Chapter 65

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

LAKE

22 bobas left until we both die …

Joules’ twenty-seventh birthday just so happens to coincide with game day. Everyone—including Tam—is decked out in Razorbacks gear. One of the cousins—probably Maria—also hung a Razorbacks ballcap over the corner of the framed picture with me, Joules, and Joe in it.

Uncle Rob is trying to teach Tam about football, but poor Tam isn’t interested. He’s trying. There’s just no spark there. Jacob loves it, and Daniel is … well, he’s stoic.

Ella is having trouble letting go of her crush for Joe, but I can tell she’s interested in Tam’s bodyguard.

“Someone told me there’s … karaoke after the football game?” Tam asks as he walks back to the kitchen island. My girls and I—minus Chloe—are eating snacks and gossiping. Luna has a new boyfriend (Luna always has a new boyfriend), and one of our friends from high school just got married to a dentist.

“Oh, yeah.” I choke on a Cool Ranch Dorito and pretend like the idea of Tam Eyre singing into our family’s shitty old karaoke machine isn’t … really, really weird. “If our team wins, we sing karaoke. But only if they win.”

“Are they winning?” Tam asks, but he’s being an ass. They are not winning. And even someone who knows nothing about football can read the numbers next to the team logos on the corner of the screen. “I hope so. I think I can win at karaoke.”

Lynn snorts and shakes her head, trying one of Aunt Lisa’s tofu dogs in a blanket. Her expression speaks volumes as she carefully places the uneaten half back on her paper plate.

“Karaoke isn’t a game you win or lose, Tam Eyre.” I give him a look. He’s dressed in his red Razorbacks tee, a pair of dark blue jeans, and sharp black leather sneakers. He looks like he’s ready to set foot onstage. Pose for an Insta ad. Make a sure-to-be-viral TT. Ugh. Being around Tam on the regular is not good for my mental health. I’m obsessing.

This morning, I went in the bathroom, locked the door, and I did something that I’m not proud of.

I paid for a Tambourine membership. And not just the yearly fee that’s like twenty bucks. I got the membership kit that comes with swag and an exclusive photocard that makes my eye twitch. It’s not as bad as the one for the Hype Record execs, but Tam is wearing jeans and no shirt. He’s got a ballcap on and is leaning against a vintage car with a wrench in his hand, a smear of faux grease on his gorgeous jaw.

Oddly enough, Tam does know how to work on cars. He made some tweaks to the Firebird with my Dad’s help, standing barefoot in a grease-stained wifebeater on our driveway. Ballcap, face mask, and sunglasses in place. I maybe took ten or a hundred photos for myself. Jacob may have had a small heart attack.

Anyway, Tambourine merchandise.

I signed up for that—willingly. I paid for expedited shipping because … Well, I want my merch in case the curse kills me. I will go to the grave wearing Tambourine brand fan club underwear. Didn’t know that was a thing until today. I am sad to report that it is indeed (and that people ask Tam to sign them at events—while they’re wearing them).

“But if karaoke were a game that someone could win, then I would win it.” He grins sheepishly, tongue posed at the edge of his lip in a cheeky come-get-me face.

“I wouldn’t put money down on that,” Kaycee declares, appearing in the back door with Joules behind her. My brother scoots past and then waves his hand in front of Luna’s face when she doesn’t immediately start flirting with him. Hasn’t flirted with Tam at all today either.

“She sick or somethin’?” Joules asks, and Ella snorts. She’s still glaring at Daniel, but he’s pretending not to notice her. I can scent their chemistry on the wind, so nobody’s fooled.

“New boyfriend,” Ella declares as Kaycee comes around the edge of the counter to face Tam down.

“If it comes down to karaoke, let’s have the family take votes for a winner. Joules and Lake can’t vote, but everyone else can.” Kaycee holds out her hand, and Tam grins, giving it a firm shake.

“Deal.”

“There are no winners or losers in karaoke,” I repeat, because if there are, I’ll definitely lose. I have the worst voice out of the entire family. I can keep on rhythm, and I’m not tone-deaf, but my vocal cords and my throat refuse to get onboard with the program.

“Are you scared to sing in front of me?” Tam murmurs, leaning his hip against the kitchen island, arms crossed, a million-dollar expression on his face. Wait, is that the same expression on the exclusive fan merch photocard that I ordered?

