Courtship of the Cake by Jessica Topper Read Free Book Online Page B

parents pressed their hands together. The crowd behind the fence whooped and cheered, even though they could only see the back of him. Nash gave me a tight smile, making me wonder whether Riggs had lost a bet, or pulled the short end of the stick. But once he adjusted the strap on his sparkly black guitar, he seemed to resign himself to his fate.
    â€œHey, guys. It’s my first appearance on the Lemonwheel stage, so please be kind. And sing along if you know this one.” He began to strum lightly and recite the alphabet. “Of course you know this one. I’m just warming up.”
    He rolled his eyes as if he were bored, but every child in the audience sang, screamed, and laughed along. When he got to
Z
, he pretended to take a snooze, letting his chin drop to his chest. Delilah giggled next to me.
    â€œWhat? Huh?” He sat up with a start. “Sorry. I was just catchin’ some
Z
’s,” he drawled, lazily slapping at the air. “There’s some over there.” He pointed over our heads, and kids turned to look. “And there! Grab ’em!” Little hands swatted and swiped overhead as Nash kept his guitar strings buzzing like bees. “Got those
Z
’s? Let’s shake them around and get them really dizzy.” He cupped his hands and shook, and all the kids did the same. “You, too, dude.” He gestured to a huge papa bear with a shaved head and tribal tattoos snaking around hishuge biceps, sitting with twin boys on his lap. “What, are you too cool for this?” The other parents laughed as the guy gave in, shaking his head first, and then his meaty paws together.
    â€œGood job, guys. We got them so dizzy, they got all turned around. They’re backward now.” Fingers flying over the frets, he launched into the alphabet backward, twisting the song smoothly from
Z
to
A
before jumping off the low stage.
    â€œNot so bad, for a drunk asshole with his own tour bus.” His whisper in my ear brought heat to my cheeks.
    â€œYou weren’t supposed to remember that,” I mumbled in amusement.
    Next, he launched into a song that anyone who owned a television set in the last four decades would know. All about sunny days and sweet air . . . except Nash forgot the words, and the tune, about halfway through. He clamped his mouth shut before the f-bomb could detonate. Little Delilah did a face palm.
    â€œIt’s been a while, okay? Haven’t had time to watch much TV these days. Gimme a request.”
    â€œâ€˜Jumpstart My Heart’?” a mom in the crowd yelled hopefully.
    â€œThe MILF in the back wants to hear my breakout song,” Nash drawled, not looking up from his fingers as they turned the pegs of his guitar. “What do you all think, should I make her beg for it?”
    It was my turn to face palm, as a few adults groaned, a few more whistled, and the kids didn’t know what the hell was going on.
    Go Get Her’s biggest hit was stupid-catchy and its lyrics were passably PG-rated and pleasant. So much so, it was hard to believe Nash would own up to writing it. But his one-man version got the kids up twirling and the adults’ hands up in the air. I stole a glance toward Kylie, who was banging her pretty blond head and kicking her hooker heels against the fence in time with the music.
    Everyone, Nash included, seemed relieved to have blown off some steam as that one came to a close. Cupping her hands to her mouth to be heard above the applause, Delilah yelled, “‘Wheels on the Bus’!”with as much conviction as a drunk in the crowd bellowing for Skynyrd’s “FREE BIRD!” The kids in the audience clapped their approval.
    â€œOkay, Pigtails. There’s something in the entertainment industry called a teleprompter. Do you know what that is?” Delilah shook her pigtails in response. “It’s a little TV that sits on the stage where no one can see it, except for the