The Revelation (45 page)

“Excuse me for a second,” I say, unclasping my hand
from Kat’s. She doesn’t bat an eyelash—apparently too enthralled
with the train wreck unfurling onstage to care about where the heck
I’m going.

I move across the room to the karaoke DJ, wading
through clapping, screaming, hooting people, all of them hurling
love with both arms at Jonas and Sarah, and make my way to the
DJ.

“Hey, man,” I say. “You ready to do that thing we
talked about?”

“Whenever you are, bro.”

“Okay. How about you do one song after Sonny and
Cher for whoever else and then we launch into my thing?”

The DJ grabs the piece of paper I slipped him
earlier (along with a fat tip that ensured there’d be no waiting
all night long for anyone in our group). “This still what you want
me to say?” he asks, looking at the short script I gave him.

“Yeah. Hey, can you hand me that scarf I stashed
earlier?”

“Sure.” He grabs the scarf behind him. “Fucking
hilarious, man,” he says, handing it to me covertly. “You think
she’s gonna ham it up? Or will she chicken out?”

“Oh, my girlfriend never chickens out about
anything—it’s not in her DNA. Did you see her doing ‘Total Eclipse
of the Heart’? She’ll ham it up for sure.”

“Cool. Okay. One more song after Sonny and Cher and
then we’ll do it.”

“Thanks.” I stick the scarf in the waistband of my
pants, hidden by my jacket.

The guy looks up at Jonas and Sarah, singing their
adorkable hearts out, and chuckles. “Man, this guy’s
horrible—
absolutely atrocious. Pretty much the worst I’ve
ever heard and I’ve been doing this a really long time.”

I look at my brother and grin. He’s totally outside
his comfort zone right now—sweating bullets, moving across the
stage like a gorilla with hemorrhoids. God, he’s awesome.

Out of nowhere, my stomach clenches vicariously to
think about what he’s about to do next week. He’s taking a huge
fucking step—the hugest step known to mankind—but, damn, he sure
looks happy. Hard to argue a guy off doing anything that makes him
smile that fucking big.

“Yeah, he’s terrible, huh?” I say. “Gotta love
him.”

I head back to our table, my fingertips toying with
the poker chip in my pocket, and sit back down next to Kat. She’s
clutching Henn’s forearm, tears of laughter streaming down her
cheeks.

Jonas and Sarah reach the slow finale of their song
and the entire place erupts into a standing ovation.

When the song is done, Jonas dips Sarah
dramatically, kissing her like no one else is in the room, and she
comes back up red-faced and giggling.

The waitress pays another visit to our table.
“Another round?”

“Yeah,” I say absently. “Why the fuck not?”

Jonas and Sarah make their way back toward our table
while two young, toker-looking guys get up onstage and start
singing “American Pie.”

“Awesome, bro,” I say to Jonas when they return to
our table and plop themselves down. “I can die a happy man
now.”

“Never again,” Jonas says. “That memory’s gonna have
to last you your whole life long.”

“How the fuck did you get him up there, Sarah Cruz?”
I ask.

Sarah shrugs. “I’m magic, Josh Faraday.”

“Sarah and I had a little bet and I lost,” Jonas
says. “I’ll never bet against her again, I swear to God.”

I look at Kat and she flashes me a smart-ass grin,
obviously telling me, “See? Never bet against a woman.”

“What was the bet?” Kat asks.

“Oh, the details aren’t important,” Sarah says. “But
let’s just say I held onto my title in the underwater
breath-holding Olympics.”

We all look at each other and make a face. Clearly,
this is a sexual innuendo of some sort, and God knows we don’t
wanna know.

“Well, you were awe-inspiring, big guy,” Henn
says.

“Hey, Kitty Kat, you haven’t gone in a while,”
Hannah says. “What are you gonna sing next?”

“Oh, I dunno. You wanna do another duet, Josh? A
little ‘Islands in the Stream,’ perhaps? Or am I flying solo?”

“Yeah, a duet for sure,” I say, the hair on the back
of my neck standing up. I can’t let Kat go up there again and ruin
my little plan. “But let’s give it another song or two, okay? I’ve
got drinks coming for us.”

Kat leans back. “Sure. So, hey, Henny, how long are
you in town? You and Hannah wanna do dinner with Josh and me Sunday
night before Josh heads to the airport?”

