Secrets (17 page)

Scott turned setting his drink down. “I don’t think Sarah believes us, by the look on her face. All right one song, just for her.”

Sarah shut her mouth with a snap. He was really going to get up and sing? She shook her head. God, what kind of fool would he make of himself? She was stupefied. She wanted to beg him not to do this. He was just drunk, and acting out. This was not the place, not in front of everyone he knew, lived and worked with.

“What’s your favorite song, Sarah?”

Surprised she felt Scott’s eyes on her, the entire group of people around them, looking at them.

“‘Nights in White Satin,’” she said, without thinking it out, without considering whether or not it was cool. He looked at her as if she’d just said her favorite song was “Jingle Bells.”

“As in 1972 by the Moody Blues?”

“Yes. My parents listened to it all the time when I was young.”

He was looking at her as if she’d grown a green wart. It wasn’t the norm favorite song for someone her age. She got that. But her mom used to play that song all the time,
before
. Before everything went so wrong with her family. And so, it was the song she listened to whenever she wanted to remember
before
when everything wasn’t so terrible for her family. It was the song she could picture her healthy, normal mother singing along to as she cleaned the house. It was the song that reminded Sarah that her mother had once been normal and healthy.

“Well, I didn’t expect that answer. But okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, I’ll sing that.”

“But you can’t know the words, the music. My God you can’t do that song.”

“I know the words. Songs are a hobby too,” he said simply, and walked away.

Sarah was horrified and desperately didn’t want to watch this. But he was up on the stage, walking to the center after consulting for several moments with the band that had been playing all evening. They nodded, and she was almost as horrified they seemed to agree to the song. Why the hell was he doing this?

He stood in middle of the stage, in front of the microphone. The crowd slowly became quieter and quieter, until it was nearly still in the tent, all eyes on Scott. He stood there, completely at ease, and confident, as he waited for the music to start. He stared out into the crowd without an ounce of hesitation or embarrassment. What was wrong with him? Why was he doing this? How drunk was he? Was this a joke? And if so, at Kelly’s wedding, it was totally not funny.

Scott didn’t fidget or back down. Sarah was frozen and sweaty and cold with nerves for him. Even if he wasn’t smart enough to be.

The band started the soft sounds of the start of the song, which was a surprising replication of her favorite song. Scott raised the microphone to his mouth, and started singing, the smoky, low, calm lyrics of the song.

And he sang the words in the perfect tone, and with the perfect timing. He seemed to just know the song. Then the music swelled to the words,
I love you
... louder his voice went, filling the tent, the crowd, Sarah, everyone there with his deep, throaty voice. The song could have been written for him. Everyone was quiet as if entranced as they swayed to his singing, which was then back to low, and then finally, his voice filled the tent in the loud swells of the song that always sent chills down her,
I love you…yes I love you.
By then Scott had spotted her in the crowd and was looking right at her as he sang her favorite song. He was completely at ease. He acted like the writer and recorded artist of the song, like he was easily at his own concert.

And she was weak kneed with shock. He finished the song as it seemed to tumble through the tent as loud and haunting and fulfilling as waves onto the beach.

The crowd was silent for a moment as if in shock at what they’d just heard. The worst song Sarah could have ever pictured someone doing a karaoke-version of had just about been the best live performance any of them seemed to have witnessed. There were tears in a few of the women’s eyes. Sarah was nearly mute. She was blown over, away, turned all inside out. Had she just witnessed that? It was extraordinary, as if they’d all been somehow lifted out of the ordinary to a different plane of being by his voice, the power, the tone, the pitch.

The crowd was clapping, whistling, stomping their feet and cat calling. And Scott kind of blew it off, smiled and left the stage as if he’d done nothing more than announce the buffet line opening, and not having transformed the entire stage into his own show.

She was suddenly galvanized to reach Scott. She was totally confused by this entire evening, but by this more than anything. She got closer to him. Vanessa was already there, he had his arm around her casually embracing her as she must have been congratulating him. Kelly and Luke were there too, clapping still, smiling at him. Brett was at Sarah’s side by then, saying how good that had been. Still Sarah was walking until she was within feet of Scott. He glanced up at her sudden pronounced stop in front of him.

