Page 77 of Playing With Matches
“You’re off your game, Alexis,” Jackson laughs. “I can’t believe you didn’t pick up on that.”
“I can’t believe yourappdidn’t pick up on that,” Alexis fires back. “Looks like you matched the wrong two.”
“Actually, it looks like they are a three-way match,” I say, suddenly getting a clear and honest sense of it. “It takes all three of them to balance each other out. That’s how they work together.”
“Well, that’s not fair,” Jackson clicks his pen. “We haven’t even begun to train the AI to do poly matches.”
A crackle of static from the speaker breaks the conversation up as the MC steps back onto the stage. “Ladies and Gents, next up we have Cappy, performing ‘Message in a Bottle’ by The Police.”
“Can’t believe I need to go afterthatlast act,” Cappy grumbles. He removes his jacket, hanging it on the back of his chair. “Watch my things?”
The mood changes immediately when Cappy takes the stage. He takes his time getting settled. He has a real presence and a beautiful, if weathered voice. He sings the song in such an evocative way that I’m instantly transported to a scene of intense desperation and longing. A sailor lost to a storm. The passage of time. Loneliness, redemption. It almost makes me want to cry.
When Cappy finishes, we all sit silently for a moment. Jackson takes my hand and squeezes. There’s a tear in his eye, as well.
Then Jackson speaks.
“There’s something so magical about music, the way it cuts right through all the layers, straight to the core of your emotions.”
Alexis feels Jackson’s forehead. “Emotions, Jackson? You feeling okay?” She asks.
“I’m fine,” Jackson mugs at Alexis. “How about you?”
“Where’s Cappy?” Paula asks. “I want to tell him how moving his song was to me.”
“I don’t know,” Jackson shrugs. “Maybe he went to the bathroom.”
Owen and Alexis head to the bar to get us all a round of drinks while the next few singers perform. When Rob stops by the table, we ask him if he’s seen Cappy, and he tells us that Cappy took off shortly after he finished his song.
“That’s odd,” I say. “He asked us to watch his stuff.”
“He must have forgotten it,” Rob shrugs one shoulder dismissively. “Give it here. We’ve got his contact info. I’ll see that it gets back to him.”
“Marco is next!” Marco claps his hands excitedly. “Let’s go. You must make sure the camera is ready for Marco’s performance.”
“You know what, I could use some fresh air. I’m just going to go have a look around outside and see if Cappy’s still here,” Jackson says, standing as well. “I’ll be right back.”
As the current set ends and Marco and Rob stand to go, Owen wishes him luck.
“Marco does not need luck. Marco hascharisma,” Marco says, swaggering down to the mic, Rob beside him.
“Good Lord, what do you think he’s going to sing?” Alexis says as they get everything set up. It’s taking twice as long because of the cameramen.
Please don’t let it be “Isla Bonita.”
“I don’t know,” I say nervously, wishing Jackson would come back. I map an escape route to the door. Cameras or no cameras, I don’t want to be trapped if I have to make a speedy exit.
“Look, Alexis,” I whisper to Jackson’s friend. “I might have to get out of here real quick. Can you cover for me if I need to dash?”
“What’s the matter? Eat something funny?” she asks sympathetically.
“No. I just don’t know what Marco’s going to–”
I recognize the song Marco has chosen the minute I hear the first three notes. It’s not either of the two he has mentioned. Instead, he’s chosen “Jesse’s Girl.”
I heave a sigh of relief.
Somewhere, somehow, someone has scared up a fog machine, and Marco bursts through the front door of the pub, wearing a cape, a Zorro mask, what appears to be a Speedo swimsuit, and little more. He is also brandishing a massive sword.
