The Funeral Singer (19 page)

Andrea laughed. “It certainly does. Mel, I understand your concert last night at the 9:30 Club sold out. What’s next for you and your band?”

I bit my lip, jumpstarting my voice. “Um, well, we’re doing some work in the recording studio right now. We’re finishing up a few songs that, believe it or not, have Mick Nolan’s vocals and keyboards on them. We debuted those last night, and the crowd seemed to love them. We’re also planning a summer tour schedule, but we don’t have the details on that yet.”

Andrea nodded. “Sounds exciting. Be sure to keep us posted.” She took a small step backward and motioned toward me. “You look fabulous. Before you go, give us a twirl so we can see that dress.”

I dropped Zed’s hand and turned, stumbling ever so slightly when my heel caught on a crack in the pavement.

“Lovely. You two have a great time tonight.”

“Thank you.” Zed and I said it in unison, both nodding toward the camera as we turned to leave, just like those celebrity couples on TV.

Lana and Bruno had disappeared inside, so I stopped in the hotel foyer. I needed to catch my breath, and I was dying to kiss Zed. Our first kiss as a real item. I laughed. “Zelanie? That’s awesome.”

“You liked that?”

“Loved it.” I kissed the scar on his chin and then moved up to his earlobe.

He shied away and then pressed his lips hard on mine. We’d kissed a handful of times before, but never like this. No more wondering whether this was for real, no more fearing I might be taken for a fool, no more standing just out of reach of something I wanted so bad but couldn’t quite grab. Tonight, I had it. Tonight I had Zed, I had The Grime, I had a TV news crew running after me, I had nearly 2 million Facebook fans and I had what was surely going to be the hottest dress at prom.

Tonight was my night.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

The number of people who were surprised to see Lana and me walk in with Bruno and Zed was exactly zero. The only question for some of them had been which one of us was dating which. A bunch of people had brought in the posters I’d signed a couple of weeks ago so they could get more signatures. The crowd around Zed and Bruno grew so thick, Lana and I decided to escape to the dance floor together for a while.

Somewhere in the middle of “I Got a Feeling,” Pete walked in. Alone.

“Where’s Sadie?” Lana shouted over the music.

“No idea. Pete and I still aren’t talking.”

“Haven’t seen them together the past few days.”

I raised my eyebrows. She was keeping track. “Why don’t you go talk to him?”

“No. That would be weird.”

“How would that be weird? You’re his friend. You’re both here in the same room. You talk. It’s not that weird.”

“What do I say?”

Oh. My. God. Lana was nervous. About a boy. About Pete. “Tell him he looks good in his tux. Tell him it’s supposed to be a nice day tomorrow. Tell him you’re concerned about the rain forests of South America. Just go talk to him.”

Lana seemed to consider this, but then her eyes widened. “Maybe later. Look who’s here.” She whirled me around and pointed toward the punch station, where Andrea Little stood talking to her cameraman. Why were they still here? I grabbed Lana’s hand and we headed over to them. “Hey, Andrea. What’s up?”

She took a sip of punch before answering. “We decided to stick around for the crowning. This piece was supposed to be fluff—a filler for the eleven o’clock show—but with this ‘Zelanie’ announcement, it’s real news now. Maybe even national news. I figured it would make a nice cap to the story if we end with a shot of you being crowned.”

“But what if I don’t win?”

Andrea smiled. “Then you’d better be a gracious loser.”

Her cameraman snorted.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, if you’re gracious, we don’t bother using it. We end the story as is, with the local starlet and her new beau walking together into prom. But if you’re not, well, that would change the story completely, wouldn’t it?”

I felt a chill run up my spine. “I suppose it would.”

Lana threw her arm around me. “Yeah, well, that’s not going to happen, because she’s going to win. Come on, I love this song.” She hated J-Lo.

As we turned to go, Andrea stopped us and shoved something into my hand. “Here. You might want to take some of these.”

A box of Tic Tacs. Crap. When we got onto the dance floor, I showed Lana. “She knows I’ve been drinking.” I breathed into my hand. “Do I smell like alcohol?”

Lana rolled her eyes. “No, you do not smell like alcohol. Anyway, who cares? It’s not like you’re wasted. ‘Teen Has a Drink Before Prom.’ Now there’s a huge headline.”

I glanced back at Andrea, who was posing with a group of girls for a photo. Lana was right. This was still my night. Andrea Little wasn’t going to ruin it. I popped a Tic Tac into my mouth and sang along with J-Lo about feeling lucky, “like a four-leaf clover.”

