Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
“We need more soup. Who knew people would be all over vegan cream of mushroom?”
It was late afternoon on October 31, and they were running out of everything. Halloween was traditionally a slower day at the café, but a new family-friendly party at an event space around the corner meant a tidal wave of parents and preschoolers arrived just when they least expected. Allie and Ren were in the kitchen, scrambling to bake more cookies, when Mindy entered with the news about the popular soup.
“It’s because you roasted the shiitakes first.” Allie pointed at her aunt with a wooden spoon. “Just like I read in that Times recipe.”
“It’s because ,” Mindy countered, “these parents are exhausted and hungry and don’t have the time or the free hands to consume anything more complicated than a cup of soup.”
“You’re both right.” Ren’s voice lacked its usual jovial tone. “Parents are tired. Soup is good.”
Mindy turned to where Ren was unloading the dishwasher, then looked back at Allie. “What’s their problem?”
“Halloween.”
“Halloween sucks.” Ren’s unenthusiastic voice could barely be heard over the clanking of the dishes.
“My friend Marcy always said that Halloween was Gay Christmas,” Mindy mused, pulling more soup out of the fridge.
Ren stood up and stared at her, eyes flashing with irritation. “ Christmas is the Gay Christmas.”
Allie laughed and rolled her eyes.
Ren continued, “Halloween is just the Drunk Olympics. It’s not subversive, it’s just a bunch of dingdongs clogging up the streets in cheap costumes so they can make everything noisy and then barf on the sidewalks.”
Mindy smirked. “By all means, Ren, stop beating around the bush and tell us how you really feel.”
The joke was not appreciated by its target, but Allie giggled as she made her way out to the café space to check on things.
The crowd in the café was substantially less wild than the Halloween revelry Ren had been describing, but it was certainly bustling. Every table was crammed with parents and children. The kids were either wild-eyed with delight (and probably sugar) or wailing inconsolably. The parents all looked exhausted.
Allie pulled out a stack of small stainless steel cups from behind the counter and grabbed a pitcher of water with her other hand. She began to walk around the café, pouring cups of water for everyone, receiving thankful glances from the adults as she made her way from one table to the next. These kids probably needed water to mitigate the sugar the same way whoever stumbled in later would need water to stave off the inevitable next-day hangover. As Allie poured, she considered inviting Ren up to her place for snacks and a movie after work. It might help shake off a bit of the Halloween gloom, and Allie didn’t like being home alone on holidays when everyone else seemed to be out partying. It was one instance when she felt dissatisfied with her usual pleasant solitude.
She was refilling her jug behind the counter when the bell on the door jangled and she glanced up to see Ryan standing there with a grin on his face.
“Happy Halloween, Jetski!” He glanced around the room. “Yikes! Busy day.”
“You aren’t kidding.” Allie pulled out another sleeve of cups and handed it to him. “Make yourself useful.”
Ryan fell into step behind her, carefully setting cups down on tables so she could fill them. Together, they worked their way around the café until all tables had been served. The kids all stared at Ryan, mesmerized by exactly what, Allie wasn’t sure. His height? His smile? The way he hummed pleasantly under his breath as he worked?
“So.” He followed her back to the counter. “Are you here all night? Is it going to be this busy?”
Allie shook her head. “Mindy is on tonight. Ren will be here for a bit. I started at six, so I’m finished soon.”
“Y’all got any Halloween plans?”
“Nope. Ren hates it, and I don’t really care one way or the other.” She stopped to squint past him, lost in thought for a moment. “And actually, I’ve never been into costumes. They always make me feel self-conscious.”
“Yeah, I’m not a costume guy, either.” Ryan leaned his elbow on the counter, bringing his eyes level with hers. “But I’ll tell you what I am.”
Allie smiled at him. “What are you?”
“I am a Halloween karaoke guy.”
Allie tried to look at him suspiciously but couldn’t keep her expression serious. “What is Halloween karaoke, exactly?”
Ryan shrugged. “Regular karaoke. But on Halloween.”
“I see.”
“So?”
“So?”
“You wanna?”
“Wanna what?”
Ryan heaved an exasperated sigh. “Do you want to go to Halloween karaoke? With me.”
He was standing so close to her. Allie swallowed and felt her cheeks burn. Was he finally asking her out? She had no idea what to say. Should she tell him the truth? That she really, like, really, liked him but that she was terrified of ruining their friendship?
Ryan’s left forearm, exposed by his rolled-up sleeve, was touching her hand on the counter. He leaned farther forward and winked at her.
“And Anisha, of course.”
Allie could have kicked herself. She jumped backward as if his arm touching her hand had burnt her.
Of course. Get a hold of yourself.
Allie opened and closed her mouth, which seemed suddenly very dry. “I don’t know, Ryan.”
She sucked in a deep breath and consciously dropped her shoulders, bidding herself to act normal. She had to become Friend Allie again. She had to get her shit together. And quickly, before he noticed and figured out what she’d been expecting.
