Going Nowhere (A Romantic Comedy Novella) (10 page)

I’d agreed to meet Sam at the lounge by eight o’clock, which meant I left my cabin alone when April still wasn’t ready at seven forty-five. Considering how I was trying to get Sam to see me as partner material, I didn’t want him to think I wasn’t punctual.

I made it to the bar and found Sam sitting in a corner booth by himself. He had two empty glasses in front of him and a third one full of an icy, rainbow-colored beverage. Sam picked up the glass and drank quickly, half of it disappearing before he put it down. Then he leaned back and laughed heartily at the guy on the stage, a handsome young man singing a song by Christina Aguilera.

“Hey, Sam. How’s it going?”

He nodded, bloodshot eyes bobbing disconcertedly. “Fantastic.”

I slid into the booth and signaled a waitress. “I’d better start drinking if I want to get my karaoke on.”

Head tilted towards me, Sam gave me an appraising look. “What do you mean by that?”

“Um, to lubricate the old vocal cords?” I ordered a mojito from the waitress and turned back to Sam. “Been here long?”

He counted his empty glasses. “I don’t know. About fifteen minutes.”

I took a deep breath. “Can’t wait to hear you sing. I bet you’re a spectacular performer.”

With a leering smile, he replied, “Oh, I am.”

“On stage,” I said, weary of the overt sexual innuendos. I should be able to suck up in a more dignified manner.

Fortunately, Sam was still smiling. “You think so?”

“I can tell that you have a wonderful singing voice by listening to you speak.”

“Thank you, Kate. You have a good ear. Many have told me I have the voice of a young Sinatra.”

“It’s really too bad that American Idol has an age limit, because you’d win for sure.” I nodded with satisfaction. “You even have the right look.”

Sam adjusted the collar on his designer shirt and straightened his tie. “I’ve heard that before.”

Probably from the last person he made partner. “What are you going to sing?”

“Haven’t decided yet. What are
you
going to sing?”

“Me?” The waitress who was gently placing a mojito on a cocktail napkin in front of me jumped at my outburst, nearly sloshing the drink into my lap. “I think... nothing?”

Sam put down his drink. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those vain, uptight Victorians?”

Shoot. I sipped before answering. “Not at all. I can’t wait to get up there and sing my heart out!”

He shook his head. “Then why did you say you wanted to sing nothing?”

“Oh!” I laughed loudly. “You thought I meant... how funny!”

His forehead was wrinkled like a sharpei’s. “I don’t get it.”

“I meant that I was going to sing a song called ‘Nothing!’”

“That
is
funny.”

“Isn’t it?” I asked, inserting more fake laughs. “The song is called ‘Nothing,’ but you thought I meant I wasn’t going to sing
anything
. Ha ha ha!”

Sam laughed with me, then stopped suddenly. “Wait a minute. I’ve never heard of that song.”

“No?”

“Who’s it by?”

I dug my nails into the imitation leather banquet cushion. “Who is it by?”

“Yes. Who... is... it... by?”

“Metallica.” I exhaled with relief, having landing on something fairly accurate-sounding. “The full title is actually ‘Nothing Else Matters.’”

His head jerked up. “I wouldn’t have taken you for metalhead.”

I downed the rest of my mojito. “Who isn’t a closet headbanger?”

“Indeed.”

The current singer looked like a jailbait teenager, wearing cut-offs and a belly-baring shirt, but since the club was limited to cruise guests twenty-one and over, her looks were obviously deceiving. She was singing Pat Benatar’s “Hit Me With Your Best Shot,” and was actually pretty good. I guess karaoke wasn’t such a bad thing if you actually had a nice voice. Unfortunately, some people’s screams were more pleasant than my vocal attempts.

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

I swiveled my head to look up at Max, an unintentional smile coming to my lips. “Long time, no see.”

He was wearing a light blue shirt with a long-sleeved dark blue Oxford buttoned over it and khaki carpenter pants. His dark hair was slightly mussed, as though he’d taken a nap or gone to bed with someone. I let my gaze fall to the table and tried not to imagine myself in that predicament.

“Want to slide over?”

“Of course.” I got up so that he could sit on the inside. I needed to keep an escape route open. “Are you going to participate?”

“I don’t know. You?”

“Looks like it.”

