Page 157 of Till The Sun Dies (Checkmate 2)

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Laine

Karaoke

“Why did you do this, Jessie? I don’t wanna get up there! Jesus, a month ago, I didn’t wanna talk to anyone,at all. Now you want me to shake my sugar on a damn stage while guys ogle and throw singles at us.”

Sitting at a tall table, she pulls me down and rolls her eyes. “Jesus, Baby. We’re at karaoke, not a strip club, and don’t for a second think that the guys will tolerate anything more than a holler from anyone watching. I’m not even sure Kane will tolerate that much, but he won’t get much choice.”

“Is this part of your ‘making him jealous’ plan? Because you could have sung without me, dammit!”

“No. This is part of my ‘make Ang pant like a dog’ plan.”

I groan. “Jess.”

“You won’t make a move, so I’m doing it for you.”

“I did make a move.” I drop my eyes and avoid her gaze. “I asked him to kiss me last night.” My heart slams against my chest until it hurts. “I asked him to give me a new memory.”

“You what!?” She grabs my jaw and brings my eyes to hers. “Are you kidding me right now? Why didn’t you tell us? Why aren’t we celebrating alrea… Ah, screw it. I can’t pretend I don’t know.”

“You know?”

“Of course!” she laughs. “We saw you. Your space got awfully quiet after a while. We were swimming, we looked up, andwhatdoyaknow, my baby sister is lying in Angelo Alesi’s lap.”

“I wasn’t lying in his lap,” I huff. “I was… snuggling.”

“Okay,” she snorts. “Whatever you wanna call it. We saw you kiss, we said a silent halle-fricken-lujah, then we made ourselves scarce. We figured the wait was over and everyone would be happy, but nope, back on the beach today, I see no touching between you and Ang, no snuggling, no kissing. You’re a pain in my damn ass, Baby, so now we dance for them because I want to see what they do about it.”

“I already know what they’ll do about it! Kane will pick you up at the first wolf whistle and take you away. That’s it; end of night. Then Ang and I can get back to talking without your loud mouth interrupting us.”

She rolls her eyes and takes a long sip of her drink. “We’re singing Britney, by the way.”

“We are not!”

“We absolutely are,” she returns. “We choreographed that song a decade and a half ago, we know the words, and we know the moves. As if we’re not doing it.”

“You’re gonna get someone shot tonight, Jess. It’s not fair to everyone watching.”

She shrugs, and ten minutes later, drags me toward the stage when our names are called.

We pass the guys and play our part – noses in the air, shoulders back, extra swing to our hips – and we don’t react when Kane slaps Jess’ ass with a resounding crack.

We climb the three steps to the stage and collect our microphones as the crowd sit up and pay attention to the clones. I move past the unoccupied drum kit and smile. If my brother was here, he’d be smashing away and making a bunch of noise already. I trail my fingers over the neck of an acoustic guitar resting in a rack, then past a keyboard that makes me think of the man I’m about to dance for.

He sits on a silver stool in the center of the room, his stylish haircut constantly catching me off guard with how different he looks. His stubble is neat and short, trimmed before coming out tonight, his hair styled, and his necklace reflecting the bar lights. His thick arms flex and move, as though he’s angry I’m up here, angry I’m on show, but the bands around his wrists remind me of the best friend bracelet Jessie brought to me in the hospital.

The old me wouldn’t second guess this. The old me would’ve left Ang with a riddle whose answer was probably something like ‘kiss me’.

But I’m not that girl anymore, and although I’m scared, I am fucking proud of myself for attempting it anyway.

I bypass the instruments – they’re useless to us tonight – and stop at the front of the stage, letting my gaze drop to my shoes to shield myself from the hoots and watchful eyes of every man in the club.

This isn’t like Infernos, this isn’t even close to the same, so don’t go there.

Finally bringing my eyes up, I allow my heart to give a hard thump when they meet Ang’s. It’s almost like my dreams: I’m on show, and he’s watching.

I turn to her and wait for her to focus. She’s wired up, playing the game that Kane expects of her.

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