“Come on, Jetski. I know you have the pipes. You’ll probably murder at karaoke. What’s your signature karaoke song?”
“You obviously do not know me at all if you think I have a signature karaoke song . Also, who walks around deciding on their signature karaoke song anyway?”
“I have a list.” Ryan produced his phone from his pocket and clicked on the Notes app. He held the phone up for her to see. Allie leaned in and read the list on the screen.
“?‘Mr. Brightside.’ ‘Like a Prayer.’ ‘Hold On.’ ‘ You Oughta Know ’? Really?”
“Oh yeah, I crush with that one.”
Allie found that hard to believe. She looked at the rest of the list.
“?‘Since U Been Gone.’ ‘Come On Eileen.’ ‘Jessie’s Girl.’ ‘ Whose Bed Have Your Boots Been Under ?’?”
“Why are you questioning all the songs by Canadians? You don’t believe I can sing in Canadian?”
“What I don’t believe”—Allie wiped the counter with a cloth—“is that anyone carries around this kind of detailed list of possible karaoke songs.”
“Not possible . Tried and true. This list is the result of years of experimentation and occasional failure. It is a solid list.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“You can use my list if you don’t have a song of your own choosing.”
Allie straightened her posture, indignant. “I don’t need your song list charity. I am very capable of making my own list.”
“Does that mean you’re coming with us for Halloween karaoke?” Ryan tilted his head, an eager smile spreading across his face.
Allie weighed the options. A night alone with only the possibility of cranky Ren for company while everyone else in the city was having fun or…this.
Allie shrugged. “I guess I’m coming to Halloween karaoke.”
—
The bar that Ryan and Anisha had chosen was dark, with sticky floors. Allie walked in hesitantly, Anisha holding the door. Looking around at the dank interior, she was surprised to see most tables full of costumed patrons. A small riser was set up at the far end of the long room, with a microphone ready for singers. A large mural painted on the wall beside the soundboard depicted a vintage convertible being driven by Dolly Parton. There was nothing fancy about the place, but it had what could only be described as a good vibe . It reminded her of some of the places the Jetskis had performed when they were touring. Unassuming, kind of grimy spots that would end up having generous bartenders and actual toilet paper in every stall. There was an excited buzz in the air as people flipped through songbooks and chatted.
Anisha skipped toward the bar and loudly demanded a whiskey from the bartender who was wearing an Alice in Wonderland costume, with bonus cleavage.
“No costumes for you folks?” she asked, setting Anisha’s glass of whiskey down on the bar.
“Every day is a costume day.” Anisha took a swig from her drink and winked. As if to support her point, Anisha was clothed in a leopard-print pencil skirt, a striped crop top and a fuzzy pink jacket that looked as if she’d skinned a dozen teddy bears to get it. Her boots were covered in embroidered flowers.
The bartender looked her up and down and slowly smiled. “Fair enough.”
Ryan turned to Allie. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Vodka soda, I guess?” Allie was out of practice drinking in dive bars, but she did remember that mixed drinks led to fewer hangovers.
“Two vodka sodas, please.” Ryan held out some cash to the bartender.
Their drinks were delivered quickly, and they found a table with a good view of the stage.
“I’m gonna go sign us up!” Ryan bounced up within moments of sitting down.
“What, already?”
“Come on, Jetski, you said you had a killer song list.”
“I did not say that.” Allie felt panic rising in her chest. “I said I didn’t need your song list.”
“Look.” Anisha stood up, pausing to glance over at the stage, where a woman was in the middle of an off-key but enthusiastic rendition of “My Heart Will Go On.” “Let’s grab a songbook. You can look through it and pick some songs. Ryan, leave her alone.”
“She started it,” Ryan was muttering to Anisha as they moved toward the table where a tall, skinny guy was squinting down at a soundboard, adjusting knobs as though that would somehow make the singer onstage hit the right notes.
A minute later, they returned with a binder full of laminated pages that were as sticky as the floor. Allie began flipping through it, looking for something inspiring but not embarrassing.
“And coming next to the stage!” The sound guy’s voice boomed out through the speakers. “We have Ryan and Anisha singing that B-52’s classic ‘Love Shack’! Give them a hand, everybody!”
Ryan stood and held out his hand to Anisha in an exaggerated gesture of politeness. She accepted the hand, and they took the stage together, accepting the microphones handed to them. They were both grinning, and Allie wondered how anyone could be that comfortable everywhere, all the time.
A sparse drumbeat, with barely audible accompanying hand claps, filled the room. The screen behind the stage displayed numbers counting down from three to one and then, without any hesitation, Ryan began shout-singing into the microphone. Anisha clapped her hands and then swooped in for the second few lines.
As the first minichorus arrived, they both leaned back and howled into their mics. “Loooooove shaaaaack!”
The crowd was instantly with them. People stood up from their seats and sang along, clapping their hands in the air and shaking their hips.
