Page 49 of One Winter Knight
Where are you?
Me
Winter-Fest. I told you. Turns out Fiona’s hockey boy is besties with BroKen.
Tadgh
So jealous. We’ll miss you for Christmas.
He’d miss me for Christmas. My grandfathers, especially Grandpa, would miss me for Christmas. My cousins had a job in the Balkans. No one else would even notice. Especially my mother and sister.
Tadgh
It made in the news cycle.
Me
I know. I’ll keep an eye on things.
As long as it didn’t stay there. Hopefully no one would want to dig too much. With a man like that they usually didn’t.
I looked up and saw the sheer joy and happiness on Dusty’s face as he mixed a song about reindeer with his songEat More Pussy.
Maybe this was the Christmas I needed this year.
The lights had synced with the music. It wasn’t just stage lights. No, the very set lit up, changing color, blinking, and evenmovingwith the music. Even in the daytime it was extraordinary.
“How’s that?” someone called.
“Great. Hey, just a minute.” Dusty looked around, eyes finally focusing on me. “Cici, can you come over here?”
“Um, sure?” I rolled my eyes at the nickname. It wasn’t that I hated it.
It was that Ilikedit.
I didn’t come from a family that used nicknames or endearments. Well, except for my gran. But no one was going to contradict a grandma with a sniper rifle, who also cooked most of the food.
Unless you wanted to be served nothing for supper but a scathing look. But she was gone now.
Dusty, who had one of those face mics like a pop star, handed me a microphone. “Can you sing the song you were singing last night? Um, this is keep going.” He moved his hand in a circle. “This is hold on.” He held up a finger. “This is stop.” He held up his hand.
“I…” My brain screamed at me to sayno. I didn’t sing in public. But that sad puppy look broke me.
It wouldn’t hurt me to sing. No one was here.
“Fine.” I sighed.
His face lit up.
I started singing in Irish. People stopped and looked and my heart pounded. What was I doing?
Dusty made theeyes on mesign, then gestured for me to keep going. A thumping beat started, the timing perfectly matching. Eyes on him, I kept singing as tension built in the music.
The music went quiet. I stopped, puzzled.
Keep going,he gestured, lowering his hand.Taking a breath, I started singing again. After a moment, the music restarted. Dancing around, he made adjustments on his equipment. This wasn’t the same beat, rather it twirled around my song.
The tension built again as we returned to the main theme. His hand rose and my voice grew louder.
