14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Wes

I’m in trouble.

And no, it’s not because Trip has somehow become my kryptonite over the last few hours. Not to say that isn’tconcerning but it is baby food compared to what I’m up against: dance karaoke to music I don’t listen to.

Now, normally I’m not one to shy away from the stage. Hell, if Hollywood saw my grade sixth performance of Jack Sparrow, I’d be paid to never leavethe stage. But karaoke? Whole different ball game. Especially when you don’t know the genre well.

You know the saying don’t judge a fish on its ability to climb a tree? Well, I am that fish trying to climb that tree. Meaning I am a fish out of water. Do you know what happens to fish when they’re out of water? That’s right. They die.

Hence my dilemma.

If I had known the deal was the girls win a competition so the boys must win a competition, I would have hauled my ass up onstage for the costume contest.

Wooing an audience with a smile? Easy.

Throwing in a pose or two to get them riled up? Please.

Competing against authentic punk fans in the form of karaoke? Go ahead and hold that thought.

“What do you want to sing?” The words slink out of Cody’s mouth like this whole situation is not one big catastrophe.

Want to know why I don’t listen to punk music? Because it’s impossible to dance to. Literally not possible. Hell, I’m nowhere near as good as Nico or Stella, but when it comes to moving my body in time to the beat, I’m pretty decent. But alternative rock? Headbanging music? Not even the master hip shakers can pull that one off.

“Maybe… Holiday?” I kind of, sort of, not really know the chorus to that one so I could probably fake it till I break it.

“And now, performing none other than the notorious HOLIDAY by everyone’s favourite band…” A fellow Billie impersonator takes the stage and any hope of victory gets crushed under the vaguely familiar guitar intro.

“That one may be taken.” Cody shoots me an amused look, unused to seeing me as anything but cocksure.

The issue here is my inability to strategize. How can I put my best self on stage, give the audience an unforgettable show, when chances are I won’t even know the lyrics to the song I’m supposed to perform? And I’ll have to… headbang along to it?

Jesus, my neck feels sore already.

Call it a flash of genius because suddenly a brilliant idea strikes my consciousness. What if we didn’tpick a punk rock song, what if we did…

“Uh oh. That look is never good.” Cody visibly shudders as he spots the Cheshire smile stretching across my face.

“Au contraire, mon frère. This look is what’s going to make our performance really good.”

“Next up, we’ve got the other half of the team that has been dominating tonight… the Lavishing Leather Ladies!” The rowdy bar gets rowdier as Cody and I take the stage. Scanning the audience, I spot Trip and blow her a kiss for luck. I don’t see the returning scowl as the lights start to dim, but the shot of adrenalin filling my veins makes me believe it’s there.

As planned, Cody takes the right side of the stage while I take the left. Grasping the microphone in my hand, I tilt my head towards the ground. Cody mirrors my stance from the other side and we wait for the beat to kick in.

“…You’re insecure, don’t know what for,” I start us off and a hushed silence falls among the bar. “You’re turning heads when you walk through the do-or,” I pass the spotlight off to Cody who takes the lead without hesitation.

“Don’t need makeup to cover up. Being the way that you are is enou-ou-ough,” We swagger over to the middle of the stage, hands clapping boy band style, singing somewhat in harmony. “…Everyone else in the room can see it; everyone else but you, ooh.”

I hear Stella’s shriek as the One Direction tribute finally sets in. Killing the dead silence in the room, the shriek startles the rockers out of their pop shock and they slowly join in on our chorus.

“Baby, you light up my world like nobody else; the way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed; but when you smile at the ground, it ain’t hard to tell.” I pretend to flip my gelled spikes while Cody holds the microphone towards the audience for some crowd participation.

As one the bar sings, “YOU DON’T KNOW, OH-OH! YOU DON’T KNOW YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL.” Fully embracing the energy of the room, Cody and I launch into motion: chucking the microphone back and forth between one another, hopping in time to the music; all the while shedding clothing layers and tossing them to the screaming crowd. Somewhere in the three and a half minutes, Cody’s jacket and plain white t-shirt gets lost off-stage, while my red tie becomes a fan favourite for the group of girls screaming my stage name.

“BILLIE, WE LOVE YOU!” The chants have me slowly unbuttoning my black dress shirt; the screams getting louder as the buttons go lower.

As the last chorus comes around, Cody and I pull off one last stunt: finishing the tribute with a couple of backflips. Some form of higher power must have been shining down on us because we both manage to land them – something we’ve never managed to do during practice – and as the song comes to a close, we hold out our arms in triumph.

The rockers jump to their feet as Cody and I hold our positions, letting the mortals enjoy the sight of our sweat-soaked skin a little bit longer. Based on the glistening eyes in the audience, I’m ninety-nine percent sure the impromptu strip tease is cause for the standing ovation, but hey, victory is ours.

Lou

“Oh. My. God.” My roommate is barely able to form coherent words as she looks from me to the stage to me and back again.