My dad and uncles groan painfully from the direction of the couch, so I just assume the game isn’t going well. There’s a knock on the door shortly after, but I ignore that, too. I only have eyes for Tam Eyre today. Maria sets her book down to see who it is.

“Not scared per se, but I … Tam, you won’t look at me the same if you hear my version of singing.”

“But I have heard it.” He lifts up a finger as Joules follows Kaycee around the kitchen, kissing the side of her neck as she tries to cut him a piece of his own birthday cake. Tam glances their way and then looks back at me, and we’re both probably thinking about the low-calorie, sugar-free cake that I baked for him. “In the shower, when you think I’m not around, you listen to “NIGHT DANCER” and sing in horribly accented Japanese.”

My mouth drops open and Lynn taps my chin, so that I’ll shut it.

“I don’t even speak Japanese; I’m doing my best!” I whisper, and Tam just laughs, throwing his arms around me and dragging me close.

“You sing more than you think you do. All the time. Pretty sure you’re not aware of it most of the time.” He kisses my temple, and I go soft and gooey in his arms. Lynn makes a noise beside us, like she’d rather not see such a sappy display. I don’t blame her. Lovey-dovey couples are nauseating to be around.

“Hey, you got a package.” Maria holds out a box as Tam draws away from me, and my eyes go wide. I ordered the fan merch this morning. How did … Oh my God.

“Oh, cool.” I act nonchalant, snagging my soda off the counter and taking a sip, like I don’t even care. “You can just toss it on the bottom stair, and I’ll take it upstairs later.”

“This is a Tambourine Merchandise Kit,” Tam says, taking the box from Maria as my cousins snicker.

“Caught in the act,” Lynn breathes, and I throw a Dorito at her.

“It is not,” I tell Tam, but then I notice the tape on the box. It’s white with orange tambourines printed on it. Hmm. Okay. I see how this is going to go. I scratch at my neck as a flush rises, hot and itchy over my chest and neck and cheeks. “This is … I ordered it this morning. I’m not sure how it got here so fast.”

“There’s a fulfillment center near the airport,” Lynn explains, unhelpfully. Tam is toying with the box, offering me a look over it that promises nakedness when we go upstairs.

I cough and then force more flat, syrupy soda down my throat.

“You wanted panties with my name on them that badly?” Tam smirks at me. “I could just sign some for you. Hell, I’ll sign all your panties.”

“Alright, enough of that shit. It’s my goddamn birthday today.” Joules is glaring at Tam across the kitchen island, but then he turns away to feed a bite of cake to Kaycee. Tam tried to eat cake earlier, and Jacob let him have two bites before he ripped it away from him. Sigh.

Tam sets the box down on the counter and uses a nearby knife to cut the tape. He starts pulling items out: there’s a signed CD in a fancy gold wrapper with a black tambourine on the front, a water bottle that says Lonely Boy Looking for a Girlfriend, the promised panties, the photocard, and a lanyard with a badge that proclaims my official status as a Tambourine.

“How much did this cost?” Tam asks absently, like maybe he’s never seen this ‘official merchandise kit’ in his entire life. He frowns at the photocard, and then shrugs, setting it aside. And then … he pulls a Sharpie from his back pocket and starts scribbling.

“Don’t you dare draw a dick on any of my merch. Remember the tote bag incident?” I cross my arms, simultaneously thrilled and embarrassed. Is this even real? The world’s most popular recording artist is standing in my family home, signing his own merch? Wearing my hickeys on his neck? Proudly leaving hickeys on mine?

“Did you order my merch kit?” Kaycee asks Joules, and he goes very still, turning his head to look at her. She now has her own slice of cake on a plate, but it’s a teeny, tiny little slice, as thick as three sheets of paper. Also, she’s scraped all the frosting off.

“Why would I need a merch kit? I’m fucking you.”

My mother appears from the backyard, slapping her son in the back of the head with a pair of gardening gloves.

“I raised you better than that,” she growls at him, and he at least pretends to be sheepish for five seconds.

“Hey, I’m not the one who demanded that a virgin girl go down—”

My mom slaps Joules again. Four times, actually. He lets the subject go with a curled lip, eyes narrowed on Tam. My boyfriend ignores him, writing all sorts of messages on my stuff that probably increases the value by tenfold. Maybe more.

“Are you sure you still care about that silly tote bag?” Tam asks gently, lips in a soft, private smile, eyelids droopy as he shifts his gaze to mine. “How about a house? I’ll buy you a house nearby, so that we can stop in and visit your family on the regular.”

