Janet Evanovich - Love in a Nutshell

“You had a question, Kate?” Marcie asked.

“What’s the kamikaze challenge?”

“In the final round, a song will be selected at random for you from the playlist.”

Deena snickered. “As if you have to worry.”

Marcie gave Deena a glare. “And no sabotage, either. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” She walked back out to the microphone, leaving Kate and the other singers hidden behind the plastic jungle.

“And tonight’s judges, chosen at semi-random from among our guests, will be…” She looked down at a sheet of paper. “Starflower Creed, Shay VanAntwerp… and Matt Culhane.”

Matt flipped through a stack of albums being offered in the town’s garage sale of a silent auction. Actually, if he thought he could consistently find a stash of music like this in local garages, he’d be joining his mom on the Saturday morning circuit. Next to him stood Lizzie. She must have pulled the short straw in the “keep Matt here” challenge, because she hadn’t left his side in the past ten minutes. And somewhere at the very back of the room, Marcie Landon was calling names over the sound system.

Matt picked up his head at the sound of something all too familiar.

“Did I just hear my name?” he a Nlbums sked Lizzie.

“I don’t know. Did you?” His sister’s smile was nothing short of smug. This was never a good sign.

Again his name drifted above the crowd. “Matt? Matt Culhane?”

“That’s definitely your name,” Lizzie said.

“It is. But I have the option of ignoring it,” he said, testing Lizzie’s level of investment in whatever was going down.

His little sister tried to hip check him away from the album collection. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go see. Maybe you’ve won something.”

He held her off long enough to write a bid on the vinyl collection big enough to scare off competitors. He knew that wasn’t the silent auction spirit, but he wasn’t messing around. There were a pile of Doors and Jefferson Airplane in that stack.

Marcie waved her hand, urging him toward the stage. “Matt, there you are!”

“What am I here for?”

She laughed as though he’d made a joke. “Ladies and gentlemen, our third judge is now taking his seat. Let the karaoke competition begin!” she said with a flourish and hurried back behind the screen.

“You set me up,” Matt said to Lizzie.

“Fact. But think of judging as an exercise in civic duty. We all have to do it. It’s your turn, and now that you’re trapped, I can go have fun.”

While thinking of a fitting revenge to eventually spring on his sister, Matt made his way to the open judge’s chair. He settled between Starflower and Shay.

Starflower, one of the silver-haired elders of the Creed Commune outside of town, said, “Remember, Matt, peace comes from within.”

She didn’t generally offer up platitudes without a purpose.

“I take it you’ve judged these before?” he asked.

She gave a slow nod of her head, closed her eyes, and began humming to herself. Matt wondered if he was catching a whiff of something less legal than the scent of Starflower’s lavender oil, which she sold in a shop the commune owned in town. Matt preferred to find his inner peace the way he’d been raised-family, friends, and hard work.

To his right, Shay VanAntwerp flicked her perfectly straight and shiny blond hair over her shoulders. “I was told we’d be up on the stage. That’s the only reason I agreed to judge.”

At least she’d been given a choice.

Besides, Matt understood Shay’s stage addiction. She’d been Little Miss Keene’s Harbor for four years running when they were kids. After that, Shay had been hooked. If there was a sash or crown to be won, she was i Son,#x2019;s Hn the race. Matt had always thought that if Shay redirected all that energy and determination, she could govern a small nation. Kind of like Kate. He wondered what she was making of this whole scene. If it was odd to him, it had to be downright surreal to her.

DEENA BOWEN was truly psycho.

“You cheated,” Deena said.

“How could I cheat? Marcie drew the numbers,” Kate replied.

“You came in here earlier and rigged it.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because everybody’s out to beat me. But just because you get to sing first doesn’t mean you’re going to win. It doesn’t give you any advantage,” Deena said.

“Another good reason I wouldn’t come in and play with a bunch of bingo balls, don’t you think?”

Deena’s hostility aside, Kate was looking forward to getting this first number done. She hadn’t sung in front of strangers since she was sixteen, and the idea of doing it now had her a little rattled. And the idea of having Matt judge her was even more uncomfortable.

“Ready?” Marcie asked.

Kate nodded. Because her mouth was as dry as the dunes overlooking Lake Michigan, she poked her head out from the far side of the jungle screen and signaled Ella for the punch. Kate chugged half and winced. The concoction was so sweet that she swore her blood had just turned to syrup.

Ella gave her a weird look as she took back the cup.

“What?” Kate asked.

“You feel okay?”

“Nervous, and now probably borderline diabetic.”

Ella waggled the cup. “That’s okay. You won’t be feeling anything very soon.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is trash-can punch. Beneath all that sugar is enough overproof rum to pickle a sailor. All I can say is good thing I drove.”

“Thanks for sharing. If I’d known about the punch, I’d have started drinking earlier.”

“Kate,” Marcie said. “Curtain time.”

Except for the crucial lack of a curtain.

Palms clammy and heart slamming, Kate stepped out from behind the latticework jungle and walked tentatively to the microphone. She allowed herself a glance toward Matt, then wished she hadn’t. As surprise and then pleasure paraded across his face, Kate had to quell a truly chicken-feathered urge to jump from the stage and c Se snhug the rest of that overproof courage. But if this was what it took to be initiated into Keene’s Harbor, no way was she going to back down.

“I’m going to give you a little ‘Crimson and Clover’… Joan Jett style,” she said into the microphone.

Kate didn’t care that half of the hall still talked and laughed as the music started. All that mattered was reaching the end of the song. She hadn’t lied when she’d told Ella she hadn’t been singing, but more than the chilly shower had been stopping her. In the space of one year, she’d lost her marriage, her home, her dog, and her job. She wasn’t exactly depressed, but she was just flat-out busy trying to rebuild her life and her identity. Most of the time, she just felt too tired to sing.

But as she eased into the song, Kate recalled one cool thing about singing. When singing, she didn’t have to be Kate of the somewhat screwed-up life. She became whatever character she chose to take on. And tonight, she chose to be a rocker seductress.

Kate let herself go with the song’s sensual sway and began to kick out the lyrics with conviction. This wasn’t about winning Bambi meat or even town approval. It was about living in this moment. It was about feeling the slow, sexual surge that made her grip the microphone stand with both hands and make love to the crowd.

When the song finished, Kate dropped her gaze to the plywood stage and blew out a sigh of relief. She was fairly certain she hadn’t sucked. Except the hall remained weirdly silent. Okay, maybe she was delusional. Maybe she really had sucked. Just when she was sure that was true, applause and a couple of whistles and howls kicked in.