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as Hannah continues. “So what I need from you guys, we need to give her some motivation. Roxy . . . Roxy . . . Roxy . . .”

The crowd picks up the chant, and Jake leans in again. “Okay, not for me. Do it for yourself.”

Jake’s closeness and the crowd’s chants leave me tingling, and finally, blushing furiously, I nod. “Fine!”

I get up, and I feel Jake behind me, escorting me down the stairs, his hand light on my lower back again. In my heels and outfit, I feel sexy. But most importantly, I feel special. The crowd goes nuts as I reach the steps, and Jake leans in again. “You can do this. Go knock ‘em dead.”

He gives me a kiss on the cheek, and I get on stage, waving. “What’s up, Club Jasmine?”

I see the teleprompter, and I start thinking of some of the songs I know by heart, when suddenly, Hannah goes over to the DJ, whispering in his ear. Oh, shit. What the hell is she going to put on?

The music starts, and I panic, recognizing the raunchy classic Milkshake almost immediately. She would do that. One fucking time singing it half drunk for Mr. Felix, and this is what I get? Oh, my God, Hannah. I’m gonna kill you.

The crowd’s into it, though, and I feel forced to perform, moving my body to the sexy high-energy beat.

I move on stage, singing my ass off, and I feel it. The buzz inside me grows into a fire as I see the crowd’s reaction. At first, the audience sits there, surprised. People start looking at each other as if shocked I can actually perform, then they start getting into it, singing with me.

I get into it even more and start shaking my ass, my confidence building as I work the stage. It feels like old times again, and the crowd roars as I switch voices, a talent I picked up because I love so many group numbers, going from a low contralto to a high pitch and back as I play the various parts.

The crowd is jamming, getting into the song and loving it. I even see a few couples start dancing together, grinding, and one small group working it. They’re good. They could totally be dancers on stage.

As the last notes fade, I’m covered in sweat, but the crowd roars their approval, and I raise my hands, thanking them. “Would y’all like to hear some more?”

The crowd screams. “Roxy! Roxy! Roxy!”

I grin and go over to the DJ, taking a minute to write down four songs and swig some water before coming back on stage. The next song starts, and I grin at Jake as I start with the popular club jam, Rihanna’s This Is What You Came For. It might be more electronic than what I normally sing, but the crowd loves it, and some are even singing along before I take it even more naughty, Britney Spears’ Toxic, and then one totally non-sexy but fun song, Uptown Funk.

I’m covered in sweat as the crowd roars again, and I feel my breath rushing in and out of my lungs. “Wow, thank you, guys. Now, I’d like to wrap up the same way I always did at Trixie’s with something a little slower. So if you don’t mind . . .”

The DJ starts the song again, the sultry, sexy tones coming through, and I’m glad that it calls for breathy singing, because right now, Dangerous Woman is about all I’ve got the lungs for. Still, I launch into it, and as I hit the end bits, the crowd’s loving it, hands in the air, and even the people at the bar are on their feet.

When I’m done, I have to almost stagger off stage, where Jake catches me coming down the steps. I’m literally slick with sweat, but he doesn’t care, pulling me close and kissing me hard on the lips. His arms are so strong as I kiss him back, letting him almost carry me to a waiting chair.

“I’m out of shape for this. How’d I do?” I ask. It’s the first question I always ask coming offstage.

Jakes eyes burn with desire, but he grabs a bottle of water, handing it and a towel to me. “You were absolutely incredible.”

* * *

“Karaoke night was a hit!” Nathan crows. He looks at me. I’ve recovered enough that I’ve rejoined everyone upstairs in the VIP lounge as the club closes. “Jesus, Roxy . . . if you can sing like that, what are you doing working in the same shithole as Jake? You should be on a stage selling out stadiums!”

“Trust me, I tried,” I say, feeling the pang of regret that comes with his words. “But when it’s not paying the bills . . .”

“Fuck that noise,” Nathan says as I shrug. “If I had a voice like yours, I’d crash a record exec’s office and say you only need ten seconds before you’ll wanna sign me.”

If only it were that easy, I think inwardly. “What can I say? A&Rs are assholes.”

Hannah, who’s had a few too many Little Mermaids, giggles. “Hey, can I get another? I’m not ready to give up!”

I shake my head, knowing I’m going to have to take Hannah home. Besides, her last comment sort of stings, even though I know she wasn’t talking about me. I didn’t want to give up either. But in an industry where if you haven’t made it by twenty as a woman, you’re almost never going to make it, I just couldn’t face it anymore. Hell, some of the songs I sang tonight are damn near golden oldies, and the girl at the top of the charts this week wasn’t even born when Toxic came out.

“Yeah, well . . . listen, can we leave Hannah’s car here overnight? I don’t think she’s good to drive.”

Jake, who’s been smiling with Nathan, looks over. “Sure, but what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I lie, feeling a wave of depression

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