Um.

“What a lovely young man,” my mom says with a sigh, ruffling up Tam’s hair. “You made a mistake before, and you’ll never make that mistake again, will you?”

Tam’s lips part, and I worry that he might say something incriminating. Joules is already scowling at him, hand clenched around his cake fork.

But then my dad and uncles are cheering, and we all turn to see that the Razorbacks have made an impressive comeback.

Well then.

Time for karaoke?

Tam orders a round of bobas for everyone, and we settle into the living room with the old karaoke machine. It’s so ancient that there aren’t any songs newer than 2008 on it, and it has no capabilities of downloading new ones. Yep, it’s like that.

I stand next to Tam as he uses the tiny screen to scroll through the pixelated album covers. When he can’t find anything that catches his fancy, he uses his phone to get what he wants. The mic on the machine will work with or without an accompanying track.

Tam settles on Adele’s “Set Fire to the Rain”, and grins.

“Oh yes,” Tam whispers, and then he dims the lights, completely and utterly comfortable with performing in front of my very judgmental family, all of whom know that he asked me to suck his— Yeah. They’re all still stuck on that, very well may be stuck on that for thirty or so years.

The couch has been pushed back against the dining room table to make room. We’ve got a stage now, the wood floor bare and showcasing a rectangle in the shape of mom’s old rug. The sun has bleached the floor around the edges, leaving two distinct tones. Tam positions himself directly in the center of that, ballcap tossed aside and hair mussed. He’s already kicked off his shoes.

I’m going to watch Tam Eyre perform for me in his socks.

My face breaks into a grin, and I get out my phone. I have got to film this.

“No phones allowed,” Jacob declares, but Tam gives him an evil look.

“Jake, what did I say about my girlfriend? Leave her alone. There’s nothing for you to manage when it comes to my personal relationships.”

“That’s where we’re at now, is it?” Jacob asks with a sigh, and then he makes a show of turning his phone off and tossing it onto a side table. He levels a dark look on Tam that makes Lynn do a double take, like she didn’t expect Tam’s manager to be so … sassy. “Alright then, Tom. Go ahead. Do what you want to do. Eat three slices of cake for all I give a shit. I dare you: try to live up to Adele’s beautiful voice.”

Tam grins, flips the microphone in the air, and catches it.

“Oh, is that a challenge?” he asks, and then he hits play on his phone, unleashing a beautiful instrumental version of the song.

Our eyes meet.

Tam closes his eyes, inhales for the first ten or so seconds, and then opens them back up.

His voice is … I nearly drop my phone, but Lynn catches it and continues to film. I put my hands over my mouth. I’ve seen Tam sing, plenty of times. Dozens and dozens of times. But not like this, up close and intimate.

Tam’s voice sweeps the living room like a wave. I can feel it. My family members shift on their feet, exhale, murmur curses under their breath (in the case of Uncle Rob and Joules).

“He might be a bastard, but he can sing,” my uncle whispers to my brother. The latter scoffs, but he has a look of grudging approval written into his hostile features. Oooh. Tam hits a high note, and I get the chills. When I refocus my attention on his face, he’s looking right at me.

I curl my hands into fists, my breathing erratic and strange. The curse mark burns so hot that it hurts, but I ignore it. I’m not letting the curse steal this moment away from me. I keep my gaze on Tam even though it’s hard for me. It’s getting kind of emotional in here.

Joe is buried outside.

Joules and I might soon be buried outside, too.

My breath hiccups, and I work my jaw to keep myself still. My fingers are rubbing at the rough denim of my jean shorts, a drag that helps release the tension coiling inside of me.

When Tam closes his eyes, I do the same, and it’s just the release I needed. Like when we’re in bed together, and it gets too intense, when I can’t take it anymore. He already knows how to stop, go slow. It’s like when we’re walking, and he gets just ahead of me before he slows. Tam always waits for me to catch up, and then after that, we walk side-by-side.

I like the gait of his affection, slow and steady, but forging. He moves forward even when I lag behind. It’s a dynamic that’s going to work beautifully as we get to know each other better. He forges ahead, and I sit back to observe. I’ll notice what he misses, and he’ll discover new paths I would never have seen on my own.

The song finishes, and the room goes completely silent.

I open my eyes, fingers pressed tight into the fabric of my shorts.

“I know this is against the rules,” Tam murmurs into the mic, holding it in both hands, eyes downcast. “But could I sing one more?”

