Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Jonah
Vivian strides down the hall with purpose. I rush to catch up with him. “Are you sure alcohol is a good idea?”
“One of my best.”
“But what if Dad or your mom or Maisy needs us?”
Once we’re in the elevator, Vivian pushes the button for the lobby. “Doesn’t being good all the time get exhausting?”
I glare at him, wanting to protest, but what can I say? I’m not good? That’s not exactly true, although there are times when the things I’m thinking wouldn’t be categorized as good. Or nice. But that’s how Vivian sees me and why that kiss probably didn’t mean anything.
He rolls his eyes. “We won’t go far.”
I’m not sure why I’m arguing so hard against this. “We don’t even know what’s going on with your mom—”
“And whose fault is that? Theirs.”
“Right. But—”
“It’s our vacation too.”
When the door to the elevator opens, we head down the hall toward the lobby.
Vivian stops and whips around so quickly that I almost bump into him.
“You don’t have to go with me, Jonah. You can stay here.
” His dark eyes sparkle with challenge. As much as he doesn’t want me to protect him, he knows I will.
No way am I letting him do this alone. When I don’t respond, he returns to his quest, not even trying to hide his smirk.
He doesn’t check to see if I’m following. He already knows I am.
The guy behind the desk—Carl, according to his name tag—is the same one who checked us in. His eyes devour Vivian as we approach. Where are all the straight guys when you need them?
Vivian barely acknowledged him before. This time, he flashes Carl a smile, and for some reason, it pisses me off. I know what he’s doing, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.
“Anywhere to drink in this town?” Vivian asks as he leans against the counter.
Carl’s voice goes low. “I know a place not too far from here. I get off in another hour.”
Instead of smacking him for his cheekiness, Vivian grins. “Maybe another time, sweetheart.” The guy’s glance drifts over to me, and he just as quickly dismisses me as not a threat. I’m tempted to show him he’s wrong.
He leans on the counter, and now their heads are close. “I’m supposed to suggest the hotel bar, but it has a certain Boomer vibe.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
“There are a few gay bars, but none of them close. You’d have to get a ride…” I clench my fists. If this guy offers Vivian a ride, I’m not sure what I’ll do.
Carl traces a finger on the counter close to Vivian’s hand, seemingly oblivious to the murder-glares I’m giving him. “There’s also a karaoke bar across the street.”
Vivian squeals. “Karaoke?” He turns to me, and the joy on his face takes my breath away. It’s something I don’t often see. “Can we go?”
I’m not a fan of karaoke, but how can I say no?
Vivian wants to freshen up before going out, so we head back up to our room. In the elevator, I lean closer. “Please only use those powers for good.”
His eyes are innocent. “What powers?”
But he looks a little too innocent. And the grin he gives me is worth all the pain I’m about to put myself through.
Less than an hour later, we’re making our way through the crowded bar. “There are a lot of people here,” Vivian says, sounding giddy.
I grab his hand, just so I won’t lose him. “It is Saturday night.”
“Right. I’ve lost track of the days already. How long have we been on this trip? A week?”
I laugh. “Two days.”
It’s your standard bar, but it has a stage, and someone is singing about looking for love in all the wrong places. And they aren’t doing it well. Mostly because they keep falling down on the stage.
We miraculously find an empty table. I slide into one side of the booth. Vivian slides in beside me. “There’s another seat right there.” I motion to the seat across from me.
“Yes, but I like this one.” I don’t fight him too hard on it. Vivian orders a rum and Coke. I’m sure he expects me to order a beer, but I order the same.
“Look at you, Jonah, all grown up.”
“We’re the same age.” That gets me another grin.
“What do you think?” he asks, and I have to lean in so I can hear him over the woman screeching to Bon Jovi’s “It’s My Life.”
In the short amount of time he had to get ready, Vivan transformed himself from a weary traveler to a hot guy ready to party. His makeup makes his eyes pop and his lips…kissable. I have a hard time focusing. “Think? About what?”
“What should we sing?”
I laugh. But he doesn’t appear to be joking. “You’re going to sing? In front of people?”
“Rude.”
I don’t want to upset him, but I’m confused. “You don’t sing in front of crowds. Ever.”
“That’s not true.”
“Vivian, you froze up during the senior recital.”
His gaze sweeps over the bar. And then he looks at me. “Jonah, I don’t mind singing in front of people. I just don’t want people to see me sing.”
I stare at him, my mouth open. I’m not even sure what to say. “Isn’t that the same thing?”
