Page 61 of Electric Touch
“You switched out the backflip.”
“What do I do instead of that?” she huffs, but there’s relief in her eyes.
“I’ll come up with something. What else?”
“Sing in public.” She pulls a face.
“You can’t sing?”
“I can sing. My shower can attest to that.”
I laugh. “The acoustics of a shower. They turn the most out of tune singer into a Grammy-winning one. So do it now.”
“Do what now?”
“Sing,” I sit back swigging my beer. Adrestia stares at me like I’ve got two heads. “We’re in public. It’s not too crowded.”
“I’m not singing in front of you.”
“I’m offended, Adrestia.”
“You’re a professional singer.”
“I’m aware.” I sit forward again, warming to this idea. “Come on, do I need to give you fifty bucks?”
“No…” She hunches her shoulders. “I can’t. Not off the cuff. I have to work myself up to this.”
“You can. What’s your favourite song?”
“Nash.”
I sing one of my songs. Not loud, but enough to draw attention. Adrestia’s eyes go so wide they’re about to pop out of her head. People look over, but I don’t stop. Until she grabs my arm. I laugh, not caring who is looking.
“Come on, you gotta do it now.”
She shakes her head.
“I think you’ll need evidence,” I take out my phone and shake it at her. She licks her lips and looks around. Anyone who turned when I sang, has gone back to their drinks and food. “It’s no big deal. You’ll never see these people again. It’s a moment in time.”
Adrestia doesn’t shy away from anything. I won’t push her out of her comfort zone. If she doesn’t want to do it, I’ll drop it, but I keep quiet as she thinks.
“What should I sing?”
“You can do one of my songs,” I suggest, but she looks horrified. “Okay,” I hold up a hand. “Old McDonald?”
“No,” she laughs.
“So, what do you like? Who is your favourite band?”
“I can’t sing like a rock musician.”
“What about Ariella’s?”
She looks pained. “Taylor Swift.”
I throw my head back and laugh. I get the impression she’s not a fan. “She’s a Swifty? She writes good songs. They’re catchy. You’ll entertain everyone here.”
“Shut up…”