Page 7 of Tinsel & Tools
The women at the next table started whispering, watching me the same way they did every karaoke night as they waited for me to sing. Then one of them called my name, saying I needed to get up there, and within seconds the chant spread through the room.
After a long sip of beer, I decided to give in and got up, scribbled my name on the sign-up sheet, picked a song, and sat back down.
When the karaoke jockey, Kyle, called me, I stood and walked to the stage. The screen lit up with “Hallelujah.” I didn’t pick that one often, but tonight a song about love and the wreckage it leaves behind felt right.
It had been sixteen months since I’d caught Whitney cheating, and I hadn’t let anyone close since, though not for lack of chances. Women in town had tried, some harder than others, but I couldn’t bring myself to go there. Trusting someone again felt impossible. Even casual dating felt wrong, like I’d be lying to them and myself. And in a town as small as Brookhaven, there was no such thing as a one-night stand. Everyone would know by morning, and I wasn’t looking for that kind of attention.
As I sang the first verse, it brought up memories I hadn’t asked for. The part about someone not caring for music always landed. Over time, Whitney had stopped wanting to hear me sing. She’d smile when we were out with friends to karaoke or whatever, but she stopped asking me to sing to her.
By the time I reached the middle of the song, the entire bar was watching. I kept going, because even with the memories, the song was still beautiful, and I liked singing it.
When the song ended, the silence held long enough for me to notice before the applause erupted.
I walked back to the table, and Ryan grinned. “You’re still the only one who can pull off that song.”
I sat and took a drink. “It’s just karaoke.”
“Funny, it didn’t look that way from here. Half the women in this place were staring holes through you.” He tipped his bottle toward me. “So, which one are you taking home tonight?”
“None of them.”
“Oh, come on. You can have your pick.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think that would go over well with Mrs. Perkins.”
“What? Why?” He lifted a brow.
“She’s playing matchmaker again. She wants me to take her granddaughter out for coffee tomorrow. How bad would that look?”
He balked slightly. “Paige? Haven’t seen her since she graduated two years after me. She’s back in town?”
“She’ll be on the noon bus tomorrow.”
He chuckled. “You could do worse.”
“I’m not doing it at all,” I returned.
“Sure,” Ryan said, his grin widening. “That’s what you always say.”
He was right. Even if I wasn’t interested in Paige Perkins, I would still take her out, so I didn’t upset Bonnie and cause the whole town to react.
An hour later, I slid from the booth. “I’m calling it.”
“You sure? Night’s still young.”
“Early day tomorrow, and I need to get my beauty sleep for my “date”.” I chuckled, putting date in air quotes.
He barked a laugh. “You’ll need more than sleep, my friend.”
“Good thing it’s not a date.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” He lifted his beer in a lazy salute.
I shook my head, pulled on my jacket, and tossed some cash onto the table before heading for the door. Sliding into my truck, I cranked the engine and the heat, then drove out to my house on the edge of town. When I pulled up, my headlights caught on the stack of firewood I’d left by the porch from a dead tree I’d chopped up. I grabbed a few logs, headed inside, and fed them into the woodstove to warm the place that had sat cold all day.
Needing to wash off the grime that coated my body, I turned the shower hot, stripped down, and stepped under the spray. Tomorrow’s list started running through my head. Dad had said I could spare twenty minutes for coffee with Paige. Ryan called it a date. Either way, I hadn’t been out with a new woman in close to nine years, back when I first started dating Whitney.
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