“I know.” Apparently, I’m not immune to the sight of two shirtless varsity players either. Even from across the room, I can see six-packs glistening under the spotlight. Actually, I’m pretty sure Cody is sporting an eight-pack, but my attention is too taken by dark hair and dimples to be sure.

The boys take a good five minutes making their way off-stage, girls and boys alike reaching out to touch the Greek sculptures passing through. My stomach unexpectedly tightens as I watch a gorgeous girl in fishnet stockings put her hand on Wes’ chiseled chest, lean in, and whisper something in his ear. Given the chance, I too would use those muscles as a support structure, but the thought doesn’t ease the ache inside.

Watching Wes like a hawk, I finally exhale when he responds with a smile and gently removes the stray hand from his bare chest.

“Why was that hotter than both Magic Mike movies?” Stella’s question pulls my attention away from Wes and Miss Fishnets.

“If I had to guess, it’s probably because they were stripping to your favourite song.”

Stella sighs with content, “Any man who takes his clothes off to the God that is Harry Styles can worship me any day.”

“Even Caveman Cody?”

“Even Caveman Cody.” As soon as the words slips past her lips, Stella immediately stiffens in her seat. “But if you tell a single soul I said that you will be brutally murdered in our dorm.” Laughing, I draw a cross over my chest.

“I will take it with me to the grave. Or the stone age as the case may be.” Groaning at my terrible pun, Stella flops her head on the table just as Cody and Wes materialize.

“I hope you didn’t close your eyes the whole time, Stella. You would have missed a quality performance.” Stella flips Wes the bird from her resting position.

The vigorous performance left a couple of gelled spikes haphazardly sticking to Wes’ forehead and his eyeliner is smeared halfway down his glistening face. Most people in this situation (re: me) would look like a sweaty raccoon but somehow Wes looks more like a rockstar than a savage animal.

It’s annoying to say the least.

“Where did you find those t-shirts?” My question inspires Stella to raise her head from the table and peek at our teammates.

“I Love Guns N’ Roses,” Stella smirks as she reads the thick cotton material. “Bet I can guess who you got those from.”

“Axl was kind enough to give us a couple of the extra shirts he brought tonight. Said something about not wanting to call the cops when the mob mauls us.” Delivering the response with a straight face, Cody sets off a bout of laughter around the table.

“I’m surprised you guys didn’t maul each other with those backflips. Pretty sure I saw Cody’s foot graze one of your spikes.” Wes grins at my observation, his eyes sparkling with the after-effects of his performance.

“The only thing I was worried about was fully rotating. Last practice I biffed it so hard I tasted grass for the rest of the day.” Wes mimes plucking grass out of his teeth while Cody chuckles at the memory. “Easily the best rookie moment of the year. Wish we’d caught it on camera.”

“Why are you guys practicing backflips for lacrosse?” Stella voices the question running through my head. The varsity players exchange conspicuous glances.

“Should we tell them?” Wes drops his voice to a dramatic stage whisper while Cody taps his chin in contemplation, “Do we think they’ve earned the privilege?”

Interrupting their moment, Stella scoffs, “Need I remind you that Trip won the trivia and thecostume contest? She is ahead of both you losers.” I smile as the boys sigh with defeat.

“She’s right, isn’t she?” Wes says mournfully, earning a solemn nod from Cody.

“I guess we have to tell them. Wes, will you do the honours?” Motioning for us to crowd closer, Wes assembles a group huddle for the confession.

“Taber is hosting our opening game next weekend… so when it comes time for the Tiger players to be announced, we are going to set off a backflip chain.” Stella claps her hands with glee while I frown pensively.

“Doesn’t that risk a player getting injured before the game starts?” Wes shoots an imaginary gun at me.

“Absolutely but think of it this way: A player could just as easily get injured walking to the field for warm up. May as well add some excitement for the effort.” Noting the confusion on my face, Cody hurries to jump in.

“What Wes has failed to mention is its tradition for the home team hosting the opener to do some sort of act or stunt before the game, so backflips are what we’ve decided on.”

Stella nods in agreement, “Backflips are surprisingly tame compared to some of the other years. I remember the one-time Mo and his teammates ran through a wall of fire. Took them weeks to get the fire department to sign off on the idea.” At the mention of her brother, Cody subtly shifts away from my roommate.

“The fire department actually signed off on lacrosse players running through a wall of fire?” Disbelief floods my voice as Cody shakes his head.

“It’s true. It was a year before I became a rookie and my parents took me to watch a game. The fire department built a safe zone with sand and everything around the fuel line. The fire only went up about two feet and was controlled by an officer, but the effect was still pretty cool.” Stella smiles at the memory, oblivious to the increased space Cody put between then.

“Mo got students, professors, even parents to sign the fire wall petition. Basically, the fire department had two choices: help set up the fire wall safely and have an officer overseeing the process or allow the chem students to set up their own combustion. Either way, the fire wall was happening. Took a while to get permission but eventually they gave in.”

“Mighty Mo, doing what Mighty Mo does best.” Admiration fills Wes’ voice as Cody gives a rueful laugh, “Even off the field Mo always gets his way.”