In the Heat of the Night
“Where are we going?” James asks.
“It’s a surprise. It wouldn’t be much of one if I told you now.” Bella bites her bottom lip like a child about to open the biggest Christmas present.
The car they are in pulls up to the kerb outside an office block.
“I’m not nearly drunk enough for this.” Anna looks at the sign saying “Karaoke”.
As they push through the door, she is met with the smell of fried Mexican food underlaid with the scent of hot, slightly sweaty bodies, the air-conditioning struggling to keep up with the heat. She dreads to think what this place would be like at weekends, although it’s pretty full for a mid-week night. The décor is dark wood and exposed brick, the lighting dim apart from the stage.
Two girls are at the microphone trying to belt the life out of “Prisoner”, making up in volume what they lack in talent. They are tipsy enough to stumble over the verses, but really go for it on the chorus. Miley Cyrus and Dua Lipa can rest well knowing they are not likely to be replaced by their wannabes. Watching them seems to have given Bella an idea. She is bouncing on her toes.
“Ooh, ooh! Do you remember when we did that student show? The Mamma Mia thing?”
“Yes.” The word is drawn out and cautious. Bella is plotting something and Anna is reluctant to sound enthusiastic until she knows what it is.
“Let’s do that. You and me.” Bella waggles a finger between the two of them. “Abba. ‘Dancing Queen’.”
Anna looks dubious. “It was a long time ago. I’m not sure I remember all the moves.”
But Bella is too excited. “Who cares? It’s just a bit of fun. Come on, let’s do it!”
“Okay, okay. Provided you promise not to sulk if I turn wrong and accidentally smack you in the face.”
Bella turns her eyes on James. “Will you go and set it up, babe? I need the loo.” She swans off.
James, ever obedient, sets off to talk to the karaoke host.
And Anna goes to the bar. “Grab a table,” she instructs John.
She returns with four beers. John is already seated, kicked back with one ankle resting on his knee, his crotch displayed to the world. He grabs a bottle and swigs.
“Fucking gnat’s piss,” he says, sounding more and more like a truculent teenager showing off.
“Feel free to buy yourself something different,” Anna says, sweetly insincere. “The rest of us have work in the morning.” She takes the seat furthest from him.
James returns before Bella. “Cheers,” he says, waving his beer at John as if he were the one who bought it. The act on stage has changed. The girls have staggered off and a lone guy is up. He looks like the archetypal gas station attendant in Hollywood films – pale, thin and sporting a baseball cap with the peak turned backwards. The first bars of the song are unrecognisable to Anna, but the audience seems to know it. There’s an appreciative hum. By the time Bella returns, the audience is helping him out on the chorus line, raising their beers in the air as they and the singer revel in being young and drunk and alone.
By the time the next chorus comes along, Bella and John are chanting along. Anna is happy to watch them. As long as John is singing, he’s less likely to annoy her. The “Dial Drunk” guy gets to the end and a huge cheer erupts with embedded wolf whistles. He wasn’t that good, so he’s either got a lot of friends or the song is really popular. A few more songs follow. Anna is content to sip her beer, listen to the acts, and let the others carry on the conversation.
She is surprised to hear the host call “James Morland”. James stands as Bella gasps. He picks up the mic and he sings to the club about how he’s found a love, looking directly at Bella. She blows him a kiss. He makes a creditable stab at Ed Sheeran’s classic. Every time he reaches the line about looking perfect tonight, his eyes find Bella’s.
Anna should feel pleased for them. She should. But instead, she feels uneasy. She doesn’t begrudge them their love affair, but it would have been a lot more satisfactory if they’d fallen in love gradually. Or back in England, where she wouldn’t have to fret over every incident.
Mercifully, the fallout is short-lived as she and Bella are the next to go. Anna knows her voice is nothing to write home about. Years of music lessons mean she can hold a tune, so at least no one is going to wince as she veers off-key. Bella’s voice is lower, huskier. “Dancing Queen” isn’t a bad choice for them and they look the part. Anna’s dark hair and Bella’s golden tones mirror Anni-Frid and Agnetha. They do the movements, although predictably they mess up some of the turns. Yet, it is fun. It reminds Anna of the carefree youth she was before the world took a darker turn. A group of college girls on a night out stand and follow their gestures, dancing and mouthing along to the song. They end in a fit of giggles and applause.
Having acceptably acquitted themselves, Anna and Bella return to their seats. Anna makes sure she leads the way – not difficult, as Bella stays to wave and blow kisses to the audience. She grabs her seat back beside James before Bella can sit there, ensuring she is not next to John.
They return to watching, clapping and whistling at the best, talking over the worst. James heads to the bar to get the next round of drinks and returns with nachos and sliders. Anna is enjoying herself more than she expected. James can sometimes be staid – an excellent quality in a boss, but less so on a night out. Tonight, he is enlivened by Bella, whose energy appears boundless. Marooned as he is on the end, she can even forget about John.