“Please dear God, sing a dozen more,” Aunt Mandy murmurs. And not just because the family is spoiling us—they won’t admit it, but they are, just like they did with Joe—but because she’s a big ol’ Tambourine.

Tam clears his throat, meets my eyes for the second time, and starts singing a cappella. As in, no instruments. Just his voice.

It’s “Sweet Honey”.

Oh God. I’m dead. I’m officially dead.

“Lay your head on my shoulder, and I’ll lay you down on my bed. My hand tangled in your hair, the honeyed afternoon stretched out against the sky. The sugar rush of your lips. Clouds of cream, edges dipped in liquid gold. Churning heat and fiction. It’s just a dream, all that sweet honey.”

“Soon as the curse is broken,” Joules murmurs, drawing a thumb across his throat.

I ignore him, digging my fingers into my thighs so hard that both my fingertips and my legs hurt. Might even have bruises.

Tam trails off with a single, sharp-edged note that sounds like an invitation.

Everyone else claps, but I just stand there.

“Okay, video posted,” Lynn says cheerfully, moving forward to hand my phone out to Tam. Jacob goes stiff, and Daniel moves away from the wall like he might tackle Lynn the way he did Ella.

Ella jumps in front of him, eyes narrowed.

“Don’t even think about it,” she hisses as Tam takes possession of the phone. He’s smiling as he clicks on the video, skimming through it to the end.

“You were way too awesome not to post,” Lynn says, and Jacob makes a sound of pure frustration.

“Wait until the paparazzi show up,” he warns us, but Tam doesn’t delete the video, putting my phone into the back pocket of his jeans so that he can hand the mic over to Kaycee.

“I hate to admit it, but you’re good,” Kaycee says with a sigh. She strikes a pose with her back to the audience, and then presses play on her phone. There’s an instrumental of her most popular song playing. Pretty sure this one is called “Not Your Wife”. Something like that.

She starts to sing, but I’m still so struck by Tam’s performance that I can’t move.

He takes me by the arm and drags me around the corner, past the stairs, and into the hallway that leads to the den. Tam very gently puts his hands on my shoulders and pushes me up against the wall.

“Breathe for me, sweetheart,” he says, and I give a shaky exhale.

“I’ve never seen anything like what I just saw. You’re … fucking amazing, Tam.” For the first time, I really get his level of popularity. Truly. I can’t imagine not being around him and spending time with him. If I had to pay to do it, I’d buy that ten-thousand dollar meet-and-greet ticket willingly.

“You liked that?” He sounds pleased, nuzzling against the side of my throat. My eyes close, and I exhale into his hair. “It was all for you.”

“I could tell.” I put my arms around Tam’s neck, and he slides his around my waist. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you. I haven’t had a minute to truly enjoy any of my own success. Not until you.” Tam takes in a long, slow deep breath, and then lets it out like a sigh.

Kaycee has taken up “Easy On Me” by Adele—clearly she doesn’t like to lose either.

I laugh, and Tam does the same, rocking me back and forth as we listen to the music.

That’s the night that I fully let go, that I open myself up to the love that’s sitting right there in front of me.

Tam takes me by the hand, drags me back into the living room, and he’s a damn good sport while my family tells him that Kaycee won karaoke. She … danced, after all.

I give Joules a hug while everyone else is looking at the karaoke score sheets that Lynn drew up. Uncle Rob gave Tam a three, but that could be because he’s still mad at him. Probably threw the score a little.

“Happy birthday,” I whisper to Joules, letting my love for him flow freely in my words. My brother rubs my back, and I memorize the feel of his hand. Just in case.

“I love you, Canoe,” he tells me, and I sigh, letting him go and giving him a wry look.

“I love you, too—even if you’re a liar.”

“You mean especially if.” Joules winks at me, and then laughs, moving forward until we’re shoulder to shoulder but facing in opposite directions. He puts a hand on my shoulder and leans in. “Also, my girlfriend kicked your boyfriend’s ass.”

“Agree to disagree,” I respond, and then Joules is grabbing Kaycee around the waist and kissing her. I’m snatching up my official Tambourine merchandise kit, and then I’m snagging Tam by the hand and taking the best fucking swag in the world upstairs with me.

Yeah, my Tambourine kit comes with nudity.

Lucky me.

My bedroom door closes.

Time ticks by, one boba after another until … there are only two bobas left.