***

They served chicken for dinner, along with polenta, my favorite, but I couldn’t eat. Finally it came time for the crowning ceremony. Hannah had on a pink, airy dress, exactly like what I’d wanted to wear. She was a fairy tale princess, with shiny blonde hair, glowing makeup and the most adorable pink-and-black sandals I’d ever seen. Molly’s dress was … irrelevant, because all anyone could possibly have noticed were her breasts bursting out of it.

The three of us lined up on a small stage next to the DJ station. Annie Jayson, our class president, leaned into the microphone. “Let’s give a hand to all three of our nominees.”

I peered out at my table. Zed and Lana both smiled and waved. Bruno wore a bemused expression. He seemed distracted, perhaps by Hannah. Or more likely, Molly. Lana blew me a kiss. I blew her one back, and for a split second, I didn’t care whether I won.

Then Annie announced the second runner-up. Molly. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least I hadn’t come in last.

Hannah grabbed my hand. “Good luck.” Her hand was warm and dry. I knew mine had to be cold and clammy.

“And the first runner-up for Edison High Junior Class Prom Queen is … ” Annie gave a dramatic pause. “Hannah Massey.”

Hannah squealed again and gave me a hug, but her eyes said it all. A couple of months ago I was a total nobody, and now somehow I’d waltzed into the spotlight and stolen her crown. She was pissed. And it felt great.

A zillion bulbs flashed as Zed joined me onstage for the crowning. “Congratulations, babe.” He slipped his arm around my waist and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, then turned to pose for the cameras. Amazing. I was prom queen, and I was now really, truly, and honestly Zed Logan’s girlfriend. I spotted Andrea Little and her cameraman heading toward the door and smiled. I was so glad they’d filmed it. Now the whole world would know.

Back at our table, Bruno broke out a small flask of tequila and we all discreetly spiked our punch. Zed lifted his glass. “Here’s to the most beautiful and talented prom queen in the world.”

Lana hooted. “I’ll drink to that.”

“Love the tiara,” Bruno said, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

I rolled my eyes. He’d always thought I was a diva. Now he thought I was a princess, too. Lana had it so, so wrong. If Bruno wasn’t sneering, he was smirking.
That
was how he looked at me.

Lana slammed her glass down. “Let’s dance.”

Zed shook his head. “Sorry. Bass players don’t dance.”

“Oh, please.” Lana stood up. “Bass players have the best sense of rhythm. Well, except for maybe drummers. Anyway, it’s prom. Everybody dances at prom.”

“You and Bruno go ahead.” I scooted my chair closer to Zed’s. “I’ll get him out there after a couple more drinks.”

Lana grabbed Bruno’s hand and pulled him onto the dance floor, where they quickly disappeared into the sea of bodies.

I grabbed the tequila from under Bruno’s seat and poured both Zed and myself a shot, then another.

Zed pulled the flask away from me. “Easy, girl.”

“Just trying to loosen you up,” I teased. “Didn’t you dance at your own prom?”

“Never had one.”

“You didn’t?”

Zed shook his head. “Dropped out and finished my classes online.”

“Oh, of course.” The Grime would have been at their prime Zed’s junior and senior years. “It must have been weird to be so famous in high school.”

Zed raised one eyebrow. “You think?”

“Right.” I giggled. I was famous, just like Zed and Bruno. Sometimes I forgot that. I poured one more shot. “Last round,” I promised. My head felt fuzzy and I was starting to slur my words, but I didn’t care. The past few months I’d been one big ball of stress. Tonight I wanted to chill and have fun. I took another quick shot and motioned toward the dance floor. “Ready?”

Zed shook his head. “You go ahead. I’ll watch.”

“Oh, come on.” I slipped my hand under his cumber bund and leaned over to whisper in his ear. “One dance. It’s easy. You just get out there and do what feels good.”

Zed laughed. “Something tells me you’re already feeling good.”

He leaned in to kiss me, but I shied away and grabbed both his hands. “Let’s go.”

As I stood, the tequila rushed to my head, and I had to grab onto the table to steady myself. Zed and I pushed slowly through the pulsing crowd. I held onto him as the beat of the music, the smell of a dozen brands of perfume and the silky feel of my dress all blurred into one crazy, mixed-up sensation.

At last we found Lana and Bruno. I threw my arms around Lana’s neck and kissed her cheek. “Hey.” I touched my fingertips to my mouth. “My lips are numb.”

