11. Do the Thing
CHAPTER 11
DO THE THING
JOANIE
“ I can’t wait to see you up there. You’re going to slay,” Colin whispers in my ear. “No matter what, I’ve got your back.”
I huff out a laugh. “Pretty words from a guy who just got up on stage and nailed Tom Jones.” Colin’s eyebrows wing up. “Nailed a song by Tom Jones,” I correct.
“Shark, it’s just swagger. If you decide to sing, you get your cute butt up there and swagger your way through it. Who cares what you sound like? Everybody here loves you.”
I’ve been working my way up to the idea of singing one song on the karaoke stage, but my nerve is quickly slipping away. Especially if I have to follow my boyfriend, Mr. Vocal Chords of Velvet.
But Colin’s warm arm around my shoulders, his nose nuzzling at my ear and neck calm me a little. The next person to get up stumbles through an Amy Winehouse song but smiles the whole time. The crowd loves the performance. You can do this. Remember, swagger.
“Joanie Ferrell,” the emcee says into the mic. I swallow down a nervous laugh and stand up.
“That’s my Shark,” Colin says, squeezing my hand before I make my way to the stage. I didn’t tell anybody what song I picked or why I picked it.
As soon as I get up there, I try to wrestle my nerves into a manageable thing, but I realize I made a mistake with my song choice when I remember it has no accompanying music.
I picked Janis Joplin’s “Mercedes Benz” because it’s under two minutes and I foolishly thought her gravelly, bluesy style would be kind to novice singers. But this particular song is only lyrics with some clapping to keep the beat. Fuck, what do I know about keeping the beat? What do I know about singing? Sweat breaks out in uncomfortable places.
The lyrics start scrolling on the screen and there’s a couple of woohoos from the crowd. My choice is to either start singing or run off the stage and never come back to Foggy’s again. And since I love this place, I better start singing.
Within a few words I can hear my mom’s voice in my head. Too much, Joanie. You’re wasting these people’s time. You’re embarrassing yourself .
I fight a full-body cringe and look up to see Colin mouthing the words. He winks at me and gives me a thumbs up. Then I notice other people are singing along, lifting me up as I warble my way through this blessedly short song.
The voice in my head quiets, but not before I mentally tell my mom to go away. Who knows if that voice will ever come back, but as I sing the last word of the song with a fearsome voice crack, I know I’ll be able to shut it down before it takes over. Next time it starts to whisper in my ear maybe I’ll hum “Mercedes Benz,” or I’ll picture Colin’s face lit up with pride.
The song ends and the crowd claps and whoops like they’ve done for every other singer, good or bad. I jump off the stage on wobbly legs and Colin’s there, scooping me up and squeezing me tight.
“I’m so fucking proud of you. You did it,” he says into my ear.
“I really did,” I shout too loudly, but I don’t care. I’m me—loud, sometimes cringy, almost always inappropriate, and if people have a problem with it, that’s on them.
My body hums with adrenaline, a shaky giddiness making it hard to focus on anything but Colin’s arms around me and the beating of my heart. “We need to get out of here,” I say. I know exactly how I want to direct this energy.
He pulls back and looks at my face, studying me for a second. A quick nod, a giant grin, and I’m being carried out of Foggy’s, across the street to The Base’s parking lot, where he sets me down long enough to unlock his car.
If I’d known that I got to ride Colin’s cock in the backseat of his car for singing karaoke, I would’ve done it way sooner.