“Sorry, leaving tomorrow. I’ve got a job in Munich,
actually.” He looks at Hannah. “But after that I’ll be home in L.A.
for a good long stretch. Maybe you and Hannah can come visit Josh
and me together and we can all go out in La La Land?”

Kat looks at Hannah for confirmation. “Great,” she
says.

“Hey, maybe you should think about opening Golden PR
in Los Angeles instead of Seattle,” Hannah suggests. “Maybe you
could do PR for the entertainment industry.”

“Well, that’d be pretty stupid,” Jonas pipes in,
sipping his Scotch.

“What would be stupid?” Henn asks, clearly feeling
defensive on behalf of Hannah. “Sounds like a great idea to
me.”

“No, I mean, it’d be stupid for Kat to move to
L.A.,” Jonas clarifies. “What would be the point of Kat moving to
L.A. right when Josh is moving back home to Seattle in a couple
months?”

Fuck me. My stomach lurches into my throat and my
eyes bug out. This isn’t the way I’d intended to tell Kat about my
upcoming move. Shit. I didn’t even think to warn Jonas I hadn’t
told Kat about the move.

“What?” Kat asks, her eyes blazing with instant
excitement. She whips her head to look at me. “Is he serious?” She
clutches her chest, obviously overcome. “
You’re moving to
Seattle
?” She’s practically shrieking with joy.

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

“For good? You’re moving here... for good? To
live
?” Yep, full on shrieking. She’s acting like she just
won the showcase showdown on
The Price is Right.

“Yeah. Um. I’m moving home. Just got a place.”

She’s bouncing happily in her seat. “When? This is
awesome.
A dream come true.”

“In a two or three months, probably.”

“Really? Oh my God. Why didn’t you tell me? Did you
just decide today? Why didn’t you tell me? This is incredible news.
Oh my God. I’m elated.”

“You didn’t know?” Jonas asks, his face etched with
obvious confusion.

Kat takes in the expression on Jonas’ face and her
entire demeanor changes on a dime.
Boom.
She knows
something’s up. Just like that. Thanks, Jonas.

“No, he didn’t mention it to me,” she says slowly,
her eyes drifting warily to mine. “Why didn’t you mention it to me,
Josh?” she asks, her tone edged with obvious apprehension. “Were
you planning to... surprise me?”

Oh shit. This isn’t good. This is really, really
bad. “Uh...” I begin.

“How long have you known?” she asks quietly,
understanding dawning on her. “You said you already found a
place?”

Shit. I’ve totally fucked up here. I’ve really,
really fucked up.

“I’ve known for just a little while,” I say. “Let’s
talk about it later, okay?”

She swallows hard. “How long have you known, Josh?”
Her lip trembles.

I look at the group. They’re all staring at me.

“Did you know when I said that thing about the long
distance thing being brutal? Did you know then?”

Shit
. “Let’s talk about it later, babe,” I
say, trying to sound charming and smooth. “Don’t get all worked up
about it. I was just waiting until it was for sure.”

A strange cocktail of emotions flashes across her
face in response to that comment—like she’s not sure whether to be
extremely disappointed or relieved. “Oh, it’s not for sure? That’s
why you didn’t tell me?”

“Well, no. Actually.” I swallow hard. “It’s for
sure. I’m moving.”

“Oh.” She shifts in her seat. Her cheeks flush.
“That’s great. So you’ve already made... plans? You’ve got a
place?”

“Let’s talk about it later. What’s everyone planning
to sing next?”

The entire bar is boisterously singing along to the
final chorus of “American Pie.” But I feel anything but festive. My
stomach is churning. My chest is tight.

“Have you put your house on the market yet?” Kat
asks, her chin wobbling.

Oh shit. This is a catastrophe. Why didn’t I foresee
how badly this would go down?

“Uh. Yeah, actually, it sold last week.”

“It already
sold
?” Her face turns bright red
and her eyes prick with tears. “How long was it on the market?”

“Can we talk about this later. In private?”

“How long was it on the market?” she asks between
gritted teeth.

“About three weeks.”

The two “American Pie” guys depart the stage to
raucous applause.

“And now,” the DJ says into his microphone, reading
from the piece of paper I gave him earlier. “I have a very special
treat for you.”

“Kat, we’ll talk about it later, okay? Here.” I pull
the poker chip out of my pocket and plunk it into her palm.
“Please. I’ll explain everything to you later. Right now, I’ve got
a surprise for you.”