“You okay?” Lana looked worried. I was usually the one warning her not to overdo it.

“I’m great.” I waved my hands in the air and sang and danced and let loose for the first time in what felt like forever.

The DJ slowed it down for the next song, a “Put Your Records On” dance mix, and I leaned into Zed and closed my eyes.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Never better,” I said. And I meant it. Zed’s hands on my back felt strong and solid and sure as we swayed together. For someone who didn’t dance, he sure felt good out there on the floor.

Partway through the song, Bruno cut in. “How about we switch for a minute?”

Zed seemed surprised but nodded. As Bruno took my hand in his, Lana shot me a wide-eyed I-told-you-so look.

Where Zed’s hands had steadied me, Bruno’s shot an electric current through me. The general numbness I’d been feeling vanished, and the buzz in my head intensified. I wobbled in my heels and had to lean into his chest for balance.

Bruno placed one hand on the small of my back while the other fingered a rhinestone at my waist. My body felt like it had been set to “vibrate.” What was he doing? Was he nervous? Flirting? Coming on to me? Then it hit me. He was trying to fix the crooked stone. Of course. Leave it to Bruno to zero in on the flaw.

“I know I’m not perfect.” I said.

Bruno’s eyes met mine. “Where did that come from?”

“The other day you said to me, ‘No one is perfect. Not even the Funeral Singer.’ I know that.” I could hear my own voice getting louder and louder. I sounded like one of those women who would stumble into the funeral home to proclaim their sympathies after a few too many drinks.

“Shh.” Bruno put a finger to his lips.

“I never said I was perfect,” I half-shouted, half-whispered.

The couples nearby had begun to stare. Still dancing, Bruno guided me gently away from the floor and into a darkened corner. “I’ve never been a big fan of perfection,” he said. “People’s flaws are usually what make them interesting.”

“Oh, really? So what are my flaws?” I asked.

Bruno shook his head. “No, no, no. There’s no way I can answer that question without getting into trouble.”

“Okay, then, how about this: What makes me interesting?”

Bruno grinned. “Nice try. Tell you what. I’ll tell you your flaws if you tell me mine. You first.”

“Oh, that’s easy.” I began counting on my fingers. “You’re arrogant, you’re conceited, you’re hyper … hyper … What’s that word? Hypercritical! Also, you think you’re God’s gift to cameras. You think you know me when in reality you don’t know a single thi—”

Bruno leaned over and kissed me. The room tilted away as his lips pressed hard against mine. I had the sensation of falling off a cliff. Down, down, down, hurtling through space, until at the last moment, his hands cradled my waist, saving me from smashing into the rocks below.

I pulled away and gasped for breath. “What was that?”

“You … you wouldn’t shut up.” Bruno looked as surprised at what he’d done as I was. “I … Forget it. It was a mistake.”

I backed away, the sensation of his lips, his tongue, his hands still searing through me. “Yes, it was a mistake.” I was with Zed, and I was happy with Zed. Ecstatic even. Bruno had no right to barge in and confuse everything. “Stay away from me, okay? Stay away.”

Bruno’s eyes hardened. “Got it.”

“Good.” I turned to go but then wheeled back around. “Let’s add cocky and foolish to that list.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

I stepped back onto the dance floor as a Pink/Kanye West mashup blared over the sound system. I found Zed “I Don’t Dance” Logan surrounded by a gaggle of girls and Lana talking to Pete. Wonderful. So here I stood, alone.

“Hey.” Bruno grabbed my arm.

I pulled away. “I told you to stay away from me,” I shouted over the music.

“I will,” he said. “But I didn’t get my turn.”

“What?”

“My turn. To tell you your flaws. You had no trouble reeling off everything that’s wrong with me, so I thought I’d return the favor.”

I crossed my arms. “By all means. Let’s hear it.”

Bruno held up a finger, imitating me. “One. You’re a brat. You make it all about Melanie Martin—everything, everywhere, all the time. Whether you’re the Funeral Singer or … ” He reached up and plucked the tiara off my head. “ … Junior Prom Queen. Even The Grime is now ‘your band.’ After one freaking show.”

So Bruno was pissed that Andrea Little had called The Grime my band. I grinned. “First of all, I never said that. Those were Andrea’s words. Second of all, so what? It
is
my band, as much it is yours. Half the fans at that ‘one freaking show’ were there to see me.”