“You don’t sound too thrilled.” He leaned closer to me and whispered, “I don’t think they force you to get on stage. It really is optional.”

I played with the stem of one of Sam’s glasses. “I know. Sam kind of convinced me to get involved.”

Max shrugged. “Well, I promise not to laugh too hard.”

“Thanks so much.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He pinched me lightly, and I struggled to hold my own. I poked him in gut‌—‌what little gut he had.

“I hope you and April don’t gang up on me when she gets here,” he said. “I bruise easily. There she is. Better scoot over.”

My neck snapped up so fast that I considered suing Max’s insurance company for whiplash. April was walking into the club. I’d had to leave the cabin before she was dressed, so I was curious to see what she’d put on. She was wearing low-slung leather pants and a tank top. Though she was my best friend, I still hated her a little for being able to pull it off so well.

April sped up when she saw me, but I could swear that her gaze focused on Max. “Is there room for one more in this booth?”

Sam jolted to his feet. “Of course.”

April sat next to Max, and then Sam slid back in to close the gap.

“Max Walker,” she said. “Isn’t this a pleasure?”

“Not really,” he said cheekily. “You’re distracting me from the singer.”

Sam was staring at April’s lips as they moved, and licking his lips every time she tilted her head or ran her fingers through her blonde hair. He cleared his throat.

April turned to look at him. “Hi, boss.”

Sam’s smile got larger and, as April leaned closer to him, it was doubtful that his smile was the only thing growing. “You’re looking great again.”

I looked at April warily. “Again?”

Max abruptly called the waitress over. “What’s everyone drinking?”

April pointed at Sam’s Rainbow Volcano. “That looks pretty good.”

Sam perked up. “A round of Volcanoes!”

The waitress piled the empty glasses on her tray, then left to fill our drink order. Sam never removed his eyes from April. He slapped the table with the palm of his hand. “Who wants to go first?”

I tried to sink into the seat cushions, and I noticed that Max wasn’t volunteering, either.

April, on the other hand, was kind enough to reply. “You mean to sing?”

“Yeah! You want to do a duet with me?”

“I think I need to get a feel for the whole karaoke scene before I jump in.”

Sam’s gaze turned on me.

“I have to go to the bathroom.” I moved down the banquet and almost escaped when someone gripped my arm. I looked back over my shoulder.

Max was grinning. “Where ya going, Kate?”

“I think I drank too much.”

He shook his head. “Ah, but it’s time to pay the piper.”

“I can’t. I’ve changed my mind.”

The waitress came back with our drinks. Sam grabbed his, drank half of it, then slammed it on the table. “You’re a bunch of wusses. I’ll go.”

“You’ll be the best, anyway,” I said. “You’ll make us all look bad.”

Sam nodded, exited the booth, and made for the stage.

Max laughed. “That’s one way of shutting Sam up. Appeasing his ego.”

“Yeah,” I said, laughing with him as though it had been a joke and not another pathetic attempt to ingratiate myself to Sam.

Sam climbed onto the stage and marched right up the DJ. His voice wasn’t audible from where we were sitting, but he was speaking very quickly and moving his hands in an extremely agitated manner.

The DJ had to step back, even though the music console separated them.

Sam stepped up to the microphone and started tapping it. “Testing, testing.”

The DJ shook his head.

Sam ignored him. “Testing, testing.”

Waving his fist at Sam, the DJ abruptly turned the music on and the opening strains to what sounded like a rap song blared through the club.

I turned to Max. “That’s not ‘Mo’ Money, Mo’ Problems,’ is it?”

“I’m afraid so. It’s his favorite.”

Sam started to do a little dance, moving his hips from side to side. He was totally out of sync with the rhythm of the music. He looked like one of those hula dancer dolls on the dashboard of a pick-up truck going a hundred miles an hour. “Who’s sexy, who’s not sexy? Tell me who bought, my album in the stores...”

“That’s just wrong,” Max said.

“I couldn’t agree with you more.” I shook my head. “He’s your friend. Can you explain that?”

“Some things can’t be explained.”

April whipped the umbrella out of her Rainbow Volcano. “I think I know how Sam feels. These drinks are making me want to imitate Christina Aguilera.”

I sipped my own drink. “‘Dirrty’ Christina or ‘Genie in a Bottle’ Christina?”