That is until she hears his name. He gets up, a smug look on his face, and stands at the microphone. He licks his palms, raises his hands and uses them to smooth his hair back. Anna purses her lips together. Gross.
The first lilting notes are a warning. As John opens with the iconic words, Anna turns to look for the wait staff. She knows what is coming. Trying to do everything she can to head it off without actually going up to the microphone and wrestling it off him, she catches the eye of a waitress and signals. The woman heads over. With her eyes fixed on the server, Anna deliberately ignores John as he reaches the first declaration that he can’t help falling in love.
“What cocktails do you do?” Anna asks, ignoring the blond Elvis on the stage.
The waitress reels off a list.
John croons how it was meant to be.
“I’m sorry.” Anna leans closer to the server. “I didn’t catch that.”
As John implores her to take his hand, the waitress repeats her list, slowly and loudly.
Feeling like a dunce, Anna asks, “Uh. What’s in the margarita?”
The waitress looks at her as if she is an idiot. “Tequila, triple sec, lime.”
“Oh, I meant what sort of tequila?”
The server names a brand. It means nothing to Anna. For all her efforts, John is still only halfway through the second part of the song when propriety and the waitress’s impatience dictate she has to make a decision.
“I’ll have the margarita.” She leans over and touches Bella’s shoulder. “Do you want a cocktail, too?” she asks.
Bella, her concentration on her brother, gives a quick, annoyed shake of her head. Anna leans further and touches James on the upper arm.
“Do you want anything?” She indicates the server. Risking a glance at the stage, she can see John, his hand outstretched pleadingly in her direction as his voice wobbles on a long-drawn out “you”.
James looks down at his bottle. “Another beer, please.”
Anna has never realised before how slow paced the song is. It seems like an eternity.
“Do you want the same one again?” She is praying he asks what brands they have, but unfortunately, he just shrugs and says, “Yeah, it’s fine.”
The waitress departs and Anna resorts to checking her phone. Anything to keep her eyes off the stage. It’s a matter of plausible deniability. If she looks as if she hasn’t been paying attention, no one can fault her for not understanding she is the target of John’s unwelcome love song. Fortunately, the last few notes sound and a smattering of applause breaks out, helped along by a whoop from Bella, who is on her feet.
Anna puts her phone away and gives a polite, slightly bemused clap, as if she has only just realised John was on stage. The waitress returns, bringing the margarita Anna has no wish to drink and another beer for James as John struts back to the table.
“That was magnificent!” Bella cries.
“Elvis and I, brothers in soul,” he declares. Then he looks at the tray pointedly.
“Sorry, mate. I’ll get another.” James passes him the beer Anna bought and puts in his order with the departing server.
Anna frowns. John hasn’t bought a single drink all evening. She takes a sip of her own and coughs.
“Wow!” she breathes out. “That’s strong.”
“Let’s try.” Bella motions for the glass and Anna hands it over. She takes a sip. “That’s ace.” She takes a larger swallow.
Anna figures if she leaves the glass in Bella’s hand, she may not have to drink any of the margarita, but after another gulp, Bella gives it back. “James, will you get me one of those?” she asks.
By the time they leave the bar, Anna just wants the evening over. Except everyone else is keen to move on to Korean barbecue. Once more, Bella is practically vibrating with excitement. Anna doesn’t know where she gets all her energy. Even worse, as they walk the few blocks, Bella and James pull ahead, leaving her walking beside a sulky John.
Desperate to avoid an awkward conversation about the point of his karaoke love song, Anna says, “It’s nice to see Bella happy with James. I heard about her ex.”
“Yeah, she struck out there.”
“I must admit, I never thought Bella would be so na?ve as to fall for the whole ‘my wife doesn’t understand me’ spiel.”
John huffs. “Of course she’s not na?ve. You know Bella – does she strike you as stupid? She knew what she was doing, but she underestimated how much the guy loved his kids.”
Anna blinks but holds her tongue. Is John suggesting Bella deliberately targeted a married man with children? But then she reconsiders. Bella could have her pick of men. There must be more to it than that. Looking at John and Bella, it is obvious who inherited all the brains in the family. It is easy to conclude John’s analysis might be off. Neither complexity nor subtlety is his strong point.
As if to prove her right, John says, “What did you think of my song?”
“Elvis was made for karaoke.” She gives a neutral smile. “It’s like that bit in King Creole , when he’s forced up on the stage to prove he can sing and the audience goes wild. It’s basically karaoke.”
“Don’t know it.” John frowns, although as his default expression seems to be a perpetual glower when in her company, it is sometimes difficult to distinguish the level of his unhappiness.