She looks down at the poker chip, her eyes filling
with tears, and I know I just made matters worse, not better. Much,
much worse. Oh Jesus. I’m an idiot.

I stand and motion to the DJ to tell him to stop,
but he doesn’t see me because he’s looking at the fucking piece of
paper in his hand—the paper I gave him and asked him to read into
his goddamned microphone.

“We unexpectedly have a superstar among us tonight,
folks,” the DJ says, reading from my script. “The one and only
Rachel Marron
.”

People at nearby tables are looking at each other
quizzically, clearly not recognizing the name.

“Poor Rachel’s endured some death threats recently,
so she’s here with her devoted and stoic
bodyguard
Frank
Farmer—former Secret Services detail for the President of the
United States.”

There’s a tittering in the crowd. People are
starting to get it.

I look at Kat and my heart squeezes. “Babe,” I say.
“Please don’t leap to conclusions. It’s not what you think. Just
enjoy the poker chip.”

“Under Frank’s watchful eye, Rachel’s agreed to sing
her signature song for us. A heartfelt rendition that’s sure to
make you weep.”

The place is going crazy all around us.

“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me. You
already sold your house. You didn’t want me to know you were moving
here?”

“So let’s hear it for Rachel Marron everyone!”

Everyone in the bar hoots and screams.

“You’re not excited to live in the same city with
me? To see each other every day? You don’t wanna go to the dry
cleaners and the fish market?”

“Looks like she’s feeling shy, folks. Let’s get her
up here, huh? To perform her classic hit, ‘I Will Always Love
You!’”

The place explodes with excitement.

But Kat looks like a wounded deer in headlights
right now.

My heart is breaking. What have I done?

“Babe, you’re totally misunderstanding the
situation,” I say. “I’ll tell you all about it later. Right now
it’s poker chip time. Enjoy it. This is your biggest fantasy.”

“Come on, Rachel!” the DJ calls. “Come on up here
with your bodyguard!”

Kat looks down at the poker chip in her palm, a
pained look in her eyes, and it’s abundantly clear acting out her
bodyguard fantasy is the last thing on her mind.

I pull the scarf out of my pants and hold it up,
trying to make her smile. My heart is beating a mile a minute. I’ve
fucked up. Oh, fuck me, I’ve royally fucked up. I’ve got to get
control of the situation. Make it better. I’ve got to charm her
back to being Happy Kat.

“Remember the last scene of the movie—when Whitney
wears the scarf on her head?” I coo. “I brought the scarf for you,
babe. So you could look just like her.”

Kat’s dumbstruck. She looks at the poker chip in her
hand again, tears filling her eyes.

“Kat, come on—be my Whitney, baby. I’ve got it all
planned. We’re doing the song here and then I rented an entire
laser tag place for the six of us. It’ll be everyone else against
you and me, baby, all night long—I’ll protect you.
I’ll be your
bodyguard
.”

“Rachel?” the DJ says. “Are you coming or not? Your
fans are waiting. Last chance.”

“Sing here, then laser tag, and then I’ll take you
home and let my feelings override my stoic sense of duty.” I smile,
trying my damnedest to charm her.

“Rachel? Last call.”

She abruptly snatches the scarf out of my hand,
wraps it around her head a la Whitney, and marches in a huff toward
the stage, determined.

Thank God. She’s playing along. This is gonna be
okay. That’s my girl. She’ll understand when I explain it to her.
She’ll totally understand. I let out a huge sigh of relief, slide
my sunglasses on, and follow my beautiful Whitney to the stage, my
heart pounding in my ears.

Kat

Everyone in the place is cheering and banging on
their tables. But I’m in a daze. I can’t think straight. Josh is
moving to Seattle? That’s incredibly awesome news. I’m ecstatic
about it.
But why didn’t he tell me about it?
Was he
planning to surprise me—the way he burst into his bathroom wearing
a ski mask?

Josh places a chair at center stage for me—and I
position myself onto it exactly the way Whitney sits on a chair in
the snow in the music video—and then Josh fusses with the scarf
around my head, making it
Whitney-with-a-broken-heart-on-the-private-airplane-perfect, and
everyone in the place laughs and hoots, totally loving the set-up.
When he’s done with me, Josh turns to the audience and makes a big
point of sweeping the crowd for snipers and wackjobs—and everyone
slurps him up like a tray of Jell-O shots.