My body can’t physically contain these feelings any longer. This sexy beast of a man’s got me hook, line, and sinker. I’m gonna tell him how I feel when we’re alone later tonight. I can’t take it anymore. I love him and I’ve got to tell him so, come what may.
Sarah leaps up suddenly, pulling gently on Jonas’ muscled arm. “You ready, hunky monkey boyfriend?” she asks. “The alcohol has started to kick in—it’s time for you to pay your debt.”
Jonas grimaces—but Sarah’s persistent. She pulls on his arm again, flashing a seductive smile. “Come on, love,” she purrs. “You lost fair and square and you know it.” She leans into Jonas’ ear again and whispers something, and Jonas begrudgingly stands and lets her lead him toward the stage.
Josh flashes me a look of pure astonishment. “You were right.”
“Of course, I was. I’m always right when it comes to two things,” I say.
Josh chuckles. “Men and PR, I know, Party Girl.” He gazes at his brother for a beat. “Look at him,” he says, motioning toward Jonas and Sarah taking the stage. “God, he must really love that girl.”
37
JOSH
This is officially the most entertaining thing I’ve witnessed in my entire life.
Jonas and Sarah are doing a God-awful rendition of “I Got You Babe” by Sonny and Cher. Sarah’s actually pretty good—she really comes alive up there. But Jonas is so fucking terrible, the entire bar is on its feet, cheering him on. But why am I surprised? Even when Jonas sucks at something, people love him for it. In fact, now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure people love Jonasespeciallywhen he sucks at something, not despite it.
How Sarah gets my brother to do any of the shit she gets him to do is beyond me. But there he is, standing in front of strangers, singing this ridiculous song to her at the top of his off-key lungs. And, by God, he actually looks like he’s having fun. Well, fun mixed with pain—utter, tortured, unthinkable pain. But with Jonas, that’s just about the best anyone could ever hope for.
I put my hand into my pocket and finger the edges of the poker chip sitting there. Now would be a fantastic time methinks. We’re all nice and loose. I look at my watch. We’re not due at the laser tag emporium for another hour. All is going perfectly according to plan.
“Excuse me for a second,” I say, unclasping my hand from Kat’s. She doesn’t bat an eyelash—apparently too enthralled with the train wreck unfurling onstage to care about where the heck I’m going.
I move across the room to the karaoke DJ, wading through clapping, screaming, hooting people, all of them hurling love with both arms at Jonas and Sarah, and make my way to the DJ.
“Hey, man,” I say. “You ready to do that thing we talked about?”
“Whenever you are, bro.”
“Okay. How about you do one song after Sonny and Cher for whoever else and then we launch into my thing?”
The DJ grabs the piece of paper I slipped him earlier (along with a fat tip that ensured there’d be no waiting all night long for anyone in our group). “This still what you want me to say?” he asks, looking at the short script I gave him.
“Yeah. Hey, can you hand me that scarf I stashed earlier?”
“Sure.” He grabs the scarf behind him. “Fucking hilarious, man,” he says, handing it to me covertly. “You think she’s gonna ham it up? Or will she chicken out?”
“Oh, my girlfriend never chickens out about anything—it’s not in her DNA. Did you see her doing ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’? She’ll ham it up for sure.”
“Cool. Okay. One more song after Sonny and Cher and then we’ll do it.”
“Thanks.” I stick the scarf in the waistband of my pants, hidden by my jacket.
The guy looks up at Jonas and Sarah, singing their adorkable hearts out, and chuckles. “Man, this guy’shorrible—absolutely atrocious. Pretty much the worst I’ve ever heard and I’ve been doing this a really long time.”
I look at my brother and grin. He’s totally outside his comfort zone right now—sweating bullets, moving across the stage like a gorilla with hemorrhoids. God, he’s awesome.
Out of nowhere, my stomach clenches vicariously to think about what he’s about to do next week. He’s taking a huge fucking step—the hugest step known to mankind—but, damn, he sure looks happy. Hard to argue a guy off doing anything that makes him smile that fucking big.
“Yeah, he’s terrible, huh?” I say. “Gotta love him.”
I head back to our table, my fingertips toying with the poker chip in my pocket, and sit back down next to Kat. She’s clutching Henn’s forearm, tears of laughter streaming down her cheeks.
Jonas and Sarah reach the slow finale of their song and the entire place erupts into a standing ovation.
When the song is done, Jonas dips Sarah dramatically, kissing her like no one else is in the room, and she comes back up red-faced and giggling.
