on! Sing!’ The crowd erupted into encouraging claps and whistles, and Emma glanced at the screen in front of her. Well, here goes nothing, she thought, opening her mouth.
Emma managed to squawk out a line, cringing at the feedback echoing through the system. Oh, God. ‘Come on, everyone join in!’ she shouted in desperation. Luckily for her, the crowd—amped up on alcohol—didn’t hesitate, yelling out the chorus enthusiastically.
Alice stepped forward to join her, and Emma couldn’t help trading a smile with her friend. Now that the audience was with them, this wasn’t so bad. She could cut loose, after all. She even added a little hip swivel for good measure, almost toppling over on her sandals. Okay, forget the hip swivelling.
By the time the song came to an end, Emma’s cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing. As Alice grabbed her hand and they bowed to the rapturous audience applause, Emma couldn’t remember when she’d last had such a great time. Singing!
Who would have thought?
CHAPTER EIGHT
W ill swigged his beer, watching the blonde girl onstage tug her terrified dark-haired partner into the light. He narrowed his eyes, thinking there was something familiar about the reticent woman. Had he met her before? Staring for a second as his mind ticked over, Will waited for the pieces to fall into place. Yes! He’d helped her at the shop yesterday; she was the one who’d wanted that particular blue shade. What was she doing here?
He took another gulp as the woman prompted the crowd to sing along to Madonna’s‘Like A Virgin’. The lads around him needed no encouragement, lasciviously hooting and hollering their way through the lyrics. What was the chance he’d run into her here, at karaoke dating of all places? Maybe she hadn’t known what she was in for, either.
Karaoke speed dating was the last thing Will had expected after accepting Chaz’s invitation. Who the hell arranged that for a stag night? When he’d turned up to meet his mates outside the club, Will had barely been able to believe his eyes when he caught sight of the flashing sign. Chaz had shrugged, explaining this would be a great way to get warmed up for the evening ahead, and that it was the groom-to-be’s last opportunity for any kind of dating—and a chance for the rest of them to pull desperate birds. The women attending these things were absolutely gagging for it, he’d said, and so the men had made their way into the dim bar.
As they’d searched for seats, Will had to admit the women did seem rather desperate, all done up in the same style Cherie had gone for: the look-at-me makeup and up-to-here dress. Her sexy appearance was what attracted him in the first place, as shallow as that was. But the relentless quest for perfection was tiring, especially when Cherie persuaded him into smart black suits with skinny trousers cutting into his balls—Will made a face—and narrow, shiny ties better suited to a club than a paint factory.
As the crowd sang along, Will recalled the moment he’d told Cherie that despite her efforts, he was less than perfect—and he’d likely get worse as the illness progressed. She’d come home to their flat clutching a dewy bottle of Sancerre, full of excitement about a large client she’d just bagged at the PR agency. He’d almost hated to burst her bubble, but he’d been desperate to tell someone, to make it real. Three days had passed since the doctor informed him of the diagnosis, and in those three days Will had gone through the motions as the knowledge nipped at his brain and tried to g ain en try.
‘I have MS. I have MS,’ he’d repeated a million times each day, but it still hadn’t sunk in. The only way he could try to face the reality of his future was by telling others … starting with his girlfriend.
Will had listened to Cherie’s excited babble about what she’d buy with the signing bonus—there was a new Chanel handbag just in at Harvey Nichol’s she had her eye
Emma managed to squawk out a line, cringing at the feedback echoing through the system. Oh, God. ‘Come on, everyone join in!’ she shouted in desperation. Luckily for her, the crowd—amped up on alcohol—didn’t hesitate, yelling out the chorus enthusiastically.
Alice stepped forward to join her, and Emma couldn’t help trading a smile with her friend. Now that the audience was with them, this wasn’t so bad. She could cut loose, after all. She even added a little hip swivel for good measure, almost toppling over on her sandals. Okay, forget the hip swivelling.
By the time the song came to an end, Emma’s cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing. As Alice grabbed her hand and they bowed to the rapturous audience applause, Emma couldn’t remember when she’d last had such a great time. Singing!
Who would have thought?
CHAPTER EIGHT
W ill swigged his beer, watching the blonde girl onstage tug her terrified dark-haired partner into the light. He narrowed his eyes, thinking there was something familiar about the reticent woman. Had he met her before? Staring for a second as his mind ticked over, Will waited for the pieces to fall into place. Yes! He’d helped her at the shop yesterday; she was the one who’d wanted that particular blue shade. What was she doing here?
He took another gulp as the woman prompted the crowd to sing along to Madonna’s‘Like A Virgin’. The lads around him needed no encouragement, lasciviously hooting and hollering their way through the lyrics. What was the chance he’d run into her here, at karaoke dating of all places? Maybe she hadn’t known what she was in for, either.
Karaoke speed dating was the last thing Will had expected after accepting Chaz’s invitation. Who the hell arranged that for a stag night? When he’d turned up to meet his mates outside the club, Will had barely been able to believe his eyes when he caught sight of the flashing sign. Chaz had shrugged, explaining this would be a great way to get warmed up for the evening ahead, and that it was the groom-to-be’s last opportunity for any kind of dating—and a chance for the rest of them to pull desperate birds. The women attending these things were absolutely gagging for it, he’d said, and so the men had made their way into the dim bar.
As they’d searched for seats, Will had to admit the women did seem rather desperate, all done up in the same style Cherie had gone for: the look-at-me makeup and up-to-here dress. Her sexy appearance was what attracted him in the first place, as shallow as that was. But the relentless quest for perfection was tiring, especially when Cherie persuaded him into smart black suits with skinny trousers cutting into his balls—Will made a face—and narrow, shiny ties better suited to a club than a paint factory.
As the crowd sang along, Will recalled the moment he’d told Cherie that despite her efforts, he was less than perfect—and he’d likely get worse as the illness progressed. She’d come home to their flat clutching a dewy bottle of Sancerre, full of excitement about a large client she’d just bagged at the PR agency. He’d almost hated to burst her bubble, but he’d been desperate to tell someone, to make it real. Three days had passed since the doctor informed him of the diagnosis, and in those three days Will had gone through the motions as the knowledge nipped at his brain and tried to g ain en try.
‘I have MS. I have MS,’ he’d repeated a million times each day, but it still hadn’t sunk in. The only way he could try to face the reality of his future was by telling others … starting with his girlfriend.
Will had listened to Cherie’s excited babble about what she’d buy with the signing bonus—there was a new Chanel handbag just in at Harvey Nichol’s she had her eye
Similar Books
