Chapter 6 #2
“And now, please welcome Raaaaaachel to the stage,” the host booms, his voice rising like a wrestling announcer hyping a championship match.
A buzzing, electric-ants sensation prickles against my skin.
Rachel? As in: my mom? She’s the first one to volunteer .
. . ? Mom knows she’s tone deaf, refers to herself as the worst singer in the entire state of California, and has confessed to lip synching “Happy Birthday” when a crowd sings to me or Gia because she doesn’t want to curse us on our special days.
That woman is going to sing for the entire restaurant full of people?
Holy tequila. That’s one way to clear a room.
Mom’s face turns red. “Me?” she asks loudly.
The karaoke host grins widely at her. “Rachel Callen?”
Mom nods and a small wave of relief washes over me. She hasn’t switched to her maiden name.
“Yes, don’t be shy.” The karaoke host gestures for her to join him onstage.
Mom shoots a look at Nicholas, who holds up both hands as if to say, “Don’t look at me.” So, if Mom didn’t text in a song and Nicholas apparently had nothing to do with it, who signed her up?
Mom gets up, slowly pushes in her chair, and trudges toward the stage.
She hesitantly climbs the stairs and joins the host on the stage.
She says something to him, but he just smiles again and shakes his head.
Mom cautiously takes the mic and a familiar intro resounds.
The screen lights up with the title before I can put my finger on it. “Unfaithful” by Rihanna.
A tingle of satisfaction runs up my spine even though Mom’s blushing an even deeper shade of crimson and looks like she wants the floor to open up and swallow her.
Someone here is savage.
But besides me and Nicholas, who even knows who she is? We’re hours away from home. And honestly? If I’m here to sabotage her relationship, why didn’t I think of this idea first?
I glance at Nicholas. He rubs his temples and begins slowly surveying the room with a scowl on his face. Well, it seems like he’s definitely off the suspect list.
The only other person who stood out to me today is the angry man, so I turn to look at him, but a waitress is clearing his untouched plate of food and glass from the table he was sitting at and he’s nowhere to be seen.
Bingo. Who the hell is that guy? And why does he want to expose her?
Did Gia hire someone to help me? That would explain him taking photos.
Documenting evidence. Very private investigator-esque.
I wouldn’t put it past her to doubt my sabotage skills. Or any of my skills for that matter.
I send her a text.
U hired someone? He’s kinda hot but scary-mad.
Her reply comes in right away.
Who’s hot? And no. What r u talking about?
If Gia did hire someone, she’d admit it and probably brag about her connections, so I believe her. But if she didn’t hire him, who is he? Does Mom have a second, angry, and much younger lover? Unfortunately, at this point, I wouldn’t be shocked.
Mom’s standing onstage as the words light up on the screen. She has her mouth open as if she’s trying to decide whether to play along and sing it, or walk off the stage and leave the buffet crowd with some unanswered questions.
She chooses the latter. With a bright red face, she rushes off the stage and back to her table with her head bowed.
She slumps in her seat. Nicholas leans over and whispers something to her and they both start looking around the room.
I pull on the brim of my hat so it sits lower on my face.
Then Mom frowns and leans over the table to say something to Nicholas.
He scowls at her and stands up, leaving the restaurant with her trailing behind.
“I didn’t mean that,” she cries. “Nicholas! Wait!”
If I had to guess, I think she accused him of signing her up for the song, which I still don’t think is the case because he looked equally uncomfortable.
“Everyone gets cold feet sometimes,” the karaoke host says into the microphone, flashing the chuckling crowd a knowing grin. “Next up we have Samantha.”
I get up and ease my chair back into place, waiting just long enough so I’m not right on their heels, but not so long that I lose track of where they’re going.
Nicholas is still a few feet ahead, with my mom speed-walking behind.
They rush along the winding stone pathway past a fountain and a wooden sculpture of a lion.
They stop outside of the Courtyard Villas.
Now at least I know where their room is.
Mom’s talking, and Nicholas nods before slipping his arm around her shoulders.
She leans into him without hesitation. A moment later, his hand moves to the small of her back, and he either kisses the top of her head or murmurs something into her hair—I can’t quite tell which.
I creep closer, until I’m behind the wall of the building, peeking out at them, and they’re just around the corner, a mere twenty feet in front of me.
“I would never humiliate you,” he says. “There must be someone here who wants to mess with us.” He pulls her in close and she rests her head on his shoulder.
“And I don’t know who would have that pathetic of a life to do something like that,” Mom says softly.
I swallow a small laugh. Honestly, if I’d thought of it first, I probably would’ve done the same. But I can’t take the credit, unfortunately. I just need to find the guy who pulled it off—and ask what his deal is. After I thank him.
“I’m sorry,” Mom continues, looking up at Nicholas. “I thought maybe you were playing a joke on me. But I should never have accused you of that.”
“It’s okay. It was definitely confusing. For both of us.” Nicholas leans in, cupping Mom’s chin gently. “Is this our first fight?” he asks, his voice low and husky.
Mom arches into him, a flicker of something electric in her eyes. “I think it is.”
He smiles. “Well then, I guess it’s time for the fun part.” He tilts his head, watching her closely. Mom nods eagerly and the only thing that would make her look more enthusiastic would be if she rubbed her hands together and giggled in anticipation.
They disappear into the room, and I have to swallow a wave of nausea because at this distance, how can I not picture the makeup sex occurring on the other side of the wall right now?
“Shit,” a deep voice says from behind me.
I jump and spin around. The angry man is standing there, the professional-looking camera strapped across his chest, somehow looking even more irritated than before. Okay, this is officially getting weird.
Did someone hire a hitman?