Just Us Box Set

And This Is Ed-6

At eleven o’clock, karaoke began. Barb started out the contest with a rousingly awful rendition of “One Way or Another.” Blondie would have smacked her ass for the presumption. With such an awesome beginning, it had to get better, right? Er, no.

My ears seemingly bled for the next three songs, then my eyes were scarred for life when a woman got up on stage and proceeded to pretend fellatio on the microphone while croaking out a Madonna tune. She must be popular at parties.

“Jesus, God, tell me it gets better.” Titus’s pained voice startled me. He’d come to stand on my left and I hadn’t even noticed, too horrified by the prospect before us on the stage. And this was without alcohol! Unless someone had snuck some in on the sly. I hoped the woman wasn’t really like this sober.

I shook my head. “Nope, sorry to inform you. This seems to be as good as it gets.”

“And this is without alcohol?”

I laughed. “I was just thinking that.” A minute later, I asked, “Weren’t you playing sports or something? Where are your buddies?” I tried not to be envious. After all, I couldn’t compete.

He shrugged. “I left them arguing over who scored the most points. I’m here to have fun, not b***h and moan. Though, if this goes on any longer…Hey,” he said, turning to me, eyes sharpening their focus. “I think we should go up there and do a song together.”

I recoiled in horror. “What? No way! I’m leaving at noon. I’m sure the list is filled up anyway.”

He seemed determined now and would not be swayed. “Anything would be better than this, I believe, and I’m not a great singer, but I was in chorus in school and can hold a tune. What about you?”

“Well, yeah, I can sing a little, but…”

He clapped me on the shoulder. “Great! Tenor? Bass?”

“High tenor. But I haven’t said ‘yes.’”

Titus dragged me behind him anyway, heading for a smiling Barb and her perky signup sheet. “I’m a tenor, too. You like Justin Timberlake?”

Fuck yeah. “Maybe.”

“Me, too.” I listened as he charmed us onto the list, then pushed me on stage before him. I turned to bolt, but he grabbed me by the forearm and dragged me back. “Don’t even think about it. I’m not doing this without you.”

I pouted and crossed my arms. “I’m performing under protest.”

He smiled wickedly. “You’re doing it anyway.”

“Whatever.”

The strains of “Drink You Away” came over the speakers, and I was lost. This song spoke to me on so many levels. I gave in and let music wash over me. Titus sang the first few lines. He had a good voice, strong, no vibrato, clear and solid. I liked that. I started to harmonize with him, and noticed his shock out of the corner of my eye.

I kept on going, pitching in with highs and lows, taking the lead sometimes and then coming in under him. We made a good team, and where before there wasn’t a crowd, it seemed like everyone was now in front of the stage, cheering us on.

I could see the managers who always got on my case looking astonished at the edge of the crowd. I didn’t care. The song would be over soon, and I could leave and get on with my Saturday. I hoped it wouldn’t cause me any problems at work next week.

The audience cheered when we were done, then I beat a hasty retreat, practically running to my truck since it was noon.

“Ed! Wait up, man!” It was Titus, and I really didn’t want to talk to him right now. I reached my truck seconds later, unlocked the door, and hopped in. But before I could even close the door, Titus grabbed it. “What’s your hurry, buddy?”

“It’s past midday. I’ve got a previous engagement.” I tried to close the door but he wouldn’t let me.

He frowned. “Are you always this…difficult to talk to?”

“You got what you wanted. What the f**k else is there?”

“We won, doofus. And you had fun, right?”

“I’m late.” This time, when I yanked on the door, he let go. I started the car and peeled out of the park, not daring to look back.