Page 37 of Hang the Moon
“I like numbers,” he said. “Zeros and ones, mostly.”
“That’s a coding joke, right?”
He scratched his eyebrow, wincing. “A bad one.”
Her lips twitched. “A binary one.”
“See? You know what you’re talking about.”
“Barely.” Her lips twitched and she popped two fries into her mouth at once. She chewed, then said, “The extent of my coding knowledge was how to personalize my Myspace theme.”
He shuddered, having a violent flashback to 2005.
Onstage, Billy grabbed his crotch and gave a power thrust as the song ended.
Annie laughed. “That’s going to be a tough act to follow.”
His heart clawed its way up his throat, nerves ratcheting as the guy with the clipboard took the stage. Brendon sighed in relief when his name wasn’t called.
She looked at his fries. “Are you going to finish those?”
He grinned and slid them toward her. “So, translation, huh? Not something to do with travel?”
She took a bite before answering. “I like traveling, I just wish I didn’t have to do it so often.Have tobeing the operative words. Living out of a suitcase gets old after a while. Sometimes I wish I could get a... I don’t know. A plant.”
His brows rose. “A plant?”
“A plant.” She nodded, wiping her fingers on her napkin. “I wish I could get a pet, but that’s wishful thinking. One day I could see getting a fish or a cat, but I think maybe I’ll start with something hard to kill, like a succulent, and work my way up to something finnicky, like”—she fingered the petals of the arrangement on the table—“an orchid, maybe. Your sister has a ficus. It seems... hardy.”
He laughed. “Did Darcy tell you about the cilantro bush she gave Elle?”
Annie’s face brightened. “You mean their love fern?”
He opened his mouth, the words dying in the back of histhroat when the guy with the clipboard tapped his microphone. “All right. Great job. Let’s make some more noise for Anjani.” He clapped his hands. “And up next we’ve got... Brandon.”
Brendon sighed at the flub and stood.
It was time to face the music.
“Good luck?” Annie offered, a huge grin overtaking her face. She was enjoying this too much.
And that was fine. She had no idea he was about to totally blow her away with the best performance of his life.
Fingers crossed.
He took one final fortifying sip of his drink before standing and wiping his palms on his pants. He made his way up the stairs to the stage on shaky legs, reaching for and gripping the microphone stand, mostly for stability. He stared off into the audience. The lights up here were bright, too bright to see much of anything. Faces stared back at him, expressions washed out. Brendon blinked and found Annie in the crowd as the lights dimmed. She had her lips pressed together, her blue eyes shining across the restaurant as she beamed at him.
His chest loosened further. He could do this. He could totally do this.
He lifted the microphone to his lips and took a deep breath, eyes locked on the screen, waiting for the lyrics to scroll across. Ready to—
This wasn’t “Annie’s Song.” He strangled the microphone, static filling his head as the countdown-style opening to “Annie Mae” by Warren G played over the sound system.
Fucking dude with the clipboard. Brendon shot a frantic glance at the bastard, frowning when the guy circled his hand inthe air, telling Brendon to get on with it. Someone in the back of the bar booed.
He could walk offstage and return to the table with his tail tucked between his legs, or...
He could go for it. All in. Go big or go home.