“My God, that was…I don’t even know the words. It was amazing, beautiful, haunting, I had no idea. None. I couldn’t have had a clue you could sing like that. It was like—”

“A song, Sarah. Geez, calm down,” Vanessa interrupted, laughing right into Sarah’s face.

“You should be doing something with that. You could do anything you wanted—”

“Yeah, I’ll be getting to L.A. next week for my recording contract,” Scott said, his tone mocking, his body language lazy amusement at her.

“I mean it. Don’t laugh. You could. I mean that should have been the worst song, and you—”

“God, you’re such a buzz kill, can anything just be fun with you? He’s not looking for a damn career. It was song at a wedding.”

“Only you could say that, Vanessa. It was something. It was incredible. It was, in fact, better than anything I’ve ever witnessed. It—”

“It was nothing, Sarah. Vanessa’s right. It was a song at a wedding,” Scott said cutting her off.

Sarah’s mouth opened with shock. “No, Vanessa’s not right. It was something special. She, of course, would hold you back. You could be something great.”

“He already is something great,” Vanessa said in a surprisingly serious tone.

Sarah consciously held her foot still to keep from stomping it in frustration. Vanessa purposely was baiting her. “I didn’t mean he wasn’t. I just meant... maybe, that his singing could make him a household name.”

“Sarah, enough,” Scott snapped.

Vanessa cackled, or what sounded like an evil witch-like laugh to Sarah. She didn’t think anything about this conversation was funny. Scott glanced at her, and then walked past, his body language portraying profound annoyance.

“What was the reason for treating me like that in front of everyone you and I know? What did I do that was so terrible you couldn’t even be civil? I had no idea you sang, and I would never have pictured you could sing like that. You don’t advertise it, so how would I have known?”

Scott glanced up at Sarah. He was seated and still trying to kill the sudden yearning he had for her. She hadn’t waited long in cornering him after their little show in front of everyone about his stupid karaoke song.

“You could think I am capable of doing
something
sometimes. You seem so shocked to find out anything positive about me; as if I should only be a hard drinking, blue collar roughneck, with nothing else to me.”

“You’re lecturing me about stereotypes? You can’t be serious.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and grumbled, “Leave me alone.”

“Why? What is it I’ve done that’s so wrong? Vanessa can call you and everyone around you names and cuss and freak at nothing, and I’m the one who needs to leave you alone?”

“You aren’t Vanessa.”

“No, you’re sure to make that clear, aren’t you? What is it? Are you in love with her, and she doesn’t want to hear it? What is it about her she can do anything to you? And I can do nothing. I can’t even compliment you when you deserve it.”

He glanced at her, and then down at the drink in his hand. “I’ve told you more than once I’m not in love with Vanessa. But she’s my family, you’re not. You’re what? What are you to me?”

“What’s so wrong with calling me your friend?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done for Angie. You’re better with Angie than her mother is. I see it. I do. But you’re still not our family. You aren’t really anything to us.”

“I’m not trying to be Angie’s mother.”

“I know. But you include her, and worry about Angie more than is relative for her relationship with you.”

Sarah stepped back. “So, you’re mad at me because I’m too nice to Angie?”

“No.” He sighed and pushed his empty glass away. “It’s you. You take everything to the next level, far beyond what it should be. I sing a karaoke song, so what? You act like I should run to L.A. and find myself a recording contract. You befriend Angie, and all the sudden you know what’s best for her, for me, for Vanessa. I get it, you’re a serious person who can’t help but take control of everything you touch. But you can’t control me.”

“You really think that of me? That I’m making a project out of Angie? Out of you? That’s the farthest thing from my intentions.”

“Look, my point is, you can’t control me. I don’t want to be one of your projects, nor do I need you prodding me. What I am is fine, until you started telling me I’m not.”