He tilts his head. “It’s not. Do you even listen to me?”
I think over his words. I get there’s a nuance, but I don’t understand it. Thankfully, our drinks come, and it gives me a few minutes to figure it out.
Vivian takes a long sip and taps his fingers on the table. “My dad has a way of finding me wherever I am. And that comes with a healthy dose of disapproval.”
“He doesn’t want you to sing?”
“Oh, it’s not about singing. It’s about wasting my life.” He laughs. “About never being good enough.” And then he takes another drink.
“And now?”
He studies me. “What do you mean?”
I shrug. “You’re willing to sing now, and you weren’t before, so…”
“Nothing I do will ever be good enough for him. I know it looks like I have tons of money, but I’m just thrifty, and my bestie is generous to a fault. My dad has an iron grip on my trust fund. I can’t access it until I meet the requirements.”
“And what are those?” I ask softly.
He taps the table again. “To gain access, I have to be successful. And that success is entirely defined by my father.”
“He uses it as a loophole to control you.”
His eyes dart to mine. His mouth opens slightly. “No, he just has high standards—” But I can see the realization taking hold in his eyes.
“He’s never going to release my trust fund, is he?”
“You’d know the answer better than I would, but it doesn’t sound like it.”
He slams down the rest of his drink. And then he smiles. “You know what? That’s kind of freeing. So, hell yeah, I’m going to sing karaoke, and you are going to sing with me.”
I drop my head to the table and mumble, “What have I done?”
Vivian just laughs.
After a few more drinks for liquid courage, Vivian chooses “Shallow” from A Star is Born for us to sing.
I have Bradley Cooper’s part, and he’s singing Lady Gaga’s part, and there is no way in hell we’re going to pull this off.
But at this point, I’d do anything Vivian wanted, which should worry me a bit.
I’m nervous as hell, but Vivian distracts me by picking apart the other performances. Our heads are together, giggling like a bunch of middle schoolers.
“Ooh,” Vivan whispers, like anyone could hear us over the music, “he’s hot.”
A beefy cowboy is on stage singing a country song. “No. He’s not,” I say, but Vivian gives me a look that calls me on my bullshit, and I sigh. “Okay, fine. He’s hot.”
Which prompts Vivian to lean in closer, his hand on my shoulder, his breath teasing my ear. “You’re hotter.”
My breath catches. I turn and see the desire in his eyes. We’re close. So close I can count the freckles across his nose. I could easily kiss him again, and suddenly, nothing seems more important than that.
“Are you all having a good time? Let’s welcome our next performers, Jonah Baker and Vivian Bu-ches-ne?”
Crap. My nerves are back. And I’m not happy with the emcee. “She butchered your name.”
He pats my arm as if to calm me down. “S’okay. No one ever gets it right.”
When we get to the stage, the announcer checks to see if we’re ready. I hold up my finger. “Hey, everyone,” I say into the mic. “I’m Jonah. But that’s not important. What’s important is that this is Vivian. Vivian Beauchesne.”
Vivian stares at me. Did he think I couldn’t pronounce his last name? I wink at him. His eyes shine with something warm and fond. It’s dark, so I might be mistaken.
And then the song starts and I have to focus since my part is first. I ignore everyone and sing straight to Vivian.
When Vivian starts to sing, I stare at him.
He’s not just good, which I expected, he’s fucking amazing.
How did I not know Vivian could sing like this?
And it’s not just singing, he’s performing.
Like he was born to it. Vivian raises his eyebrows, and I realize I’m supposed to be singing too.
I have a deeper voice. I like to live in that lower range.
Vivian has an amazing range. Our voices sound good together.
That might be the alcohol. All those other singers thought they were good too.
Our last chorus crescendos into something amazing, and then we’re done. The crowd cheers, but I barely hear them. Vivian is all I can see and hear.
“You’re amazing,” I say, not realizing the microphone is still.
He laughs, and there’s a little blush on his face that I find adorable.
“All right, you two love birds,” the emcee says, “give someone else a chance.” She waves us off the stage.
Lovebirds? But I don’t correct her. What am I going to say? Sorry, you’re wrong. We’re brothers? That would be weird.
But it doesn’t feel weird to want Vivian as much as I do. We’re stepbrothers in name only. We’ve never considered each other that way. At least I’ve never considered him a brother. It never quite fit.
Vivian’s face is radiant. Full of joy at doing something he clearly loves. All in all, it’s a good night. That is, until the fight breaks out.