Suzie’s House 334 : Without Bunny Ears

Pink. And fluffy. With whiskers. Bruce had given her a flipping bunny mask! The only thing it was missing were the long ears. How was Emma supposed to sing in this thing?

She’d planned on wearing her black dominatrix mask. That fit in a bar, didn’t it? No one would really notice her in something like that, right? But something so pink and childish?

The stage was built against one wall, wedged between the back entrance they’d used to bring the musical instruments in, and a corner too narrow for a table. Emma camped out in the corner with both hands wrapped around her microphone. She had to remind herself to keep it away from her face because it picked up her heavy breathing and amplified it for the entire bar to hear.

She fantasized getting on the stage with dominatrix confidence and this furry mask and felt a horrendous flood of humiliation. People would point and laugh. Could she really do this?

Bruce came over. Some guy at the bar was accusing him of beating someone up. “I’m not going to mess with the band’s rep. You don’t need to worry,” he told her. “I won’t hurt anyone.”

Of course he was. That’s what he was known for. They’d gotten along so well for so many weeks now that she’d almost forgotten.

“Bruce. It’s not like we didn’t know all along.”

That’s right. The scariest person here was right next to her, but she wasn’t worried at all about getting beat up. How bad could a little humiliation be? She could do this. She would do this.

Tracy, Gene, and Justin came out of the back room. They had a stock pot and a garbage can in their hands, and set them up on Justin’s drum stands. Emma couldn’t help but giggle.

Finally they were all ready. Bruce helped her onto the stage like a gentleman. He took up his place at the keyboard and everyone else was arrayed behind her just like they were supposed to be. And there she stood with her toes pointed in and the microphone clinched to her chest in her two-handed choke hold, and a lot of people who were looking at her. And a lot who weren’t.

They started with *song* Good thing, too, because it had a light, breathy quality that matched the little-girl voice that squeaked out of Emma’s mouth.

Feeling childish already, she went with it. She rolled her shoulders forward, and shifted her weight from foot to foot while singing. She played with the cord on her microphone. She thought for sure that she’d get booed off the stage, or maybe just ignored.

But no. People weren’t just looking her way. They were pointing. And smiling. Was that good or bad?

She did a little skipping kind of dance and a couple of people clapped. That counted as good. She did a twirl and they laughed and smiled. She had them. It hadn’t even taken the whole song, and she had them eating out of the palm of her hand.

That’s when she caught sight of the guy. Her brother. His dark hair and shape of head. His height. His skulking demeanor. Of course he would be in a bar like this. Why hadn’t she thought of it sooner?

Emma stumbled over the last words of the verse. She swallowed hard, knowing that her inevitable, horrible fate had finally arrived. He was going to come up now and drag her away to some dark corner where he could “instruct” her on what a mistake she’d made.

Frozen with fear, she missed the cue for the chorus, and only stood there. The band kept playing. Tracy stepped forward and did a solo while Emma just stood there like a lost little girl, and the guy walked right up to the stage.

But it wasn’t him. Same haircut, same kind of clothes, same shaped nose and forehead, but not the same person. He gave her a curious look, and then a wary smile that had a completely different set of teeth. Not her brother at all. Once she realized that, Emma could breathe again. Her throat loosened. She could sing again.

This time when the chorus came around, she was ready. For a second her voice came out too strong, too mature. It jarred in being something different than what she’d been doing. People gave her funny looks. But she swallowed hard, and toned it down, and had them all again.

When the song ended, the guy who looked like her brother whooped.

“You sing it, girl! You really know how to sing.”

Emma grinned, and did a cute curtsy. She got the feeling that even if he had been her brother, she’d have gotten away with it. Maybe.

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