Authors: Theresa Ellson
“Look at me, Lyssa,” I did. Molly leaned forward and said earnestly, “Listen, those other things about yourself? They’re not
new
. You’ve always been fun and wild and uninhibited – OK, maybe you didn’t have sex on a public hiking trail in Farragut State Park before, but life is an evolution, right?” she narrowed her eyes at me as she smiled. “Aaron was so good for you. He made no demands. He asked that you do nothing other than be yourself. And you did. He helped you discover parts of yourself – but they are parts of
you,
Lyssa. Parts that were always there. Parts that you didn’t have time to think about when you were too busy being a mom, a manager, and a wife. This is
your
time now, Lyssa. Take it!” she said earnestly.
I stared at her for a minute. I felt her love and support and acceptance wash over me, and I said, “You are a true, real friend, Molly. That’s worth more than gold, you know that?”
“Backatcha, baby,” her words were flip, her tone was not. She took my hand again and squeezed. “I’m right here for you. If you have a bad moment, I am
right here.
Always.”
“Backatcha, baby,” I said quietly, smiling into my best friend’s eyes.
“All righty,” she released my hand and sat back. “I say we have too many margaritas and call Robert and Alan to drive us to your house. One of them can bring my car. Whatta you say?!”
“I say,” I picked up my mostly-full margarita and sucked back about half of it, “Bring it.”
She did. We had dinner… and more margaritas. By our third round, we were suddenly reminded, by the drunken warbling coming through the restaurant, that Sundays were karaoke night in the bar here.
“Ohmygod,” Molly slurred at me. “We are totally doing that!”
“Why not?” I said. “Karaoke is for drunk people who can’t sing! That’s us!”
“OK, first, lemme call Alan. I bet we can get him down here to sing with us. I bet I
totally
can,” she stared at her phone.
“Molly,” I slurred at her, “You have to actually press a button. You can’t just
want
the phone to make a call.”
“Shaddup,” she finally remembered how to call Alan and dialed. “Shh! Shhhh! It’s ringing!” she said emphatically – even though I hadn’t said a word.
“Alan!” She shouted into the phone, “Lishen, Lyssa and I are down at Rancho Nuevo. It’s karaoke night.
Come shing with ush!”
I heard the rumble of Alan’s laughter, then Molly’s face lit up. “Aweshome! Um, also, me and Lyssa are both drunk. Can you guys take us back to her house? And my car?” More laughter, and her eyes lit up again. “You are the
best
brother-in-law in the world, you know that? ... Of course you do! OK, see you in five minutes!”
“Five minutes?” I said. “Where are they?”
“Shopping around the corner!” Molly said excitedly.
“Should we wait for them?”
“Hells, NO!” Molly said, standing up. We’d already paid our bill, so we wobbled across the restaurant and into the bar. There were only about ten people in there. Yeah, karaoke on a Sunday is not the best marketing idea.
We found a table up front, and put our drinks down. I plopped down in a chair, but Molly stumbled up to the DJ dude and conspired with him for a minute. Someone was finishing up “Don’t Stop Believin’” as Molly talked to the DJ, who laughed and shook his head. Molly seemed to be imploring him, and he shook his head again, relenting this time, and started searching his computer for something. Finally, he nodded to her. She threw me a conspiratorial grin and headed to the stage as the Journey singer finished up.
“THIS ONE,” she practically screamed into the microphone, then realized her mistake. “This one,” she said in a normal tone of voice, “is for my bestest friend in the whole wide world!” She winked at me as the song came on. A song I detest. A song she knows I detest. I love Bette Midler, but “Wind Beneath My Wings” is, in my opinion, a dark splotch on an otherwise stellar career. I rolled my eyes and dropped my head into my hand.
“
Did you ever know that you’re my hero, LYSSA!”
Molly sang. I heard a familiar deep rumble of laughter behind me as Alan dropped into the chair next to me, and Robert next to him.
“Oh dear, god, Alan. Make it stop!” I whined, looking up to see Molly singing her guts out, inserting my name into the song whenever she could.