“Definitely ‘Dirrty’ Christina.”

Max grinned. “Then I suggest you keep drinking and start planning your entrance.”

I growled and gave April the hairy eyeball until Sam’s high-pitched chorus demanded my attention. He was now dancing energetically across the small stage. He reached the end of his microphone tether countless times, backtracked, then danced to the end again. “The mo’ money I got, the worse it seems...”

“That doesn’t sound right,” April said.

I started to notice the reactions of the other people in the club. Some were laughing, but good-naturedly. They thought Sam was being intentionally funny. Only we knew otherwise.

Sam spun around, then bent his knees while spreading them apart and bounced up and down a few times. Then he started to pace again, bobbing his head to the beat.

“I can’t watch,” I said, turning back to Max.

Max had been saying something quietly to April while she nodded. She had a pleased look on her face. Max looked up when I spoke to him. “I’m surprised you lasted this long.”

I shrugged, sucking more of my sweet, icy drink through its neon pink straw.

Sam’s song finished and he skipped off the stage. There was some undeserved applause, again from people that likely thought it was a comedic act rather than a real attempt to emulate.

He shuffled back to our table. “How was I?”

Max mumbled something unintelligible while nodding and focusing on his drink.

Sam eyed the ten inches of seat left on April’s side of the booth.

“Why don’t you sit next to me?” I suggested, smiling and moving over.

“That’s all right. Wouldn’t want to crowd you,” he said, shaking his head at the thought. Instead, he forced himself into the small space next to April.

April looked at him, elbows tight against her body, upper arms squeezing her breasts together so that they were practically popping out of her tank top. “Good job, Sam. You could have a real career in rap music.”

Staring intently at April’s chest, Sam nodded.

I leaned across the table. “I thought you were great, Sam. I swear, you sounded just like Biggie Smalls.”

He preened. “You think so? I was pretty good, wasn’t I?”

“Pretty good? That was incredible!”

I leaned back against the cushions, wondering where I’d dropped my self-respect. A stiff breeze must have carried it off the last time I was loitering on the top deck of the ship.

Sam was waving excitedly at me. “Good news, Kate! While I was up there, I noticed they had your song.”

“What?”

“They have ‘Nothing Else Matters,’ like you wanted.”

I knew Max had started to pay attention again, so I tried to appear as normal as possible under the circumstances. So what if I couldn’t feel my legs?

“Isn’t it great?” Sam was saying, the sleeves of his shirt soaking up the condensation on the table.

“Perfect!” I exclaimed a little too enthusiastically.

Max looked at me as though I was wearing my underwear on my head.

“Why don’t you go now?” Sam pointed at the stage. “No one’s on stage!”

“Okay!” I jumped up. What did I have to lose anyway? Max was completely ignoring me. Not that that I would be jealous if he and April hooked up. I disapproved purely on the grounds of compatibility. And I didn’t like being ignored, even by men who I had absolutely no interest in.

I hurried up to the DJ before I lost my nerve. “‘Nothing Else Matters,’ by Metallica, please.”

I climbed onto the stage and tried not to look at anyone. The music started. One of the good things about the song I’d chosen was the instrumental beginning. It gave me a chance to get my bearings. I felt a little weird standing there, so I swayed from side to side to the rhythm of the music.

Then the lyrics came up on the screen and I started to sing quietly. It was probably more like speaking with a slight melodic lilt.

I caught Max’s eye and smiled weakly. He nodded encouragingly.

I tried not to stutter and kept my gaze on the lyrics screen, even though I knew the words without assistance. After the next few lines, I started to feel more comfortable. It wasn’t that bad, I supposed. No one was heckling me or laughing hysterically. I could do this.

The next part was a guitar solo, so once again I tried to move subtly to the music. At this point, the movement was making me a little dizzy. I briefly imagined how I might look to the other people in the room. My ‘subtle swaying’ might be their ‘drunken wobbling.’ Oh well.

The lyrics were starting again. So I sang. The next verse I sung louder, and some people clapped with appreciation. I was looking at Max then.

The confidence in me grew and started to overtake my common sense. I started the next part with even more gusto. “Yeah!”

The second guitar solo started and it was even better than the first. It was the kind of guitar playing that gets you out of your seat. I, however, was already standing.