Unforgettable by Karin Kallmaker Read Free Book Online Page B

stepped back from the microphone and bowed.
    As the applause died down, Rett stepped up to the mike again and said, “That concludes my portion of the evening —” and was gratified by the ensuing groans and calls of “Encore!”
    Camille leaned into the mike’s range and said, “I think we’re owed at least one more.”
    Rett wrinkled her nose and opened her mouth to give a token protest when someone said loudly, “I’ve heard plenty.”
    Bitch, Rett thought. She saw Camille’s surprise at the rudeness, so she covered the mike and said, “My ex, as of last week.”
    Camille glanced in Trish’s direction. “The she-woman type, I see.” She pursed her lips for a split second, then said, “Let me handle this. Just follow my lead.”
    Camille favored the room with a conspiratorial grin. “I think what we need now is a little competition. D.J. — that would be me — versus songbird — that would be her. Loser buys winner a beer.”
    “Hey,” Rett said loudly. “I didn’t agree to this.” Her feigned outrage drew a few chuckles from the crowd.
    “What can I say? I’m thirsty,” Camille said. “So I’m going to pick a song and if she doesn’t know the words, I win.”
    “That’s not fair,” Rett protested, even though she realized she had an advantage Camille knew nothing about. “You could pick anything.”
    Camille muttered, “It’s a small price for you to pay for what you get to do next.” To the room she said, “Are there any boot-wearing girls out there?” There was a loud hoot of yeses. “Well, if you know the boot scoot line dance, I want you down front, ‘cause Miz Rett is gonna sing us a boot tune.”
    “Don’t I even get to know the title?”
    “Nnnnnope.”
    A half-dozen women slid into a line in front of the stage as Rett shrugged at the crowd. “I guess she’s making all the rules.”
    “Like I said, I’m thirsty.” Camille’s fingers played over the karaoke machine’s control panel.
    Rett put her mouth so close to the mike her lips brushed it. Her voice boomed, “Would now be a bad time to tell her I have a photographic memory?” Camille’s heartfelt “shit” was lost in the crowd’s laughter. Rett instantly recognized the opening notes and she laughed into the mike. “Oh, I know this one really well. Been singing it to myself recently.” She’d buy Camille a beer anyway. She was going to sing “These Boots Were Made for Walking,” start to finish, and enjoy every minute.
    The line dancers immediately got into the rhythm and their stamp-claps punctuated the number and brought appreciative cheers from the crowd. Every time the chorus got to “gonna walk all over you,” the crowd boisterously sang along. It was a romp.
    After that it was easy to encourage women from the audience to take a turn at the microphone to finish the evening. Rett relaxed and faded into the background. From her vantage point on the other end of the stage from where Trish was sitting, she could see a pair of long legs entwined around Trish’s. The legs emerged from a miniskirt that left thighs of steel in plain sight. Toothpick Legs, a.k.a. Cheri, was getting up; they were leaving. Thank God. Thinking catty thoughts about whomever Trish was with was not going to help her do that letting-go-moving-on thing.
    As they disappeared from view she thought that Calista Flockhart only wished she were that thin.
    Rett sighed, realizing she was both tired and loath to go home. It was cold and empty there. Dark and lonely. She let herself be coaxed into a couple of duets and hammed up background vocals when courage failed a few of the singers. The night was still going to end all too soon. When Camille turned off the karaoke machine she knew she had to face going home. Alone.
    “I owe you a beer,” Camille said.
    “I owe you — that was a lot of fun.”
    “I won’t argue. Make it a Corona with a lime.”
    Monica was bubbling with glee at the evening’s success. “You were sensational, both