“Oh my god, Molly!” I slapped her on the arm as she rejoined us at the table. “You already told me you love me tonight! You don’t need to serenade me! Jesus!” I was mortified.
“Oh sure!” she gestured wildly. “You’ll ride Aaron like a stallion in a public park,” my face flushed bright red, and I kept my eyes pinned to Molly, avoiding Robert’s gaze, “but your best friend can’t sing you a song?” she looked fake-hurt, and pretended to wipe a tear from her eye.
“You idiot,” I muttered as Alan howled with laughter.
“Relax, Lyssa,” Alan said, “Since he’s leaving this week, I think Robert has relaxed his ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy with your… you know,
friendship
with Mr. Sellers,” he grinned at me. “I know
I’d
like to hear more about it!”
“You people are out of control, do you know that?” Robert shook his head, pretending to be disgusted, as he waved our waitress over.
Alan smiled at him, and squeezed his knee. “You’re curious, and you
know
it! Come on, Lyssa! Spill it!”
Robert stuck his fingers in his ears and went “Nah nah nah nah nah nah,” as we all laughed.
But I shook my head. “Not tonight, Alan. Tonight is about friends. Ooh! Friends!” I suddenly knew what I wanted to sing. I jumped up and ran over to the DJ to confer, then hopped up on stage.
“This is for
my
bestest friend in the whole wide world,” and I proceeded to vamp it up, Freddie Mercury style, to Queen’s “You’re My Best Friend.”
I actually have a passably decent singing voice, so I got a little applause – especially from
my
table. When I sang, “
You’re my BEST friend, MOLLY MILLER!
” I got hoots, whistles and thunderous applause.
It had been a couple years since we’d karaoked together. I’d forgotten how much fun it was. And, even through my buzzed haze, I realized that Molly was right – Aaron may have released my “inner cougar,” but everything he’d found inside of me was, really,
me.
At some point, J.J. joined us, and Alan even got Robert to have a drink. I’d stopped at my second. Molly didn’t have to work tomorrow, but I did. J.J. finally cut Molly off, though. When she asked for more, J.J. leaned over and whispered, “I told them virgin drinks from here on out!” I knew Molly would thank him in the morning. For just a second, I felt a twinge. It’d be nice to have a partner who knew me so well, who would take care of me like J.J. took care of Molly – always with respect. They really had found a perfect way to be together. Molly was so much happier with J.J. in her life.
I looked around the table for Robert and Alan, the other perfect couple I know. But Alan was on stage belting out “Valerie.” He loved Amy Winehouse. And Alan could really sing. I looked around for Robert, who was standing in the back, next to a man I didn’t know. It looked like he’d been talking to him, but now he was watching Alan sing, a huge, proud grin on his face.
The man next to him was staring. At me.
I stared back, longer than I would have normally, if I hadn’t had a couple of margaritas in me. He didn’t smile. He didn’t blink. He just stared at me. I could barely see him standing in the shadows, but his attention was sending out its own psychic waves. Finally, flustered, I looked down, then looked back up. Still staring.
Alan had finished his song, and Robert was applauding and whistling. Then he leaned over to the man standing next to him, apparently asking him to join us. I turned away, disconcerted. By the time Robert and the man got to our table, Alan had rejoined us.
“Matthew!” Alan said warmly, holding out his hand. Alan and the man – Matthew, apparently – did that guy thing where they shake hands, lean in, and half-hug, half-smack each other on the back. Matthew pulled back, and I was struck dumb. About six foot two, he had short black hair and startlingly green eyes. He had to be at least forty, I figured, but I was shocked when Robert explained they’d gone to school together. That put him in his late forties. Damn, he looked good. Broad shoulders, flat stomach under a tight black t-shirt. It was obvious from looking at his biceps that this guy was in shape. Really, really good shape.
Once again, I thought how sad it was that Scott had let himself go. All you had to do was look at Kyle to see how good-looking Scott had been. Once. A long time ago. And all you had to do was look at Matthew (or Robert, Alan or J.J.) to see how well men could age.
