaoke room was a staple activity on a work night out or for a leaving do, and there were regular trips with Sasha to our old local. A few G&Ts and they’d have to pry the mic out of my hands.

I’m just feet away from the mic handover when my thigh unexpectedly and violently collides with the corner of a table I’m passing. A white hot, shooting pain surges through my leg, causing me to yelp out loud, clutching my injured limb. There’s a collective ‘oooh’ from the punters around me as they feel my pain – both physically and psychologically. Face burning, leg throbbing, I plaster on a brave face and continue on towards the mic.

‘You all right, bab?’ The karaoke compère looks genuinely concerned. ‘That was quite a knock.’

‘I’m OK.’ I force a smile.

‘Still want to sing?’

‘Don’t think this lot can be let down a second time.’

‘That’s the spirit.’ He gives me an encouraging nod and speaks into the mic. ‘All right, everyone. Think Alex needs some extra support after that bash. Might have had one too many as well, but at least she’s made it up here.’

The bar erupts into yet more cheers, with some cat calls of ‘go Alex’ as the karaoke compère hands me the mic.

‘Off you go, bab. Sing the pain away.’

Thanking him, I turn towards the blue screen as the title of the song appears in stark white letters. I can feel myself trembling slightly, my breathing laboured, as I wait for the on-screen lyrics to count me in. What a difference it makes to have the reassuring hug of a couple of gin and tonics. It almost makes me wish I’d breached my two-drink limit in preparation.

‘Amazing song choice,’ someone shouts from across the bar, which eases my nerves ever so slightly.

I flash a grateful smile in the direction of the voice as the room falls silent in anticipation. The light, emotive intro plays and I start to sing the opening lines. There’s very little by way of instrumental accompaniment, which always make me think I’m off tune at first. But as the track builds to its full volume and tempo, and the punters in the bar clap to the beat encouragingly, I begin to relax. I power my way through the first verse and chorus, feeling less exposed, the music and emotion consuming me like a tidal wave.

I dare a glance around the room and find myself spurred on by approving grins and whoops. This fuels me to take it up a level, which seems to please my audience even more, and I become so lost in the song, it’s almost over before I’ve had a chance to really experience it. The whole bar sings with me as I reach the song’s climax, in an explosion of power and intensity. Then as I complete the soulful lyrics, the music fades out and I’m left standing, alone and exposed, once again. But not for long. The bar erupts into a swarm of cheers, of applause and foot-stamping. My audience is clearly happy with my performance – which is an enormous relief.

I give an awkward bow, thrust the mic back into the karaoke compère’s hand and rush back to my seat, eyes to the ground, nodding thanks to the positive comments being directed at me as I go. I reach our table and slide into my seat, my face hot and flustered from all the attention.

‘That was incredible.’ Sasha grabs me into a vice-like hug. ‘You totally nailed it. See, you don’t need alcohol. You’re a complete natural.’

‘Am I?’ I screw up my face. ‘Pretty sure I was visibly shaking at the start.’

---