Allie took a big gulp of her drink and then stood up, caught up in her own amazement as she watched her new friends throwing themselves into what was objectively a ridiculous performance. Anisha was off-key, but it could not have mattered less. When Ryan was singing, she was dancing, coming back to the mic for her own turns totally out of breath but beaming. The audience whooped, and people began to flood the dance floor in front of the stage. In the space of their five-minute song, they’d managed to supercharge the atmosphere of the room. When they finished, panting and beaming, the whole bar applauded. People hooted and pumped fists in the air; random strangers shook their hands as they made their way back to the table.
Ryan collapsed into his chair and drained his drink. He pointed at Allie’s empty glass. “Another?”
Allie nodded. “I’ll need one if I’m going to compete with that performance.”
Ryan laughed. “It’s not a competition, Jetski. We’re all just here to bring the fun.”
He left her with that thought and took off toward the bar. Allie watched people in the crowd patting his back and giving him thumbs-up as he went.
She turned back to Anisha. “That was incredible.”
“Duets are the best!” Anisha smiled. “Did you decide what you’re going to do?”
“Not yet.” Allie looked back down at the songs, now feeling pressure to bring the fun , despite what Ryan had said about it not being a competition.
After a few more minutes of flipping through the pages while ignoring the drunken college girls belting out “Like a Virgin” on the stage, Allie reached for a slip of paper from the pile in the center of the table. Ryan handed her a pen.
“What’ll it be?” He grinned, leaning over to see what she wrote. She scribbled her song title and name on the paper and held it up to him. His eyes widened. “?‘Alone.’ Heart? Bold choice, Jetski!”
“I can do it.” She may not have confidence in the other aspects of this endeavor, but she knew she could sing. And, more specifically, she knew she could sing every word of every song on the Bad Animals album, which was sitting in the crate of her dad’s old cassettes back at her apartment. She delivered the slip of paper to the sound guy and then returned to the table for a third vodka soda and a few minutes of preperformance jitters.
When her name was called, she took the stage. She’d been onstage hundreds of times in her life but never, she realized, alone. It made her song choice weirdly poignant. Ann and Nancy Wilson singing about how they couldn’t live another moment without getting the object of their affection alone. And here she was, feeling thrown by the lack of bandmates.
The piano intro started, and the countdown flashed across the monitor. The last moment before the lyrics kicked in seemed to stretch into infinity. But then she opened her mouth and sang.
The first few lines of the song were easy; anyone could have done a passable job with them. But the thing Allie loved about Heart was that they never waited long to get to the real singing. It was what made them one of her favorite bands to sing in the shower or in the empty café after closing. She shut her eyes and took an expertly timed deep breath, then belted out the first line of the chorus.
She was so focused on hitting every note with the full power of her voice, she didn’t notice that the bar had gone quiet until the song settled into the quiet of the next verse. Daring to open her eyes and look out at the crowd, she saw dozens of faces staring at her with rapt attention. It shook her confidence slightly, but she held fast, calling on all the muscle memory of years onstage. No one was throwing drinks at her, which meant that this wasn’t going any worse than the worst of the Jetskis’ shows.
When she hit the next few lines of belting, it was clear that the crowd was with her, not against her. Their stunned silence broke into cheers as the song built to its crescendo. She felt her heart fill up with nervous joy, and she quickly closed her eyes again.
Just after the two-minute point in the song, she felt a spike of dread as she remembered a guitar solo was coming. What the hell was she going to do with her awkward body during a freaking guitar solo ? As a rule, she hated guitar solos, and this moment did nothing to recommend them.
She didn’t need to worry. As soon as the first note of the solo hit, as soon as her confident singing posture shifted to an uncomfortable fidget, Ryan and Anisha appeared in front of the stage. With props. Anisha was holding her own boot like a guitar, and Ryan did the same with a large drink menu. They immediately stole the crowd’s attention as they each mimed the most dramatically ridiculous guitar playing Allie had ever seen. As Ryan spun around in a circle, she caught his perfect “guitar face” and laughed in spite of herself. The crowd in the bar amped up their cheers, some of them miming their own solos that rivaled Ryan’s and Anisha’s. It all served to take the heat off of Allie for those brief but agonizing instrumental moments. When the solo was over, her friends vanished, back to their table in the darkened audience, and Allie was once again the star of her own small show. She finished the song, hitting every note, and found herself actually enjoying the applause for a minute before she fled the stage and collapsed back into her seat at the table.
“Allie, that was amazing!” Anisha leaned over to grab her arm. “Holy shit, you’re a fucking powerhouse.”
“Well, thank you both for saving my ass with your expert guitar work.” Allie giggled, self-conscious suddenly, as though everyone had been secretly standing outside her shower. She shook off the nerves. “Especially you, Anisha. You probably have tuberculosis of the foot now, after taking your shoe off in here.”
“You would have nailed it with or without us. No one cares about an awkward instrumental break when the person onstage can actually sing.” Ryan patted her shoulder and beamed. “Now let’s get more drinks. I’m up soon, and I need a bit more vodka in me before I tackle Wilson Phillips.”