“You should watch it,” she advises. “Great film. Elvis reportedly said it was his favourite role. And when he sings ‘ Trouble’ , he’s every girl’s bad boy dream.”
“Is he?” Another frown.
Anna thinks it may be time for another change in the direction of the conversation. “Hey, Bella!” she calls. “Where on earth is this place? Is it much further?”
Bella turns and points across the street. Anna quickens her pace, leaving John behind and crosses the road alongside James and Bella.
The place is busy, but there are a few empty tables. Bella picks one on the walkway. The night is warm enough to eat outside but even with the late hour, the traffic is constant. Much to Anna’s discomfort, James gets to the seat beside Bella and Anna is left side by side with John. She surreptitiously moves her chair further away from his as she pulls it in.
Anna hopes the service is speedy. Not only is she keen for this night to be over, so she doesn’t have to endure any more of John, but she is also tired. She doesn’t know how Bella is still going, as judging by the joy on James’s face, they aren’t getting a full night’s sleep.
“So, John, what have you been doing while we’ve been at the conference?” James asks.
John’s chest visibly swells. “Today I checked out the surf at Venice Beach. You should have seen me. There was this twelve-footer. All the guys were getting wiped out, but I rode that baby like a beaut.”
Anna watches John demonstrate his prowess with his arms. She jerks back in time to avoid a slap in the face. She wonders how much of his story is true.
“There was this girl. She was fit, real fit,” John continues. “She saw my technique and begged me to teach her, but I told her I was meeting up with you lot.”
Bella beams at her brother. “John’s great at sport,” she announces to the table.
Anna sincerely doubts John is great at anything except bragging.
“So, is that where you’re going tomorrow?” James asks.
“Nah.” John leans back and drops his hand to the back of Anna’s chair. “I thought I’d hire a motorbike and take in the coast road down to Mexico.”
Anna leans forwards. “Isn’t the bit from Monterey to Malibu supposed to be the best part of the Pacific Coastal Highway?”
“That’s a great idea!” Bella ignores Anna and applauds her brother. The food arrives, and for a few minutes, everyone is busy sorting out dishes. Anna is relieved to see John needs both hands to tackle his meal and her chair back is released from his captivity.
“I hired a scooter in Corsica once and did the Cap Corse road. Stunning,” James says as the server departs.
John scoffs. “You wouldn’t catch me dead on a scooter! No, I ride a proper hog. It’s a Harley for me. I’m used to real power between my legs.”
Anna feels like vomiting into her soda. James flushes and doesn’t reply.
Bella finally seems to notice something awry and changes the subject. “That looks so good, James. What a great choice! Can I try some?”
James looks pleased and pushes his plate over to her.
“What have you got?” John asks Anna as he eyes her food. Before she understands what is happening, his fork spears the biggest chunk of beef on her plate and he’s eaten it. She stares at him in disbelief.
“Try that again and I’ll stab you with my fork.” She laughs to take the edge off as she says it, but hopes the meaning is clear.
“No need. Mine is better,” says John. “In fact, I think mine is the best. I always know what to order in restaurants.”
“He does too,” Bella says earnestly. “He always gets the best stuff. But yours is great too.” She turns to James and offers him a wide smile.
The night doesn’t improve. For every story or anecdote, John always has one larger, faster, better. Anna hasn’t heard so much boasting since she was in primary school. My dad’s car is bigger than your dad’s car . Bella seems immune, probably from overexposure in her youth. James is clearly uncomfortable but unwilling to slap John down because of his infatuation with Bella.
At the first opportunity, Anna suggests they get a ride share back to the hotel. She is relieved when a yawning James supports her suggestion. But her misery is compounded by the seating. James, who was busy settling the bill, is the last to the car, leaving Anna squashed up to John in the back and James riding shotgun. Her tolerance level for John’s obnoxiousness has been far exceeded, so when he drops his sweaty palm on her bare knee, she knocks it off, taking care to catch the bones of his wrist with the hard corner of her phone. If she had been wearing stilettos, she might have emphasised the point, but her jewelled leather flip-flops are incapable of doing any damage.
John howls and clutches his wrist. Everyone stares at Anna, but her inner bitch is in the ascendant. She will not be cowed by glares. “Keep your hands off me!” She controls her voice, the volume clear enough to be heard but far from shouting. She is calm, yet her anger is obvious to all. John subsides and the rest of the journey is made in silence. When they arrive at the hotel, Anna ignores John’s outstretched hand, waiting to help her out of the car, and clambers out of the other side instead. She tells a bemused James, “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She doesn’t wait for anyone as she strides across to the bank of elevators. The others mill around the entrance, probably talking about her behaviour, and when the elevator doors shut, she feels at peace for the first time all evening. John, James, Brad, Tolly. She is done with men. They can all take a hike.