“Matthew,” Robert pointed to Molly, “You remember my sister, Molly,” Molly managed to say hi and wave a drunken hello, “her boyfriend, J.J.,” they shook hands and Robert turned to me, “and this is Lyssa. Lyssa, meet Matthew Bowen. Lyssa works with me. She’s our business manager.”
I was thrown. In social settings, especially when I was karaoking and drinking, Robert didn’t usually introduce me as part of his firm. He liked to keep a professional image.
“Lyssa’s his work-wife,” Alan said loudly, as everyone laughed. Including me. Except Matthew, who just smiled, sort of warily.
And he just kept staring.
Then Matthew pulled up a chair and deftly but deliberately slid it in between Molly and me.
“Masterful performance, Alan,” he smirked across the table. “You could outsing Amy Winehouse any day.”
Alan stood up and did a fake Elvis bow, “Thank you, thankyouverymuch,” he said in his best Elvis as we all laughed again.
“I heard you sing, too,” he turned to me, and I noticed that now that those green eyes weren’t the only remarkable thing about his face when he finally really smiled. Wow.
I remember a time when I’d been watching the movie
The Natural
on TV
.
I was about twelve. In one scene, Robert Redford turns back toward the camera… and smiles. I remember just being sort of overwhelmed by his beauty. I didn’t realize it, but apparently, I had sighed wistfully. My grandfather had laughed and said, “Annnnd Lyssa falls victim to the Redford charm!”
I felt like that right now. When Matthew smiled at me, really smiled, I felt myself smile and even blush a little as I looked down. This was new. All I’d ever felt around Aaron was blind lust. Now I felt like a stupid kid staring up a movie star’s poster. Whoa.
Also, I noted that he wasn’t wearing a ring, nor did he have any kind of ring-tan, as though he’d just slipped it off.
“You looked like you were really having fun,” Matthew continued when I didn’t say anything. I liked his voice. It was sort of rough and worn, full of life experiences. Almost gravelly. Very sexy.
I laughed nervously. “You must have missed the song before mine,” I explained. “Molly had serenaded me with a song I hate, so it was payback.”
He nodded and didn’t say anything. Just kept staring. Just kept smiling. Suddenly, I realized that everyone around the table was begging Robert to get up and sing. Robert had the most beautiful voice – a rich baritone that would stop anyone in their tracks. Trying to pull myself out of the little private world Matthew and I were in, I joined in with the begging.
“Come on, honey!” Alan said quietly. “If you sing for me, I’ll make Chicken Cordon Bleu for dinner tomorrow night,” Alan was a masterful chef, but was always trying to keep Robert on a healthy-eating track, so I knew that was a big inducement.
“Come on, Robert!” Molly all but shouted. “It’s a crime not to share that amazing voice with the world!”
“Yeah, Robert,” Matthew joined in, grinning. “I haven’t heard you sing for years. I think it’s a moral imperative that you occasionally beautify the world with the voice God gave you.” OK, so he wasn’t always intense. That was good. I didn’t think I could take it anymore, anyway. Matthew’s focused attention on me was… a lot to experience.
“All right, all right!” Robert threw up his hands in defeat. “I’m going, I’m going!”
Wow. He must be really comfortable around Matthew to karaoke in front of him. That said a lot about Matthew. I was intrigued.
Robert went over to the DJ, who grinned and nodded. Robert got up on stage, and turned around so his back was to his. As the opening piano notes of his song came through the speakers, we all howled and cheered. Then Robert turned around and began, “
At first I was afraid, I was petrified…”
We went nuts. Laughing, howling, hooting. Even Matthew. When it got to the chorus, Robert danced around the stage, showing moves I’d never seen before as we all sang along to “I Will Survive.” Matthew laughed until he had to wipe tears off his cheeks. OK, my first impression of a brooding intensity may have been wrong.
I looked over at Alan. He had the same look of pride and adoration that Robert had had when
he
was up there singing. I sighed. All those years together, and they were still deeply in love. It gave me hope.
Robert finished on a long note, arm thrown out to the side, head thrown back. When he was done, we all stood up and cheered. Even the ten other people in the bar. Hell, even the DJ whistled and yelled, “Encore!” But Robert took a bow and exited the stage.