Sarah froze. Her eyes flashed in hurt. She turned without a word and nearly ran away from him.

He pressed two fingers into his forehead, remembering clearly why he never pursued dating. Not that he and Sarah were anything close to that, but the drama and hurt feelings, and messiness was distracting. He preferred simple, easygoing, one-night stands, or maybe a few nights, but nothing more. Nothing that promised anything or shared anything.

With a sigh, he got up and followed Sarah.

He found her outside of the tent, walking toward the water, nearly alone on the shadowy black beach. A few couples from the dance wandered around, and a crowd stood by the entrance smoking.

“Hey, Sarah, wait up,” he called after her. She sped up her pace.

“Sarah, wait!”

She stopped only after he grabbed her elbow and turned her toward him, making her look up at him.

“I left you alone, now do me the same favor.”

“Okay, I deserve that. I was a jerk back there.”

“That’s what you call it? I’m surprised you even realized it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“All I did was compliment you. You’re probably the best singer I’ve ever heard. What was the big deal about telling you that?”

“Nothing. I’ve never had anyone react quite like you. Which is, kind of par for the course with you. I didn’t expect it, and I’m sorry I was such a jerk. I guess I got a little embarrassed by it.”

“No, it’s not okay. Why do you run so hot and cold with me? First, you make me dance with you, and then you can’t even be polite when we’re in a group of mutual friends. Why do you do that?”

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I don’t know why I do a lot of things where you’re concerned.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m not in love with Vanessa, but I do live with Vanessa. It means I like you, I’m attracted to you, maybe more than I even realized or wanted. But you date. I don’t date. Not like you do. And I don’t know where that leaves us.”

“Well, it certainly doesn’t give you the right to humiliate me in front of Vanessa. In front of my friends. I thought we were at least friends.”

“Yeah, okay. I owe you that much. We are. We’re friends,” he said feeling hot under the collar, and wanting off this subject. “Where were you going just now, anyway?”

“When?”

“Now. Why were you out here walking by yourself?”

“I wanted away from you.”

“Stupid idea. You have a stalker. You’re a smart girl. Don’t go walking off down a dark beach, alone. Don’t do such careless, reckless things.”

“I wasn’t thinking about that.”

“You know what else has me pissed off at you tonight?” he asked when she fell silent.

“It might be nice to know what I’ve done other than compliment you.”

“I specifically asked you if you had a boyfriend. You said no. And then lo and behold it turns out to be Brett Carlton. A movie star for Christ’s sake. You don’t think you should have mentioned that?”

She sighed. “He’s not my boyfriend. He was my date tonight.”

Scott stared at her. She studied the sand at their feet. His heart jumped. He really didn’t like her having a date tonight. The question was, why did he care so much?

He nodded. “Oh. I get it.”

Her head jerked up. “No, you don’t. What’s wrong with you? Do you think all relationships are disposable? All relations between a man and woman have to be casual sex? No, he’s not—you know what? It’s none of your business. All you need to know is I’m fine for the next few nights.”

“I’ll just bet,” he muttered. Why was he being pissy about this?

She raised her hands as if in surrender. “Look, I owe you for last night. It was a good thing I stayed with you.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “How do you know?”

“I got five voice mails. He said he was wondering where I was all night. That he was watching and waiting for me.”

Scott swore and ran his hands into his hair. “You’re just telling me this now? After being with me for four hours, you finally get around to this? After walking alone, down a dark beach. I should handcuff you to me. Quit being so stupid. God damn it! This is serious.”

“Well, pardon me. I just got a whole evening’s lecture about how intense and inappropriately serious I am. How I should relax and have fun, and try dancing. Now I’m not serious enough?”

“Oh, come off it, Sarah, I wasn’t talking about
this
. This is as serious as it gets. This is your safety. Why are you so stubborn?”

“Why are you such a smug, conceited bastard?”

He let out a breath, calming his racing pulse. Purposely ignoring their petty insults, he said, “I don’t like this, not one bit. This is escalating. Brett Carlton is for sure staying with you?”